th was wide,
with a lower lip that sagged loosely from its fellow above. His head
was small, and was burdened with a crown of lank black hair which had
been allowed to grow Indian-like until it hung upon his shoulders. He
was of medium height, and his arms were of undue length.

The other occupant of the dugout was our traveller. He was stretched
upon a blanket, on which was spread his fur coat; and he was
alternating between the disposal of a bowl of steaming soup and
groaning with the racking pains caused by his recently thawed-out
frost-bites.

The soup warmed his starving body, and his pain increased proportionately.
In spite of the latter, however, he felt very much alive. Occasionally
he glanced round upon his silent companions. Whenever he did so one or
the other, or both of the Eskimos were gazing stolidly at him.

He was rather a good-looking man, notwithstanding his now unkempt
appearance. His eyes were large--very large in their hollow sockets.
His nose and cheeks were, at present, a mass of blisters from the
thawing frost-bites, and his mouth and chin were hidden behind a
curtain of whisker of about three weeks' growth. There was no
mistaking him for anything but an Anglo-Saxon, and a man of
considerable and very fine proportions.

When his soup was finished he set the bowl down and leaned back with a
sigh. The pock-marked man glanced over at him.

"More?" he said, in a deep, not unmusical, tone.

The half-starved traveller nodded, and his eyes sparkled. One of the
Eskimos rose and re-filled the bowl from a tin camp-kettle which stood
on the stove. The famished man took it and at once began to sup the
invigorating liquid. The agonies of his frost-bites were terrible, but
the pangs of hunger were greater. By and by the bowl was set down
empty.

The half-breed sat up and crossed his legs, and leant his body against
two sacks which contained something that crackled slightly under his
weight.

"Give you something more solid in an hour or so. Best not have it too
soon," he said, speaking slowly, but with good enunciation.

"Not now?" said the traveller, in a disappointed tone.

The other shook his head.

"We're all going to have supper then. Best wait." Then, after a pause:
"Where from?"

"Forty Mile Creek," said the other.

"You don't say! Alone?"

There was a curious saving of words in this man's mode of speech.
Possibly he had learned this method from his Indian associates.

The traveller