to thigh that had calmed Ellen. Her fear was
swallowed up in a gripping desire for revenge that made it possible for
her to take careful aim and fire. Jean knew that Ellen had experienced
none of the thrills that come to the hunter of big game. She was a
domestic woman, a home maker, thrown by circumstances into situations
where she was forced to do things she never dreamed she could
do--things she shuddered over afterward. Even as she told of the
incident it seemed to both women like a tragic and terrible dream--a
dream whose influence would not leave them.

On this day the sisters were heartily sick of life on the Island of Kon
Klayu.

Jean's depression continued all day long. The thought of Kobuk never
left her. She found herself recalling his friendly, wagging ways; the
feel of his muzzle nosing her hand; his soft eyes looking up at her
from attentive, side-turned head. She found herself regretting that
Kobuk was not there to share the fresh meat with them.

Several times during the day she stopped in her work to lift her head,
listening. She kept fancying she heard Kobuk's husky woofing. Once
she went to the door and looked out to convince herself that he was not
there. Down at the smoke-house Lollie, whom she had expected to be
loudly inconsolable at the death of the dog, was helping the men. He
had his old revolver tied to his waist and was shouting lustily. Jean
felt a pang of disappointment in her nephew. She would have had him
come to her and talk of the dog. Womanlike, she wanted to comfort him
for the loss and in so doing ease her own grief. Kobuk had been her
dog and Loll's.

She stepped back into the living-room.

"I suppose it's the nature of the male to forget quickly," she said.

"Forget what?" Ellen asked, the word "male" causing her mind to fly at
once to Harlan.

"Oh--nothing."

While the girl was doing up the supper dishes she heard Loll go
whistling down the trail. When she had finished she took her violin
from its case and stepped out on the porch. Kayak and Boreland were
engaged in a close game of double solitaire. Ellen, with a headache,
was lying down in Lollie's bunk. Harlan had gone across the Island to
his Hut. It was very lonely.

She put down her violin.

"I'm going for a walk, Shane," she called through the open door.

Down past the smoke-house and the Russian sailor's grave she went; then
up the gulch that led to the top of the hill. There were no anim