. On, on, they sped, till they
halted within a few yards of the silent figure.

The woman showed no signs of fear, a matter which both men set down to
the fact that she was a queen among her own people. She still stood in
the position in which she had watched their approach. There was not a
quiver of the delicate eyelids, not a tremor of the perfect mouth.
Proud, haughty, and masked by the impassivity of the Indian races, she
awaited the coming of the strangers.

And as men and dogs halted there was an awkwardness. How should they
address her? They consulted, and their whisperings were loud enough to
reach her ears. They did not attempt to suppress their tones unduly.
This woman, they knew, did not understand the tongue of the whites, and
probably knew only the language of the Moosefoot people. Therefore they
spoke unguardedly. They admitted to each other the woman's identity.
Ralph was for speaking to her in Cree; Nick for the language of signs.
And while they talked the woman looked on. Had they been keenly
observant they would have seen the shadow of an occasional smile curl
the corners of her beautiful lips. As it was they saw only the superb
form, and eyes so wondrously blue, shining like sapphires from an oval
face framed with waves of black hair.

At last Ralph advanced toward her.

"You're welcome to our shack," he said, in Cree.

The woman shook her beautiful head, but smiled upon him; and the simple
soul felt the blood rush from heart to head.

"Try signs," said Nick impatiently. "How's the White Squaw o' the
Moosefoots goin' to savvee a low-down bat like Cree. I sed so 'fore."

The blue eyes were turned on Nick with a deep inscrutable smile. Nick
felt that life at her feet was the only life possible.

And Ralph resorted to signs, while Nick alternated his attention between
his idolatrous, silent worship of the lovely woman and clubbing his dogs
into quiescence. Their angry protests seemed to express something more
abiding than mere displeasure at the intrusion of a stranger. They
seemed to feel a strong instinctive antagonism toward this beautiful
woman.

Ralph persisted with his signs. The woman read them easily and replied
in her own sign-language, which was wonderful to behold. Ralph and Nick
read it as though they were listening to a familiar tongue.

She told them that she was Aim-sa, which is the Moosefoot for
"Blue-Sky"; and that she was the White Squaw, the queen of her people.
She indicat