Rouletta stirred. There was stubborn defiance in her tone when she said: "I'm going to get up and I'm--going--outdoors--clothes or no clothes. I'll wrap the robe around me and play I'm a squaw." She checked 'Poleon's protest. "Oh, I'm perfectly well, and the clothes I have are thick enough." "Look out you don' froze yourse'f. Dat pretty dress you got is give you chillsblain in Haugust." The speaker blew upon his fingers and sat back upon his heels, his eyes twinkling, his brown face wreathed in smiles. "Then I can do it? You'll let me try?" Rouletta was all eagerness. "We'll talk 'bout dat bimeby. First t'ing we goin' have beeg potlatch, lak Siwash weddin'." "Goody! Now run away while I get up." But the man shook his head. "Don' be soch hurry. Dis tent warm slow. Las' night de reever is froze solid so far you look. Pretty queeck people come." "Do you think they'll have extra clothes--something warm that I can wear?" "Sure! I fix all dat." Still smiling, 'Poleon rose and went stooping out of the tent, tying the flaps behind him. A few rods distant was another shelter which he had pitched for himself; in front of it, on a pole provision-cache, were two quarters of frozen caribou meat, and seated comfortably in the snow beneath, eyes fixed upon the prize, were several "husky" dogs of unusual size. At 'Poleon's appearance they began to caper and to fawn upon him. "Ho, you ole t'iefs!" he cried, sternly. "You lak steal dose meat, I bet! Wal, I eat you 'live." Stretching on tiptoe, he removed one of the quarters and bore it into his tent. The dogs gathered just outside the door; cautiously they nosed the canvas aside; and as 'Poleon set to work with hatchet and hunting-knife their bright eyes followed his every move. "Non!" he exclaimed, with a ferocious frown. "You don't get so much as li'l smell. You t'ink ma soeur goin' hongry to feed loafer' lak you?" Bushy gray tails began to stir, the heads came farther forward, there was a most unmannerly licking of chops. "By Gar! You sound lak' miner-man eatin' soup. Wat for you'spect nice grub? You don' work none." 'Poleon removed a layer of fat, divided it, and tossed a portion to each animal. The morsels vanished with a single gulp, with one wolfish click of sharp white teeth, "No, I give you not'in'." For no reason whatever the speaker broke into loud laughter; then, to further relieve his bubbling joyousness, he began to hum a song. As he worked his song grew louder, until its words were audible to the girl in the next tent. "Oh, la voix du beau Nord qui m'appelle, Pour benir avec lui le jour, Et desormais toute peine cruelle Fuira devant mon chant d'amour. D'amour, d'amour." ("Oh, the voice of the North is a-calling me, To join in the praise of the day, So whatever the fate that's befalling me, I'll sing every sorrow away. Away, away.")