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Updated: September 15, 2025
The Boy turned on her angrily, and saw her staring back at Joe's ighloo. There, sauntering calmly past the abhorred trap, was the story-teller's daughter. Past it? No. She actually halted and busied herself with her legging thong. "That girl must be an imbecile!" Or was it the apparition of her father, up at the Kachime entrance, that inspired such temerity?
"Well, we won't go slow. We've got to do penance. When shall we start?" "Too late now. Tomalla," said the Ol' Chief. They got up very early it seemed to the Boy like the middle of the night stole out of the dark Kachime, and hurried over the hard crust that had formed on the last fall of snow, down the bleak, dim slope to the Ol' Chief's, where they were to breakfast.
Nicholas wouldn't let the Boy undo his pack. "No, we come back," he said, adding something in his own tongue to the company, and then crawled out, followed by the Boy. Their progress was slow, for the Boy's "Canadian webfeet" had been left in the Kachime, and he sank in the snow at every step.
Nobody else in sight but Yagorsha's daughter down at the water-hole. "Where's my pardner gone?" The child only stared, having no English apparently. While the Boy packed the rest of the things, and made the tattered canvas fast under the lashing, Joe came out of the Kachime. He stood studying the prospect a moment, and his dull eyes suddenly gleamed.
Turning round to the dying fire, he took a stick, and with Nicholas's help gathered the ashes up and laid them over the smouldering brands. The ighloo was practically dark. No one dared speak save the yet unabashed devil in the sick man, who muttered angrily. It was curious to see how the coughing of the others, which in the Kachime had been practically constant, was here almost silenced.
Nicholas looked grave; even Princess Muckluck stopped laughing. "Come," said Nicholas, and the Boy followed him on all fours into the Kachime.
Joe had stopped to speak to "Who on earth's that white woman?" "Nicholas' sister." "Not Muckluck?" She nodded. "What's she dressed like that for?" "Often like that in summer. Me, too me got Holy Cross clo'es." Muckluck went slowly up towards the Kachime with Joe. When the others got to the water-hole, Anna turned and left the Boy without a word to go and recover her pail.
Except just where he was lying, the Pymeut men and women were crowded together, on that side of the Kachime, at his head and at his feet, thick as herrings on a thwart. They all leaned forward and regarded him with a beady-eyed sympathy.
But it was only the Colonel who hastened towards them at the summons. The poor girl's own father stood calmly smoking, up there, by the Kachime, one foot propped comfortably on the travellers' loaded sled.
He gasped, and was for getting out again as fast as possible, when the bearskin flap fell behind him over the Kachime end of the entrance-tunnel.
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