“But you are not like the other women of our race,” he urged, quietly.
“Still I am a Chipewyan,” she burst forth. Then seeing the pained, puzzled expression on his face, she put out her hand tenderly and touched him on the arm. “Forgive me,” she said, “I am sorry. I did not mean to be unkind. What I meant to say was that I’m a Chipewyan and must follow the customs of my people.” With this she walked on.
The man stood bewildered. He could not understand Kasba in her present mood. He had often met her in this way and she had never before objected to his taking her burden. He felt she was behaving unfairly. He watched her for a moment, then, like a faithful dog, slowly followed after. He had not gone far, however, before he saw her stop and look round. At this, he quickened his footsteps, caught up with her and walked close behind her, for the rest of the way in silence.
Arriving at the hut, the girl dropped her load and entered, and instantly attended to the fire.
The hut was built of logs, caulked with moss, and had a flat roof. It comprised only one room. In the centre of this was a large Carron stove, the pipes from which completely encircled the room before bolting out of a hole in the roof to carry off the smoke. The walls were bare of paint and ornamented with snowshoes, dog-whips, shotbags and such other paraphernalia of the chase. A few rude shelves held such articles as a clock and a lamp, while the table was of rough plank, and a few empty cases did duty for chairs. Pushed against the rear wall and opposite the door were two narrow beds, neatly covered with deerskin robes. High overhead several long sticks or poles had been suspended horizontally to form a rack or shelf, on the theory that heat rises, and half-a-dozen fish lay there slowly thawing out, while several pairs of moccasins, in various stages of dryness, dangled from it by their strings. The place, though primitive, was clean and tidy, and bore unmistakable signs of a woman’s careful attention.
Sahanderry brought in an armful of wood, which he dropped beside the stove. Kasba reached out her hand blindly, placed a few of the pieces gingerly upon the embers and blew the whole into a blaze; then, satisfied that the fire was well under way, she rose from her knees, and putting off her outdoor clothing, selected half-a-dozen ptarmigan from a number on the table, and, seating herself on an empty sugar-case, commenced to pluck the birds into a large tin bowl at her feet. She worked the faster because a dull pain was making itself felt in her heart.
There was silence. Presently the man fumbled in his pocket and brought forth a knife and a plug of nigger-head, which he proceeded to cut up on a corner of the table. He glanced at the girl slyly.
The noise of the tobacco-cutting and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds to break the stillness.
Having duly and solemnly finished the operation, Sahanderry took out his pipe, which he leisurely filled. Presently there was a grunt of satisfaction, and a cloud of smoke issued from his mouth.
The girl threw him a furtive glance. He happened to be looking at her at that instant and caught her in the act. Kasba dropped her head. A wistful expression came into the man’s face, and laying aside his pipe, he leaned forward, as if to get a closer look at her countenance, but she dropped her head still lower.