PREPARATIONS 15

its height. Heavy woollens and socks were being
sorted and forced into dunnage bags. A rifle was
being overhauled. Two new parkas lay across the
table; they looked unnaturally clean with their
white canvas and their red fox trimmings. Two
pairs of Casca snowshoes were hanging by nails
from the wall.

The short, wan day was at an end; snow drifted
steadily outside the darkening window, and inside
there was lamplight and a roaring stove and a busy
silence. And then, suddenly, there was a knock at
the door. In another moment a copper-coloured
face came round the door-jamb; its chief feature
was the wide smile that bared a gleaming row of
teeth and sent the surrounding skin into a thousand
creases and wrinkles. Flakes of melting snow
glistened on the heavy brows; the eyes were small
and bright and almost black. The hair above the
low copper forehead was thick and black and
straight.

“Hello, Judson! Come in.”

Very slowly the Indian passed through the
doorway and stood just inside the room. His
eyes took in at one long glance the walls, the
floor and the ceiling; they rested on the stove,
the parkas, the’ rifle, the pile of books in the
corner; and eventually they looked at us. He