ess of his palm.
She gave back his smile bravely, her eyes steadfast. She had no desire
for tears, no acuteness of sensation. A weight as heavy as the world
lay on her, crushing out struggle and resistance. She knew that he was
dying. When they told her there was no doctor in the camp her
flickering hope had gone out. Now she was prepared to sit by him and
wait with a lethargic patience beyond which was nothing.

He pressed her hand and said: "I've sent Daddy John on a hunt. Do you
guess what for?"

She shook her head feeling no curiosity.

"The time is short, Missy."

The living's instinct to fight against the acquiescence of the dying
prompted her to the utterance of a sharp "No."

"I want it all arranged and settled before it's too late. I sent him
to see if there was a missionary here."

She was leaning against the couch of robes, resting on the piled
support of the skins. In the pause after his words she slowly drew
herself upright, and with her mouth slightly open inhaled a deep
breath. Her eyes remained fixed on him, gleaming from the shadow of
her brows, and their expression, combined with the amaze of the dropped
underlip, gave her a look of wild attention.

"Why?" she said. The word came obstructed and she repeated it.

"I want you to marry David here to-night."

The doctor's watch on a box at the bed head ticked loudly in the
silence. They looked at each other unconscious of the length of the
pause. Death on the one hand, life pressing for its due on the other,
were the only facts they recognized. Hostility, not to the man but to
the idea, drove the amazement from her face and hardened its softness
to stone.

"Here, to-night?" she said, her comprehension stimulated by an
automatic repetition of his words.

"Yes. I may not be able to understand tomorrow."

She moved her head, her glance touching the watch, the lantern, then
dropping to the hand curled round her own. It seemed symbolic of the
will against which hers was rising in combat. She made an involuntary
effort to withdraw her fingers but his closed tighter on them.

"Why?" she whispered again.

"Some one must take care of you. I can't leave you alone."

She answered with stiffened lips: "There's Daddy John."

"Some one closer than Daddy John. I want to leave you with David."

Her antagonism rose higher, sweeping over her wretchedness. Worn and
strained she had difficulty to keep her lips shut on it, to prevent
he