In outward appearance Skipper Ed’s cabin was almost the counterpart of Abel’s, but within it was fitted much more completely and tastefully.  On the well-scrubbed floor were rugs of dog and wolf skins, and there were three big armchairs—­one for Skipper Ed, one for his partner, and one for Abel when he came to see them—­and a rocker for Mrs. Abel when she called; all home-made and upholstered in buckskin.  And there were four straight-backed dining chairs, and against the wall some shelves well filled with books, as well as many other conveniences and comforts and refinements not usual in the cabins of the coast.  There was lacking, also, the heavy, fishy odor of seal oil, never absent from the Eskimo home, for Skipper Ed had provided a log outhouse, a little apart from his cabin, as a storehouse for seal oil and fish and pelts.

Dusk was settling.  Skipper Ed lighted candles and kindled a fire in the stove, and he and Jimmy together set about preparing supper.  The wind was rising and soon snow began to beat against the window pane, and when supper was eaten and the table cleared, and the two drew their armchairs up before the fire, it was very cozy sitting there and listening to the howling storm outside and the roaring fire in the stove.  Jimmy, snugly curled in his chair, was so still that Skipper Ed, silently smoking his pipe, believed his little partner asleep, when he was startled out of his musings by the request: 

“Partner, tell me a story.”

“A story, Partner?  What kind of a story?  One about the sea?”

“A story about people that live out there in the country Bobby came from, and you came from.”

“Oh, out there!  Yes, to be sure!” Skipper Ed sat silent for a few moments, gazing at the flickering light through a crack in the stove door, while Jimmy sat expectant, gazing into Skipper Ed’s face.  At last he began: 

“Once there were two boys who lived in a fine big house, for their father was rich.  The house was in a town, and it had a great many rooms.  In front of it was a beautiful green lawn, over which were scattered trees and bushes that bore flowers, and behind the house was a large garden where delicious fruits and vegetables grew, and where there were beautiful beds of bright flowers.  Under the shady trees of this garden was a favorite playground of the boys.”

“What were the names of the boys?” interrupted Jimmy.

“We’ll call them Tom and Bill, though these may not have been their real names,” explained Skipper Ed.  “Tom and Bill are easy names to remember, though, don’t you think so?”

“Yes, Partner, they’re fine names, and easy to remember.”

“Tom was two years older than Bill, and they were great chums.  They not only played together but they got into mischief together, and went to school together, until Tom went to college.  When they got into mischief together Tom, somehow, usually managed to escape punishment, for he was a much keener lad than Bill, and Bill, on his part, seldom failed to receive his full share of punishment.”