rage and will she counted as
powers greater than the storms of Unaga.

All day she laboured at her many tasks. And the boy, faithful to his
doctrine of helpfulness, found a world of recreation in his idea. Thus,
with the passing of the sun, they stood together at the gateway of the
fort with eyes searching, as many times they had searched before, for a
sign of the return of the trail men.

"Us wants Uncle Steve."

There was a plaintive appeal in the boy's tone which found an echo in
the woman's heart. She sighed, but her voice was steady as she replied:

"Bimeby him come," she said.

"'Ess. Bimeby him come."

But the boy's agreement lacked conviction. A moment later, with his big
eyes turned to the southeast, the way he had seen the expedition set
out, he went on:

"Boy's Pop didn't come. An-ina said him's do. Boy's Mummy go 'way 'cos
Uncle Steve said her does. Uncle Steve hims all goes, too. Boy want
Uncle Steve."

"Him come bimeby."

The woman had no words with which to comfort. It was not lack of desire.
Though her conviction was unwavering, she, too, in her heart, echoed the
plaint.

For some moments they continued their evening vigil. The eyes of both
searched the growing shadows. And, as was always the case, it was the
child who finally broke the silence.

"Us cries," he said half tearfully.

It was then the Indian in the woman asserted itself.

"Squaw-men him weeps. 'Brave' him fight. No cry. Oh, no. Only fight. Boy
great white 'brave.' Him not cry. No."

Marcel nodded, but his eyes were turned to the hills.

"'Ess. Boy great white 'brave,'" he agreed, in a choking voice. "Boy not
cry--never. What's hims little things all dancing in the fog, An-ina?"
he enquired, his mind suddenly distracted, pointing at a gap between two
low hills, where a thin vapour of fog was slowly rising. "Is them's
debble-mens?"

The keen eyes of the squaw followed the pointing finger. In a moment
there leapt into them a light which required no words to interpret. But
even in her excited joy the Indian calm remained uppermost. She drew
nearer the child, and one of her soft brown hands rested caressingly on
his shoulder.

"Him not devil-men," she said, in a deep tone of exaltation. "Him Uncle
Steve an' all fool 'Sleeper' men. They all come so as An-ina say."

Then the smile in her eyes suddenly transformed her, and her joy could
no longer be denied. She stooped over the small figure and pressed her
lips upon the sof