The stranger drew a bit of frozen fish out of his coat and began to nibble. “Want some?” he asked; but Kak declined. He had come to gather wood. Gathering wood amused him; it was not a job he had to do at home.
“I’ll gather and you load,” he called. And soon a grand pile was flung up beside the sled.
The fat boy sat nibbling fish and giving orders: “There’s a fine log yonder ... hoist it with a lever.... Yo-ho—she’s off!... See that swell slab by the ice hummock.... No, don’t bring those dinky pieces, they’re such a bother to load and unload, and you know I’m particular about not doing any more light work than I have to.”
Kak might have resented this sort of thing only the other boy laughed and winked and made fun the whole time, and kept him laughing as well as working.
“Come and help me rest,” he suggested after a while. “You will be getting overheated, kid.”
That was true, and it is a bad thing to get overheated, so Kak sat down.
“Beastly time of year!” Kommana grumbled. “Tell me what it’s like up north in your island! Does it keep cool at all seasons?”
“No—it’s hot in summer.”
“Oh, gee! I do hate summer!” the fat boy groaned. “You’ll have a rotten time going south. Nothing but flies, flies, flies, and your clothes sticking to your body with heat as you get farther inland; and food scarce on the prairies. Say, I wouldn’t walk across there, not if my life depended on it!”
“I shan’t mind,” Kak replied stoutly. “Omialik is to be at Dismal Ford.”