“But they are without!”
All horror was in the cry.
“They are among the Indians!”
“Aye,—and may the good God have mercy on them!”
Laroux hastily made the sign of the cross.
“We must guard the post, Maren.”
“But—” She turned her eyes slowly around from face to face and not a woman there but read her secret plain, the open script of love,—but for which man?
“But-they-will—be—” She did not finish the sentence, staring at Laroux. Once she moistened her lips.
“They will—Prix,—as I am your leader, open that gate!”
With sudden reviving the daze went out of her features and the old light came back to her eyes, the far-seeing, undaunted light that had beaconed the long way from Grand Portage. She was every inch the leader again, tall, straight against the logs, her brown arm pointing imperiously to the closed gate.