ZAKKI THE ISLAND 51 



When his little legs would not carry him fast 

 enough, the child used to sit on the sledge, perched 

 on the top of a load of firewood or astride the body 

 of a big seal, whooping and chirruping to the dogs. 

 Zakki watched him tenderly, teaching him all a 

 hunter's tricks, and dreaming, no doubt, of a day 

 when little Zakki would grow up to be a clever hunter 

 himself, and be the stay and companion of his 

 father's old age. 



So the days passed, and these two, wrapped up 

 in one another, lived their simple life ; they camped 

 together, slept together, they did their own plain 

 cookery, and they had no other company. When the 

 day's work was done, big Zakki used to sit puffing 

 at his pipe, seeing visions of days to be, while little 

 Zakki sang and whistled and made toy boats and 

 sledges. The child was happy, and the father, 

 wrapped up in his hunting and in the happiness of 

 his son, began to forget his own loneliness. The 

 little island began to be a land of happiness, for in 

 the simple round of Eskimo life Zakki was finding 

 comfort. Maybe his thoughts strayed at times to 

 the mound on the hillside, where, beneath a heap of 

 stones, he had laid his wife to rest ; but his mind 

 was on his boy, and though the child was but a 

 little lad of six, he was a clever lad. And what better 

 can an Eskimo father have than to see his son a 

 handy fellow, quick to all the ways of the hunt ? 



One evening they came in after a long day's 

 fishing, and the boy threw himself on the rough bed 

 of deer-skins. He watched his father kindle the fire 

 and set the pot upon the stove ; he listlessly followed 



