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Updated: June 10, 2025
He remembered that Gagnon knew of the treasure, the only person except himself who knew of it. Victor had robbed him. A wild laughter shook him. Ay, that was it. Victor was the thief; he should die. After that Aim-sa. His untutored brain had broken under the strain of recent events.
Say, ther' ain't nothin' in the world so beautiful as you, Aim-sa, an' that's a fac'. I ain't never seen nothin' o' wimmin before, 'cep' my mother, but I guess now I've got you I can't do wi'out you, you're that soft an' pictur'-like. Ye've jest got to say right here that you're my squaw, an' everything I've got is yours, on'y they things I leave behind to Nick."
Nick had seen Aim-sa; he had been with her that day, perhaps all day. And at the thought he broke out in a sweat. Something seemed to rise up in his throat and choke him. "You look that glad. Maybe you've had a good time." Ralph's words came as though he were thinking aloud. The devil stirred in Nick's heart. "Glad, man? Glad? Ay, I am that, surely.
He stretched out his hand and caught hers in his shaking grasp. "The white man loves Aim-sa," the woman said, softly, while she yielded her two hands to him. "Love? Ay, love.
He stood listening lest Nick should be moving on the other side of the wall, and to ascertain if Aim-sa had awakened and was fearful at the intrusion. But no sound except the rage of the storm came to him. His impatience could no longer be restrained; he plunged his hand into the pocket of his buckskin shirt and drew out a box of matches.
There was no one there but himself, and the two still forms upon the ground. Aim-sa was gone! But he did not pause. His brain was in a tumult, there was no reasoning in it. He searched everywhere. Bush that could conceal nothing bigger than a beetle was examined; to his distorted fancy the lightning-stricken tree presented a hiding-place.
The five huskies, with shivering bodies and jowls dripping saliva, were squatting around upon their haunches waiting for the meal they hoped would soon be theirs. The man, still kneeling over his prize, greeted Aim-sa without pausing in his work. "Wher'?" he asked, sparing his words lest he should confuse her. The unconcern of the query reassured her.
They come in a shout that is like the roar of some wild beast, and they sound high above every other sound. There is in them the passionate ring of one who abandons all to one overpowering desire. "Aim-sa! Aim-sa! Wait, I'm comin'." There is an instant's silence which the sound of the hungry flames devours.
They took her words without a doubt. They accepted all she said without question. They never doubted her identity with the White Squaw. Primitive superstition deeply moved them. "You was scared when you see him just now?" said Ralph, questioningly. Aim-sa nodded. "He come to take me," she said, halting over the words. "The Moosefoot they angry Aim-sa stay away." "Hah!"
She understood these men as they little thought she understood them. "It is the Spirit the Great Spirit," she said, in her broken speech. "The Spirit of Moosefoot Indian. Him watches Aim-sa Queen of Moosefoot. She White Squaw." Ralph turned away uneasily. These mysterious allusions troubled him. Nick could not withdraw his fascinated gaze. Her strange eyes held him captive.
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