Just before we left Depot Island, in the summer of 1880, there arrived
several families from that section of the Arctic, who came, I as
informed, to get rid of the vendetta. It seems that the present cause
of trouble was a young man, quite small in stature, but very active and
energetic, of whom the refugees were very much afraid. Some of their
relatives had killed this young man's father, and when they refused to
pay for it he took occasion to kill the murderer, for which, as is the
custom, they in turn demanded payment. He refused satisfaction, and one
night about a year ago some of these people went to his igloo while the
family were in bed, and through a small hole that had melted through
the snow, they pointed a rifle, and, as they supposed, killed their
enemy, of whom they were so much afraid. Unfortunately for them they
found they had made a mistake, as instead of killing him they had
killed his oldest son, who lay alongside of him in bed. The father said
nothing, but reached for his gun, which he had always convenient for an
emergency, and shortly after the shot was fired, when the murderer
returned to peep through the hole and see the effect of his aim, the
father shot him dead. Then it was that the remaining members of the
family found that this business was getting to be a nuisance and
concluded to leave.
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