Stefan had watched the departure of those people grimly, until he felt sure that they would not return. Madge had stood near him. In her desolation it was splendid to have him there with her, to be no longer obliged to stare at the sick man’s face in lonely terror, to feel that if there was any help needed he would be at hand, with all his immense strength and courage.

“I tank dey don’t mean much badness,” the man explained to her. “Mebbe ye knows peoples in dis countree ain’t much to do in dis vintertime and dey gets fonny iteas about foolin’ araount. Dey goes home all qviet now, you bet, and don’t talk to nobotty vhat tam fools dey bin, eh!”

They both entered the shack again and the big fellow went up to the bunk upon which lay his friend. For a very long time he looked at him, finally touching a hand with infinite care and gentleness. After this he turned to Madge a face expressive of deepest pain.

“Leetle leddy,” he said, gently, “vos it true as you shot him? Papineau he telt me so. A accident, he said it vos.”

The girl looked at him imploringly, with elbows bent but hands stretched towards him, as if she were suing for forgiveness. The man was seated on a stool, waiting for her answer.

“Yes, it was an accident––a terrible accident,” sobbed Madge, whose strength and courage seemed to leave her suddenly. “You––you believe me, don’t you?”

It is hard to say whether it was weakness or the excess of her emotion that forced her down to her knees. She grasped one of the huge hands the man had extended towards her. He laid the other upon her bent back, very softly.

“In course I do, you poor leetle leddy. Yes, I sure beliefe you. Dere vosn’t anybotty vould hurt Hugo, unless dey vos grazy, you bet. He ban a goot friend to me––ay, he ban a goot friend to all peoples.”

He helped her up, very tenderly, and made her sit on a stool close to the one he occupied. There was a very long interval of silence, during which his great face and beard were hidden in the hollow of his hands. Then he spoke again, in a very low voice, as if he 239 had been addressing the smallest of his own babes.

“You poor leetle leddy,” he repeated, “I feels most turriple sorry for Hugo, for it most tear my heart out yoost to look at him. But vhen I looks at you I feels turriple sorry for you too. I knows vhat it must be, sure ting, for a leetle leddy like you to be sittin’ here, in dis leetle shack, a-lookin’ at de man she lofe an see de life goin’ out of him. Last fall Hugo ban gone a vhiles back East again, and vhen you comes I tank mebbe you some nice gal he promise to marry. Even vhen de telegraft come I make sure it is so. I pring de bit paper here myself an’ vaits a vhiles, but he no come and I haf to go on. I vanted to see de happy face on him. I say to myself, ‘Hah! You rascal Hugo, you nefer tell nodding to your ole friend Stefan, but he know all de same.’ But vhen I got to go I couldn’t say nodding. I leaf de paper on de table here an’ I tank how happy he is vhen he come home an’ find it. You poor leetle leddy!”

The man was mistaken, most honestly so, for no idea of love had ever entered Hugo’s head, and none had come to Madge. Yet the big fellow’s words seemed to stab the girl to the heart and she moaned. She felt that she 240 could not allow Hugo’s friend to remain undeceived. There had been already too many mysteries, too many lies––she would have no share in them if she could help it.

“I––I wasn’t in love with him when I came, Stefan,” she faltered. “He––he was a stranger to me. I had never seen him––never in all my life. I came here because––because there has been some terrible mistake––in some letters, queer letters that bade me come here and––and meet a man who wanted a wife. And I––I was a poor miserable sick girl in New York and––and I just couldn’t keep body and soul together anymore––and––and be a good decent girl. And those letters seemed so beautiful that I felt I must come and see the man who wrote them, and––and I was ready to marry him if he would be kind to me and––and treat me decently and––and keep me from starvation and suffering. And when I came here he didn’t know anything about it, and––and I thought he lied. But––but I never thought to do him any harm. I took the little pistol out of the bag, because I was looking for something else, and it went off! Oh!”

She hid her face in her hands, as if the whole scene had been again enacted before her, and the man heard her sobbing.

“Hugo he nefer tell no lie,” said Stefan, softly. “I don’t know vhat all dis mean, you bet. But I am glad you ban come like a stranger. I am glad he no lofe you, and den I am sorry, too, for you so nice gal, vid voice so soft and such prettee eyes, I tank if he lofe you den you sure lofe him too. Den you two so happy in dis place, ma’am.”

He interrupted himself, striking his fist upon his chest, as if to still a pain in it, and went on again.

“You haf no idea how prettee place dis is, leetle leddy, in de summertime. A vonderful place to be happy in. De big falls dey make music all day and at night dey sings you to sleep, like de modder she sings leetle babies. Und de big birches dey lean ofer, so beautiful, and de birds dey comes all rount, nesting in all de bushes. Oh, such a vonderful place for a man and a voman to love, dem falls of dat Roaring Rifer! Hugo he cleared such a goot piece, oder side of dat leetle hill, vhere de oats vould grow fine. And down by de Rifer, on de north side, he find silver, plenty silver in big veins, like dey got east of us, in Nipissing countree. So I tank one day he ban a rich man and haf a prettee little voman and plenty nice kiddies, leetle children like one lofes to see, and dey all lif here so happy.”

His voice grew suddenly hoarse. It was with an effort that he spoke again.

“An’ now he don’ know me––or you or Maigan, and––and my goot dear frient Hugo he look like he ban dyin’!”

