“My!” Hesther’s exclamation was almost a gasp as she watched their hands fall apart. Then with the mildest shadow of reproach: “An’ you never told me, Kid, You never said a word.”
CHAPTER IX
THE GREAT SAVAGE
Usak stood up from the camp fire that was more than welcome. He stood with his broad back to the shelter of low scrub to leeward of which the midday camp had been pitched, and gazed out over a wide expanse of barren, windswept country. The threat overhanging the grey world was very real. Winter was in the dense, ponderously moving clouds; it was in the bite of the northerly wind, which was persistent and found the weak spot in such human clothing as had not yet given place to the furs of winter. The light of noonday, too, was sadly dull. For the hidden sun had lost so much of its summer power, and its range of daily progress had narrowed down to a line that was low on the horizon.
But the savage was unconcerned for the outlook of the day. He was unconcerned for the sterile territory over which his long summer journey had carried him. The man’s whole being was focussed upon the needs of life. The needs of those who depended on him. The needs which were no less his own. And for once a sense of satisfaction, of ease, was all-pervading. His trade had been something more profitable than it had been for years, and he understood that the needs of the coming winter, and next year’s open season, looked like being comfortably provided for. Oh, yes, there was much labour ahead.
His trade must be translated into the simple provisions which must ultimately be obtained in far-off Placer. He knew all that. But it left his staunch, fierce spirit unafraid. The means of obtaining the things needed were in his hands. The rest was the simple battle with the winter elements which had no terrors for his unimaginative mind.
It was the last lap of a journey of several months. Night would find him in the shelter of his own home, with the voices of the white children, who had become so much a part of his life, ringing in his ears. And before he slept he knew that he would have witnessed the glad smile of welcome and satisfaction in the white girl who was as the sun, moon, and stars of his life. He would have told her of his good news, and together they would have examined and appraised the values with which he had returned from the far-off Eskimo camps which good fortune had flung into his path.
So the grey world looked good. Even the naked undulations amongst which the ribbon-like river wound its way had lost something of their forbidding aspect. It was the world he knew, the world he had battled with all his manhood. His satisfaction had translated it.
He stood for a moment or two, a figure of splendid manhood. His far-gazing eyes looked out with something in them akin to that which looks out of the sailor-man’s eyes. They were searching, reposeful and steady with quiet confidence.
He turned at last at the sounds of movement at the fire, and, for a moment, he watched the white youth, who was his companion, as he collected the chattels out of which they had taken their midday meal.