the windows for days, the supply of sea-food gave out. Then, for
hours, there was hunger in the little cabin on Kon Klayu.

Jean noticed that her nephew, in some manner, had come to know that it
distressed his mother to speak of being hungry after he had eaten what
she had to give him. It was seldom now that he mentioned it. His
little mind appeared to be taken up with speculations as to Christmas.

Jean had often listened to Kayak Bill prefacing his tales with: "I'm
a-tellin' o' you, you never can tell a speck about a man till you
'cabin' with him a-durin' o' one winter." She was beginning to
understand what the old man meant by it now. She was growing to
appreciate Shane's irrepressible Irish cheerfulness that always rose
above hunger, accident and the nerve-trying confinement of the cabin in
stormy weather. Because of him the storm-bound hours, despite the food
situation, were for the most part, times of story telling and exchange
of reminiscences. For Shane, with a strange faith, still clung to the
thought that the White Chief might bring the _Hoonah_ to the Island
before the end of the year.

As Christmas drew nearer, however, with one storm succeeding another, a
change came over him. He began to sit beside the table in silence, his
head in his hands, his brown eyes looking off into space.

One night when the house trembled in the grip of a blizzard and the
unexplained reverberating sound from the south cliffs came louder than
usual, he sat thus while Kayak Bill played a game of solitaire on the
opposite side of the table. Lollie had established himself in his
mother's bed. While he turned the pages of a fairy tale book, he
pointed out the pictures to Jean. That day there had been no shellfish
to supplement the scanty allowance of food and the little fellow
lingered hungrily on the colored pictures depicting bountiful tables of
feasting kings; jolly fat cooks basting roasting ducks in the kitchens
of queens; little Jack Horner pulled a ripe plum from a pie. Finally
he turned a page which disclosed the Queen of Hearts holding out a pan
of delicious, browny-crusted tarts. The crimson jelly at the centers
seemed almost to quiver.

"Oh, mother, mother, I'm _so hungry_!" he burst out.

Ellen laid aside her sewing and going to the cupboard brought out a
tiny dish of rice and gave it to him. Jean saw Boreland's eyes follow
the movements of his wife. She wondered if he, like herself, suspected
that th