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sis. Any person who could rivet one with a gaze like that, he thought, was worth watching. For fully ten minutes, she raved, scattering words with prodigal recklessness. McTavish did not listen to the abuse. He was thinking of other things. Presently, she flung herself out of the tent, with a final shriek, and the man acted at once. He fastened on his snowshoes and crawled awkwardly out on all-fours after her. In the driving, blinding snow, he could just see her small figure, dimly. He followed it. The involuntary motion of Maria's hand to her bosom was the one thing that he had needed. He had been afraid that some split tree, or hollow beneath a rock, might contain the thing he wanted; now, he was certain that she carried it upon her person. On he went, away from the camp, of which the circle of tents was almost buried. Donald, veering from the path, since it might lead to an embarrassing encounter, kept his quarry always in sight, and followed. Was the woman crazy, he wondered, that she should wander aimlessly out into a death-dealing storm? But, at last, when he was on the point of turning back for fear of losing his location entirely, Maria came to the foot of an unusually large tree, and halted. The pursuer dropped behind a little drift he had just started to mount, and waited. If this were her destination, he knew she would peer about. A moment later, his suspicions were verified. But, In the quick glance of her keen eyes, she passed over the practically invisible snow-covered form that lay so near her. When the man raised his head again, she had turned her attention to the tree, and had pulled open a little, low door that allowed her to crawl into the very heart of the trunk. A moment later, the door swung to, and Maria apparently was no more. McTavish did not wonder now why he had seen her so seldom in the camp. No doubt, she had her own supply of food safe inside, and did not come out until hunger or her inclination prompted. He looked at the tree to mark it in his mind, and observed that it was tall and bare, with practically no needles or foliage of any sort. Huge bumps and broken limbs made it one in a thousand. On the leeward side of the tree, he thought he noticed a glow of light. He brushed the snow from his eyes, and looked again. This time, he was sure. He guessed that this was an air-hole bored through the wall of the trunk, and that Maria was building a fire inside. For a moment, he envied her
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