The Luck of the Kid

The two men on the river bank gave no heed to the oppressive heat. For the moment they seemed concerned with nothing but their ease and the swarming flies and the voracious attacks of the mosquitoes from which the smoke of their camp fire did its best to protect them. Down below them a few yards away their walrus-hide kyak lay moored to the bank of the river whose sluggish oily-moving waters flowed gently northward towards the far-off fields of eternal ice. It was noon and a rough midday meal had been prepared and disposed of. Now they were smoking away a leisurely hour before resuming their journey.