United States or Botswana ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
So him go." "And Julyman? And Oolak?" "All gone. All him gone by land of fire. Oh, yes." An-ina sighed. It was her only means of expressing the feelings she could not deny. Marcel's eyes had sobered. He flung off his pea-jacket and possessed himself of An-ina's chair. He sat there with his great hands spread out to the warmth, enduring the sharp cold-aches it inspired.
As Julyman broke from his spell of dreaming Steve indicated the camp kettle. "I've set it to boil. I'll take a look outside," he said. He passed on without waiting for reply and his way followed the track which the sled had left in the rotting underlay, where over night it had been laboriously hauled into the shelter of the woods. His movements were vigorous.
It was there in the bottom of the light vessels, in the drawn faces and attenuated bodies of the paddler crew of Shaunekuks. It was in the display of Steve's side-arms strapped to a strut of the canoe ready to his hand, with holsters agape, and his loaded guns protruding threateningly. It was in a similar display in the second boat, which the well-nigh demented Julyman had commanded. Oh, yes.
And as for Julyman he's as near cast iron as as you." "Yes, it was pretty tough." "Tough? Gee!" The doctor's final exclamation was one of genuine amazement. "It's near three weeks since we hauled the remains of you from that skitter-ridden river," he went on, "and a deal's happened in that time. Jack Belton's gone in for stores, and to report.
It was the soft voice of Mrs. Ross which replied, and Julyman welcomed the sound. All Indians loved the "med'cine woman," as they affectionately called the doctor's wife. "It was the best party we've had in a year," she cried enthusiastically.
The dogs were ready and waiting under Oolak's charge. Inside the store, Steve supported by Julyman and An-ina, and the child Marcel, occupied the well-worn bench beside the stove. He was receiving the farewell words of the old chief, Wanak-aha, who was thankful enough to see the last of the disturber of his winter sleep.
The rolling swing of their gait carried them swiftly to their vantage ground, and hope stirred Steve to give expression to his thoughts. "It would be queer to find those fancy 'Sleeper Indians' of yours," he said. Julyman cast a glance over his left shoulder in the direction of the steely north.
Oolak was somewhere within the woods, tending his savage dogs. Julyman was hugging the fire, with complete disregard for all but its precious warmth. Those in the gap were staring out at the north-east with eyes held fascinated by the wonder of it all. It was the Spire, the amazing Spire of Unaga rearing its mighty crest out of the far-off distance.
Him sit with little pappoose. No dance. No nothin'. Only snow an' cold lak hell." This time the man's effort elicited a different response. Perhaps he had over-reached. Certainly the white man's eyes had lost the look that had inspired the Indian. They were frowning. It was the cold frown of displeasure. Julyman knew the look. He understood it well. So he went no further.
Nothing stirred Julyman but the fear of "devil-men," and his queer native superstitions. "Him soften. Oh, yes," he said. "Wind him all go west. Him soft. Yes." The wind had been carrying "forty below zero" on its relentless bosom. Its ferocity still remained, but now it was tempered by a warmth wholly unaccounted for by the change in its direction.
Word Of The Day