"I am going down to meet him."
"Stop," cried Eiseeyou sternly. "You do not know that it is Whitie and even if it was, you could not get near him after this long time. Besides if you did, he would probably bite your head off."
Oumauk looked reproachfully at his father.
"Whitie not know me? Whitie bite me? You wait and see."
"You must not go Oumauk," said Eiseeyou again, but Oumauk paid no attention to his sire. Instead he stood his rifle up against the boulder and tightened his belt just as his father had done upon that momentous occasion several years before when he had slid down the mountain side to save the dead musk ox from the wolfish sledge dogs.
Secretly Eiseeyou was much pleased with this venturesome spirit of Oumauk's, but he still remonstrated feebly.
"Well," he said, "if you must go, be careful. I will keep him covered with my rifle so I can shoot if he attacks you. Look out and do not get to sliding too fast."
But Oumauk did not hear this last admonition, for he was sliding rapidly down the slippery slope.
In a few seconds he stood up at the bottom of the mountain and waved his hand to his father and Eiseeyou waved back.