ng shirt--that you would always keep it
because it is the work of my hands. Only the robe means much more, for,
among men but one man could have slain the _loup-garou_, and in all the
North there is none like it--the robe of Diablesse! and it shall bring
us luck--and--and happiness?" she added, the rich voice melting to
softness.

At the words the man glanced quickly into the face of the girl and
encountered the shy, questioning gaze of the mysterious dark eyes. The
gaze did not falter, and the deep, lustrous eyes held the man
enthralled in their liquid depths. She advanced a step, and stood her
lithe young body almost touching his own, holding him fascinated in the
compelling gaze of the limpid eyes.

"And happiness?" The words were a whispered breath; the bronzed face of
the man paled and, with an effort, he turned swiftly away.

"Luck! Happiness!" he repeated dully, with bowed head. "For me there
can be no happiness."

With a low cry the girl was at his side and two tiny, white-brown hands
clutched at the fringed arm of his buckskin shirt. The beautiful face
was flushed, the bosom heaved, and from between the red lips poured a
torrent of words:

"You _shall_ find happiness! You, who are great and strong and brave
above all men! You, who are good, and whom the Great Spirit sent to me
from the waters of the river!

"You, The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die, shall turn from your own kind, and shall
find your happiness beside the rivers, and in the forests of my people!
Together we will journey to some far place, and in our lodge will dwell
love and great happiness.

"And you shall become a mighty hunter, and in all the North you shall
be feared and loved."

The girl paused and gazed wildly into the eyes of the man. His face was
drawn and pale, and in his eyes she read deep pain. Gently his hand
closed over the slender fingers that gripped his sleeve, and at the
touch the girl trembled and leaned closer, until her warm body rested
lightly against his arm. Bill's lips moved and the words of his
toneless voice fell upon her ears like the dry rustle of dead husks.

"Jeanne--little girl--you do not understand. These things cannot be.
Only unhappiness would come to us. There is nothing in the world I
would not do for you.

"To you I owe my life--to you and Wa-ha-ta-na-ta. But, love cannot be
ordered. It is written--and, far away, in the great city of the white
men, is a girl--a woman of my own people----"

The girl sprang f