“So do I,” said Ippegoo, with emphasis quite equal to that of his master.
“And Nunaga is there,” continued Ujarak. “I—I love Nunaga!”
“So do I,” exclaimed Ippegoo fervently, but seeing by the wizard’s majestic frown that he had been precipitate, he took refuge in the hasty explanation—“Of course I mean that—that—I love her because you love her. I do not love her for herself. If you did not love her, I would hate her. To me she is not of so much value as the snout of a seal.”
The wizard seemed pacified, for his frown relaxed, and after a few moments’ thought he went on savagely—
“Angut also loves Nunaga.”
“The madman! the insolent! the fool!” exclaimed Ippegoo; “what can he expect but death?”
“Nothing else, and nothing less,” growled the wizard, clenching his teeth—“if he gets her! But he shall never get her! I will stop that; and that is why I ask you to listen—for you must be ready to act, and in haste.”
As Ippegoo began to entertain uncomfortable suspicions that the wizard was about to use him as an instrument of vengeance, he made no response whatever to the last remark.
“Now,” continued his master, “you will go to the hut of Okiok. Enter it hurriedly, and say to Nunaga that her father’s grandmother, Kannoa, is ill—ill in her mind—and will not rest till she comes to see her. Take a small sledge that will only hold her and yourself; and if Okiok or Angut offer to go with you, say that old Kannoa wants to see the girl alone, that there is a spell upon her, that she is bewitched, and will see no one else. They will trust you, for they know that your mind is weak and your heart good.”
“If my mind is weak,” said Ippegoo somewhat sadly, “how can I ever become an angekok?”