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Updated: May 20, 2025
There were moments when he wondered how long his body could endure the struggle which he knew must go on to the end, whatever that end might be. His determination remained unweakening. He knew that An-ina had become aware of his condition, and it only made him the more urgent that his task should be completed before Marcel's return.
"He certainly will," he said, in no doubtful fashion. "He'll be along before the Sleepers wake. Say, An-ina, I'm not wise to many things. But there's one I know, like like nothing else. The North can't beat Uncle Steve." The dark eyes lit with a feeling which even Marcel realized. "Marcel good. But An-ina, too, know he come sure."
"How's the boy?" he demanded abruptly. Ross put his instruments away and set the water bowl aside. Then he set the stoppered bottles back into his case. "He'll be 'whooping' it up with the boys in a couple of days," he said. "An-ina?" "Beating the 'reaper' out of sight." Steve drew a deep breath. "Oolak was all to pieces," he said doubtfully.
An-ina say this thing 'the greatest ever." She was gone and had returned again before Marcel had dragged himself back from his contemplation of the things which he desired to talk of. It was a gentle hint from An-ina that roused him. "Oh, yes? An-ina listen." Marcel started. He stirred his great bulk, and re-lit the pipe he had failed to keep alight.
Suddenly she began to talk in a rapid, feverish way. "Yes, yes," she cried. "I must tell you now, and quickly. Maybe when you've heard it all you'll help me. There's no one else can help me. You see, it's my boy my little boy. He's all I have in the world now. He's the sun and light of my life. It's the thought of him alone, with only An-ina, in this terrible land that sets me well-nigh crazy.
He ran his fingers through his long dark hair, and resettled his shoulders against the pile of blankets supporting them. "It kind of startles you to find guts in folks when you're up against it. You can't help it. Maybe it's conceit makes you feel that way," he went on quietly. "Those two boys of mine, and An-ina. You couldn't beat 'em. Nothing could.
All sorts of a boy. And he liked the little boy, and the little boy liked him. Didn't he?" "'Ess." "Well, the little chap was alone." "Didn't hims have no An-ina?" "Oh, yes. He had his nurse. But his Pop had gone away, and so had his Mummy. So he was kind of alone. Well, the little boy and Uncle Steve became great friends. Oh, big friends. Ever so big.
An-ina no sick. No mak tire. Work all time. An' help much help white man officer. So." Steve's smiling eyes indicated his acceptance of the woman's protestations. "That's all right," he said. Then he went on after a moment's thought: "Now, you know these folk. These 'Sleepers. Do you know their lingo their language? I've got to make a big pow-wow with their head man.
Besides, it was his own game which An-ina had taught him, and no one else played it in the same way. Every dead gopher An-ina told him meant more food for the pappoose on the Reserve. And it was the child's desire that the pappoose on the Reserve should eat to repletion. The game entailed the lighting of a fire.
His embrace relaxed in response to her movement, but he took possession of her hands. Deliberately he moved towards the fallen tree-trunk where the lichen-covered cache of their token lay. He sat himself down, and drew her down beside him. "Tell me," he said smilingly. "Tell it me all. You came to hand me warning. They guess they're going to murder me, and Uncle Steve, and An-ina.
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