THE ANCIENT ONE 33

the roof. Food!—and it had been two days since he
ate his last morsel of fish!

Down over the ledges, toward the astonished group
beside the fire, Quahl hastened. Women shrieked and
men seized their weapons as he approached; children
fled in fear and slaves huddled together. None recog-
nized the young chief in the uncouth fur-clad figure
that came toward them. To them he was a strange,
a supernatural being, whose appearance threatened
calamity.

“It is I, Quahl!’’ he cried, dropping his bundles
upon the floor in order to throw back the hood of the
fur parka which hid his features. He had forgotten
that his people had never seen the queer bulky gar-
ments of the Eskimos; he was amazed at their con-
sternation.

“Quahl?” repeated the old chief, unbelievingly.
He could not realize that the tall, broad-shouldered
man before him was the slender youth who had sailed
away into the Northland five years before.

“Tt is Quahl!”’ Kinna cried, seizing his brother’s
arm. “Can you not see it is Quahl? That smile is
Quahl’s smile!”

“Yes, it is Quahl,” agreed the chieftainess, coming
forward quickly. “It is my son. Beneath the man is
the lad who went away so long ago. Like Kinna, I
can tell by his smile, and by his eyes.”

“And by this!” cried Quahl, eagerly, picking up
the grease dish with fish handles which he had given