'You don't believe me, Seltichan,' he said finally, turning to the old man. 'Have you forgotten how I loved and taught you when you were a boy; how I advised you in difficulties, told you old legends, and about distant countries? Was I not your father's comrade,--his friend when you were still a little child, crawling on the ground? And later, when you grew up, did I not boast of you, and you, did you not listen to my advice? Who was the foremost warrior and hunter among us? Who spoke wisely and courteously?--You were always a true Tungus, Seltichan; we all know that.--Was it the worst who were offered in olden times? I swear to you, old man, and to all the tribes that I spoke the truth. I said what a voice from heaven commanded me to say! May my face be turned round to my back, and my body dried up like tobacco leaves, may my eyes fall out, and my muscles grow weak like badly dried yarn, and--may my hand burn, as the heart burns from unkindness'--here with a rapid movement he put his hand into the flame. They all sprang up, and Seltichan drew the old man away from the fire. 'Oltungaba, forgive me, and all of you, forgive me,' he said with emotion. 'It is a sin to suspect evil. I will go,--I had already determined to do so. I am summoned, and I will go. If I stayed, you would be forced to go,--so would it be worth while? There is always one rotten egg in a nest.--Can a man be a man without reindeer? What is a Tungus without other Tungus?--I leave you, but you will not forget me!--Good-bye!--May your herds increase! May your children grow to manhood! May joy not shun your tents! May there be no lack of food in your cauldrons, of powder in your horns, and of goodness in your hearts!--I go away, but my thoughts are gentle, as the rays of the setting sun.--I am going now; I take leave of you, my people! --Farewell!' With a quick movement he tore the figured 'dalys' on his chest, and plunged a knife up to the hilt into his heart. He stood for a moment, his fading glance passing round them all,--then staggered, and fell. A single great sigh burst from the crowd. Oltungaba hastily knelt down beside the dying man, uncovered his breast, and placing his right hand near the wound, stretched his left towards the sun, crying: 'Oh, thou God ruling all things, help us,--shield us! We are not the last, and not the lowest, if we can send forth hearts like these!' 'Hearts like these!' groaned the crowd. All, even the stout Kniaź, felt at that moment as if their hearts beat with the same readiness for sacrifice as that which was growing cold under Oltungaba's hand. 'He was a warrior,' whispered the shaman after a moment, and picking up the 'dalys,' he threw it over the face, quivering in its death agony. FOOTNOTES: [20] 'Kniaź': Russian 'Soltys' = village mayor. PRINTED AT THE HOLYWELL PRESS OXFORD * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: Uncommon spellings in original retained.