her arms oblivious to everything but the wild
grief that shook her. But Lollie, not realizing that Kobuk was dead,
sat patting the relaxed bandaged leg, while he whispered childish words
of comfort in the unheeding ears.

CHAPTER XXII

AT THE LONE TREE

That evening they buried Kobuk on the brow of the hill near the lone
tree of Kon Klayu.

At sunset time Loll sat by himself on the cabin steps. His chin was in
his hand and his wide, grey eyes were fixed on the clear rose of the
western sky. It was the first time that death had come near to him and
the mystery and loneliness of it filled him with strange, new thoughts.

For a long time he looked into the fading glow. Then he shook his head
slowly, reproachfully.

"God," he said, in the uncanny way he had of seeming to converse with
Deity. "God, how can you smile so, when my Kobuk is dead?"

The purple dust of twilight sifted down on land and sea, . . . At
last, awed by the unanswerable mystery of life and death, the little
questioner turned in to the cabin, where his mother sat sewing in the
soft, yellow light of the shaded lamp. . . .

Breakfast the next morning was an event. Harlan had accepted Ellen's
invitation to be present, and as he entered the cabin, the air was
permeated with the delicious smell of frying steak. With the exception
of ducks the party had eaten no fresh meat for a month before coming to
the Island, and the recent daily breakfasts of musty oatmeal and
hotcakes was becoming monotonous. Despite the tragedy of Kobuk, it was
a grateful family that gathered about the big platter of bear meat and
steaming cups of black coffee.

"This ought to tide us over nicely until the _Hoonah_ comes," said
Boreland helping himself to another piece. "A fine breakfast, El!
Upon my word, it couldn't be better if we were in the States. . . .
Still--I'd like a bit of butter--real, honest-to-God cow's butter--on
my hotcakes!"

"Wall," mumbled Kayak with his mouth full of steak. "Sugar and like
sweetenin' hits me where I live. I used to think if they took away my
sugar I'd just as lief die. But now that there ain't any, I'm
scratchin' along tolerable wall. But--I'd give my hat for somethin'
tasty to smear on these here sourdoughs!"

"Go on with you, Kayak! With El's sourdoughs you don't need
sweetening." Boreland laughed. "We can use bear fat instead of butter
now, for that old devil certainly was fat. We'll try some of it out.
Of cou