load upon her back. When wives
were exchanged, as was the Eskimo
custom at times, he always took Kudlu
for himself.

Janes’ predatory eyes had already
fallen upon Nukudlah’s favorite.
As he continued to prosper his
arrogance increased. To Kudlu he
gave presents from the store.
Finally he suggested she live with him
as his “needle-woman” to keep house,
and mend his clothes. But Kudlu
wasn’t so sure it would be a good
idea. Did not the great man, Nukud-
lah, look upon her with friendly
eyes and, sometimes, take her to his
sleeping-bag? Not to be defeated,
Janes, reverting to Eskimo custom,
bribed her husband with presents
until he and Kudlu took up quarters
at the post. As the girl appeared,
arrayed in a flashing Mother Hubbard
of purple and orange bedticking,
whisperings spread from igloo to
igloo. What would happen, the

natives wondered, when Nukudlah

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Page Six

returned from his hunt and learned
that Jen had stolen his woman?

“What does that damned Huskie
want around this place?” Janes de-
manded when Nukudlah visited
around the post. “He’s always making
eyes at Kudlu.” Twice Nukudlah’s
murderous gaze had bored into his
deepset eyes as he ordered him from
the store. “I hate that son-of-a-bitch,”
Janes stormed. “Does he think I’m
clothing and feeding Kudlu for the
likes of him? I'll shoot the dirty dog,”
he growled, “next time he pokes his
nose inside the post.”

As igloo gossip carried word of the
trader’s threats, Nukudlah grasped his
bone-tipped harpoon, crawled through
the snow-tunnel and gazed with
smouldering eyes through the em-
purpled darkness at the orange square
of light in the wall of the trader’s
shack. It would be as easy as im-
paling a seal to kick open the door
and send his harpoon hurtling into
Janes’ body. For a long time he stood
there, glowering through the gloom.
At last the Eskimo’s grip on the haft
relaxed. No! It wasn’t good to quarrel
with a white man. Rather than have
trouble he’d hitch up his dogs and
move his people to the other Iglulik
village at Cape Crawford.

August found Janes pacing the crags
impatiently. His own supplies were
exhausted now, exchanged for bales
upon bales of white fox pelts, worth
$20,000, awaiting shipment by the
now overdue Kite. Already the
Albert had come and gone, leaving
Florence’s store filled to over-flowing.
Now it was Janes, not Florence, who
was doing the worrying! Days passed
into weeks without a sign of the
expected Kite. Ice commenced to fill
the inlet, then winter clamped down
again.

A hungry exile of great wealth but
without a pound of provisions in his
empty store, Janes continued to roam
the crags, gaunt, attenuated and
famished. Twice he was on the point
of seeking Florence’s aid but cast the
thought aside.

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Nukudlah did not come to Janes
rescue. Jen was poor, the Eskimos
said. He’d helped no one when he
was rich. Now let him eat those fox
skins he loved so well!

Kudlu Transfers Her Sleeping Bag

At first they passed the captain’s
post en route to Florence with their
furs but Jen would rush out, wild-
eyed and raving, clawing at their
packs and demanding payment for
their debts. Once he'd threatened
Oomah, Nukudlah’s father, with a
knife. At last they avoided him com-
pletely. In desperation Janes roamed
the coast in search of seal and polar
bear-meat, while Kudlu, as hunger
moved in, transferred her sleeping-
bag back to the igloos of her people.

Again summer smiled upon the
barren rocks. Long ere the Kite could
possibly arrive Janes haunted the
crags again. Gaunt, and savage as a
wolf, he kept his 24-hour vigil, his
haggard blue eyes ever on the empty
blue-white horizon.

Again the Albert ploughed into the

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