Johnny moved restlessly beneath his furs. He had been dreaming, and in
his dream he had traveled far over scorching deserts, his steed a camel,
his companions Arabs. In his dream he slept by night on the burning
sand, with only a silken canopy above him. In his dream he had awakened
with a sense of impending danger. A prowling tiger had wandered over the
desert, an Arab had proved treacherous--who knows what? The feeling,
after all, had been only of a vague dread.

The dream had wakened him, and now he lay staring into utter darkness
and marveling that the dream was so much like the reality. He was
traveling over barren wastes with a caravan; had been for three days.
But the waste they crossed was a waste of snow. His companions were
natives--who like the Arabs, lived a nomadic life. Their steeds the
swift footed reindeer, their tents the igloos of walrus and reindeer
skins, they roamed over a territory hundreds of miles in extent. To one
of these "fleets of the frozen desert," Johnny had attached himself
after leaving the train.

It had been a wonderful three days that he had spent in his journeying
northward. These Chukches of Siberia, so like the Eskimos of Alaska that
one could distinguish them only by the language they spoke, lived a
romantic life. Johnny had entered into this life with all the zest of
youth. True, he had found himself very awkward in many things and had
been set aside with a growled, "Dezra" (that is enough), many times but
he had persevered and had learned far more about the ways of these
nomads of the great, white north than they themselves suspected.

During those three days Johnny's eyes had been always on the job. He had