"Oh, I am afraid—afraid," she murmured, when her burning curiosity urged her fingers to do their task. "Suppose he—my father was a man like—like those two—suppose he was Claw, himself!" She shuddered at the thought. "No, no!" she whispered, "Wananebish said that he was good. My mother, then, who was she? Is some terrible stigma attached to her name? Better never to know who
I am, than to know that!" For a moment she held the packet above the little flames of her fire as though she would drop it in, but even as she held it she knew she would not destroy it, for she decided that even to know the worst would be better than the gnawing of life-long uncertainty. "He, too, has the right to know," she murmured, "And we will open it together." And with a sigh, she replaced the packet in the bag, and returned to her scrutiny of the back-trail.
Despite the agreement to divide equally the time of watching, the girl resolved to let the men sleep until mid-day before calling Brent who was to take the second watch.
At noon, Brent awoke of his own accord, and the girl was startled by the sound of his voice in her ear: "Anything doing?"
"No," she answered, "Not even a wolf, or a caribou has crossed the open."
"Have you explored that?" He indicated the moss-bag with a nod, and the girl was quick to note the carefully suppressed eagerness of the words.
"No. I—waited. I wanted you—and—Oh, I was afraid!"
"Nonsense, darling!" laughed the man, "I am not afraid! Give me the bag. Again I swear to you, I do not care who you are. You are mine—and nothing else matters!" Snowdrift slipped her hand into the bag and withdrew the packet, and she handed it to Brent, he placed his arm about her
shoulders and drew her close against his side, and with her head resting upon his shoulders, her eyes followed his every movement as his fingers fumbled at the knot.
Carefully he unwrapped the waterproof covering and disclosed a small leather note book, and a thick packet wound round with parchment deer skin. On the fly leaf of the note book, in a round, clear hand was written the name MURDO MACFARLANE, and below, Lashing Water.