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Updated: May 22, 2025
He came to release the willing creature, yearning for that moment when she could revel in the joy of the contemplation of her boy's happiness. Steve took his place in the traffic that was going on, and nodded soberly to the eager, dusky woman. "Get right along, An-ina," he said kindly. "Guess they're needing you." "Oh, yes? Marcel Keeko." An-ina's eyes lit. "Sure and Keeko."
"Keeko had us well-nigh hollering help from the start. She set the gait. She showed us the way. She guessed that warning needed to get through quick, with An-ina here alone. And she meant to save her if the work of it killed her. She's just the greatest ever. She's the bravest, the best " Steve nodded. "Yes. I guess she's all you say."
He laughed with the full sun of his optimism shining again as he flung out a hand. "Say, shake on it, Keeko! We're partners in an enterprise to beat a devil man. Do you know what that means? You've likely got your notions. I've got the notion that was handed me by the best man in the world and a dark-faced angel woman. It means you can just claim me to the last breath. That's so. It surely is."
I tell you it can't be done." The man's force was no less for all his smiling eyes. And Keeko made no pretence. "But why?" she cried, with a gesture of her hands that made him desire to imprison them. "Why should you worry? You've helped me to the things that'll leave me free of everything. I haven't a right.
Keeko could look no longer, and, in the agony of the moment, she seized hold of the upstanding roots and clung to them in a ridiculously impotent frenzy of hope that the weight of her own light body might help him. The vibrations of the tree ceased and Keeko raised her terrified eyes for the meaning. A wave of partial relief swept over her. Marcel had reached his goal.
But Marcel was on his feet and holding out his great hands to help the girl to hers. His eyes were wide and shining in a way that must have lit a happy smile in the steady eyes of Uncle Steve, had he been there to witness. "Where's your camp?" he cried. "I need to start my job right away." The man's demand was thrilling with the feelings of the moment. Keeko ignored his help.
"You need pelts," he said, after a considering pause. "You need three thousand dollars trade in 'em. You want silver fox and black fox. Well you can have enough to set Lorson Harris squealing." Keeko was startled. "But I don't get you!" she cried, with the helplessness of complete amazement. "It's easy."
And there, far out down on the broad bosom of the river, were the canoes carrying with them his every hope, his every desire. The bitterness, the depression robbed him of all the buoyant manhood that was his. Keeko had gone. Keeko. Keeko with her wonderful eyes, and the grace and symmetry of a youthful goddess.
Both, in their different fashions, had loved the woman laid so deep in the ground at their feet. And both knew, and perfectly understood, the life she had endured at the hands of the man who had set up the monument to her memory. After a long time Keeko stirred. She drew a deep breath. It was the sign of passing from thought to activity. She turned to the woman behind her.
"I was reckoning it was more than that," Keeko interrupted, laughing. "Were you? Maybe you're right," Marcel agreed. "Well, say, let's cut the fooling. See here, Keeko," he went on earnestly. "I've got all the pelts you need to my own share. I wouldn't be robbing even an Eskimo, who most folks reckon to rob. As for me, I'm no sort of real trader.
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