he purpose at which she aimed. All the
problems concerning the lives of the men she loved held for her a
perfectly simple solution. Steve would come back to her in his own good
time. There was nothing to be considered on that score. Marcel loved the
white girl, Keeko. He must meet her again when the winter broke, or he
would know no happiness. Then he must go--go now--so that he should be
there to greet her when her canoes came up out of the south.

Self never entered into An-ina's calculations. So long as the path of
life was made as smooth and pleasant for her men folk as the Northland
would permit there was nothing else with which she need concern herself.
She would be alone, unprotected. When the Sleepers roused from their
torpor their trade must be seen to. Well, that was all right. She could
see to it all. She saw nothing in these things which must be allowed to
interfere with the happiness of any one belonging to her. Then, too,
there was the white girl Keeko. Her simple woman's mind was stirred to
wonder and curiosity as to the woman who had taken possession of the
heart of the man who was to her as a son.

The unselfishness of it all appealed to the simple heart of the youth.
But the passion that had taken possession of him overrode his finer
scruples. The selflessness of the woman was the mother in An-ina. The
emotions of the man were the emotions belonging to those primal laws of
nature wherein self stands out supreme over every other instinct. An-ina
was urging him to go--to go now--to leave her unprotected. It was the
very thing for which he had blamed Uncle Steve. And he knew from the
moment her words had been spoken that he intended to take her at her
word. He shook his head, but his eyes were shining.

"I just can't do it, An-ina," he said a little desperately. "I can't
leave you here alone. Suppose----"

An-ina interrupted him with her low, almost voiceless laugh.

"An-ina know," she said with a curious gentle derision which was
calculated out of her years of study of the youth. "An-ina no good. She
not nothing, anyway. Indian man come beat her head. She fall dead quick.
Oh, yes. She not know gun from the 'gee-pole.' She got not two hands.
She not learn shoot caribou, same like Marcel. She big fool-woman.
An-ina know. Marcel think that. Steve not think that way. Oh, no. Boss
Steve plenty wise. So Marcel come wise--later." Again came her low
laugh. "This Keeko. This white girl so like the sun, the mo