of eleven years. He was tall and muscular for a boy of that age, and was destined to be a mighty hunter like his father. In the hollow of his arm he easily carried a small rifle as he stood erect and alert, listening to the story of this adventure.
"I do wish I could see Whitie again, and know he was all right," said Oumauk, with a deep sigh when the tale had been concluded. The desire to see Whitie once more was almost an obsession with the lad. Although so much time had elapsed, and although Eiseeyou had told him again and again that the White Czar had probably fallen before some rifle bullet in the Canadian wilderness, yet Oumauk never gave up hope. He was always watching and waiting for one more glimpse of Whitie.
"Well, perhaps you will," said Eiseeyou. Secretly he did not expect it, but for once he would humor Oumauk's great desire.
The two stood looking over the place of the deadly encounter for several minutes in silence, then Eiseeyou turned and gazed across the tundra towards the frozen Arctic Ocean which he knew was about ten miles
