and
we daren't open the bales with folks around without masks. We daren't
risk a thing that way. I kind of guessed I'd best get on and warn you
and Marcel, and make ready to pass it right into the store-house quick."
He thrust up a hand and pushed his fur cap back from his brow. And, for
a brief moment, he permitted play to his feelings. "Say, it's great,
An-ina! And--and I'm just glad. I guess we've been as near hell as this
land can show us, but we've made good. The boys are with me back there.
They're feeling good and fit, and we've--Where's Marcel?"

An-ina's eyes were shining with the joy of a triumph no less than the
man's. It was the greatest moment of her life. Had not her idol proved
himself even beyond her dreams? Her gladness only deepened at his sharp
question. She had her great story to tell. The story which no woman's
heart can resist.

"Him go," she said, with a little gesture of the hands. "An-ina send
him. Oh, yes."

"Gone? Where?"

Steve was startled. For a moment a sickening doubt flashed through his
mind, and robbed his eyes of the shining joy of his return.

"It Keeko. She call--call. All the time she call to Marcel, who is great
man like to Boss Steve. Yes. Oh, yes. She call--this white girl, Keeko.
And An-ina say, 'Go! Marcel go! Bring this white girl.' But Marcel say,
'No. Uncle Steve not come back. An-ina alone. Oh, no. Marcel go bimeby.'
Then An-ina say, 'Go.' She know. Him all sick for Keeko. So. Marcel go."

An-ina's low, gentle laugh came straight from the woman in her. Just as
her account of Marcel's reluctance to leave her was a touch of the
mother defending her offspring.

But Steve missed these things. He was amazed. He was
wondering--searching.

"White girl? Keeko?" he exclaimed sharply. "What crazy story--Tell me!"
he commanded. "Tell me quick!"

He flung aside his cap, and the furs which encased his sturdy body. Then
he caught up a bench, and set it beside the stove. He sat down, and held
out his strong hands to the warmth with that habit which belongs to the
North.

An-ina remained standing. It was her way to stand before him. She would
tell her story thus. Was she not in the presence of the man whose smile
was her greatest joy on earth?

CHAPTER XVIII

THE VIGIL

Marcel flung the fuel upon the fire, and gravely watched the flames lick
about the fresh-hewn timber, and the pillar of smoke rolling heavily
upwards on the breath of an almost imperceptible breez