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Updated: May 20, 2025
It was Marcel, and this girl with the Indian name of "Keeko." The thought was in his mind now. He was uneasy. The whole possibility of Marcel's encountering such a woman in Unaga had seemed so absurdly remote. A white girl! And yet An-ina had assured him it was true, and the manner of her assurance left it impossible for him to doubt. Who was this Keeko?
Steve nodded. His eyes were very tender, and their smile was the smile he always held for the boy who had now become a man. "It'll be fall early fall. We can't start out too early, but it mustn't be till the dopers are asleep. You see, we've got to leave An-ina behind without a soul to protect her." "Yes." Marcel's happy eyes shadowed. But they brightened at once. "Couldn't we leave Julyman?
I need to fix things for the big chance I'm going to take, and you boys'll wait around till I get back. If things go wrong, and this thing beats me, why, just hang on till you figger the food trucks liable to leave you short, then hit a trail over the southern hills and work around back to the fort with word to Marcel and An-ina. Guess there won't be any message." Alone in the great silence.
An-ina much happy. Uncle Steve happy too." The woman drove straight to the purpose at which she aimed. All the problems concerning the lives of the men she loved held for her a perfectly simple solution. Steve would come back to her in his own good time. There was nothing to be considered on that score. Marcel loved the white girl, Keeko.
It was nearly three weeks later that the patient, indefatigable An-ina brought the word Steve awaited. The daylight had passed, engulfed by the Arctic night which had added a dull, misty moon to its splendid illumination. The temperature had risen. Steve knew a change was coming. The signs were all too plain.
Then, with a sigh that was a deep expression of relief: "An-ina glad so glad!" Marcel turned and closed the outer storm door. Then he shut the inner door securely. A moment later he was freeing himself from icicles and snow at the stove. "Say, I had to beat it like hell," he declared with a great laugh, while An-ina gathered up her sewing and laid it aside.
"Say!" he cried, his eyes hot with a fire such as Keeko had never thought to see in them. "It's two hundred miles of hell's own territory with the thaw coming. I'm going right back now. I'm going just as quick as I can load my outfit. She's alone do you get it? An-ina! She raised me she's my Indian mother woman. God help the swine that harms her body!" He turned and moved abruptly away.
He saw no evidence for her assumption. He felt that she had given run to her own personal feelings against the man. "That so. I tell you," An-ina returned composedly. She read his doubt and understood. "I not lie. Oh, no. Indian man wise. Sleeper man wise. Not bad. No. They find him bones. All eat clean. They see big place. They look an' look. No fall. Oh, no. No break 'em all up. No.
That call. She knew it. There could be no mistake. Nor could she mistake the voice that uttered it. It was the voice of Steve. It was the great return of which her faith had assured her. And high and shrill she flung back her answer, with all the power of her lungs and a grateful heart. The greeting had been all An-ina had ever dreamed it.
The soft "pad" of her moccasined feet first drew his attention, and immediately all thought of the coming storm passed from his mind. "Him big chief wake all up," she announced urgently, as she reached his side. "Did you speak to him?" The man's enquiry was sharpened by responsive eagerness. The squaw nodded. "An-ina say, 'Boss white man officer come mak big talk with big chief, Wanak-aha.
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