Ouenwa, already loaded down with his friend's possessions, threw open the door and stepped out.
"Wolf Slayer brought it," he said, over his shoulder. "And I do not understand," he added, "for Wolf Slayer hates us all."
The other, close at his heels, made no comment on that intelligence. He scarcely heard it, so anxious was he for the safety of Mistress Beatrix. The whole fort was astir; but Kingswell ran straight to his sweetheart's door. It was opened by the maiden herself. She and the old servant were all ready to leave.
An hour passed; load after load of stores and household goods was carried to the low hills behind the fort; and still the river lay empty, with its marred sheet of ice sagging between the banks; and still the unseen jam held back the gathering freshet. The women wept at the thought that their little homes were in danger of being broken and torn and whirled away. But Beatrix was dry-eyed.
"It will be no great matter for them to build new cabins in a safer place," she said to Kingswell.
He was looking at the natives dragging their rolled-up lodges to higher ground. He turned, smiling gravely.
"You have no love for the wilderness?" he asked, "and yet but for this forsaken place, you and I might never have met."
She laid her hand on his arm, and lifted a flushed face to his tender regard.
"So it has served my turn," she said. "Now that I have you, I could well spare these wastes of black wood and empty barren."
Kingswell had been waiting patiently and in silence for that confession ever since their betrothal. Hitherto she had not once spoken with any assurance of their future together. She had treated the subject vaguely, as if her thoughts were all with the past and with the tragedy of her father's death.