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The Boy brought it, and Mr. Benham triumphantly sawed off two fine large steaks. Kaviak scraped up the meat saw-dust and ate it with grave satisfaction. With a huge steak in each hand, the Colonel, beaming, led the procession back to the cabin. The Boy and Mac cached the rest of the moose on the roof and followed. "Fine team, that one o' yours," said Salmon P. Hardy to the trader.
Mac picked the body up and held it head downwards; laid it flat again, and, stripping off the great sodden jacket, already beginning to freeze, fell to putting Kaviak through the action of artificial breathing. "We must get them up to the cabin first thing," said the Boy. But Mac seemed not to hear. "Don't you see Kaviak's face is freezing?" Still Mac paid no heed.
In the turmoil and the contending of many voices Nicholas began to explain to his friends that it wasn't a real fight, as it had every appearance of being, and the visitors were in no immediate danger of their lives. But Kaviak feared the worst, and began to weep forlornly. "The world is dyin' at top and bottom!" screamed the Boy, writhing under the Colonel's clutch.
It curled and spiralled, and described the kind of involved and long-looped flourishes which the grave and reverend of a hundred years ago wrote jauntily underneath the most sober names. Lovingly the dark eyes watched the engrossing process. Even when the attenuated thread was broken, and the golden rain descended in slow, infrequent drops, Kaviak stood waiting, always for just one drop more.
Nicholas came in for Kaviak, and for the furs, that he might pack them both in the Father's sled. Already the true son of the Church was undoing the ropes that lashed firm the canvas of the tent. "Where's the Boy?" said Mac suddenly. "The young fellow that's with us. You know, the one that found you that first Sunday and brought you to camp. Where is he?"
He nodded, got up briskly, held up his train, and dragged his high stool to the table, scrambled up, and established himself. "Look at that!" said the Colonel triumphantly. "That youngster hasn't just eaten a pint o' syrup." Mac was coming slowly up behind Kaviak with a face that nobody liked looking at.
That same evening, as they sat in the tent in an interval of relief from the Colonel's muttering monotone, they heard Nig making some sort of unusual manifestation outside; heard the grunting of those pioneer pigs; heard sounds of a whispered "Sh! Kaviak. Shut up, Nig!"
Mac gave out a sound between a cough and a snort, and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. Kaviak had started nervously. "You cold?" asked Mac. Kaviak nodded. "Hungry?" He nodded again, and fell to coughing. Mac got up and brought the newly purchased coat to the fire. "It's for you," he said, as the child's big eyes grew bigger with admiration. "Me? Me own coat?"
Kaviak could give points to any spider livin'!" This was on the morning that the Esquimer thought to escape scrubbing, even at the peril of his life, by getting up on to the swing-shelf how, no man ever knew.
"I wanted Maudie to have my Minóok claim " "Got a Minóok claim o' my own." "So I've left it to be divided " They all looked up. "One-half to go to a little girl in 'Frisco, and the other half well, I've left the other half to Kaviak. Strikes me he ought to have a little piece o' the North." "Y-yes!" "Oh, yes!" "Good idea!" "Mac thought he'd go over to the other tent and cook some dinner.
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