was stronger than all else.

She must leave De Seviere at once. Therefore, she raised her head with
her face to the west.

It was early dawn again. It seemed that it had ever been dawn when
fateful things had happened in this post, every log and stone of which
was suddenly dear to her.

She stood in the opened gate and looked back upon it, on the cabins, the
well where De Courtenay had placed his first red flower in her hair, the
storehouses, and the factory.

The factory!

With sight of it once more the wave of anguish swept over her. She
saw the small plain room at the back, the figure of a man prone in
his helplessness, a fair head with blue eyes, pleading in their honest
clearness, and her lips trembled.

"Ready?" she said, and the deep voice slipped unsteadily.

"Aye," answered Prix Laroux, and picked up the last pack of chattels.

At that moment there was a flurry among the pressing men around, a sound
above the many voices wishing them luck, and little Francette broke
through.

"Ma'amselle!" she cried, looking up into Maren's eyes with conflicting
expressions on her small face, misery and solemn joy and hatred that
strove to soften itself beneath a better emotion; "Ma'amselle,--I would
thank you! Oh, bon Dieu! I am not all bad! Here!"

She seized Loup by the ears and dragged him forward, snarling. "Take
him, Ma'amselle! I love him! Do you take him,--and--and-understand!"

All her red-rose beauty had gone from the little maid along with her
dancing lightness.

These long weeks had turned her into a woman with a woman's heart.

They drew back and looked on with wonder, and then smiles of amusement,
but Maren, gazing into the tragic little face, saw deeper.

"Why,--little one," she said gently, unconsciously falling into
McElroy's words after a trick she had, "I--I understand. You need not
give up the dog,--I know what you would say."

"No!" cried Francette fiercely. "No! Take him! Take him! I will make you
take him! I will!"

She was whimpering, and Maren, stooping, laid a hand on the husky's
collar.

Without more words she turned and followed her people down to the
landing, half-dragging the brute, who hung back and turned his giant
head to the little maid, standing with her hands over her face.

He snarled and bit at Maren's wrist, but she picked him up and flung
him, half-dragging on the ground, for he was a mighty beast, into the
first canoe.

"Push off," she said; and, taking her place