' As he finished, he
crouched closely, even jealously, over the stove. For a long
while the slush-lamp shadows played tragedies upon the wall.
'But Unga!' cried Prince, the vision still strong upon him.
'Unga? She would not eat of the ptarmigan. She lay with her arms
about his neck, her face deep in his yellow hair. I drew the fire
close, that she might not feel the frost, but she crept to the
other side. And I built a fire there; yet it was little good, for
she would not eat. And in this manner they still lie up there in
the snow.'
'And you?' asked Malemute Kid.
'I do not know; but Akatan is small, and I have little wish to go
back and live on the edge of the world. Yet is there small use in
life. I can go to Constantine, and he will put irons upon me, and
one day they will tie a piece of rope, so, and I will sleep good.
Yet--no; I do not know.' 'But, Kid,' protested Prince, 'this is
murder!' 'Hush!' commanded Malemute Kid. 'There be things greater
than our wisdom, beyond our justice. The right and the wrong of
this we cannot say, and it is not for us to judge.' Naass drew
yet closer to the fire. There was a great silence, and in each
man's eyes many pictures came and went.
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