Caribou People."

"No! no!" She shook her head; and her body, in the circle of his arm,
resented his proposal. "I know. I have thought much. The hunger for the
world would come upon you, and in the long nights it would devour your
heart. Four Eyes died of hunger for the world. So would you die. All men
from the world hunger for it. And I will not have you die. We will go on
across the snow mountains on the south traverse."

"Dear, listen," he urged. "We must go back."

She pressed her mitten against his lips to prevent further speech. "You
love me. Say that you love me."

"I do love you, Labiskwee. You are my wonderful sweetheart."

Again the mitten was a caressing obstacle to utterance.

"We shall go on to the cache," she said with decision. "It is three
miles from here. Come."

He held back, and her pull on his arm could not move him. Almost was he
tempted to tell her of the other woman beyond the south traverse.

"It would be a great wrong to you to go back," she said. "I--I am only
a wild girl, and I am afraid of the world; but I am more afraid for you.
You see, it is as you told me. I love you more than anybody else in the
world. I love you more than myself. The Indian language is not a good
language. The English language is not a good language. The thoughts
in my heart for you, as bright and as many as the stars--there is no
language for them. How can I tell you them? They are there--see?"

As she spoke she slipped the mitten from his hand and thrust the hand
inside the warmth of her parka until it rested against her heart.
Tightly and steadily she pressed his hand in its position. And in the
long silence he felt the beat, beat of her heart, and knew that every
beat of it was love. And then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, still
holding his hand, her body began to incline away from his and toward the
direction of the cache. Nor could he resist. It was as if he were drawn
by her heart itself that so nearly lay in the hollow of his hand.

So firm was the crust, frozen during the night after the previous day's
surface-thaw, that they slid along rapidly on their skees.

"Just here, in the trees, is the cache," Labiskwee told Smoke.

The next moment she caught his arm with a startle of surprise. The
flames of a small fire were dancing merrily, and crouched by the fire
was McCan. Labiskwee muttered something in Indian, and so lashlike was
the sound that Smoke remembered she had been called "cheetah" by Four
E