Even in the midst of his own troubles Marcel could never be forgetful of this devoted creature.
"He certainly will," he said, in no doubtful fashion. "He'll be along before the Sleepers wake. Say, An-ina, I'm not wise to many things. But there's one I know, like—like nothing else. The North can't beat Uncle Steve."
The dark eyes lit with a feeling which even Marcel realized.
"Marcel good. But An-ina, too, know he come—sure."
The woman paused with her gaze again turned upon the sheds, and after a moment she looked deeply, earnestly into the eyes of the man who held her mother love.
"That why An-ina say to Marcel now," she went on. "She think much. Oh, yes. An-ina think much—this white girl who mak' Marcel all much happy. She far away. Long, long by the trail. Maybe she come where Marcel say when the river all break up. It all long piece 'way. Marcel wait while river him break, then long-piece 'way river break too. So. This Keeko girl she come by river. No? She mak' trail. She think Marcel not come. He no more care find Keeko. So. Marcel go all heap sick. No Keeko—no nothing."
The woman's halting words lost nothing of their purpose in their limitations. Marcel's brows drew sharply together in alarm at the prospect she painted for him. Then, after a moment, he passed a hand across his forehead as though to brush his fears aside.
"But Uncle Steve's not back yet," he said, as though the fact clinched all argument finally.
An-ina, however, had no intention of accepting any such finality. She shook her head.
"That all so. Oh, yes," she said. "Uncle Steve not come back long whiles. But he come back. When him come An-ina say: 'Good. Much good.' Then An-ina say: 'Marcel lose all up white girl, Keeko. Bad. Much bad. No good—nothing.'" She shook her head. "Marcel go now. Take plenty dog. Sled. Canoe. Oh, yes. Take all thing. Reindeer. Everything plenty. So. When river all break Marcel find white girl, Keeko. He bring Keeko to An-ina. An-ina much happy. Uncle Steve happy—too."