but snow, and the shriek of that storm king
whose rage he had so recently encountered while drifting to sea on the
ice floe, and from whom only cruelty was ever expected, now whistled in
his ears.

He knew he must keep on walking, so removing his snowshoes he stuck one
in the snow drift and fastened a seal rope at the top. Taking the end of
this in his hand, he circled round and round for hours to keep himself
moving. At last he grew weary, and closed his eyes, still walking as
before. It was more pleasant to keep his eyes closed, for then he saw
visions of bright, warm rooms, blazing fires and cozy couches, and
smelled the odors of appetizing foods. There were flowers, sweet music
and children, and he was again in far-off sunny lands.

He grew drowsy. He would only rest a little in a soft white drift, and
then go on again. Making a place in the bank with the snowshoe, while
the wind whistled horribly and the whirling snow bewildered him, he lay
down to----

Some men, one night, drove their dog-teams into Chinik. They had come
from St. Michael, two hundred miles over the trail. They said the
captain and his party left there many days before them, and by this they
were surely dead, unless drifted out to sea, which really meant the same
thing, as no man could live upon the ice during the recent great
blizzard. An Eskimo woman heard what they said. She was a cousin to
Punni Churah, but she said nothing.

An hour later, the woman and two men with dogs and sleds left Chinik for
the Portage, going east. It was storming, but it was not dark, and they
knew each foot of the way. At first, on the level, the woman rode in one
of the sleds, but when it grew hilly, she trudged behind. Her sharp eyes
now keenly searched every dark or obscure spot along the hillside trail.
The wind lessened somewhat, and the moon came out behind the clouds.

The dogs finally stopped, throwing back their heads and howling; then,
in more excitement, gave the short, quick bark of the chase.

The natives began poking about with sticks in the drifts, and Mollie
(for it was she) soon found the unconscious man in the snow.

Quick work then they made of the return trip. They were only a few miles
from home now, and the malemutes seemed to comprehend. Every nerve in
their bodies tingled. Every tiny bell on their harnesses jingled, and
the fleet-footed natives sped rapidly behind. The dogs needed no
guidance, for they were going home, and well knew it. T