d clung on to the settlers, and they could not shake her off. "She
was comin'," she said, "to her own darlin' b'y, from whom she'd been
parted manny a year, believin' him dead, or Tom Whelan had nivir touched
hand o' hers."

The bearer of the news had but just arrived, and he told it only to the
Chief Trader and Pierre. At a word from Pierre the man promised to hold
his peace. Then Pierre went to Wonta's lodge. He found her with her
father alone, her head at her knees. When she heard his voice she looked
up sharply, and added a sharp word also.

"Wait," he said; "women are such fools. You snapped your fingers in his
face, and laughed at him. Bien, that is nothing. He has proved himself
great. That is something. He will be greater still, if the other woman
does not find him. She should die, but then some women have no sense."

"The other woman!" said Wonta, starting to her feet; "who is the other
woman?"

Old Foot-in-the-Sun waked and sat up, but seeing that it was Pierre,
dropped again to sleep. Pierre, he knew, was no peril to any woman.
Besides, Wonta hated the half-breed, as he thought.

Pierre told the girl the story of Macavoy's life; for he knew that she
loved the man after her heathen fashion, and that she could be trusted.

"I do not care for that," she said, when he had finished; "it is
nothing. I would go with him. I should be his wife, the other should
die. I would kill her, if she would fight me. I know the way of knives,
or a rifle, or a pinch at the throat--she should die!"

"Yes, but that will not do. Keep your hands free of her."

Then he told her that they were going away. She said she would go also.
He said no to that, but told her to wait and he would come back for her.

Though she tried hard to follow them, they slipped away from the Fort
in the moist gloom of the morning, the brown grass rustling, the
prairie-hens fluttering, the osiers soughing as they passed, the Spirit
of the North, ever hungry, drawing them on over the long Divides. They
did not see each other's faces till dawn. They were guided by Pierre's
voice; none knew his comrades. Besides Pierre and Macavoy, there were
five half-breeds--Noel, Little Babiche, Corvette, Josh, and Jacques
Parfaite. When they came to recognise each other, they shook hands,
and marched on. In good time they reached that wonderful and pleasant
country between the Barren Grounds and the Lake of Silver Shallows. To
the north of it was Fort Comfort, which