"Why?"
Steve shrugged, but his eyes were smiling.
"Oh, I guess we don't fancy leaving you without men folk around. It isn't that things are likely to worry any. But you see—you're all we've got. You're a sort of anchor that holds us fast to things. You see, I guess Marcel reckons you his mother, and I, why—it don't need me to say how I feel."
The look in the woman's dark eyes deepened. She knew the feelings prompting Steve. Oh, yes. She knew. And she thanked the God she had learned to believe in, and to worship, for the happiness which he had permitted her in the midst of the terrors of this desolate Northern country. Her answer came at once. It came full of her generosity.
"Ah," she cried quickly. "You think all this thing—you men! An' what An-ina think? Oh, An-ina think much. So much. Listen. She tell. Marcel him big feller. Him mak' summer trail. Far—far. An-ina not know. Him wolf all come around. Him river with much water—rapids—rocks. Him muskeg. Him everything bad, an' much danger. An-ina she not say, 'An-ina come too, so no harm come by Marcel.' She say, 'no.' Marcel big man. Marcel brave. Him fight big. So him God of white man kill Marcel all up, then An-ina heart all break, but she say it all His will. So she not say nothing. Steve him go by Unaga, where all him devil men. They get him. They kill him. Then An-ina all mak' big weep—inside. She say nothing. She not say 'An-ina come, too, so she frighten all devil men away.' Oh, no. An-ina woman. She not scare any more as Steve an' Marcel. She sit by fire. She mak' Steve him shirt. She have gun, plenty. No man come. Oh, no. She not scare for nothing. An-ina brave woman, too. Steve, Marcel mak' her coward. Oh, no. Outfit ready—Julyman—Oolak—all him dogs. Yes. Steve him go—right away. Bimeby Marcel him come. So."
An-ina's voice was low and soft. But for all her halting use of the white man's tongue, with which she found so much difficulty, there was decision and earnest in every word she uttered. There was the force, too, of a brave, clear-thinking mind in it. And it left Steve with difficulty in answering her. Besides for all his desire to protest, he knew he must go, or sacrifice that thing which had brought him to Unaga.
With characteristic decision he accepted her protest. He knew her generosity and courage. But a sense of shame was not lacking at the thought that the very position he had used to convince Marcel could not be allowed to stand where his purpose was threatened.
"I've got to go," he said almost doggedly. "But I hate the thought of leaving you, An-ina. If Marcel would only get around now, I'd feel easy. But there's not a sign of him. He's late—late and—Psha! It's no sort of use. I must pull out right away."
He stood up from the counter and came over to the stove. An-ina's dark eyes watched him. Even in her untutored mind she understood the strength of character which overrode his every scruple, his every sentiment. Her regard for him was something of idolatry, and deep in her soul she knew that the gleanings in his heart left by that white woman were hers. Maybe they were only gleanings, but she asked no more. She was content. She knew no distinction between mistress and wife. The natural laws were sufficient. He was the joy of her savage heart, and she was the only woman in his life. It was as she would have it.
He came up to her and stood gazing down at the long, thin hands outspread to the warmth. Then with an unaccustomed display of feeling he thrust one arm through hers, and his strong hand clasped itself over both of hers.