“Look here, let’s talk sense.  Somebody’s got to go, or there’ll be trouble.  Potts says Kaviak.  But what difference would Kaviak make?  I’ve been afraid you’d get ahead of me.  I’ve watched you for a week like a hawk watches a chicken.  But it’s clear I’m the one to go.”

He pulled up the rope of the sled, and his little cargo lurched towards him.  The Colonel stepped in front of him.

“Boy—­” he began, but something was the matter with his voice; he got no further.

“I’m the youngest,” boasted the other, “and I’m the strongest, and—­I’m the hungriest.”

The Colonel found a perturbed and husky voice in which to say: 

“I didn’t know you were such a Christian.”

“Nothin’ o’ the sort.”

“What’s this but—­”

“Why, it’s just—­just my little scheme.”

“You’re no fool.  You know as well as I do you’ve got the devil’s own job in hand.”

“Somebody’s got to go,” he repeated doggedly.

“Look here,” said the Colonel, “you haven’t impressed me as being tired of life.”

“Tired of life!” The young eyes flashed in that weird aureole of long wolf-hair.  “Tired of life!  Well, I should just pretty nearly think I wasn’t.”

“H’m!  Then if it isn’t Christianity, it must be because you’re young.”

“Golly, man! it’s because I’m hungry—­HUNGRY!  Great Jehosaphat!  I could eat an ox!”

“And you leave your grub behind, to be eaten by a lot of—­”

“I can’t stand here argyfying with the thermometer down to—­” The Boy began to drag the sled over the snow.

“Come back into the cabin.”

“No.”

“Come with me, I say; I’ve got something to propose.”  Again the Colonel stood in front, barring the way.  “Look here,” he went on gently, “are you a friend of mine?”

“Oh, so-so,” growled the Boy.  But after looking about him for an angry second or two, he flung down the rope of his sled, walked sulkily uphill, and kicked off his snow-shoes at the door of the cabin, all with the air of one who waits, but is not baulked of his purpose.  They went in and stripped off their furs.

“Now see here:  if you’ve made up your mind to light out, I’m not going to oppose you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything as sensible as that out yonder?”

“Because I won’t be ready to go along till to-morrow.”

“You?”

“Yep.”

There was a little silence.

“I wish you wouldn’t, Colonel.”

“It’s dangerous alone—­not for two.”

“Yes, it IS dangerous, and you know it.”

“I’m goin’ along, laddie.”  Seeing the Boy look precious grave and harassed:  “What’s the matter?”

“I’d hate awfully for anything to happen to you.”

The Colonel laughed.  “Much obliged, but it matters uncommon little if I do drop in my tracks.”

“You be blowed!”

“You see I’ve got a pretty bad kind of a complaint, anyhow.”  The Boy leaned over in the firelight and scanned the Colonel’s face.