It wasn't until they were in sight of the smoke from the Little Cabin that Mac slackened his pace. He had never for a moment found the trail so smooth that he could return his burden to the sled. Now, however, he allowed Nicholas and the priest to catch up with him.
"You carry him the rest of the way," he commanded, and set his burden in Nicholas's arms. Kaviak was ill-pleased, but Mac, falling behind with the priest, stalked on with eyes upon the ground.
"I've got a boy of my own," he jerked out presently, with the air of a man who accounts confidentially for some weakness.
"Really!" returned the priest; "they didn't tell me."
"I haven't told them yet."
"Oh, all right."
"Why is he called that heathen name?"
"Kaviak? Oh, it's the name of his tribe. His people belong to that branch of the Innuits known as Kaviaks."
"Humph! Then he's only Kaviak as I'm MacCann. I suppose you've christened him?"
"Well, not yet—no. What shall we call him? What's your boy's name?" "Robert Bruce." They went on in silence till Mac said, "It's on account of my boy I came up here."