Oumauk, who had noted his absorption, also gazed far across the frozen tundra. But his eyesight was not as good as his father's, so he could make out nothing. At last Eiseeyou spoke.
"There is something out there that I can't make out. It is white like the snow, but it moves. It is coming this way. Take the glass and see if you can make it out." He handed Oumauk the small field glass which he always carried.
The boy took the glass excitedly and placed it to his eyes, first removing his glasses which he still had to wear. For a long time he gazed eagerly, but was silent.
At last he dropped the glasses in the snow in his excitement and fairly shouted. "It's Whitie, it's Whitie! He is coming to the mountain."
Eiseeyou smiled at him indulgently. "Yes," he said. "I see that is a white bear, but what makes you think it is Whitie? All white bears are Whitie to you."
"Oh no," cried Oumauk, fairly dancing up and down in his delight.
"It is Whitie. I can tell his trot and I know his face.
"No other white bear looks like Whitie. I know it is him.