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Kaviak climbed timidly, shakily out, and stood in the middle of the floor in his bare feet. "Farva!" He came a little nearer till the small feet sank into the rough brown curls of the buffalo. The child stooped to pick up his wooden cricket, wavered, and was about to fall. Mac shot out a hand, steadied him an instant without looking, and then set the cricket in front of the fire.
"How did you get to the Klondyke, Kaviak?" said the Colonel in a thin, breathy voice. "Came up with Sister Winifred," Farva answered for him. "She was sent for to help with the epidemic. Dyin' like flies in Dawson h'm ahem!" Woman of her word." "Well, what you think o' Dawson?" the low voice asked.
He took the treatment so to heart, that he kept on howling dismally for some time after he was taken out, and dried, and linimented and dosed by Mac, whose treachery about the amulet he seemed to forgive, since "Farva" had had the air of rescuing him from the horrors he had endured in that water-bucket, where, for all Kaviak knew, he might have stayed till he succumbed to death.
"Then it's settled." Mac bundled Kaviak into the Boy's bunk. When the others were ready to go out again, Farva caught up his fur coat and went along with them. The dogs were not quite ready. The priest was standing a little absentmindedly, looking up.
And he did follow made off as hard as his swift little feet could carry him, straight up the Yukon trail, and Farva lost a good half of that first morning bringing him home.
And without waiting to see how his suggestion was received, he caught up the saucepan, lifted the flap, and vanished. "Farva," remarked Kaviak, fixing melancholy eyes on Mac. "I ain't your father," muttered the gentleman so addressed. He picked up his scarf and hung it round his own neck. "Farva!" insisted Kaviak. They looked at each other. "You cold? That it, hey?"
Kaviak stared, drew a long breath, and seemed to retire within himself. "You'd better attend to me, for I mean business." Kaviak, recalled from internal communing, studied "Farva" a moment, and then retreated to the cricket, as to a haven now, hastily and with misgiving, tripping over his trailing coat. Mac stood up. "Wait, old man."
The Big Chimney men drew deep breaths, and said in their hearts the battle was over and won. Kaviak, for ever following at Mac's heels "like a rale Irish tarrier," found his allegiance waver in these stirring, blissful days, if ever Farva so belied character and custom as to swing an axe for any length of time.
"Farva," remarked Kaviak, leaning out of the bunk and sniffing the savoury steam. "He takes you for a priest," said Potts, with the cheerful intention of stirring Mac's bile. But not even so damning a suspicion as that could cool the collector's kindness for his new Spissimen. "You come here," he said. Kaviak didn't understand.
"Oh, let the brat alone, and let's get to our grub!" said Potts, with an extreme nervous irritation. Mac swept Kaviak off the stool. "You come with me!" Only one person spoke after that till the meal was nearly done. That one had said, "Yes, Farva," and followed Mac, dinnerless, out to the Little Cabin. The Colonel set aside a plateful for each of the two absent ones, and cleared away the things.
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