yet it was
only a shadow_. And it was the shadow of a man over six feet in height
and proportionately broad of chest, who carried his dog-whip
left-handed. It was the shadow which Spurling would have cast, had he
been alive. And Spurling had cursed Granger merely for suggesting
that, despite their preparations for departure, they might all meet
again at Murder Point on Christmas Eve.

The stranger, being ignorant of what they saw, for whichever way he
turned the pursuer stole behind him, and growing alarmed at their
terrified expressions, withdrew from the circle of the lamp and
firelight, willing to hide himself.

Granger was the first to remove his gaze from the wall and to recover
from his surprise. He approached the shrinking figure. "Peggy," he
cried: and as she turned, he saw that her capote was the one which he
had missed, and that the remainder of her man's dress was his own
borrowed attire.

She came towards him with her arms stretched out and, as she did so,
his heart was strangely stirred within him by a little puling cry.

"It was the only way to save you," she moaned; "and it has not saved
you."

"I know, I understand," he whispered. Then he loosed her arms from
about his neck and unslung the baby from her shoulders. Fear for their
common safety struggling with the mother's pride and tenderness, she
followed him to the firelight and allowed him to kneel beside her.
Their bodies pressing close together, they wondered at and touched
with a strange reverence the little weakly creature sprawling in her
lap. It commenced to wail, and she bared to it her breasts. To Antoine
watching her, she seemed the Madonna of Keewatin, with her stifled
love, naked passions, and heroic fight for life--and to-morrow would
be Christmas night.

In the presence of the child they had all forgotten the shadow,
hovering there behind her, and the sorrow which it meant. Even
Eyelids, the Judas of the tragedy, stole nearer and, extending his
hands, touched shyly this frail body of newborn life, as if by so
doing he could cleanse them. No one interfered with him; they were too
glad. The Man with the Dead Soul looked on unmoved; his countenance
was alone unchanged. He was listening intently.

A wolf-call broke the stillness of the night. Going to the door, he
stepped out, threw back his head and answered. It was the sign for
which he had waited. Eyelids snatched up his gun and placed himself
before Granger, prepared to defend h