Charlie with the big canoe and outfit, and Little
One Man and me with the other. We're out after a big bunch of pelts."

The sick woman's eyes shone prompt approval, for all the fixity of their
regard.

"See and get them. You've put your cash away. You've hidden it close. I
mean the cash for your trade at Seal Bay. That way you'll be fixed all
right. Keep it close, child. This year you need a good haul. Yes, yes.
And trade it, and hide the cash. Always hide your money. How much have
you got?"

"Nearly two thousand dollars."

"Not enough. Not enough. You need more. See you get it this year."

The mother broke off in a spasm of coughing, and Keeko stood helpless
and fearing until the fit had passed.

The tragedy of it all was terrible to the girl who had to look on so
utterly helpless. The convulsed figure beneath the coloured blankets was
simply skin and bone. The alabaster of the sunken cheeks was untouched
by any hectic display. The ravages of the consumption were too far
advanced for that. The wreck was terrible, and the dreadful cough seemed
to be tearing the last remaining life out of the poor soul's body.

"Well, don't stand around, child," the sick woman gasped, after a
prolonged struggle for breath. "You're going to eat. I can smell the
cooking. Well, go and eat. It's good to be able to. You've got to get
another three thousand dollars. You can get them out of your furs--if
you've any luck. Maybe this year. Don't worry for me. I'll die when I
feel like it, but not before. God bless you, child--as you deserve. You
needn't come around again before you pull out. It's time wasted, and
you've none to spare. Good-bye. You can send Lu-cana in to me again when
you go."

The straining eyes closed as though to shut out sight of the going of
the child who was all that was left to the remnant of a mother heart.
And Keeko knew that the dismissal must be accepted. There could be no
tender farewell. Her mother forbade it. Yet the girl was longing to
nurse and caress the suffering creature in her arms. But she understood.
Her mother refused everything for herself in a burning fever of urgency.
There was time for nothing--nothing but that purpose which she had set
her heart on.

Keeko obeyed. She passed out of the room at once.

Her meal was awaiting her, a rough, plain meal prepared by the squaw of
Little One Man. She partook of it in the kitchen, the long, dark old
hallplace that had probably served as some sort of