s the room and back,
pounding one clenched hand into the palm of the other. But Marion
presently tore herself out of Claire's embrace, and turned to grab an
arm of Pete, who stood just outside the doorway, through which the
wind unheeded was flinging snow and leaves into the room.

"Here he is!" cried Marion. "He did it!"

Claire promptly threw her arms around the Indian's neck, or as nearly
around as she could reach, and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his
leathery cheek. Huntington too leaped on him, seizing his shoulder and
hand, and dragging him farther into the room. Then he broke away, and
ran for a bottle; and the two men clicked glasses and drank in
silence. And two big chairs were drawn close to the fire for Pete and
Marion; and while Claire sat crying softly, and Huntington, between
"damns" and "hells," wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and
Pete sat impressive, Marion quickly narrated the chief incidents of
her pursuit of Haig, their long imprisonment, and the rescue.

"But Haig! Where's he?" asked Huntington.

"He left us at the junction," answered Marion.

On that a moment of silence fell. Something in Marion's face told even
Huntington to keep still. But Claire, seeing it, was secretly,
wickedly, triumphantly glad. A very practical thought, however, came
to her in time to prevent embarrassment, and Seth was sent bustling
into the kitchen to relight the fire in the range. The cook had gone
to bed, but Claire would get supper for them; for Pete must stay, she
insisted. But at this the Indian rose, and said he must go to Haig,
who had told him to hurry back for supper with him in the cottage.

"Well, then, Pete," said Huntington from the door of the kitchen,
"you'll have another drink, anyhow. And you'll come up to-morrow to
tell us how you found them, won't you?"

Pete promised; the whisky was solemnly drunk again; and the three
others followed him to the door.

"But you must have a horse!" said Huntington.

So he jumped past him, and ran to the stable, bellowing for Williams.

"Now take off your coat, Marion!" cried Claire.

"No. Not here," said Marion. "You'll see why."

They waited before the blazing log for Huntington to return, whereupon
he was sent to build a fire in Marion's room. When it was crackling
finely, Marion, removed her deerskin coat and skirt. Claire stared at
her, gasping; and then sank down on the bed in another fit of weeping.
For Marion stood before her in rags a