It seemed, however, that they were soon to be released from their confinement. When they again looked out, they saw that the body of the old woman had been removed, and there was a considerable stir among the inhabitants of the little village. In the open within the circle of igloos sat the Ankuts, cross-legged, each with a rifle in his lap and a big knife at his hand. About them, at a respectful distance, stood the others of the community: two men, dejected and spiritless looking chaps, among whom Joe thought he recognized his friend of the fishes, three women, and six or seven boys and girls. All had the indifferent and apathetic air of slaves, which they were. As they looked, the boys saw two of the Ankuts approaching, and a moment after the stones which blocked the entrance of their prison were removed and they were bidden to come out. The two Ankuts marched them to the circle and stood by them. Harry had a singular feeling of weakness in the knees in this march, a wild desire to put out across the hills at top speed coupled with this feeling that his legs might give way under him at any moment. Somehow he had not feared these men before, but now things looked ominous. He glanced at Joe, who was watching him narrowly. Joe walked erect and defiant. “Whatever you do,” said Joe, “don’t let them see that you are afraid of them. Put on a bold front; it may help us.” So Harry braced himself and tried to get the limp feeling out of his knees, and hoped he succeeded in looking brave and cool. It was evident that they were before a sort of self-constituted board of judges. The evil-faced half-breed seemed to be the head of these, at once chief judge and prosecuting attorney. He spoke somewhat at length, always referring to Harry and Joe as “our white brothers.” He told of their interference between the Eskimos at Icy Cape and the “ghost wolves of the Nunatak.” Such interference with the Nunatak people, who were the fathers of wizards, he explained, was deserving of punishment. He told how the two had battled with the Ankuts in the snow igloo and outside, that night. How they had driven them away with fire spirits, robbed them of their bearskins, and otherwise ill-treated them. Such actions were deserving of punishment. He told how one of their comrades had fallen before the rifle of Harluk when the Ankuts had captured the two. For this also, he argued, they were deserving of punishment. The slayer of the Ankut was not there. Then these, his friends, must answer for his misdeed. This is the barbarous idea of atonement the world over. To all these statements the other Ankuts solemnly wagged their heads and chorused: “It is so.” Especially were they vigorous in their wagging when the half-breed said: “They are deserving of punishment.” “And yet,” continued the half-breed with a malicious smile, “the white men are our brothers. They, too, are wizards. They work with spirits of fire, and they rob the Innuit, the people, even as we do.”