, but it was utterly
powerless to deny the other expression.

Keeko withdrew her hands which had been held for a moment in both of
Steve's.

"Yes," she said, something shyly. "I'm Keeko."

"Keeko." Steve's echo of the name was reflective. "It's a queer name."

The startled look had passed out of his eyes. But his intent regard
remained almost embarrassing. Then, quite suddenly, as the girl turned a
little helplessly, and her gaze settled itself upon the great figure of
Marcel, he seemed to become aware this was so. He, too, promptly glanced
away, taking in the three Indians standing beside the dogs.

"Here, say," he cried authoritatively. "Unhitch those dogs and fix the
sleds. You boys best get the sleds unloaded."

Then he turned again to Keeko.

"I want to hand you a big show piece talk, Keeko," he said with quiet
ease. "I want to say how glad I am you came along with this boy of ours,
and to thank you for the things you figgered to do for us. I guess we
aren't going to let the thought of this feller--Nicol--worry us grey.
And Lorson Harris, big as he may be in Seal Bay, don't cut much ice up
here in the heart of Unaga. We've the measure of most things taken
that's likely to hand us worry. There's a home right here for you, for
just as long as you two fancy. I take it you've fixed things up between
you. Guess it scared me when I first heard tell of you, and I don't need
to tell you why I was scared. Now I've seen you it isn't that way. No,"
he added, in contemplative fashion. "I kind of thank Providence. He
sent you where you found our boy, and later made things so you came
along--to home. My dear, I'm just glad." Then he added in response to
the wonderful light which his words brought into the girl's pretty eyes:
"Say, just come right in. An-ina's inside. She'll get you rested and
fed. And she'll hand you a mother's welcome, same as I do a--father's."

The girl made no movement to obey. The tenderness, the simple kindliness
that rang in Steve's tones, was so utterly different from anything she
had ever listened to in the hard years of nomadic life she had been
forced to live. In contrast, the memory of her days at Fort Duggan left
her shuddering. The memory of the pitiful subterfuges to which she and
her dead mother had been forced to resort in the hope of saving her from
the merciless hands of the beast of prey who had ruined so utterly their
lives, was something that seemed to belong to some hideous nightma