"That seems certain," I granted her.
"Where is Imnak?" she asked.
Surely she knew he was just outside the tent. "He is just outside the tent," I said.
"Why does he not carry me off?" she asked.
"I wish that he would," I said. "He is shy."
"Well," she said, "I am not going."
"She says she is not going," I called out to Imnak.
There was a pause. Then I heard Imnak say, "That is all right with me."
Poalu seemed startled. I was relieved. I turned about to take my departure.
"Wait," she said. "Aren't you going to carry me off?"
"I would be content," I said, "if it were up to me, to leave you in your father's tent forever."
I heard Imnak outside. "Yes," he said, "it is all right with me if she does not come."
"I will give you back your gifts, Imnak," said Kadluk, rather more loudly than was necessary.
"You may keep them," said Imnak, expansively.
"No, I could not do that," said Kadluk. I found myself hoping that he would indeed return Imnak's gifts. We in Imnak's tent could use that Bazi tea, those furs and the tabuk steaks.
"It will be amusing to hear the songs they will sing in the feasting house about Poalu," said Imnak, loudly, "how no one wants her."
"How can you carry me off?" called Poalu. "You have no sled."
"There is no snow," I said to her.
"There is a proper way and an improper way to do things," said Poalu to me.
"Oh, look," said Imnak, "here is a sled."
Poalu, still clutching the blubber hammer, poked her head outside.
There was indeed a sled there, that which Imnak had built at the wall, and which the girls had drawn, that sled by means of which his supplies and gear had been transported across Ax Glacier.
Harnessed to the sled, in their full furs, were Thimble, Thistle and Arlene.
"Ho! Ho!" called Poalu, derisively. "You would expect to carry a girl off in a sled drawn by white-skinned slave beasts! What a scoundrel you are! How insulting!"
"I will borrow a snow sleen," said Imnak. "Will that be sufficient?"
I thought a snow sleen, one of those long, vicious animals, would surely be puzzled to find itself attached to a sled where there was no snow.
"Perhaps," called Poalu.
Imnak unhitched Thimble, Thistle and Arlene. They stood about, puzzled. He then turned and left the vicinity of the tent. "Would you like more tea?" asked Tatkut.
"Yes, thank you," I said. I was at least getting some of the tea back which Imnak had given to Kadluk.
In a few minutes Imnak returned with a snow sleen on a stout leash. Soon it was hitched to the sled. It was Akko's animal, and he, in the fashion of the red hunters, had cheerfully volunteered its services.
"Someone has a snow sleen hitched to a sled outside of the tent of someone," called Imnak.
"It is a poor beast," said Poalu. "Find a better."
"Someone has not even looked at it," said Imnak.
Poalu stuck her head out the tent. "It is a poor beast." said Poalu. "Find a better."
Imnak, for no reason that was clear to me, scouted about and located another snow sleen.
"That is worse than the other," said Poalu.
Imnak angrily unhitched the second animal, and rehitched the first one, that which belonged to Akko.
"Surely you do not expect me to ride behind so poor a beast?" inquired Poalu.
"Of course not," said Imnak. He made ready to leave.
"What are you doing?" asked Poalu.
"I am going away," said Imnak. "I am going to my tent."
"I suppose it will have to do," said Poalu.
"You could strike her heavily along the side of the head." said Kadluk to me. "That is what I did with Tatkut." Tatkut nodded, beaming.
"It is a thought," I said.
"Will no one protect a girl from being carried off!" cried Poalu.
She still carried the blubber hammer. If struck properly with it one might be brained.
"Is there no one who will save me?" wailed Poalu.
Kadluk looked about, anxious should anyone interfere. There were by now several bystanders about.
"Naartok," cried Poalu, "will you not save me?"
A heavy fellow nearby shook his head vigorously. He still carried his right arm high and close to his body, his shoulder hunched somewhat. I recalled that Poalu had in the past driven her blade into his body somewherer in that vicinity. Imnak had warned me that Naartok, his rival, might try to kill me, to prevent my carrying Poalu off. Naartok, however, seemed competely willing that I should undertake that task. It was clear that I had his best wishes for success in this endeavor. Naartok, like many of the red hunters, was not a fellow to be bitter about such things.
"Come along," I said to Poalu. "It will soon be dark." That was true. In a few weeks the Arctic night would descend.
She hurled the blubber hammer at my head and I slipped to the side. It sped past me and struck Naartok a cruel blow on the forehead.
She fled back into the tent and I nimbly pursued her. In the tent I scooped her up and threw her over my shoulder. Her small fists beat rapidly on my back.
"Will you stop that?" I asked.
"I do not want to go," she said.
"Oh," I said.
I put her to her feet and turued about, leaving the tent. "She says she does not want to go," I told Imnak.
"Go back," urged Imnak.
"Nonsense," I said. "Look, Imnak," I said, "I value your friendship but I have really had enough of this. I frankly do not think Poalu wants to be carried off by me."
Imnak looked at me, miserable.
"That is my considered opinion," I told him, confirming his fears.
"You will just have to carry her off yourself," I said.
"I am too shy," he wailed.
"Well, let us go home then," I said, "for I have drunk enough tea at the tent of Kadluk and evaded enough missiles to last me for several years."
"It is true," said Imnak, glumly. "You have endured more than one could rightfully ask of a friend."
"Too," I pointed out, "I was of aid in freeing the tabuk at the wall."
"Yes," said Imnak. "Forgive me, my friend, for imposing on you."
"It was no imposition," I said. "I would cheerfully carry off a girl for you, but it is one thing to carry off a girl and quite another to carry off Poalu."
"Poalu is a girl," said Imnak.
"I am not at all sure of that," I said.
"Do you think she may be a she-sleen?" asked Imnak, concerned. His metaphysics allowed this possibility. Sometimes men took the form of animals, and animals the form of men.
"Quite possibly," I said gravely.
"That would explain much," mused Imnak. "No," he said, seriously. 'That cannot be true. I have known Poalu for years. When we were children we would gather eggs together at the bird cliffs, and hold hands, and, together, fight the coming of sleep." He looked at me, intently. "Too," he said, "she is the daughter of Kadluk."
"I guess you are right, I said. "She is not really a she-sleen."
"But she acts much like one," said Imnak.
"Yes," I said.
"Some girls are like that," said Imnak.
"Have you ever known anyone like Poalu?" I asked.
"Not exactly," he admitted.
"Where are you lazy men going?" asked Poalu.
"Home," said Imnak.
We began to trudge back toward Imnak's tent. It was some two hundred yards away. Ininak led the snow sleen, drawing the sled on the tundra, and I walked beside him. Thimble, Thistle and Arlene walked beside the sled.
"Imnak is a lazy fellow!" called Poalu. "Imnak cannot sing in the feasting house! Imnak cannot paddle a kayak! Imnak is a poor hunter!"
"I am getting angry," said Imnak to me.
"Red hunters do not get angry," I told him.
"Sometimes red hunters get angry," said Imnak.
"I did not know that," I said.