ness rose and robbed her of all
discretion.

"When you saw the end coming!" she replied scornfully.

But Nicol ignored the tone.

"Yes," he said deliberately. "She didn't go short of a thing we could
do--Lu-cana and me. We did our best-I don't guess you could have done a
thing more. Will you come along up, an'--I'll show you."

"No!"

The reply was fierce. Keeko was at the extremity of restraint. She could
no longer endure the man's presence. She could no longer listen to him.

"There's the pelts," she cried, pointing. "See to them. That's your
work." Then she looked him squarely in the eyes. "The other is for
me--alone."

Nicol submitted. He had no alternative. And Keeko hurried away up to the
fort.

* * * * *

There was unutterable grief in Keeko's attitude. At her feet lay the
low, long mound which marked her mother's grave. Beyond, at the head of
it, was a rough wooden cross, hewn from stout logs of spruce. And deeply
cut on the cross-bar was her mother's name prefixed by words of
endearment. Just behind the girl stood the heavily blanketed figure of
Lu-cana, whose eyes were shadowed by a grief which her lips lacked the
power to express.

All about them reigned the living silence of the forest with its threat
of hidden dangers. It was a silence where the breaking of a twig, the
rustle of the soft, rotting vegetation, inches deep upon the ground,
might indicate the prowling approach of famished wolf or scavenging
coyote, the stealing of wildcat or even of the deadly puma.

The minutes passed as the two women stood voicelessly at the grave side.
That which was passing in their minds was their own. Both, in their
different fashions, had loved the woman laid so deep in the ground at
their feet. And both knew, and perfectly understood, the life she had
endured at the hands of the man who had set up the monument to her
memory.

After a long time Keeko stirred. She drew a deep breath. It was the sign
of passing from thought to activity. She turned to the woman behind her.

"How did she die, Lu-cana?" she asked, in a low voice.

Lu-cana drew near. She spoke in a tone as if in fear of being
overheard. And as she spoke she looked this way and that.

"She weep--weep all time when you go," she said brokenly. "She big with
much fear. Oh, yes. She scare all to death. So. Days come--she live. She
not eat. Oh, no. Days come many. An' all time she weep inside. She not
speak. No. Her