Finding no trace of the trail-makers, the Belle faced the rising sun and sought the camp of the Crees. The mysterious shadow with the muffled tread, that had followed her from the engineer's camp, shrank back into the bush as she passed down the trail. That was Jaquis. He watched her as she strode by him, uncertain as to whether he loved or hated her, for well he knew why she walked the wilderness all night alone. Now the Gitche in his unhappy heart made him long to lift her in his arms and carry her to camp, and then the bad god, Mitche, would assert himself and say to the savage that was in him, "Go, kill her. She despises her race and flings herself at the white man's feet." And so, impelled by passion and stayed by love, he followed her. The white man within him made him ashamed of his skulking, and the Indian that was in him guided him around her and home by a shorter trail. That night the engineers returned, and when Smith saw the Cree in the camp he jumped on Jaquis furiously. "Why do you keep this woman here?" he demanded. "I--keep? Me?" quoth Jaquis, blinking as bewildered as the black bear had blinked at the Belle. "Who but you?--you heathen!" hissed the engineer. Now Jaquis, calling up the ghosts of his dead sires, asserted that it was the engineer himself who was "keeping" the Cree. "You bought her--she's yours," said Jaquis, in the presence of the company. "You ill-bred ----" Smith choked, and reached for a tent prop. The next moment his hand was at the Indian's throat. With a quick twist of his collar band he shut off the Siwash's wind, choking him to the earth. "What do you mean?" he demanded, and Jaquis, coughing, put up his hands. "I meant no lie," said he. "Did you not give to her mother the camp kettle? She has it, marked G.T.P." "And what of that?" "_Voila_," said Jaquis, "because of that she gave to you the Belle of Athabasca." Smith dropped his stick, releasing the Indian. "I did not mean she is sold to you. She is trade--trade for the empty pot, the Belle--the beautiful. From yesterday to this day she followed you, far, very far, to the foot of the Grande Cote, and nothing harmed her. The mountain lion looked on her in terror, the timber wolf took to the hills, the black bear backed from the trail and let her pass in peace," said Jaquis, with glowing enthusiasm. It was the first time he had talked of her, save to the stars and to We-sec-e-gea, and he glowed and grew eloquent in praise of her. "You take her," said Smith, with one finger levelled at the head of the cook, "to the camp of the Crees. Say to her mother that your master is much obliged for the beautiful gift, but he's too busy to get married and too poor to support a wife." * * * * *