that the door of the dugout was open and the light of the oil-lamp
within was illuminating the beaten snow which fronted the house. He held
his breath. Again and again he asked himself the meaning of the strange
phenomenon.

From where he stood he could see only the light; the doorway was hidden
by the storm-porch. But, as he strained his eyes in the direction and
craned forward, he became aware of a shadow on the snow where the lamp
threw its dull rays. Slowly he scanned the outline of it, and his mind
was moved by speculation. The shadow was uncertain, and only that which
was nearest the door was recognizable. Here there was no mistake; some
one was standing in the opening, and that some one could only be Aim-sa.

He was filled with excitement and his heart beat tumultuously; a frenzy
of delight seized upon him, and he stepped forward swiftly. A moment
later he stood confronting her.

Just for one moment Aim-sa's face took on a look of dismay, but it
passed before Ralph had time to read it. Then she smiled a glad welcome
up at the keen eyes which peered down into her own, and her voice broke
the silence in a gentle, suppressed tone.

"Quiet--quiet. The night. The storm is near. Aim-sa watches."

Ralph turned his face out upon the blackness of the valley, following
the direction of the woman's gaze.

"Ay, storm," he said mechanically, and his heart pounded within his
breast, and his breath came and went heavily. Then, in the pause which
followed, he started and looked towards the lean-to as a sound came from
that direction. He was half-fearful of his sleeping brother.

Aim-sa's eyes turned towards the rugged features before her, and her
gaze was of an intensity such as Ralph could not support in silence.
Words blundered unbidden to his lips, uncontrolled, and he spoke as a
man who scarce knows what he is saying. His mind was in the throes of a
fever, and his speech partook of the irrelevance of delirium.

"You must live with me," he said, his brows frowning with the intensity
of his passion. "You must be my wife. The white man takes a squaw, an'
he calls her 'wife,' savvee? Guess he ain't like the Injuns that has
many squaws. He jest takes one. You'll be my squaw, an' we'll go away
from here."

A smile was in the woman's blue eyes, for her memory went back to the
words Nick had spoken to her that morning.

Ralph went on.

"Guess I love you that bad as makes me crazy. Ther' ain't nothin' to
life wi'out you