[CHAPTER XXXVIII]
THE TREACHEROUS SHAMAN OF KLUKWAN
So delighted were the Chilkat hunters to know that they were to have the honor of conveying the fur-seal’s tooth back to their tribe that they wished to start at once. The whites, however, refused to go before morning, and so the Indians returned down the inlet to their camp of the preceding night, where they would cache what seals they had obtained in order to make room in the canoes for their unexpected passengers. They agreed to be back by daylight.
After they were gone, and our travellers had disposed of their simple but highly appreciated meal of goat meat and tea, they gathered about the fire for the last of those “dream-bag talks,” as Phil called them, that had formed so pleasant a feature of their long journey. Without saying a word, but with a happy twinkle in his eyes, Jalap Coombs produced a pipe and a small square of tobacco, which he began with great care to cut into shavings.
“Where on earth did you get them?” asked Phil.
“Found the pipe in yonder rubbish,” replied the sailor-man; “and Cap’n Kid give me the ’baccy just now.”
“Nel-te gave you the tobacco? Where did he get it?”
“Dunno. I were too glad to get it to ask questions.”
“Well,” said Phil, “the mysteries of this place are beyond finding out.”
“This one isn’t,” laughed Serge, “though I suppose it would be if I hadn’t happened to see one of the Indians slip that bit of tobacco into Nel-te’s hand.”