There followed verbal explosions back and forth.
"Olespe says they are the rich men of the country," reported the interpreter.
Shrugging his shoulders over the apparent hopelessness of the situation, Seymour tried again: "Ask him what he thinks the police came into the country for."
"To make us unhappy," came the report presently.
"In what way—unhappy?"
"By not let us shoot at what is ours to shoot and which we can hit."
Feeling that he was making progress, the sergeant got to the vital point. "Ask him what I said to him when I put him under arrest?"
"He says," translated the interpreter, "you told him he'd get hurt if he talked too much."
Seymour decided to let it go at that and led the way to the outbuilding used as morgue. There Olespe identified the remains of his wife, which had been sledded so many snowy miles because there was no possibility of finding a white jury nearer. The Eskimo added indifferently what was translated into "She no good wife."
Back in the station the sergeant told of his investigations at the scene of the crime, listed possible witnesses and summarized their version of a tragedy all too common among the Eskimo who are prone to the ménage à trois. The jury promptly brought in a verdict against Olespe, and Seymour, in his capacity of magistrate, held him to trial.