Where the Sun Swings North

on the edge of his bunk holding his fingers against his throbbing temples, he made a mental vow that he would drin

was something in the air of the trading-post that made irresistible the reckless camaraderie engendered by t

rned his steps instinctively toward the point beyond the Indian Village. On the other side, screened from sight of the post,

n the bay. He had not been long enough away from the world to be other than fain

ckened senses. Noisy gulls wheeled and tilted over the brown, kelp-covered rocks and on the

e drew his inquiring steps. At the sound of crunching gravel under his feet a great huskie dog rose almost from under him. Th

d boy! I thought I

e, its pointed muzzle down, its tail hanging dispiritedly. Vaguely wondering what the trader's favorite lead-dog was doing am

long dark hair. Beneath it a damp, clinging cream-col

t above the pitiful little heap. "The White

quarters, little dreaming that the last earthly act performed by those small hands now so still, had been for himself. But

ions to the extent of making the drunken young white man comfortable, crept from the doorway of Harlan's cabin. Kobuk, wa

on their mystic carvings. Stern and forbidding they seemed, as if guarding the quiet shelters at their feet against one who had forsaken them for the more luxurious cabins of the white man. . . . Slowly she turned from the tribal emblems of her clan to look back at the log trading-post, dim and

nbelievably large and round and clear it stood out against the night-blue, throwing a path of shimmering gold across the bay

his haunches, watching her with question

oulders. Her wide-eyed, frightened face caught the light. . . . Then the ripples closed above her head. A moment later her

nded in a short, querulous yelp. . . . Hours passed. . . . The tide began to ebb, leaving a dark line of sand at the edge of the water. .

anger, who afterward proved to be the owner of the schooner that had come in the evening before. Shane Borela

and the White Chief, who had been following Boreland to the door, stopped suddenly a

oward his quarters back of the store. Turning on his heel,

Harlan, my bookkeeper, hasn't been long enough in the North to appreciate the intensity of these little hot-blooded savages. I told him, when he took Naleenah, . . ." The Chief,

me, he set about tendering Boreland the hospitality of the post, urging the prospector to bring his family ashore for a visit during the time of t

m children were preparing the body of little Naleenah for its resting place below the ridge

women of the household placed the treasures that had been dear to the heart of the White Chief's favorite: a string of cheap beads, a scarlet shawl,

. Above the amber-freckled nose of the youngster wide grey eyes were raised in eager coaxing to her face. From the cr

gs just yet! Let's have one more story before w

o remove her own shoes and stockings, and delighting in the feel of the cool earth against her pink soles, she had not replaced them when they decided to follow the t

e beside its stationary twin, "you see, little man, it isn't done at my age, even in Katleean." Her long-lashed hazel eyes, full of the dreams of eighteen happy years, laughed down a

ny grave-houses were filmed with it, and through the dim glass appeared vague glimpses of the kettles, blankets and provision inside the houses of the dead-material comforts which the Thlinget Indians provide for the departed

sten! I'll tell you the story Kayak Bill scared me most to death with last night. Ugh! It's spooky, Jean!" The boy's eyes were round and his voice had lowered at th

a dead spruce behind them. The damp air had in it the freshness of new-cut hemlock boughs, a wild

, pointing to the graveyard below for local color, "and the door s-

a sudden, unmistakable flutter of white. So thoroughly had the little fellow lost himself in the weird mysteries of his own creating that panic t

hind on the knoll. She became suddenly ashamed of her headlong flight, precipitated, as she now saw, by the first breath of

th with your wild imaginings!" She laughed. "Let

. "But, Jean," his shrill voice trembled, "did

y of them had never before seen a white girl or boy, specimens of the strange Letquoan, the Snow People from that far-away land of the White Chief. Solemn, black-eyed little toddlers peered cautiously out from under their mother's shawls. Pretty y

, they talked among themselves, pressing closer each moment. From time to time a brown finger poin

rently menacing faces about her. She glanced out over the dark heads hoping to see some member of her own race; but

wimming Wolf, stepped toward her, his red-bordered snowy blanket trailing majestically from his shoulders. He stopped, bent his stately form, and looked long and earnestly at her bare feet. B

n his best English. "Litt

n his eye had leaped at the investigator and with all the strength of his

the outraged little fellow, m

er hazel eyes two points of fire, landed a stin

ped, flinging his white blanket ove

with white feet!" he

ircle broken, the indignant Jean caught at the hand of her

the little courtyard cabins with reckless haste and before she could check herself, had collided smartly with the dejected figure of a young man. The impact se

th the entire population of Katleean. As she disappeared into the store with Loll, she left Gregg Harlan gazing after her perplexedly, wondering at her last sentence. It was his first actual meeting with either of the white women from the Hoonah. Because of their advent in Katle