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Updated: June 29, 2025
Mac tried to soothe him. But Kaviak, casting about for charms to disarm the awful fury of the white man able to endure with dignity any reverse save that of having his syrup spilt cried out: "I solly solly. Our Farva " "I'm sorry, too, Kaviak," Mac interrupted, gathering the child up to him; "and we won't either of us do it any more."
"Farva," seeming not to take the smallest notice, trudged along on one side of him, the priest on the other, and behind came Nicholas and the other Indians with the second sled. It was too windy to talk much even had they been inclined. The only sounds were the Mush! Mush! of the drivers, the grate and swish of the runners over the ice, and Kaviak's coughing. Mac turned once and frowned at him.
Bright, dark eyes stared roundly, and as Mac glowered astonished at the apparition, a mouth full of gleaming teeth opened, smiling, to say in a very small voice: "Farva!" Astonished as Mac was, disappointed and relieved all at once, there was something arresting in the appeal. "I'm not your father," he said stiffly. "Who're you? Hey? You speak English?"
Often for days he would utter nothing but "Farva" or "Maw" when he wanted his plate replenished, then suddenly he would say something that nobody could remember having taught him or even said in his presence. It was not to be denied that Kaviak loved sugar mightily, and stole it when he could. Mac lectured him and slapped his minute yellow hands, and Kaviak stole it all the same.
On Father Will's return Farva, speaking apparently less to the priest than to the floor, muttered: "Better let him stop where he is till his cold's better." The Colonel came in. "Leave the child here!" ejaculated the priest. " till he's better able to travel." "Why not?" said the Colonel promptly. "Well, it would be a kindness to keep him a few days. I'll have to travel fast tonight."
He returned the accusing looks of the company with self-possession. "Come here." He got up and trotted over to "Farva." "Have you been to the syrup?" Kaviak shook his head. "You must have been." "No." "You sure?" He nodded. "How did it go all away Do you know?" Again the silent denial. Kaviak looked over his shoulder at the dinner preparations, and then went back to his cricket.
Kaviak meanwhile, during this paltry discussion, had stood up on the high stool "Farva" had made for him, and personally inspected the big mush-pot. "Yes, maw mush, but no maw syrup." The round eyes travelled to the store corner. "We'll have to open a fresh can some time what's the odds?"
He was very angry when Potts and O'Flynn eavesdropped and roared at Kaviak's struggles with "Ow Farva." In fact, Kaviak did not shine as a student of civilisation, though that told less against him with O'Flynn, than the fact that he wasn't "jolly and jump about, like white children." Moreover, Jimmie, swore there was something "bogey" about the boy's intermittent knowledge of English.
Alone with him at last, Mac kept his eyes religiously turned away, sat down by the fire, and watched the sparks. By-and-by a head was put up over the board of the lower bunk. Mac saw it, but sat quite still. "Farva." He meant to answer the appeal, half cleared his throat, but his voice felt rusty; it wouldn't turn out a word.
It was the base Byron, tipping the wink to Mac out of the back of the bunk, that betrayed Kaviak. It became evident that "Farva" began to take a dour pride in the Kid's perseverance. One morning he even pointed out to the camp the strong likeness between Kaviak and Robert Bruce. "No, sah; the Scottish chief had to have an object-lesson, but Kaviak Lawd!
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