rcel was aflame. There flashed through
his mind a vague memory of the wooing of the painted women of Seal Bay.

The girl's explanation, her regrets, meant nothing to him.

"What--? Where? Who are you?" he blurted, all his amazed delight flung
into a startled demand.

"I'm Keeko."

The reply was without a shadow of hesitation. It came simply, for the
wide, amused eyes had seen the youth's confusion, and the woman's mind
behind them approved.

"I'm Keeko," the girl repeated, as Marcel still struggled for composure.
"And I came right along in a hurry to tell you I'm sorry----"

Marcel thrust up a hand and pushed back his cap. It was a movement full
of significance.

"Sorry?" he cried, with an awkward laugh. "Guess you don't need to be
sorry. I need to feel that way, acting foolish, gawking around here like
some fool kid. But--you see--you're a--girl."

Keeko's smile broadened into a delicious ripple of laughter.

"Sure," she nodded. "You didn't guess I was a-jack-rabbit?"

Marcel was recovering. He, too, laughed.

"I didn't guess anything," he said. Then with a gesture of helplessness
which further added to Keeko's amusement: "I couldn't. You see
I'm--well--I'm just darned! That's all--just darned!"

"I know," the girl cried delightedly. "You didn't guess to find a girl
around. You weren't looking to find anything diff'rent from those things
they sort of experimented with when they first reckoned making a camping
ground in space for life to move around on. But you haven't said about
that old moose. I robbed you----"

"Oh, hell!" Marcel cried, flinging his head back in a happy, buoyant
laugh. "We'll just cut that darn old moose right out of this thing.
You're welcome to shoot up any old thing I've got. You're Keeko----"

"Who are you?"

"I--oh, I'm Marcel, and I come from--" He broke off and shook his head.
"No, I can't hand you that."

Marcel gazed down into the girl's pretty eyes. He had only just
remembered in time. Somehow this girl seemed to have robbed him of his
wits as well as his moose.

"Say," he went on, a moment later, with a sobering of his happy eyes. "I
came near making a bad break that time. You see, I just can't tell you
where I come from. There's secrets in the darn old Northland some folks
would give a heap of dollars to get wise to. Where I come from is one of
'em. What I'm free to tell is I'm mostly a pelt hunter. I've a biggish
outfit of Eskimo, and the usual truck of the summer tr