ised her head,
and her two hands stole to Kent's cheeks in their old sweet way, and
she whispered,

"Kiss me, Jeems--my Jeems--kiss me--"

CHAPTER XXVI

A little later, clasping hands in the lamp glow, Kent and Sandy
McTrigger stood alone in the big room. In their handclasp was the warm
thrill of strong men met in an immutable brotherhood. Each had faced
death for the other. Yet this thought, subconsciously and forever a
part of them, expressed itself only in the grip of their fingers and in
the understanding that lay deep in their eyes.

In Kent's face the great question was of Marette. McTrigger saw the
fear of it, and slowly he smiled, a glad and yet an anxious smile, as
he looked toward the door through which Marette and the older woman had
gone.

"Thank God you have come in time!" he said, still holding Kent's hand.
"She thought you were dead. And I know, Kent, that it was killing her.
We had to watch her at night. Sometimes she would wander out into the
valley. She said she was looking for you. It was that way tonight."

Kent gulped hard. "I understand now," he said. "It was the living soul
of her that was pulling me here. I--"

He took his pack with its precious contents from his shoulders,
listening to McTrigger. They sat down. What McTrigger was saying seemed
of trifling consequence beside the fact that Marette was somewhere
beyond the other door, alive, and that he would see her again very
soon. He did not see why McTrigger should tell him that the older woman
was his wife. Even the fact that a splendid chance had thrown Marette
upon a log wedged between two rocks in the Chute, and that this log,
breaking away, had carried her to the opposite side of the river miles
below, was trivial with the thought that only a door separated them
now. But he listened. He heard McTrigger tell how Marette had searched
for him those days when he was lost in fever at Andre Boileau's cabin,
how she had given him up for dead, and how in those same days Laselle's
brigade had floated down, and she had come north with it. Later he
would marvel over these things, but now he listened, and his eyes
turned toward the door. It was then that McTrigger drove something
home. It was like a shot piercing Kent's brain. McTrigger was speaking
quietly of O'Connor. He said:

"But you probably came by way of Fort Simpson, Kent, and O'Connor has
told you all this. It was he who brought Marette back home through the
Sulphur Countr