It was a wild night， and as the hours passed and the funlaughed and roared along， death stirred more restlesslyin Klakee-Nah’s throat. Then it was that he sent forPorportuk. And Porportuk came in from the outside frostto look with disapproving eyes upon the meat and wineon the table for which he had paid. But as he looked downthe length of flushed faces to the far end and saw the faceof El-Soo， the light in his eyes flared up， and for a momentthe disapproval vanished.
Place was made for him at Klakee-Nah’s side， and a glassplaced before him. Klakee-Nah， with his own hands， filledthe glass with fervent spirits. “Drink！” he cried. “Is it notgood？”
And Porportuk’s eyes watered as he nodded his headand smacked his lips.
“When， in your own house， have you had such drink？”
Klakee-Nah demanded.
“I will not deny that the drink is good to this old throatof mine，” Porportuk made answer， and hesitated for thespeech to complete the thought.
“But it costs overmuch，” Klakee-Nah roared， completingit for him.
Porportuk winced at the laughter that went downthe table. His eyes burned malevolently. “We were boystogether， of the same age，” he said. “In your throat is death.
I am still alive and strong.”
An ominous murmur arose from the company. Klakee-Nah coughed and strangled， and the old slaves smote himbetween the shoulders. He emerged gasping， and wavedhis hand to still the threatening rumble.
“You have grudged the very fire in your house because thewood cost overmuch！” he cried. “You have grudged life. Tolive cost overmuch， and you have refused to pay the price.
Your life has been like a cabin where the fire is out andthere are no blankets on the floor.” He signalled to a slaveto fill his glass， which he held aloft. “But I have lived. AndI have been warm with life as you have never been warm.
It is true， you shall live long. But the longest nights are thecold nights when a man shivers and lies awake. My nightshave been short， but I have slept warm.”
He drained the glass. The shaking hand of a slave failedto catch it as it crashed to the floor. Klakee-Nah sankback， panting， watching the upturned glasses at the lips ofthe drinkers， his own lips slightly smiling to the applause.
At a sign， two slaves attempted to help him sit uprightagain. But they were weak， his frame was mighty， andthe four old men tottered and shook as they helped himforward.
“But manner of life is neither here nor there，” he wenton. “We have other business， Porportuk， you and I， tonight.
Debts are mischances， and I am in mischance withyou. What of my debt， and how great is it？”
Porportuk searched in his pouch and brought forth amemorandum. He sipped at his glass and began. “There isthe note of August， 1889， for three hundred dollars. Theinterest has never been paid. And the note of the nextyear for five hundred dollars. This note was included inthe note of two months later for a thousand dollars. Thenthere is the note—”
“Never mind the many notes！” Klakee-Nah cried outimpatiently. “They make my head go around and all thethings inside my head. The whole！ The round whole！ Howmuch is it？”
Porportuk referred to his memorandum. “Fifteen thousandnine hundred and sixty-seven dollars and seventy-fivecents，” he read with careful precision.
“Make it sixteen thousand， make it sixteen thousand，”
Klakee-Nah said grandly. “Odd numbers were ever aworry. And now—and it is for this that I have sent foryou—make me out a new note for sixteen thousand， whichI shall sign. I have no thought of the interest. Make it aslarge as you will， and make it payable in the next world，when I shall meet you by the fire of the Great Father of allIndians. Then the note will be paid. This I promise you. Itis the word of Klakee-Nah.”
Porportuk looked perplexed， and loudly the laughterarose and shook the room. Klakee-Nah raised his hands.
“Nay，” he cried. “It is not a joke. I but speak in fairness. Itwas for this I sent for you， Porportuk. Make out the note.”
“I have no dealings with the next world，” Porportukmade answer slowly.
“Have you no thought to meet me before the GreatFather！” Klakee-Nah demanded. Then he added， “I shallsurely be there.”
“I have no dealings with the next world，” Porportukrepeated sourly.
The dying man regarded him with frank amazement.
“I know naught of the next world，” Porportuk explained.
“I do business in this world.”
Klakee-Nah’s face cleared. “This comes of sleeping coldof nights，” he laughed. He pondered for a space， then said，“It is in this world that you must be paid. There remainsto me this house. Take it， and burn the debt in the candlethere.”
“It is an old house and not worth the money，” Porportukmade answer.
“There are my mines on the Twisted Salmon.”
“They have never paid to work，” was the reply.
“There is my share in the steamer Koyokuk. I am halfowner.”
“She is at the bottom of the Yukon.”
Klakee-Nah started. “True， I forgot. It was last springwhen the ice went out.” He mused for a time while theglasses remained untasted， and all the company waitedupon his utterance.
“Then it would seem I owe you a sum of money whichI cannot pay ... in this world？” Porportuk nodded andglanced down the table.
“Then it would seem that you， Porportuk， are a poorbusiness man，” Klakee-Nah said slyly. And boldly Porportukmade answer， “No； there is security yet untouched.”
“What！” cried Klakee-Nah. “Have I still property？ Nameit， and it is yours， and the debt is no more.”
“There it is.” Porportuk pointed at El-Soo.
Klakee-Nah could not understand. He peered down thetable， brushed his eyes， and peered again.
“Your daughter， El-Soo—her will I take and the debt beno more. I will burn the debt there in the candle.”
Klakee-Nah’s great chest began to heave. “Ho！ ho！—ajoke. Ho！ ho！ ho！” he laughed Homerically. “And with yourcold bed and daughters old enough to be the mother ofEl-Soo！ Ho！ ho！ ho！” He began to cough and strangle， andthe old slaves smote him on the back. “Ho！ ho！” he beganagain， and went off into another paroxysm.
