We nosed our kayaks on each side of the beast, approaching it from the rear.
"It is not breathing now," I said.
"It has been hunted before," said Imnak, "and lived."
"It is dead," I said. "It is not breathing."
"It has been hunted before, and lived," said Imnak. "Let us wait."
We waited for a time. "Let us tow it home," I said. "It is dead."
I poked the beast with the tip of my lance. It did not respond, but moved inertly in the water.
"It is dead," I said. "Let us draw it home now behind us."
"I would not be eager to turn my back on him," said Imnak.
"Why not?" I asked.
"He is not dead," said Imnak.
"How can you be sure?" I asked.
"He is still bleeding," said Imnak.
The hair rose on the back of my neck. Somewhere in that great body, apparently lifeless in the water, there still beat its heart.
"It is a broad-head." said Imnak. "It is pretending."
"It is losing blood," I said. "Too, it must soon breathe."
"Yes," said Imnak. "It will soon make its move. Be ready."
"We could go in with lances now," I said.
"It is waiting for our closer approach," said Imnak. "Do not think its senses are not keen."
"We shall wait?" I asked.
"Yes," said Imnak. "Of course. It is bleeding. Time is on our side."
We waited in the polar dusk.
After a time Imnak said, "Be ready. I have been counting. It must soon breathe."
We readied our lances, one of us on each side of the beast. Suddenly with a great, exploding noise, expelling air, the sleen leaped upward. At the height of its leap we struck it with our lances. It pulled free of the lances and, sucking in air, spun and dove. Again the harpoon line darted downward. "We struck it fairly!" said Imnak. "Watch out!" he cried. The line had grown slack. I peered downward into the water. Then I felt the swell of the water beneath me, clearly through the taut hide of the kayak. I thrust downward with the lance and was half pulled from the kayak, myself and the vessel lifted upward, as the sleen's impaled body reared up almost beneath the craft. Imnak struck again at it from the side. It fell back in the water and I, jerking free the lance, thrust it again into the wet, bloody pelt. It attacked again, laterally in the water, fangs snapping, and I pressed it away with the lance. Imnak struck it again. It thrashed; bloody in the icy water. It turned on Imnak and I thrust my lance deeply into its side, behind the right foreflipper, seeking, hunting, the great, dark heart. It expelled air again. I pulled the lance free to drive it in again. The beast regarded me. Then it rolled in the water.
"It is dead," said Imnak.
"How do you know?" I asked.
"The nature of your stroke, and its depth," said Imnak. "You have penetrated to the heart."
"Its heart is centered," I said.
"Consider the blood on your lance," he said.
I noted it. New blood was splashed more than twenty-eight inches along the shaft.
"You have great strength," said Imnak.
He took his kayak to the side of the beast. With wooden plugs he began to stop up the wounds. He did not wish to lose what blood might be left in the animal. Frozen blood is nutritious.
"Will you blow air under its skin?" I asked.
"Not unless it becomes heavy in the water," said Imnak. "We are going in now."
"It is going to sink," I said.
"Here," said Imnak, "support it between the kayaks. We will use them as floats."
We tied the great beast between the two kayaks and then. one vessel on each side of the huge sea mammal, began to paddle toward camp. There is an ivory ring below each place where the paddle is gripped, between the hand and the paddle blade. Thus, when the paddle is lifted the water, falling from its blade, does not run back down the lever and into one's sleeve.
"I told you earlier I thought the sleen was really a good fellow," I said.
"I was not sure of it for a time," said Imnak.
"You doubted him," I said.
"It was wrong of me," granted Imnak. "But he is good at pretending. He had me fooled for a time."
"That is the way sleen are," I said.
"They are playful fellows," admitted Imnak.
"You are the one who first noted that he liked me," I said.
Imnak looked at me, and grinned. "You see," he said, "I was right."
"I was not sure of it for a while," I said.
"When you are longer in the north," said Imnak, "these things will become clearer to you."
"Perhaps," I admitted.
"You should thank the sleen for letting himself be harpooned by you," said Imnak. "Not every sleen will do that."
"Thank you, Sleen," I said.
"Good," said Imnak. "That is a simple courtesy. You surely cannot expect sleen to come over to be harpooned if you are not even going to be civil to them."
"I guess you are right, Imnak," I said.
"Of course I am right," said Imnak. "Sleen have their pride."
We had then arrived at the two sleen he had left floating in the water, beneath whose hides he had blown air. He deferentially thanked the two sleen for having permitted themselves to be slain by him. Then he tied them behind his kayak and, together, paddling, we headed back toward the pebbled shore.
"When the sleen are dead, how can you expect them to know they are thanked?" I asked.
"That is an interesting and difficult question," said Imnak. "I do not really know how the sleen manage it."
"It seems it would be hard to do," I said.
"It is a belief of the People," said Imnak, "that the sleen does not really die but, after a time, will be reborn again."
"The sleen is immortal?" I asked.
"Yes," said Imnak. "And when he comes again he will hopefully be more willing to let himself be harpooned again if he has been well treated."
"Are men. too, thought to be immortal?" I asked.
"Yes," said Imnak.
"I know a place," I said, "where some people would think that men are immortal but animals are not."
"They do not like animals?" asked Imnak.
"I do not know," I said. "Perhaps they think they are immortal because they are smart and sleen are not."
"Some sleen are pretty smart," said Imnak. He thought for a bit. "If sleen were to talk these things over," he said, "they would probably say that they were immortal and men were not, because they were better at swimming."