The group on the floor, undoubtedly, liked that part of the entertainment that involved the breakdown, infinitely the best of all, but simultaneously, at its wildest moment, they all turned their heads to the door. Mac noticed the movement, listened, and then got up, lifted the latch, and cautiously looked out. The Boy caught a glimpse of the sky over Mac's shoulder.
"Jimminy Christmas!" He stopped, nearly breathless. "It can't be a fire. Say, boys! they're havin' a Blow-Out up in heaven."
The company crowded out. The sky was full of a palpitant light. An Indian appeared from round the stockade; he was still staring up at the stone chimney.
"Are we on fire?"
"How-do." He handed Father Wills a piece of dirty paper.
"Hah! Yes. All right. Andrew!"
Andrew needed no more. He bustled away to harness the dogs. The white men were staring up at the sky. "What's goin' on in heaven, Father? S'pose you call this the Aurora Borealis—hey?"
"Yes," said the priest; "and finer than we often get it. We are not far enough north for the great displays."
He went in to put on his parki.
Mac, after looking out, had shut the door and stayed behind with Kaviak.