“Did the big canoe come fast？”
“Ay.”
“The sides were tall， the men short.” Opee-Kwan statedthe premises with conviction. “And did these men dip withlong paddles？”
Nam-Bok grinned. “There were no paddles，” he said.
Mouths remained open， and a long silence droppeddown. Opee-Kwan borrowed Koogah’s pipe for a couple ofcontemplative sucks. One of the younger women gigglednervously and drew upon herself angry eyes.
“There were no paddles？” Opee-Kwan asked softly，returning the pipe.
“The south wind was behind，” Nam-Bok explained.
“But the wind-drift is slow.”
“The schooner had wings—thus.” He sketched a diagramof masts and sails in the sand， and the men crowdedaround and studied it. The wind was blowing briskly， andfor more graphic elucidation he seized the corners of hismother’s shawl and spread them out till it bellied like asail. Bask-Wah-Wan scolded and struggled， but was blowndown the beach for a score of feet and left breathless andstranded in a heap of driftwood. The men uttered sagegrunts of comprehension， but Koogah suddenly tossedback his hoary head.
“Ho！ Ho！” he laughed. “A foolish thing， this big canoe！ Amost foolish thing！ The plaything of the wind！ Wheresoeverthe wind goes， it goes too. No man who journeys thereinmay name the landing beach， for always he goes with thewind， and the wind goes everywhere， but no man knowswhere.”
“It is so，” Opee-Kwan supplemented gravely. “With thewind the going is easy， but against the wind a man strivethhard； and for that they had no paddles these men on thebig canoe did not strive at all.”
“Small need to strive，” Nam-Bok cried angrily. “Theschooner went likewise against the wind.”
“And what said you made the sch—sch—schooner go？”
Koogah asked， tripping craftily over the strange word.
“The wind，” was the impatient response.
“Then the wind made the sch—sch—schooner goagainst the wind.” Old Koogah dropped an open leerto Opee-Kwan， and， the laughter growing around him，continued： “The wind blows from the south and blowsthe schooner south. The wind blows against the wind.
The wind blows one way and the other at the same time.
It is very simple. We understand， Nam-Bok. We clearlyunderstand.”
“Thou art a fool！”
“Truth falls from thy lips，” Koogah answered meekly. “Iwas over-long in understanding， and the thing was simple.”
But Nam-Bok’s face was dark， and he said rapid wordswhich they had never heard before. Bone-scratching andskin-scraping were resumed， but he shut his lips tightly onthe tongue that could not be believed.
“This sch—sch—schooner，” Koogah imperturbablyasked； “it was made of a big tree？”
“It was made of many trees，” Nam-Bok snapped shortly.
“It was very big.”
He lapsed into sullen silence again， and Opee-Kwannudged Koogah， who shook his head with slow amazementand murmured， “It is very strange.”
Nam-bok took the bait. “That is nothing，” he said airily；“you should see the steamer. As the grain of sand is to thebidarka， as the bidarka is to the schooner， so the schooneris to the steamer. Further， the steamer is made of iron. Itis all iron.”
“Nay， nay， Nam-Bok，” cried the head man； “how canthat be？ Always iron goes to the bottom. For behold， Ireceived an iron knife in trade from the head man of thenext village， and yesterday the iron knife slipped from myfingers and went down， down， into the sea. To all thingsthere be law. Never was there one thing outside the law.
This we know. And， moreover， we know that things of akind have the one law， and that all iron has the one law. Sounsay thy words， Nam-Bok， that we may yet honor thee.”
“It is so，” Nam-Bok persisted. “The steamer is all ironand does not sink.”
“Nay， nay； this cannot be.”
“With my own eyes I saw it.”
“It is not in the nature of things.”
“But tell me， Nam-Bok，” Koogah interrupted， for fearthe tale would go no farther， “tell me the manner of thesemen in finding their way across the sea when there is noland by which to steer.”
“The sun points out the path.”
“But how？”
“At midday the head man of the schooner takes a thingthrough which his eye looks at the sun， and then he makesthe sun climb down out of the sky to the edge of theearth.”
“Now this be evil medicine！” cried Opee-Kwan， aghast atthe sacrilege. The men held up their hands in horror， andthe women moaned. “This be evil medicine. It is not goodto misdirect the great sun which drives away the night andgives us the seal， the salmon， and warm weather.”
“What if it be evil medicine？” Nam-Bok demandedtruculently. “I， too， have looked through the thing at thesun and made the sun climb down out of the sky.”
Those who were nearest drew away from him hurriedly，and a woman covered the face of a child at her breast sothat his eye might not fall upon it.
“But on the morning of the fourth day， O Nam-Bok，”
Koogah suggested； “on the morning of the fourth daywhen the sch—sch—schooner came after thee？”
“I had little strength left in me and could not run away.
So I was taken on board and water was poured down mythroat and good food given me. Twice， my brothers， youhave seen a white man. These men were all white and asmany as have I fingers and toes. And when I saw they werefull of kindness， I took heart， and I resolved to bring awaywith me report of all that I saw. And they taught me thework they did， and gave me good food and a place to sleep.
“And day after day we went over the sea， and each daythe head man drew the sun down out of the sky and madeit tell where we were. And when the waves were kind， wehunted the fur seal and I marvelled much， for always didthey fling the meat and the fat away and save only the skin.”
Opee-Kwan’s mouth was twitching violently， and he wasabout to make denunciation of such waste when Koogahkicked him to be still.
“After a weary time， when the sun was gone and the biteof the frost come into the air， the head man pointed thenose of the schooner south. South and east we travelledfor days upon days， with never the land in sight， and wewere near to the village from which hailed the men—”