stole under his door, and he breathed deeply as his senses came to life. He had never tasted coffee, but it sure smelled good. Robin stretched beneath the covers and enjoyed the soft warmth of their texture against his skin. He could take his time getting up, but soon school would start and the luxury of waking at his own pace would be lost. Hey! How could it slip his mind! With only a couple of days until school began that meant any families still out at summer camps would be returning to Fort McPherson. Johnny Reindeer and his family would be home any day! Johnny's son, Wayne, was Robin's best friend in the world. They had grown up together practically since birth.
Robin and Wayne had taken their first steps together and spoken their first words together. Johnny often took the two boys on the land with him, and they accompanied both Johnny and Ted on dog team patrol. They had fun together and had gotten into trouble together.
Wayne had broken his leg after Robin had convinced him that a towel flying from his neck like a cape would help him drift slowly to the ground if he jumped off the dog feed shack. Robin had received his first black eye after Wayne had persuaded him to step on the blade of a garden shovel to see just how fast the handle would fly up.
Spending so much time with Wayne and his family, Robin had actually spoken Gwich'in fluently before he mastered English. At first his parents had been concerned but soon realized it was part of growing up in their community. Fort McPherson was situated on the Peel River, just inside the Arctic Circle and south of Inuvik. The population was about 600 people. Robin and his family were three of only twenty non-aboriginal people in the community. The rest of the population were Gwich'in Dene or Métis.
Hearing the door slam as his father left for work, Robin sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side, yawned widely, and once again stretched as hard as he could. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he passed over the cold tile floor to the bathroom across the hall. When he was finished in the bathroom, he returned to his bedroom to dress. The days were cooler now, so Robin slipped on a pair of corduroy pants and put on one of his warmer shirts. Still groggy, he strolled into the kitchen and plunked himself down at the table.
"Wow, somebody's up early!" Marjorie Harris said, smiling at her son as she busied herself at the stove. Robin could smell oatmeal from across the room. He laid his head on the table, placed his hands under his cheek, and stretched the last sleep from his body. His mother chuckled as she put the steaming bowl beside him and absently wove her fingers through his bed-tousled hair. Moving back to the stove, she continued with her chores.
Robin dug his spoon into the hot mixture and watched the steam rise as he moved the lumps around in the bowl. "The Reindeers got back yesterday, didn't they?"
"They did, and not much before you and your father did. That means they need their sleep." Raising her eyebrows, Marjorie glanced back at her son as she spoke.
Robin opened his mouth to speak, but his mother shook her head slowly. Knowing defeat, Robin lowered his head and went about finishing his oatmeal. As he washed down the last bite with a gulp of powdered milk, he stood to leave.
"Mind what I said, Robin."
"I will, Mom," Robin replied as he headed for the porch. "I'm just going to hang around the compound until I'm sure someone's awake over there." He slipped on a light jacket and stepped out onto the back porch. Standing in the cool air for a moment, he sat on the steps to figure out what boring thing he could do until Wayne was up.
Marjorie glanced out the kitchen window at Robin as she worked at the sink. She slowly lowered the knife she had been using to chop vegetables for supper and studied her son as he sat on the steps. He had grown over the summer. Robin was tall for twelve, and she figured he must be at least five foot four now. Although he had sprung up, he was solid for his age. He would be in grade seven this year, and it just didn't seem possible. Ted kept a running measurement of Robin's height on the doorway to his bedroom. She would have to remind him to get Robin to stand still for a moment so they could mark him off and see just how much he had grown.
Robin stared at the Richardson Mountains to the west. He could see new snow on the higher peaks, which meant it wouldn't be long before they got their first skiff of the season. Just beyond the Richardsons lay Yukon Territory. Because Fort McPherson was so close to the mountains, the weather could at times be unpredictable. One thing that was predictable, however, was that winter would soon hit with full force.
The poplars and birches had turned shades of orange and yellow. Mixed with the evergreens, the contrasts were quite startling. Although there were no trees on the Richardsons themselves, the tundra-like terrain had shifted with the season to a wonderful blend of red, burgundy, orange, and green.
The RCMP compound was located at the western edge of Fort McPherson along the bank above the Peel River. The compound itself was comprised of eight buildings. Three structures lined the most westerly bank above the river. From south to north were the staff house where the Harrises lived, the building that housed the office and single men's quarters, and Johnny Reindeer's house. Directly east of the Harris home was the jail, and beside it, just north, was the dugout icehouse at the centre of the compound. At the eastern side of the compound, towards the rest of town, also running south to north, were the dog cookhouse, dog feed shack, and the dog corral.
As he gazed across the river at the mountains, Robin's mind shifted back to Shildii Rock. What could he do to convince his father he had actually seen something? He and Wayne had to figure something out!
A cold, wet nose poking at the back of his neck startled Robin. "Dana!" He smiled as he reached back and took the dog in a gentle headlock. She licked his cheek when he scratched behind her ears. Robin stroked the big German shepherd's side, and her mouth opened in a tongue-filled doggie smile.
Dana was Ted Harris's lead dog, and the best lead dog anyone had seen. Her mother had been a show dog, but Dana was born with two floppy ears that just wouldn't stand up like a show dog's should. When Robin's mother lived down south, she had purchased Dana and brought her north. Although the German shepherd would never have the appearance to show, she had an intelligence that was seldom found in any dog.
No one had heard of a German shepherd leading a dog team of huskies, but Dana was amazing. She followed every sound of Ted's voice. Even the best lead husky could be stubborn, but not Dana. Ted would amaze people by getting Dana to lead her team to complete figure eights and other manoeuvres. The best lead huskies often hesitated at a Y in the trail and needed considerable coaxing before they would go in the right direction. With a simple "Chaw" ("Right") or "Yee" ("Left") from Ted, Dana took the correct turn every time.
Most lead dogs were male, but Dana was female. Although they often fought among themselves, the other dogs never fought with Dana and seemed to give her a special respect. While the rest of the team was post-tied in the dog corral, Dana ran free. A loose dog always sent the corrals of huskies into a barking frenzy, but not when it was Dana.
"What do you think, Dana? Am I nuts?" Dana cocked her head at an angle and gave a small snort. "Of course, I'm not nuts. I knew you would be on my side." Robin hugged the German shepherd and ruffled her fur.
"You missed me so much, you need to tell Dana your problems?"
Robin looked up as Wayne sauntered over and plopped himself down. Wayne was Robin's age, roughly the same height, but slightly lighter in build. With jet-black hair and a dusky Gwich'in complexion that had darkened from a summer at camp in the sun, he was a distinct contrast to Robin's sandy hair and fair, freckled skin.
"Did I ever miss you!" Robin said. "These last two weeks seemed like two months!"
Wayne smiled. "Actually, it was kind of like that for me, too. Our camp's great, but after you've been out there for a while with nobody but my mom and dad and
