United States or Mauritania ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Then she smiled a glad welcome up at the keen eyes which peered down into her own, and her voice broke the silence in a gentle, suppressed tone. "Quiet quiet. The night. The storm is near. Aim-sa watches." Ralph turned his face out upon the blackness of the valley, following the direction of the woman's gaze.
The grey figure waited, and a moment later Aim-sa came to him again. Shortly after the door closed and the Spirit moved silently away. All was profoundly dark. The darkness of the night was a darkness that could be felt, for the merciless blizzard of the northern latitudes was raging at its full height. The snow-fog had risen and all sign of trail or footstep was swept from the icy carpet.
"The forest," replied Aim-sa easily, pointing away down the hill. There was a long pause while the woodsman plied his knife with rough but perfect skill. The thick fur rolled under his hands. The snick, snick of his knife alternated with the sound of tearing as he pulled the pelt from the under-flesh. Aim-sa watched, interested, then, as Nick made no further remark, she went on.
She pointed back at the forest. "The wolves they very thick. Many, many an' hungry." "They've left the open. Guess it's goin' to storm, sure," observed the man indifferently. He wrenched the fur loose from the fore paws. "Yes it storm sure." And Aim-sa gazed critically up at the sky. The usual storm sentries hung glittering upon either side of the sun, and the blue vault was particularly steely.
He came with long, regular strides, a figure truly calculated to inspire awe. Even now, near as he was to her, there was no sign of his face to be seen. He was clad in the folds of grey wolfskin, and a cowl-like hood utterly concealed his face, while leaving him free to see from within. As the man came up Aim-sa plunged into voluble speech.
But Nick was not to be denied. "Ye've seen him," he said sharply; "him wi' the hood?" And he made a motion with his hand which described the stranger's headgear. Aim-sa nodded, and Nick went on. "We seen him up north. On the trail to the Moosefoot." The woman again nodded. She quite understood now, and her eyes brightened suddenly as she turned their dazzling depths of blue upon her questioner.
Ye gave yourself to me that night, maybe you've give yourself to him since. Which is it, him or me? Ye'll choose right here. Choose!" Nick turned and looked at her with strained, anxious eyes. Ralph's face belied his outward calm. "An' what if Aim-sa loves neither?" the woman asked, with a laugh in which there was no mirth, and some fear. "Then she's lied." Ralph's teeth shut with a snap.
The two in the open seemed all unconscious of what was going on so near them. Nick was gazing upon the woman, his heart laid bare in his eyes. And Aim-sa was smiling up into his face with all the arch coquetry of her sex, with that simple, trusting look which, however guileful, must ever appeal to the strong man. For awhile Ralph looked on.
"Ah," sighed the woman, "Nick poor Nick. He loves Aim-sa, too. Nick is great man." "Nick loves you? Did he get tellin' ye so?" There was a wild, passionate ring in Ralph's question. The squaw nodded, and the man's expression suddenly changed. The passionate look merged into one of fiery anger, and his eyes burned with a low, dark fire.
Already he anticipated a favourable answer. But he was quickly undeceived. Aim-sa merely revelled in the passion she had aroused, like a mischievous child with a forbidden plaything. She enjoyed it for a moment, then her face suddenly became grave, and her eyelids drooped over the wonderful eyes which he thought had told him so much. And her answer came with a shake of the head.
Word Of The Day