als to
be afraid of now.

On the crest she turned her back on the flat lonesomeness of the tundra
and looked down on the wide expanse of ocean spread below. The day was
dying in soft flushes of amber and rose and lavender. Life on Kon
Klayu was hard, but she never tired of the soothing beauty of its
nights.

Her eyes followed the trail to the solitary tree facing the sea like a
waiting woman with long, wind-blown hair. In the fading light its
human aspect brought a sense of comfort to the girl. It made Kobuk's
grave seem less lonely. She wished Loll were with her, she would go
then and see how the men had left him. Poor Kobuk, with his dear,
friendly ways! Everyone but her seemed to have forgotten him
today--even Loll. Suddenly she decided she would go by herself.

She was startled by the sound of a step behind her. Glancing over her
shoulder she saw Gregg Harlan coming from the north along the bear
trail that skirted the bushes at the edge of the hill. She waited for
him.

"I was headed for there, too," he said simply, indicating the tree down
the trail.

They walked silently in single file along the narrow path. The
sweetness of a long sunny day came up from the grass that brushed
Jean's skirts. For many minutes the new mound they were approaching
was screened by the tall growth, but when they saw it, Jean stopped
abruptly, her finger on her lips. From the grave came to them a
muffled sound.

Loll was there before them.

The little fellow, oblivious to everything but his loneliness and his
loss, lay across the fresh turned earth. His bare head was buried in
his outflung arms. One hand fiercely clutched a few bruised flowers
and his small body shook with long, slow sobs.

Jean's throat tightened and tears of sympathy flooded her eyes. With
outstretched arms she started impulsively forward to comfort him, but
before she had taken a second step Harlan laid a detaining hand on her
arm.

"Not now," he whispered. "Come."

He drew back along the trail. Wondering, she followed until they were
out of earshot.

"We'll wait for him here at the top of the gulch, Jean." It was the
first time he had called her that. Each was aware of a sudden, warming
sense of comradeship--a sense of sharing something tender, sad.

They sat down on the crest of the hill, so close that only a single
tundra daisy nodded between them in the deepening twilight.

"Why--why did you do that, Gregg?"

He did not ans