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There is no telling. Sometimes the strait clears very soon, sometimes not. Maybe two, three days. Rosalin sit down on a stone. I tell her we can make camp, and show signals to Mackinac, and when the ice permit, a boat will be sent. She is crying, and I say her lady will be well. No use to go to Cheboygan anyhow, for it is a week since her lady sent for her.
It is two days before he come home, and the east wind have blow to freeze that crack over and there are all the wolf tails, stick up, froze stiff in a row! He bring them home with him but los them on the way, though he show the knife that cut them off!" "I have hear that," says Rosalin. "I think he lie."
If Mamselle Rosalin cry out loud once more, I plunge in the lake and then what become of maman and the children? She is quieter; and I sit down and cannot smoke, and the dogs pity me. Old Sauvage lay his nose on my knee. I do not say a word to him, but I pat him, and we talk with our eyes, and the bright camp-fire shows each what the other is say.
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