Well， it had been a sowing of blood， and now was comethe harvest. The fort was gone. In the light of its burning，half the fur-thieves had been cut down. The other halfhad passed under the torture. Only Subienkow remained，or Subienkow and Big Ivan， if that whimpering， moaningthing in the snow could be called Big Ivan. Subienkowcaught Yakaga grinning at him. There was no gainsayingYakaga. The mark of the lash was still on his face. Afterall， Subienkow could not blame him， but he disliked thethought of what Yakaga would do to him. He thought ofappealing to Makamuk， the head-chief； but his judgmenttold him that such appeal was useless. Then， too， hethought of bursting his bonds and dying fighting. Such anend would be quick. But he could not break his bonds.
Caribou thongs were stronger than he. Still devising，another thought came to him. He signed for Makamuk，and that an interpreter who knew the coast dialect shouldbe brought.
“Oh， Makamuk，” he said， “I am not minded to die. Iam a great man， and it were foolishness for me to die. Intruth， I shall not die. I am not like these other carrion.”
He looked at the moaning thing that had once been BigIvan， and stirred it contemptuously with his toe.
“I am too wise to die. Behold， I have a great medicine.
I alone know this medicine. Since I am not going to die， Ishall exchange this medicine with you.”
“What is this medicine？” Makamuk demanded.
“It is a strange medicine.”
Subienkow debated with himself for a moment， as ifloth to part with the secret.
“I will tell you. A little bit of this medicine rubbed onthe skin makes the skin hard like a rock， hard like iron， sothat no cutting weapon can cut it. The strongest blow ofa cutting weapon is a vain thing against it. A bone knifebecomes like a piece of mud； and it will turn the edge ofthe iron knives we have brought among you. What willyou give me for the secret of the medicine？”
“I will give you your life，” Makamuk made answerthrough the interpreter.
Subienkow laughed scornfully.
“And you shall be a slave in my house until you die.”
The Pole laughed more scornfully.
“Untie my hands and feet and let us talk，” he said.
The chief made the sign； and when he was loosedSubienkow rolled a cigarette and lighted it.
“This is foolish talk，” said Makamuk. “There is no suchmedicine. It cannot be. A cutting edge is stronger than anymedicine.”
The chief was incredulous， and yet he wavered. He hadseen too many deviltries of fur-thieves that worked. Hecould not wholly doubt.
“I will give you your life； but you shall not be a slave，” heannounced.
“More than that.”
Subienkow played his game as coolly as if he werebartering for a foxskin.
“It is a very great medicine. It has saved my life manytimes. I want a sled and dogs， and six of your hunters totravel with me down the river and give me safety to oneday’s sleep from Michaelovski Redoubt.”
“You must live here， and teach us all of your deviltries，”
was the reply.
Subienkow shrugged his shoulders and remained silent.
He blew cigarette smoke out on the icy air， and curiouslyregarded what remained of the big Cossack.
“That scar！” Makamuk said suddenly， pointing to thePole’s neck， where a livid mark advertised the slash of aknife in a Kamtchatkan brawl. “The medicine is not good.
The cutting edge was stronger than the medicine.”
“It was a strong man that drove the stroke.” （Subienkowconsidered.） “Stronger than you， stronger than yourstrongest hunter， stronger than he.”
Again， with the toe of his moccasin， he touched theCossack—a grisly spectacle， no longer conscious—yet inwhose dismembered body the pain-racked life clung andwas loth to go.
“Also， the medicine was weak. For at that place therewere no berries of a certain kind， of which I see you haveplenty in this country. The medicine here will be strong.”
“I will let you go down river，” said Makamuk； “and thesled and the dogs and the six hunters to give you safetyshall be yours.”
“You are slow，” was the cool rejoinder. “You havecommitted an offence against my medicine in that you didnot at once accept my terms. Behold， I now demand more.
I want one hundred beaver skins.” （Makamuk sneered.）“I want one hundred pounds of dried fish.” （Makamuknodded， for fish were plentiful and cheap.） “I want twosleds—one for me and one for my furs and fish. And myrifle must be returned to me. If you do not like the price，in a little while the price will grow.”
Yakaga whispered to the chief.
“But how can I know your medicine is true medicine？”
Makamuk asked.
“It is very easy. First， I shall go into the woods—”
Again Yakaga whispered to Makamuk， who made asuspicious dissent.
“You can send twenty hunters with me，” Subienkowwent on. “You see， I must get the berries and the rootswith which to make the medicine. Then， when you havebrought the two sleds and loaded on them the fish and thebeaver skins and the rifle， and when you have told off thesix hunters who will go with me—then， when all is ready，I will rub the medicine on my neck， so， and lay my neckthere on that log. Then can your strongest hunter take theaxe and strike three times on my neck. You yourself canstrike the three times.”
Makamuk stood with gaping mouth， drinking in thislatest and most wonderful magic of the fur-thieves.
“But first，” the Pole added hastily， “between each blowI must put on fresh medicine. The axe is heavy and sharp，and I want no mistakes.”
“All that you have asked shall be yours，” Makamuk criedin a rush of acceptance. “Proceed to make your medicine.”
Subienkow concealed his elation. He was playing adesperate game， and there must be no slips. He spokearrogantly.
“You have been slow. My medicine is offended. To makethe offence clean you must give me your daughter.”
He pointed to the girl， an unwholesome creature， witha cast in one eye and a bristling wolf-tooth. Makamuk wasangry， but the Pole remained imperturbable， rolling andlighting another cigarette.
“Make haste，” he threatened. “If you are not quick， Ishall demand yet more.”