on.

"Take a look, Johnny; go ahead an' take a look! I'm sort of sot up over
that cabin."

Keith handed his reins to Duggan and obeyed. The cabin door was open,
and he entered. One look assured him that Duggan had good reason to be
"sot up." The first big room reminded him of the Shack. Beyond that was
another room in which he heard someone moving and the crackle of a fire
in a stove. Outside Duggan was whistling. He broke off whistling to
sing, and as Keith listened to the river-man's bellowing voice chanting
the words of the song he had sung at McCoffin's Bend for twenty years,
he grinned. And then he heard the humming of a voice in the kitchen.
Even the squaw was happy.

And then--and then--

"GREAT GOD IN HEAVEN--"

In the doorway she stood, her arms reaching out to him, love, glory,
triumph in her face--MARY JOSEPHINE!

He swayed; he groped out; something blinded him--tears--hot, blinding
tears that choked him, that came with a sob in his throat. And then she
was in his arms, and her arms were around him, and she was laughing and
crying, and he heard her say: "Why--why didn't you come back--to
me--that night? Why--why did you--go out--through the--window? I--I was
waiting--and I--I'd have gone--with you--"

From the door behind them came Duggan's voice, chuckling, exultant,
booming with triumph. "Johnny, didn't I tell you there was lots bigger
lies than yourn? Didn't I? Eh?"

XXV

It was many minutes, after Keith's arms had closed around Mary
Josephine, before he released her enough to hold her out and look at
her. She was there, every bit of her, eyes glowing with a greater glory
and her face wildly aflush with a thing that had never been there
before; and suddenly, as he devoured her in that hungry look, she gave
a little cry, and hugged herself to his breast, and hid her face there.

And he was whispering again and again, as though he could find no other
word,

"Mary--Mary--Mary--"

Duggan drew away from the door. The two had paid no attention to his
voice, and the old river-man was one continuous chuckle as he unpacked
Keith's horse and attended to his own, hobbling them both and tying
cow-bells to them. It was half an hour before he ventured up out of the
grove along the creek and approached the cabin again. Even then he
halted, fussing with a piece of harness, until he saw Mary Josephine in
the door. The sun was shining on her. Her glorious hair was down, and
behind her was Keith, so