accepted this creed as though he, too, were an Eskimo, for his life and
training with Abel was the life and training of an Eskimo boy.

And so the years passed, and Bobby grew into a tall, square-shouldered,
alert, handsome, self-reliant youth. He was in nearly every respect,
save the color of his skin and the shade of his hair, an Eskimo. He
spoke the language like an Eskimo born, his tastes and his life were
Eskimo, his ambition to be a great hunter--the greatest ambition of his
life--was the ambition of an Eskimo, and he bore the hardships, which to
him were no hardships at all, like an Eskimo. He was much more an
Eskimo, indeed, than the native half-breeds of the coast farther south.

In one respect, however, Bobby was highly civilized. He was a great
reader and an exceptional student. Skipper Ed had seen to this with
singleness of purpose.

To him and Jimmy study was recreation. Mathematical problems were
interesting to them, just as the solution of puzzles interests the boy
in civilization. Just as the boy in civilization will work for hours
upon the solution of a mechanical puzzle, they worked upon problems in
arithmetic and geometry, and with the same gusto. They studied
grammatical construction much as they studied the tracks and the habits
of wild animals. They read the books in Skipper Ed's library with the
feelings and sensations of explorers. In the first reading they were
going through an unknown forest, and with each successive reading they
were retracing their steps and exploring the trail in minute detail and
becoming thoroughly acquainted with the surrounding country.

This may seem very improbable and unnatural to the boy whose studies are
enforced and, because they are compulsory, appeal to him as tedious