herself
urged him to continue, and he finished, with her dark, glorious eyes fixed
upon him and sending warm floods through his veins. And after that the men
bolstered him up with the bear skin, and the two went out again into the
storm. The woman sat hunched before the fire, and after a little the girl
joined her and piled fresh fagots on the blaze. Then she sat beside her,
with her chin resting in the little brown palms of her hands, the fire
lighting up a half profile of her face and painting rich colour in her
deep-black hair.

For a long time there was silence, and Roscoe lay as if he were asleep. It
was not an ordinary silence, the silence of a still room, or of
emptiness--but a silence that throbbed and palpitated with an unheard life,
a silence which was thrilling because it spoke a language which Roscoe was
just beginning to understand. The fire grew redder, and the cone-shaped
vacancy at the top of the tepee grew duskier, so Roscoe knew that night was
falling outside. Far above he could hear the storm wailing over the top of
the mountain. Redder and redder grew the birch flame that lighted up the
profile of the girl's face. Once she turned, so that he caught the lustrous
darkness of her eyes upon him. He could not hear the breath of the two in
front of the fire. He heard no sound outside except that of the wind and
the trees, and all grew as dark as it was silent in the snow-covered tepee,
except in front of the fire. And then, as he lay with wide-open eyes, it
seemed to Roscoe as though the stillness was broken by a sob that was
scarcely more than a sigh, and he saw the girl's head droop a little lower
in her hands, and fancied that a shuddering tremor ran through her slender
shoulders. The fire burned low, and she reached out for more fagots. Then
she rose slowly, and turned toward him. She could not see his face in the
gloom, but the deep breathing which he feigned drew her to him, and through
his half-closed eyes he could see her face bending over him, until one of
her heavy braids slipped over her shoulder and fell upon his breast. After
a moment she sat down silently beside him, and he felt her fingers brush
gently through his tangled hair. Something in their light, soft touch
thrilled him, and he moved his hand in the darkness until it came in
contact with the big, soft braid that still lay where it had fallen across
him. He was on the point of speaking, but the fingers left his hair and
stroked as gentl