returned Gartok moodily. "I am sorry now. If you had not been kind to
me, your enemy, Cheenbuk, I should never have been sorry. Ever since I
was hurt by the Fire-spouters you have been kind to me, and now you
would save my life if you could. But it is too late. You have known
right, and done it."

"You mistake," rejoined Cheenbuk gravely. "Like you, I have known right
but I have not always done it; only sometimes. It is not long since I
began to think, and it is since I have been thinking that my spirit
seems to have changed, so that I now hate wrong, and desire right. I
think that the Maker of all must have caused the change, as He makes the
ice-mountains melt, for it is not possible that I could change myself.
I had no wish to change till I felt the change."

"I wish," said Gartok earnestly, "that--if He exists at all--He would
change me."

At that moment Cheenbuk, who was gazing up into the brilliant sky,
seemed to be moved by a sudden inspiration, for he gave utterance to the
first audible prayer that had ever passed his lips.

"Maker of all," he said, "give to Gartok the spirit that loves right and
hates wrong."

The dying Eskimo raised his eyes to Cheenbuk's face in astonishment;
then he turned them to the starry host, as if he almost expected an
immediate answer.

"Do you think He hears us?" he asked in a faint voice, for the strength
of his feelings and the effort at conversation had exhausted him
greatly.

"I will trust Him," answered Cheenbuk.

"I will trust Him," repeated Gartok.

For some time they sat in profound silence, and Gartok closed his eyes
as if he were falling asleep. The silence was broken by a distant
sound. It was the approach of Anteek with the sledge. He had found the
runaway dogs anchored fast between two masses of ice where the sledge
had got jammed. Turning the team round he plied his whip with vigour,
insomuch that they would have arrived much sooner if the storm had not
caused delay.

Having arranged the sledge and its wraps so as to form a comfortable
couch for the wounded man, they lifted him on to it, but when they
removed the bearskin from his face it was found that he was beyond
earthly care: he had passed over to the land from which no sound has
ever come back.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE TRADERS AT WORK.

Wherever half a dozen average men are banded together and condemned to
make the best of each other's society for a prolonged period, there is
ap