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Updated: June 1, 2025
But the priest, without so much as a glance at the new-comer, proceeded to feed Kaviak out of the saucepan, blowing vigorously at each spoonful before administering. "He's pretty hungry," commented Mac. "Where'd you find him?" "In a little village up on the Kuskoquim. Kaviak's an Esquimaux from Norton Sound, aren't you, Kaviak?"
"Him bird him button," replied the imperturbable one. "Seeing Kaviak's feather reminded me of a native cradle-song that's a kind of a story, too. It's been roughly translated." "Can you say it?" "I used to know how it went." He began in a deep voice: "'The wind blows over the Yukon. My husband hunts deer on the Koyukun mountains. Ahmi, ahmi, sleep, little one.
Of an evening now, after sleep had settled on Kaviak's watchful eyes, the Boy worked at a pair of little snow-shoes, helped out by a ball of sinew he had got from Nicholas. Mac bethought him of the valuable combination of zoological and biblical instruction that might be conveyed by means of a Noah's Ark.
It was curious that the child seemed not to mind these menacing looks, not in the smallest degree. By-and-by the order of march was disturbed. Kaviak's right runner, catching at some obstacle, swerved and sent the sled bumping along on its side, the small head of the passenger narrowly escaping the ice. Mac caught hold of the single-tree and brought the racing dogs to an abrupt halt.
"It don't sound like Nich'las, annyhow. May the divil burrn him in tarment and ile fur disappoyntin' th' kid." A rattle at the latch, and the Pymeut opened the door. "Lorrd love ye! ye're a jool, Nich'las!" screamed O'Flynn; and the mucklucks passed from one to the other so surreptitiously that for all Kaviak's wide-eyed watchfulness he detected nothing.
"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.
"It can't go on," says the Colonel; "but Mac's right: Kaviak's being here isn't to blame. They we, too are like a lot of powder-cans." The Boy nodded. "Any day a spark, and biff! some of us are in a blaze, and wh-tt! bang! and some of us are in Kingdom Come." "I begin to be afraid to open my lips," said the Colonel. "We all are; don't you notice?" "Yes. I wonder why we came."
The lid of an old cardboard box was bound round the frozen mass with a string, and on the cardboard was written: "Moose and Christmas Greeting from Kaviak's friends at Holy Cross to Kaviak's friends by the Big Chimney." "H'ray! h'ray! Come out, you fellas!
The camp tried hard to dissuade them. Naturally neither listened. They packed the Boy's sled and set off on the morning of the third, to Kaviak's unbounded surprise and disgust, his view of life being that, wherever Mac went, he was bound to follow.
The Boy got up, limped over to the bunk, lifted the child out, and brought him to Mac's side. "Since there ain't enough cups," said Mac, in self-justification, and he put his own, half empty, to Kaviak's lips. The Spissimen imbibed greedily, audibly, and beamed.
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