In the charming scene herewith depicted, Yalok, the beautiful Klinka belle, is posing as if she were a mannequin on parade in some lovely _al fresco fête_, as indeed she is. The background in itself is interesting, showing, at stage right, the Tarpaulin Tea-House erected and conducted during the Summer months by Herman Swank, Dr. Traprock's artistic fellow-voyager. To this picturesque châlet the Eskimo maidens turned with womanly instinct and its accommodations, limited to two, were in great demand. Mr. Whinney, when not entertaining a personal guest, sat outside. But these intimate details need not detain us. The principal figure is Yalok who, for the purposes of photography, has donned the very latest 1922 Spring-model sports-suit. She wears, it will be noted, "a woman's crowning glory"--her own hair. The other glories are supplied by the hair of various animals indigenous to the Arctic. Reading from North to South this snappy get-up consists of the otary over-smock or slip-in with sliding sleeves of unborn-seal, the roomy "roamers" of polar bearskin and the pliant _chassures_. The sleeves, another loose seal effect, modestly cover the entire arm or arms and flare back vehemently from the gauntlets, which may be eider-down or up. The roamers, again, cut loose from conventional lines and melt suavely into the retroussée wading slippers. The last mentioned articles are fashioned from the pelt of the Amok, which usefully grows hair on both sides of its hide. The fore-and-aft apron or windshield is nattily edged with ermine and at the back runs smartly into a train. A last-minute accessory is the fly-swatter, Dr. Traprock's gift to the lady, which is held at the correct angle of 45°. More important, however, than mere costume is the art of wearing it, an art in which this lovely model is evidently entirely at home. Her position is that demanded of a debutante in the most exclusive Eskimo society, when she is presented to a distinguished foreigner, the head modestly bowed, the eyes downcast, the arms in an alluring come-and-get-me position and the feet gracefully parted in the middle. A final touch of chic unreproduceable by photography but which has all the allure of a truly Parisian _pomboire_, is the perfume (Eau de Musk-ox) which adds its ineffable odor to this arctic rose, a hovery halo, and exquisite ectoplasm. [Illustration: A Far-off Fashion Plate] A few moments later I rose with a start. Something in the air chilled me with horror. Glancing toward the horizon I gasped, then quickly caught myself. The sun was half hidden below the horizon! The light was distinctly dim! I thought no one had noticed my involuntary start, but Makuik, though seemingly absorbed in his monkey, leaned toward me and whispered, "Night come."