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Updated: May 22, 2025
"How am I to hear if you're needing my help?" he demanded. "I can't make here till the first break of spring. There's just one hell of a long winter before that." Marcel was endeavouring to smother his feeling. Keeko shook her head. Had she not thought and thought over this very thing? "I won't need help," she said. "Not now. You've helped me through my only worry.
And he rested one powerful hand on her buckskin-clad shoulder while his lewd fingers moved, gently caressing the soft flesh underneath. A wild, panicky desire set Keeko half mad to fling his filthy hand from its contact. But she resisted the impulse. She knew she dared not risk it in his present mood and condition. Filled with unutterable loathing she submitted to it.
"Uncle Steve not come back long whiles. But he come back. When him come An-ina say: 'Good. Much good. Then An-ina say: 'Marcel lose all up white girl, Keeko. Bad. Much bad. No good nothing." She shook her head. "Marcel go now. Take plenty dog. Sled. Canoe. Oh, yes. Take all thing. Reindeer. Everything plenty. So. When river all break Marcel find white girl, Keeko. He bring Keeko to An-ina.
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?
With the sympathy of their craft always between them, and, for himself, a purpose, an incentive such as never in his life had he possessed. The contemplation of it all was too wonderful for words. It was a dream, a happy, wonderful dream. But for Keeko it was all different. She was not concerned with a dream future.
She was shaking from head to foot. But not a sign of her weakness was permitted in the sharp, clear orders she flung at her crew. "What's amiss with Keeko?" The sick woman opened a pair of startled eyes. She half turned her face towards the darkened doorway. Nicol was standing there. He had entered the room at that moment, but with a quiet unusual to him. She gazed at him without reply.
He'll just feel proud that it wasn't a feller of his own sex ever beat him, and, if I know a thing, he'll feel sort of content and pleased watching over things for us." The whim of the man, intended to be so light, was full of real feeling. Keeko was torn between tears and laughter. In the end she trusted herself only to a simple question. "Where are you going to fix him up?" she demanded.
He stood in the doorway seeking a sight of the girl he had marked down for his own. But there was none. She was nowhere to be seen. Only he looked out upon, the snow, and the woods, and the ice-bound river. So, after awhile, he seemed to change his mind. He closed the door and returned to the stove and seated himself on the bench beside it. Keeko was with her Indians at work.
"Well?" he demanded. Then his gaze rested on the girl. "You saw it?" Keeko inclined her head. She hesitated. A curious parching of throat and tongue left her striving to moisten her trembling lips. "Yes," she said, at last. "And it was Nicol?" "Yes." Quite suddenly Steve laughed.
And all the while he stood smiling, while his eyes followed every movement of the girl's graceful, fur-clad body with the insensate lust of an animal. Robbed of all suspicion Keeko went forth with a heart high with hope. Away out lay her cache of priceless furs to be picked up within the next few hours.
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