it aside. Her mother mind was
running upon a hot supper for her boy. "I was just worried to death at
you folks sitting around guessing. Winter got me beat by just two weeks,
and now the snow's falling in lumps, and it's mighty near down to zero.
Where's Uncle Steve?"

"Gone." An-ina had forgotten the supper. "Him gone where you know. Him
gone days. Maybe ten. No wait. Oh, no. Him guess you come soon. So him
go."

"And Julyman? And Oolak?"

"All gone. All him gone by land of fire. Oh, yes."

An-ina sighed. It was her only means of expressing the feelings she
could not deny.

Marcel's eyes had sobered. He flung off his pea-jacket and possessed
himself of An-ina's chair. He sat there with his great hands spread out
to the warmth, enduring the sharp cold-aches it inspired. He was gazing
steadily at the glowing patch where the side of the stove was red hot.
His mind was busy with thoughts which robbed him of half the joy of his
return.

The thought of supper returned to the woman.

"So. I mak' him supper," she said. "Him boys. They come too?"

"Oh, yes," Marcel laughed shortly "Guess they're back in the woods
there, doping like hell so they shan't lose any sleep. They were kind of
mad with me getting back late. I had to rawhide two of them, or the
whole darn lot would have bolted. You see, I was held up."

An-ina would have questioned further but there was no encouragement in
Marcel's tone or manner. He had not turned to reply. His attitude was
one the squaw recognized. He wanted to think. So she moved silently away
and passed to the old kitchen to prepare his food.

Marcel sat on. He was thinking, thinking hard. But not in any direction
that An-ina would have guessed. For once there was confusion of thought
and feeling that was quite foreign to his nature. He was thinking of
Keeko, he was thinking of Uncle Steve, and he was thinking of An-ina. He
was angry with himself and as nearly angry with Uncle Steve as he could
be. He cursed himself that through his delay An-ina should have been
left alone for two weeks. He was troubled at the thought that Uncle
Steve saw fit to leave her, and refused to await his return. And towards
An-ina he felt that contrition which his deep regard for her made so
poignant. But through all, above all, floated the spirit of Keeko, and
he knew that whatever might have befallen nothing would have made him
act differently. He was troubled to realize that for the first time in
his life Un