rets hidden from the eyes of man. As the distance
gained the crystal of it all mellowed softly till a deep purple
dominated the whole prospect.

The wintering sun had almost completed its course. At this season of the
year it simply passed low above the horizon towards the west, like a
rolling ball of fire, until, weary of its effort, it submerged again
beyond the broken line of the hills. And each day that passed, its
course dropped lower and lower.

It was a stern enough picture for all winter had not yet finally closed
its doors upon the dying season. And none could know better the meaning
of its frowning than Steve.

"Wot's us looking at, Uncle Steve?"

The childish treble piped its demand without the boy withdrawing his
gaze from the grim picture of winter's approach.

In a moment Steve's pre-occupation vanished. He smiled down on the
fascinating little bundle of furs as he replied.

"Oolak, old fellow, Oolak, and Uncle Steve's outfit. Guess he's got
uncle's bed, and all his food."

"Wot food?"

Interest in such a subject superceded all interest in the sunset. Little
Marcel's eyes were eagerly enquiring as they gazed up into those of his
new found friend.

"Why, there's some frozen black-tail deer. Maybe there's a jack rabbit
or so. Then I guess there's biscuit, and coffee, and tea, and maybe even
sugar."

The boy nodded appreciatively.

"I likes 'em," he said. Then after a moment. "I likes plenty sugar.
There's sugar at the store. My Mummy, hers keep it for me cos I likes
'em."

Steve understood. He interpreted the announcement in his own fashion. He
knew that stores were running short, and that those others, those two
devoted women, were hoarding the last remains of their sugar for the
little life that needed it.

He turned abruptly towards the horizon again. Perhaps he did not desire
the eyes of the child to witness the feeling he had stirred.

He need have had no fear. At that moment the boy's treble shrilled with
excitement.

"Look, Uncle Steve!" he cried pointing. "Him's Oolak. Wiv dogs, an'
sled, an' food, an' everything. Him's coming down--"

But he waited for no more. He waited for no reply. He waited for no
guiding mandate. He raced off across the frozen surface of the snow as
fast as his jolly little legs could carry him. It seemed as if he
considered anything or anyone belonging to "Uncle Steve" to be also part
of his small life, and was entitled to all the welcome he could give.