ramed a reply, Chloe marvelled at the weird beauty of her.

"I go to school on de Mission, two years at Fort MacPherson. I learn
to spik de Englis'. My fadder, heem Englis', but I'm never see heem.
Many years ago he com' in de beeg boat dat com' for ketch de whale an'
got lock in de ice in de Bufort Sea. In de spring de boat go 'way, an'
my fadder go 'long, too. He tell my modder he com' back nex' winter.
Dat many years ago--nineteen years. Many boats com' every year, but my
fadder no com' back. My modder she t'ink he com' back som' day, an'
every fall my modder she tak' me 'way from Fort MacPherson and we go up
on de coast an' build de _igloo_. An' every day she set an' watch
while de ships com' in, but my fadder no com' back. My modder t'ink he
sure com' back, he fin' her waitin' when he com'. She say, mebe so he
ketch 'm many whale. Mebe so he get reech so we got plen' money to buy
de grub."

The girl paused and her brows contracted thoughtfully. She threw a
fresh stick upon the fire and shook her head slowly. "I don' know,"
she said softly, "mebe so he com' back--but heem been gone long tam'."

"Where is your mother now?" asked Chloe, when the girl had finished.

"She up on de coast in de little _igloo_. Many ships com' into Bufort
Sea las' fall. She say, sure dis winter my fadder com' back. She got
to wait for heem."

Chloe cleared her throat sharply. "And you?" she asked, "why did you
come clear to the Yellow Knife? Why did you not go back to school at
the Mission?"

A troubled expression crept into the eyes of the Louchoux girl, and she
seemed at a loss to explain. "Eet ees," she answered at length, "dat
my man, too, he not com' back lak' my fadder."

"Your man!" cried Chloe in astonishment. "Do you mean you are married?
Why, you are nothing but a child!"

The girl regarded her gravely. "Yes," she answered, "I'm marry. Two
years ago I git marry, up on de Anderson Reever. My man, heem
free-trader, an' all summer we got plent' to eat. In de fall he tak'
me back to de _igloo_. He say, he mus' got to go to de land of de
white man to buy supplies. I lak' to go, too, to de land of de white
man, but he say no, you Injun, you stay in de Nort', an' by-m-by I com'
back again. Den he go up de reever, an' all winter I stay in de igloo
wit' my modder an' look out over de ice-pack at de boats in de Bufort
Sea. In de spreeng my man he don' com' back, my fadder he don' com'
back neider. We no