52 AN ESKIMO VILLAGE 



with his eyes the humble preparations for the 

 evening meal. 



"Come, Zakki, let us have supper," said his 

 father. 



"No," said the boy; " I am tired too tired 

 to eat." 



The father was troubled ; a chill came over him. 

 He looked at his son, and realised suddenly how 

 pale and ill the child was. He picked the tenderest 

 morsels from the juicy seal-meat stew. " Eat this," 

 he said, " and then you shall go to bed ; you will be 

 quite rested in the morning." 



But morning came, and the little fellow still 

 seemed tired. He bravely tried to brighten up as 

 his father talked cheerily of trying a new place for 

 the cod-fishing, and of a stream away up in the 

 woods of the mainland where the trout were so 

 plentiful that little Zakki could catch them with his 

 hands. 



Night after night brought the same perplexity 

 into the father's heart : little Zakki was always 

 tired ; his cheeks were growing hollow and his eyes 

 seemed big, and he had a strange way of waking 

 up in the night to cough. 



The autumn storms began ; it was time for the 

 seal hunt, but little Zakki was too weak to go. He 

 stayed at home while the father went out day by 

 day to his lonely task. And then the truth dawned : 

 little Zakki was failing ; he was ill with some subtle 

 sickness beyond the reach of Eskimo home 

 remedies. 



Zakki 's mind was made up at once : he must take 



