At an earlier date, late in November, an all night poker game had been instituted by Wigmore, with whom this sport was a ruling passion. Warned by me, the participants had signed an agreement to quit promptly on the 15th of March, in order to avoid the bickering which might be expected when some loser inevitably insisted that they play "just a week" or a "month more." The gaming element now drifted away, one by one, toward the table in the Kawa's cabin. Most of the others had also withdrawn into the obscurity. Little Kopek had long ago been put to bed. Makuik, I regret to say, was helpless. It was then that I noticed for the first time the absence from my side of Ikik. She had stolen off, unobserved. Rising, I lurched steadily around the cairn. My head was aching, my heart full of unspeakable longing and sorrow. Was it the Traprock tea or the love philter? Probably both. Resolutely turning my back on the camp I walked to the far edge of the ice bowl where I sat down. One by one the lights of the celebration flickered and went out. I heard the card players shouting their maudlin good-nights to each other. Once a voice shouted "Traprock!" and, following a remark I could not catch, came a burst of coarse laughter. Then all was silence. An hour later I arose with a slight shiver; it was 38 below. Though my hands and feet were numb, in my veins throbbed liquid fire. Remorse gnawed at my heart. What had I said to Ikik that had turned her from me on this, of all nights, our first Christmas together? Reaching the side of the Kawa, where all lay plunged in slumbers a sudden thrilling resolution flooded over me. I must see her! I must whisper a tender good-night to the one who had grown to mean more to me than all the rest of the world. Turning abruptly, my brain reeling, I made directly for the entrance to the igloo. The door-block slid back noiselessly. A moment later I stood in the low room, hesitant. The single tundra wick gave a dim light through which I saw Makuik's beady eyes fixed on me. With a sweeping gesture he indicated a vacant space in the line of deep breathing figures. Then he too sank back and instantly began snoring. With infinite care I crept over the human mounds until I sank into the space Makuik had pointed out. Touching the figure next me I whispered in the lowest of tones. "Dear one, I have come to say good-night." She turned toward me, her face shadowed in her oomiak, soft arms twined stealthily about me as a vibrant voice murmured "Walter!" I bounded to my feet with a cry of dismay that caused the sleepers to stir uneasily. The woman followed me as I hurdled my way to the stairway. In the entrance I glanced back for a second on a face livid with passion. It was the face of Sausalito! FOOTNOTES: