He entered the igloo, and tried again to become interested in his book,
but his mind kept returning to the strange friendship which had grown up
between the three of them, Iyok-ok, the Jap girl and himself. The Jap
girl had proved a good sport indeed. She might have ridden all the time,
but she walked as far in a day as they did. She cooked their meals
cheerfully, and laughed over every mishap.

So they had traveled northward. Three happy children in a great white
wilderness, they pitched their igloos at night, a small one for the
girl, a larger one for the two men, and, burying themselves beneath the
deer skins, had slept the dreamless sleep of children, wearied from
play.

The Jap girl had appeared to be quite content to be going into an
unknown wilderness. Only once she had seemed concerned. That was when a
long detour had taken them from the track of the unknown traveler, but
her cheerfulness had returned once they had come upon his track again.
This had set Johnny speculating once more. Who was this stranger? Was he
related to the girl in some way? Was he her friend or her foe? Was he
really in this village at this time? If so, why did she not seek him
out? If a friend, why did she not join him; and, if an enemy, why not
have him killed? Surely, here they were quite beyond the law.

Oh, yes, Johnny might get a dog team and go on up the coast alone, but
Johnny liked his two traveling companions too well for that, and
besides, Johnny dearly loved mysteries, and here was a whole nest of
them. No, Johnny would wait.

The seal oil lamps imparted a drowsy warmth to the igloo. The deer skins
were soft and comfortable. Johnny grew sleepy. Throwing the ragged old