n all, the man was a
smile-producing combination.

"Are you a guide?" asked the Professor.

"Me guide."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty year."

"I think that is about it," said the store-keeper. "These natives never
know their age exactly."

"You look to me more like an Eskimo than an Indian," observed Professor
Zepplin.

"Me Innuit--Siwash. You savvy me?"

Stacy scratched his head.

"Tell him to talk United States," suggested the fat boy.

"What is your name?" asked Tad.

"Anvik. Me smart man, savvy? Me educate Jesuit Mission. Me pilot
Chilkoot, White Horse, Caribou; me savvy all over."

"Do you know how to cook?" questioned the Professor.

"Heap cook all time. Me savvy cook."

"You don't savvy any cooking for me," declared Stacy.

"You will think differently about it when you are hungry. Remember, you
are full of cheese and crackers now," answered Rector.

"You have been out with the white men surveying, I am told," resumed the
Professor.

Anvik nodded solemnly.

"Big snow--no trail--big mountains. White men get lost. Anvik find,
Anvik know trail. Anvik big pilot. Me take um to Ikogimeut when Yukon
ice get hard so man can go safe with dog team. Big feast, big feed, tell
heap big stories, big dance. Oh, heap big time. Innuit go, plenty
Ingalik go. Me got pony, too. Buy um from Ingalik man."

"According to his story he seems to be the big noise up here," muttered
Ned Rector.

"He has a pony. That is one point in his favor," said Tad.

"Wait till you see it before you call it a pony," advised Stacy.

"Me got gun, too. Me shoot. Bang!"

Stacy staggered back, clapping a hand to his forehead.

"I'm shot!" he cried dramatically.

"Stacy, do restrain yourself until we get out on the trail again,"
begged the Professor.

"Me make snare. Me catch big game in snare. Me heap big pilot. Me
Ingalik."

"Have some cheese," urged Chunky, passing a chunk to the now squatting
Indian.

Without the least change of expression the Indian thrust the chunk into
his mouth and permitted it to lie there, bulging out the right cheek.

"Do you think this man will do, sir?" asked Professor Zepplin, turning
to the store-keeper.

"He will have to if you want a guide. He is the only fellow here who has
ever acted in that capacity, so far as I know."

"We would prefer to have a white man."

The proprietor shook his head.

"White men mostly are up in the gold country, Dawson, Nome, all over."

"Isn't there gol