l things.
I am afraid. Why are there many suns?"

"It is the white death," answered the boy. "You needn't fear. Only stay
in the house and don't breathe the outside air. I have seen it once
before. Tonight will come the northern lights and they will hiss and pop
and snap. And they will be so bright it will look like the whole world
is on fire. Then the wind will come, and tomorrow it will be gone, and
everything will be the same as before."

"I have heard of the white death," said the woman. "My father and some
of the old men have seen it--beyond Bear Lake. My father and some of the
others crawled under their blankets and lay for more than a day but some
of the old men died."

The thin wail of an infant sounded from a pole crib at the other end of
the room, and the woman rose quickly and crossed to its side. Connie saw
her stoop over the crib and mutter soft, crooning words, as she patted
the tiny bed clothing with her hand. The wailing ceased, and the woman
tiptoed back to his side. "It is the little Victor," she explained, and
Connie noticed that her eyes were wet with tears. Suddenly she broke
down and covered her face with her hands while her body swayed to and
fro. "Oh, my little man! My little soft baby! He must die--or be
terribly scarred by the hand of the red death! So beautiful--so little,
and so good, and so beautiful! And I have nothing to feed him, for Rene
has taken the milk. Rene is a devil! I would have killed him but he took
the gun." The woman stopped speaking, and the silence of the little
cabin was punctuated by the sound of her muffled sobs.

Connie felt a strange lump rising in his throat. He swallowed and
attempted to speak, but the result was a funny noise way back in his
throat. He swallowed several times and when he finally spoke his voice
sounded hard and gruff. "Quit crying, mam, and help me get this
straight. I don't believe your little kid's got the smallpox." He paused
and glanced about the room. "This ain't the kind of a place he'd get
it--it's too clean. Who told you it was the red death?"

"Oh, no one told me! Who is there to tell? Rene is a liar, and my man
has gone to Fort Norman. But," she leaped to her feet and regarded
Connie with a tense, eager look, "can it be that you are a doctor?" The
next instant she turned away. "No--you are but a boy!"

"No," repeated Connie, "I am not a doctor. But I used to be in the
Mounted and I learned all there was in the manual about smallpox a