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Updated: June 22, 2025
He shook his head. "Why should I? Guess the north country's mine for keeps, boy. And when my time gets around I hope it finds me beating up the dogs at 40° below, with a hell fire blizzard sweeping down off the Arctic ice." Steve was abroad early next morning. He had talked long and late with Marcel over-night, and their talk had been mostly of Keeko and her life, as the lover knew it.
Keeko stood looking on watching the man's hands as he ran his fingers through the silken mass. He caressed the steely blue fur with the appreciation of a real pelt hunter, and presently stood up with a look in his eyes such as Keeko had never before beheld. "How many?" he demanded. "Sixty." Nicol blew a faint whistle of astonished delight. "You said a thousand dollars," he exclaimed.
"We'll have them up at the store, and fix 'em ready for transport," he ordered. Then he sought to take the girl's arm while his hard eyes assumed a regret that utterly ill-suited them. "Come along up to the fort while I tell you." But Keeko avoided him. Panic had seized her. "No," she cried, in a tone she rarely permitted herself. "Tell me here right now. Is is she dead?"
Then she looked him squarely in the eyes. "The other is for me alone." Nicol submitted. He had no alternative. And Keeko hurried away up to the fort. There was unutterable grief in Keeko's attitude. At her feet lay the low, long mound which marked her mother's grave. Beyond, at the head of it, was a rough wooden cross, hewn from stout logs of spruce.
"You've cut it fine, Keeko," he said, with a swift, calculating glance at the sky. "I was getting well-nigh scared. We'll be snowed under right away." Then he drew a deep breath as of relief. "I'm glad you got to home." Keeko had her part to play and she never hesitated. "I was held up, but I've had a good catch," she said, without enthusiasm. She pointed at the bale of pelts in her canoe.
I'd like to get through with it before Marcel gets back with this Keeko." An-ina nodded. Something of her anxiety became absorbed by her tender smile at the reference to Marcel and Keeko. "The thaw him no come," she said. "Maybe him not find Keeko. Maybe it long heap long time. Oh, yes?" Steve stood up and turned his back to the cook-stove. His sunken eyes were reflective. "No.
And I guess, if it suits your fancy, we'll find the passon feller, that can't kick religion into that township, ready to fix you and Keeko up. After that there's the winter trail for us both, for just as many seasons as you fancy. We've a mighty big work still, before we strip the heart of Unaga of the treasure the world needs."
"But you'll eat first?" she said invitingly. Marcel laughed in frank delight. "Why, surely," he cried. "I was guessing you might ask me." Keeko joined in his laugh. They were children at heart, and little more in years. Marcel and Keeko were standing at the dawn of a new life. The man had looked into a woman's wide, blue eyes.
They had gone together, and the man was wanted for stealing the Treaty Money of the Indians he was the government agent for. Do you get that?" Keeko nodded. She was listening with breathless interest for she felt the story was addressed to her. Marcel, too, was absorbed. But the ultimate drift of the story was scarcely as clear to him yet.
It came simply, for the wide, amused eyes had seen the youth's confusion, and the woman's mind behind them approved. "I'm Keeko," the girl repeated, as Marcel still struggled for composure. "And I came right along in a hurry to tell you I'm sorry " Marcel thrust up a hand and pushed back his cap. It was a movement full of significance. "Sorry?" he cried, with an awkward laugh.
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