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Updated: September 10, 2025
"You're that beautiful, Aim-sa," he cried. Then he paused as though his feelings choked him. "Them blue eyes o' yours goes right clear through me, I guess. Makes me mad. By Gar! you're the finest crittur in the world." He looked as though he would devour the fair form which had raised such a storm within his simple heart.
Then the door of the dugout opened and Aim-sa looked out into the relentless night. The figure moved forward again. It drew near to the door, and, in the light, the grey swathing of fur became apparent, and the cavernous hood lapping about the head identified the Spirit of the Moosefoot Indians. Then followed a low murmur of voices. And again the woman moved back into the hut.
But mebbe you will. Say, Aim-sa, I'll teach it ye. I'll teach it ye real well, gal. You'll be my squaw, an' we'll light right out o' here. I've got half share in our pile, an' it ain't a little. Jest say right here as ye'll do it, an' I'll fix things, an' hitch up the dogs." Nick paused in his eloquence. The squaw's eyes danced with delight, and he read the look to suit himself.
For a woman of the wild, for a woman who had been bred in the mysterious depths of the northern forests, away from her fellow creatures, shut off from all associations of men, Aim-sa displayed a wondrous knowledge of those arts which women practise for the subjugation of the opposite sex.
She told them that she was Aim-sa, which is the Moosefoot for "Blue-Sky"; and that she was the White Squaw, the queen of her people. She indicated that she was out on a "long trail" hunting, and that she had found herself in this valley, with a snow-storm coming on. She had seen the dugout and had sought its shelter, intending to remain there until the storm had passed.
Not a twig creaked. It moved on stealthily, inexorably, till it paused at the edge of the opening. Ralph's eyes turned upon the dead tree. Nick's back was turned, and Aim-sa was intent upon her companion. She seemed to be hanging upon his every word. And Ralph's heart grew harder within him. His hand held his rifle in a nervous clutch and his finger-nails scored the stock.
He passed around the hut, groping with his hands upon the building until he came to the door. Here he paused. He would awake Aim-sa that she might prepare for her flight with him. There was much to be done. He was about to knock but altered his mind and tried the latch. It yielded to his touch and the door swung back.
He saw the dull-lit interior, with its rough woodsman's belongings; the plastered walls of logs, coarse and discoloured; the various utensils hanging suspended from five-inch spikes driven in the black veins of timber; the blazing stove and crooked stovepipe; the box of tin dishes and pots; the sides of bacon hanging from the roof; the pile of sacks containing biscuit and dried fish, the latter for the dogs; the outspread blankets which formed the woman's bed; and in the midst of it all the dazzling presence of Aim-sa, fair as the twilight of a summer evening.
Aim-sa looked from one to the other. She was beginning to understand, and with understanding came a great dread. She longed to flee, but knew that to do so would be impossible. "Aim-sa loves both," she said at last. There was a long, deathly silence. The brooding solitude of the wild was never more pronounced than at that moment.
The wolves had gone as surely as if their visit had been a ghostly hallucination which daylight had dispelled. He returned to his labours with his spirit more easy and his brain less fevered. He thought of Aim-sa and that which he meant to bestow upon her. Near by where he had buried his brother's body was the spot where the treasure had been placed for safety. Here he began to dig.
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