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Updated: May 23, 2025
The fires in the heart of Unaga were burning. Their warming was in the breath of the breeze. It was in the very earth, yielding its fruit with the freedom of the temperate world. A wood-clad country of almost luxurious vegetation, there was in it a suggestion of the sub-tropical. But under the twilight of Arctic winter it had lost the happy hues of a sunlit season.
Between these points it lay there, a broad, sluggish stretch of water upon which the old fort looked down from the rising foreshore. The benighted instincts of the Shaunekuks know no half measure. Fort Duggan to them was the gateway of Unaga, which was the home of all Evil Spirits. So they looked upon the fort without favour, and left it severely alone. But now all that was changed.
Steve told her at once that he was a police officer, and that he was on a mission of investigation into the he said "disappearance" of Marcel Brand, who, he explained, was supposed to be a trader, with his partner Cyrus Allshore, somewhere in the direction north of Seal Bay in the Unaga country.
He removed the pipe from his rather wide mouth, and held it poised significantly. "This thing won't stand keeping. It's murder. There's two of 'em, I guess. Traders. Marcel Brand and his partner, Cyrus Allshore. Those are the names. Can't say I've heard of 'em before. Both of 'em dead murdered up there somewhere around the Unaga country.
"Him Unaga!" Julyman protested, his outstretched arm shaking. "No mak' him? Yes?" "We mak' this!" It was Oolak who answered him. He spoke with a preliminary, contemptuous grunt. He, too, was pointing. But he was pointing at that which lay near at hand.
Then she added with a deep breath, "It's dreadful." From the moment of their landing on the shores of the lake Marcel and Keeko became absorbed in the work that had brought them thither. The wonder of the fiery Heart of Unaga swiftly passed, and only in the brief moments over the camp-fire its fascination claimed them. At such moments neither was quite free from the superstition they derided.
Nothing that could be foreseen was neglected. Every stage of the journey to the Unaga country was measured in his mind, both for time and distance. Only the elements were perforce omitted from his calculations. This was in the nature of things. The elemental side of his undertaking was incalculable. His way lay due north for a while along the course of the great Caribou River.
An-ina know." She glanced away in the direction where the police post stood, and a woman's understanding was in the sympathy shining in her eyes. "White man officer no more. Oh, yes. No little baby girl. No. No nothing. Only Marcel, an' maybe An-ina. So. Oh, yes. Unaga. When we go?" There was no hesitation, no doubt in the woman's mind.
"He dream of Unaga him fire of Unaga! So!" Steve started. In a moment, at the challenge of Julyman, his mind had bridged a gulf of fourteen years. He was gazing upon a scene he had almost forgotten. A strange, magnificent scene in the heart of a white world where snow and ice held nature's wonderful creation buried deep in its crystal dungeons.
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