ed to walk behind El-Soo and watch the movements of her.
There was a music in it that he loved. And especially he loved the well-
rounded calves in their sheaths of soft-tanned leather, the slim ankles,
and the small moccasined feet that were tireless through the longest
days.

"You are light as air," he said, looking up at her. "It is no labour for
you to walk. You almost float, so lightly do your feet rise and fall.
You are like a deer, El-Soo; you are like a deer, and your eyes are like
deer's eyes, sometimes when you look at me, or when you hear a quick
sound and wonder if it be danger that stirs. Your eyes are like a deer's
eyes now as you look at me."

And El-Soo, luminous and melting, bent and kissed Akoon.

"When we reach the Mackenzie, we will not delay," Akoon said later. "We
will go south before the winter catches us. We will go to the sunlands
where there is no snow. But we will return. I have seen much of the
world, and there is no land like Alaska, no sun like our sun, and the
snow is good after the long summer."

"And you will learn to read," said El-Soo.

And Akoon said, "I will surely learn to read." But there was delay when
they reached the Mackenzie. They fell in with a band of Mackenzie
Indians, and, hunting, Akoon was shot by accident. The rifle was in the
hands of a youth. The bullet broke Akoon's right arm and, ranging
farther, broke two of his ribs. Akoon knew rough surgery, while El-Soo
had learned some refinements at Holy Cross. The bones were finally set,
and Akoon lay by the fire for them to knit. Also, he lay by the fire so
that the smoke would keep the mosquitoes away.

Then it was that Porportuk, with his six young men, arrived. Akoon
groaned in his helplessness and made appeal to the Mackenzies. But
Porportuk made demand, and the Mackenzies were perplexed. Porportuk was
for seizing upon El-Soo, but this they would not permit. Judgment must
be given, and, as it was an affair of man and woman, the council of the
old men was called--this that warm judgment might not be given by the
young men, who were warm of heart.

The old men sat in a circle about the smudge-fire. Their faces were lean
and wrinkled, and they gasped and panted for air. The smoke was not good
for them. Occasionally they struck with withered hands at the mosquitoes
that braved the smoke. After such exertion they coughed hollowly and
painfully. Some spat blood, and one of them sat a bit apart wi