eve followed the direction of the mitted hand pointing northward, and
the smile died out of his eyes. That strange Spire filled his memory
still in spite of himself. Something of the Indian's awe communicated
itself to him.

But he thrust it from him and gazed out ahead again, searching the
tracks they were following.

"We'll find something, anyway," he said presently. "This track's not
half a day old. There's folks beyond the rise. Say, maybe we can winter
hereabouts, and work along the coast. The coast line's warmer. It never
hits zero on the coast till you make inside the Arctic Circle. We'll get
back to home next winter. It'll be good getting back to your squaws on
Caribou, eh?"

There was a note in Steve's voice which did not fail to impress itself
on the Indian's keen understanding. He knew his boss was thinking of his
own white squaw and the pretty blue eyes of the pappoose which made the
father forget every trouble and concern when he gazed down into them.
Oh, yes, Julyman understood. He understood pretty well every mood of his
boss. And who should understand them if he did not? Men on the trail
together learn to read each other like a book.

"Squaws him trash!" exclaimed the Indian. And he spat to emphasize his
cynical opinion.

"Some squaws," corrected Steve.

Julyman glanced at him from the corners of eyes which had become mere
slits before the biting drift of the wind.

"All squaw," he said doggedly. Then he went on. "Squaw him all smile.
Him soft. Him mak dam fool of Indian man. Squaw no good--only mak
pappoose, feed pappoose. Raise him. All the time squaw mak pappoose. Him
not think nothin' more. Just pappoose. Indian man think all things. Him
squaw only mak pappoose an'--trouble."

"Trouble?" Steve's smile was alight with humour.

The Indian nodded.

"All time," he said decidedly. "No man, no pappoose, then squaw him mak
trouble all time. It all same. Him find man sure. All man dam fool.
Squaw mak him dam fool. Julyman stand by teepee. Him tak rawhide. Him
say, 'do so!' Squaw him do. Julyman mak long trail. Him not care. Him
come back him find plenty much other squaw. So!"

The Indian's watchful eyes had turned again to the tracks ahead. But he
had seen. The humour had completely vanished out of Steve's eyes. So had
his smile. Julyman's purpose was not quite clear. He loved and revered
his chief. He had no desire to hurt him. But Steve knew that the man
had been saying what he had said for h