At last Ujarak thrust his opponent back to the utmost extent of his long arms, and, with a sudden pull, raised him almost to his feet.
There was a gasp of excitement, almost of regret, among the onlookers, for Angut was a decided favourite.
But the pull was not quite powerful enough. Angut began to sink back to his old position. He seemed to feel that now or never was his chance. Taking advantage of his descending weight, he added to it a wrench which seemed to sink his ten fingers into the flesh of Ujarak’s shoulders; a momentary check threw the latter off his guard, and next instant Angut not only pulled him over, but hurled him over his own head, and rolled him like a porpoise on the snow!
A mighty shout hailed the victory as the wizard arose and retired crestfallen from the scene, while the victor gravely resumed his coat and mingled with the crowd.
Ujarak chanced, in retiring, to pass close to Okiok. Although naturally amiable, that worthy, feeling certain that the wizard was playing a double part, and was actuated by sinister motives in some of his recent proceedings, could not resist the temptation to whisper—
“Was your torngak asleep, that he failed to help you just now?”
The whisper was overheard by some of the women near, who could not suppress a subdued laugh.
The wizard, who was not at that moment in a condition to take a jest with equanimity, turned a fierce look upon Okiok.
“I challenge you,” he said, “to a singing combat.”
“With all my heart,” replied Okiok; “when shall it be?”