But with the change came a look of incredulous
amazement that was almost derision.

"Murder?"

He echoed the word blankly. Then he laughed. It was the laugh of
reckless confidence engendered of the wild happiness of holding the girl
of his dreams in his arms, and feeling the soft, warm pressure of her
lips upon his.

For all Keeko's urgency Marcel refused to be robbed of his joy at their
reunion. His embrace relaxed in response to her movement, but he took
possession of her hands. Deliberately he moved towards the fallen
tree-trunk where the lichen-covered cache of their token lay. He sat
himself down, and drew her down beside him.

"Tell me," he said smilingly. "Tell it me all. You came to hand me
warning. They guess they're going to murder me, and Uncle Steve, and
An-ina. Tell me how you came, and all that happened. And the things that
happened to you, I reckon, interest me a heap more than this talk of
murder."

The easy assurance of Marcel's manner sobered the girl's alarm. She
yielded herself at his bidding, and sat beside him with her clasped hand
resting in one of his.

Just for a moment she turned wistful eyes upon the ice of the river
below them, and her gaze wandered on southwards.

"Oh, it's a bad story," she cried. "I guess it's as bad as I ever
feared--worse. Maybe I best tell it you all. But, oh, Marcel, just don't
figger it's nothing. I know you. There's nothing I can say to scare you.
We've just got to get right away to your home, and hand the warning, and
pass them our help."

The girl's appeal had a different effect from that she hoped. The man's
eyes lit afresh. He drew a sharp breath. His arm tightened about her
body, and the hand clasping hers crushed them with unconscious force.

"You'll come right back with me to our home?" he cried in a thrilling
tone. "You?" Then in a moment the great joy of it all broke forth. "Say,
I could just thank God for these--murderers."

But the woman in Keeko left her unsharing in his mood. She turned. And
her eyes were startled.

"You could--! Say," she cried with a sudden vehemence in sharp contrast
to her appealing manner. "Do you think I made trail from Fort Duggan for
a fancy, after months of winter to Seal Bay and back, on the day I'd
just made home? Do you think I wouldn't have waited for the river? Do
you think I'd have done this if it wasn't all--real? Oh, man, man," she
cried in protest, "I'm no fool girl to see things that just aren't. I
gues