Talbot looked down and nodded. Stephen's voice was too choked for utterance.
"I'm glad of that," she murmured, letting her eyes close again; "I never missed a shot yet."
"Oh, Katie, Katie," moaned Stephen. The room was black to him; it seemed as if he saw hell opening to swallow up for ever his beloved one.
Katrine opened her eyes at his agonised cry.
"Now, Steve, it can't be helped; I'm dying, and it's all right. I only don't want you to worry over it. Nothing is worth worrying for in this world. And I guess we'll all meet again very soon in a warmer place than Alaska."
Stephen, utterly broken down, could only sob upon her hand.
Talbot felt a sort of rigor passing through the form he held, and thought she was dying. He was stirred to the innermost depths of his being by her act. She had stepped so calmly between him and death, given up her life with the free generous courage of a soldier or a hero.
"Why did you come between us?" he asked, suddenly bending over her; "why did you do it?"
The calm light eyes looked down into the dark passionate depths of the dying girl's pupils, and a long gaze passed between them. What secrets of her soul were revealed to his in that instant when they stood face to face with only Death between? Then Katrine turned her head wearily.
"I don't know," she answered faintly; "mere devilry, I think." And she laughed.