The owner glanced up pleased and satisfied. “Yes. It’s a fine sleigh, and I’m glad it’s done. Now just as soon as the snow comes we can be off.”
No need to explain why he wanted to get away quickly. The shadow of anxiety on Guninana’s face was reflected in her husband’s. “Unfortunately the snow is late this year; still, in a week or two we can count on the first flurry.... Got to be in time for the trading at Cape Bexley,” he added more cheerily.
Kak brightened. “Golly! I’ve got some fine pieces for Kommana. Look here!” He slapped a proprietary hand on one broad board cut from the heart of the largest tree they had found. “The snow shovel I promised him. That dog will be mine certainly if they show up at the Cape.”
“Yours—eh? Who helped cut the tree; and who is going to feed the dog?”
“Now, dad! We’ll go halves on him, of course, in working and feeding—but he is to be mine, if we get him. It’s a promise—isn’t it a promise? Say it’s a promise,” Kak teased.
Taptuna laughed. “Oh, all right. I promise—if we get him. Lend a hand here with this lacing, will you.”
He gave the end of the long thong to Kak; and the boy, wreathed in smiles, for he had just been granted one of his most cherished dreams, pitched into work whole-heartedly. So the hours slipped by in pleasant comradeship and Kak never once thought of that bunchy figure he had watched running off to play with the hares and marmots.
It was late in the season now. Their continuous Arctic day had passed. The sun sank at midnight below the horizon leaving it dark for three or four hours. About sundown Guninana came to the working place, her face graver than before.
“Have you seen Noashak?” she called from a distance; and Taptuna without looking up called:
“No. She has not been here!”