though
groping instinctively for something in her slumber--saw her fingers close
upon the blue-flannel shirt of her companion, saw his timid futile
attempts to elude her, saw him inexorably hauled back and his head
forcibly pillowed upon her ample chest.

"Daisy!" I faltered, "what does yonder scene of presumable domesticity
mean?"

"I--I haven't the faintest idea!" she stammered.

"Is that lady married! Or is this revelry?" I asked, sternly.

"She wasn't married when she sailed from N-New-York," faltered Dr.
Delmour.

We rode forward in pained silence, spurring on until we caught up with
Lezard and Fooss and the pack-mules; then we all pressed ahead, a prey,
now, to the deepest moral anxiety and agitation.

The splashing of our mule's feet on the partly melted surface of the mud
aroused the man as we rode up and he scrambled madly to get out of the
hammock as soon as he saw us.

A detaining feminine hand reached mechanically for his collar, groped
aimlessly for a moment, and fell across the hammock's edge. Evidently its
owner was too sleepy for effort.

Meanwhile the man who had floundered free from the hammock, leaped
overboard and came hopping stiffly over the slush toward us like a
badly-winged snipe.

"Who are you?" I demanded, drawing bridle so suddenly that I found myself
astride of my mule's ears. Sliding back into the saddle, I repeated the
challenge haughtily, inwardly cursing my horsemanship.

He stood balancing his lank six feet six of bony altitude for a few
moments without replying. His large gentle eyes of baby blue were fixed
on me.

"Speak!" I said. "The reputation of a lady is at stake! Who are you? We
ask, before we shoot you, for purpose of future identification."

He gazed at me wildly. "I dunno who I be," he replied. "My name _was_
James Skaw before that there lady went an' changed it on me. She says she
has changed my name to hers. I dunno. All I know is I'm married."

"_Married!_" echoed Dr. Delmour.

He looked dully at the girl, then fixed his large mild eyes on me.

"A mission priest done it for her a month ago when we was hikin' towards
Fort Carcajou. Hoon-hel are you?" he added.

I informed him with dignity; he blinked at me, at the others, at the
mules. Then he said with infinite bitterness:

"You're a fine guy, ain't you, a-wishin' this here lady onto a pore
pelt-hunter what ain't never done nothin' to you!"

"Who did you say I wished on you?" I demanded, bewildered.