Tells of Men whose Actions end in Smoke, and of others whose Plots end in Deeds of Darkness.
This is a world of surprises. However long we may live, and however much we may learn, the possibility of being surprised remains with us, and our capacity for blazing astonishment is as great as when first, with staggering gait, we escaped from the nursery into space and stood irresolute, with the world before us where to choose.
These thoughts arise from the remembrance of Okiok as he stood one morning open-mouthed, open-eyed, open-souled, and, figuratively, petrified, gazing at something over a ledge of rock.
What that something was we must learn from Okiok himself, after he had cautiously retired from the scene, and run breathlessly back towards the Eskimo village, where the first man he met was Red Rooney.
“I—I’ve seen it,” gasped the Eskimo, gripping the seaman’s arm convulsively.
“Seen what?”
“Seen a man—on fire; and he seems not to mind it!”
“On fire! A man! Surely not. You must be mistaken.”
“No, I am quite sure,” returned Okiok, with intense earnestness. “I saw him with my two eyes, and smoke was coming out of him.”
Rooney half-suspected what the Eskimo had seen, but there was just enough of uncertainty to induce him to say, “Come, take me to him.”