“This is the answer to your question,” he whispered, a few moments later when, with her head resting against his breast she looked up into his face. “But we haven’t missed--life! For us life is just beginning,” she said. “I sure hope Gordon will come back soon,” smiled the man. And for reply, the girl pointed to the little wooden cross that Dalzene had uncovered in the snow, and together they turned away. “And now, my woman, we’ll be married,” said MacShane, as they paused at the door of the cabin. The girl looked into his face with a smile. “And I will be Mrs.--_Huloimee Tilakum_?” she asked, “Do you know, dear--” the unfamiliar word hesitated upon her lips. “You have never told me your name.” “My name,” he laughed, “I told you once I would some day tell you my name. It is Burr MacShane----” “Burr MacShane!” cried the girl, staring wide-eyed into his face. “Why dad has been hunting for you for years! He wanted to apologize for--what he said--back in Dawson. Dear old dad--if he could only know!” “Maybe he does know,” whispered MacShane, softly, as his lips met hers. “Wait!” she cried a few moments later, and darting into the cabin she reappeared with a grotesquely carved wooden doll, in a dress of faded silk. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, holding it up before him, “It has been my most treasured possession.” The man smiled, “Yes,” he answered, “I gave it to you myself--years ago--that Christmas, in Dawson. I told you back in Nome it was a game--I knew you, an’ you didn’t know me--the biggest game of all, girl--and I won! And now I’m goin’ to claim the stakes. There’s a parson at Alekaket Mission,” he whispered and smiled happily as the girl’s face flushed crimson. Skookum left off worrying at the _thing_ that sprawled in the snow on the creek bank, and as the two stood arm in arm, he joined them, and rearing upward, placed a huge paw upon the breast of each. And as their hands stroked the great dog’s neck, the smouldering amber eyes glowed softly. An hour later the two paused for a farewell look at the little cabin on Myrtle. Beside them the worthless iron boiler reared its gaunt black sides above the drifted snow. The girl’s eyes filmed as they rested for a moment upon the little wooden cross, and as she turned away the Arctic gloom gradually lightened. She glanced upward toward the broad bands of purple and pink that shot into the zenith. “Come!” she cried, and hurriedly led the way to the summit of a long bare ridge. “Look!” she pointed toward the southern horizon where a red disk upon the far-off rim of the world was dissipating the bands of purple and pink: “The sun! I watched it go down nearly three months ago,” she murmured, softly. “And my heart was heavy and sad. I thought I had lost you, dear. I thought that for me love was dead, and my life loomed dark and cold as the long, long night that was before me. But see--now it is day!”