n. Even as he reached the cottage in the
gulch he was aware of loud shouting, and of a team of huskies
literally tearing over the snow. They were making as if to pass his
house without stopping, as no man ever did that lonely spot, if only
for the cup of tea and the moment's "spell," and the kindly stimulus
of the old man's company. Yes, the driver was shouting, shouting to
him. "Ships, Uncle Rube!"--"What is it?"--"Ships on the ice!" the old
man heard. Didn't he know it only too well?

Another moment and the modern Paul Revere, with dogs for horses and
ice and snow for a highway, was flying on his self-imposed journey,
carrying his slogan from house to house and village to village along
the sparsely inhabited coast-line. As Uncle Rube opened his door and
peered into the little room, to his infinite joy he saw the golden
curls in their proper place on the old settle by the stove, while the
regular quiet breathing assured him that the child had not yet waked
from sleep. As he softly tiptoed around, seeking the outfit he needed
for his great adventure, the barrenness of the house, the poverty of
it, struck him for the first time. God knows he had never thought of
"things," except as he had needed them for himself or others; and now
he wished suddenly that he had more of them for the child's sake.
Suppose, now that his "day" had at last arrived, he should not return
from the long-looked-for quest. He became strangely conscious that he
had nothing laid up for his darling, the child who now filled the
whole horizon of his cramped life. Her very clothes were in tatters.
The Indian shawl, that I had seen pressed into the service against his
enemy the Frost King, was now only a thing of rags and patches. Were
it not for his own big coat, even at this moment his Princess would be
shivering with cold. Furtively he glanced round for his rope and gaff,
relics of the last time he had gone on the ice. All these years he had
kept them ready for "the day," never able to break the spell woven
around them on the ill-fated Manxman. There was his nonny-bag, in it
already the sugar and oatmeal, the ration of pork, and the small
bottle of brandy, that each year he kept ready when the 10th of March
came round--the day on which the sealers leave for the ice fields. The
new idea that his life was of value for the child's sake sent a
half-guilty feeling through him, lest he be caught looking at these
implements, where they lay with his old conve