"Yes," he said. "I see that is a white bear, but what makes you think it is Whitie? All white bears are Whitie to you."
"Oh no," cried Oumauk, fairly dancing up and down in his delight.
"It is Whitie. I can tell his trot and I know his face.
"No other white bear looks like Whitie. I know it is him.
"I am going down to meet him."
"Stop," cried Eiseeyou sternly. "You do not know that it is Whitie and even if it was, you could not get near him after this long time. Besides if you did, he would probably bite your head off."
Oumauk looked reproachfully at his father.
"Whitie not know me? Whitie bite me? You wait and see."
"You must not go Oumauk," said Eiseeyou again, but Oumauk paid no attention to his sire. Instead he stood his rifle up against the boulder and tightened his belt just as his father had done upon that momentous occasion several years before when