Stefan stopped abruptly again, apparently overcome. His face, tanned by frost and sun to a hue of dull brick, also lay in the hollow of his hands. The vastness of his grief seemed to be commensurate with his size. But when he looked up Madge saw that his eyes were dry, for he was suffering according to the way of strong men with the agony that clutches at the breast and twists a cord about the temples. In his helplessness before the peril he was pitiful to see, since all his confidence had gone, his pride in his power, his faith in his ability to surmount all things by the mere force of his will. And the present weakness of the man augmented the girl’s own sorrow, even though his being there was relief of a sort.

The Swede looked about him vaguely, and then his eyes became fixed on a point of the log wall, as if through it he had been able to discern things that lay beyond.

“Hugo an’ me,” he began again, very slowly and softly, “ve vent off north from here, a year an’ a half it is now, after de ice she vent off de lakes. And ve trafel long vays, 243 most far as vhere de Albany she come down in James Bay. Ve vos lookin’ for silfer an’ copper an’ tings like dat. An’ dere come one day vhen ve gets awful rough water on a lake and ve get upset. Him Hugo he svim like a otter, he do, but me I svim like a stone. De shore he ban couple hundret yard off, mebbe leetle more. I hold on to de bow and Hugo he grab de stern. So he begin push for shore, svimmin’ vid his feet, but dat turriple slow going, vid de canoe all under vater, yoost holdin’ us up a bit, and it vos cold, awful turriple cold in dat vater. He calls to me ve can’t make it dat vay, ve don’t make three-four yards a minute. Den I calls for him to let go, for I ban tanking he safe his life anyvay, svimmin’ ashore vhere ve had our camp close by. Und vhat you tank he do, ma’am? He yell to me not be tam fool, dat vhat he do! He say, ‘How I look at your voman an’ de kids in de face, vhen I gets back vidout you?’ So he lets go and my end sink deep so I let go an’ vos fighting to keep up but he grab me and say to take holt of his shoulter. He swear he trown vid me if I don’t. So I done it, ma’am, and he svim, svim turriple hard, draggin’ me ashore. I yoost finds my feet on de bottom vhen he keels ofer, like dead, vid de cold and de playin’ out. So I takes him in 244 my arms and runs in. I had matches in my screw-box but my fingers vos dat froze I couldn’t get ’em out first. But I manages make a fire, by an’ by, and I rubs de life back into him again. And––and you know vhat is first ting he say vhen he vake up?”

Madge shook her head.

“Him Hugo yoost say, ‘Now I kin look Mis’ Olsen in de face, vhen ve gets back, eh, old pard?’”

The man kept still again, looking anxiously at the sufferer and watching the hurried breathing. The feeling of his uselessness was evidently a torture to him, but his heart was too full for him to remain silent very long.

“An’ now I am here an’ can do nodings. I ban no more use dan––dan de tog dere. My God, leddy, tell me vhat I can do! He most trown himself an’ freeze to death to safe me dat time an’ I got sit still like a big tam fool an’ him goin’ under vidout a hand to pull him out. All de blood in my body, every drop, I gif to safe him. Don’t you beliefe? I remember vhen de vaves and de vind pring dot canoe ashore. Ve lose not a ting because eferyting is lashed tight. Py dat time he vos vhistling and singin’ alretty, like nodings efer happen. Ve had de big fire roarin’, I tell you, and vhen I say again he safe my life he 245 yoost laugh like it is a fine yoke an’ say: ‘Oh, shut up, Stefan, ve’re a pair big fools to get upset, anyvays. And some tay you do yoost same ting for me, I bet.’ And now––now I can do nodings––nodings at all.”

He seemed to be in an agony of despair. Madge had hardly realized that the suffering of men could reach such an intensity. She rose and placed her little hand on the giant’s shoulder. The huge frame was shaking convulsively, in great sobs that brought no tears with them. Then, all at once, he rose and faced her, shamefacedly.

“Poor leetle leddy,” he faltered, “I ban makin’ you unhappy vid dem story. I ban sorry be such a big tam fool, but I can no help it. It––it is stronger as me.”

For a time he paced up and down the little shack, struggling hard to keep himself in hand. Once he seized his shaggy head in his great paws and seemed to be trying to squeeze out of it the unendurable pain that was in it.

“De sun he begin go town,” he said, stopping suddenly. “Vhy don’t dat Papineau get back? It get dark soon. I tank I take de togs an’ go down de road. Mebbe his team break down. His leader ban a young tog.”

For an instant Madge felt like begging him to remain. Ay, she could have shrieked out 246 her terror at the idea of being left alone with the man that was dying, as she thought, but she also succeeded in controlling herself, realizing that if the man was not allowed to do something, anything that would require the strength of his thews and divert the turmoil of his brain, he might go mad.

“As––as you think best,” she assented, with her head bent low.

Stefan took his cap and fitted it over his great shock of hair, but at this moment Maigan rose and went to the door, whining.

“Some one ban comin’, but it ain’t Papineau,” said Stefan.

It proved to be Mrs. Papineau, hurrying down the path and carrying a basket. She explained that the cow had had a calf, hence her delay. Puffing and breathless she scolded them for not lighting the lamp and bustled about the place, declaring that the two watchers should have made tea and that it took an experienced mother of many to know how to handle things.

“I have made strong soup vid moose-meat,” she told them. “Heem do Monsieur Hugo moch good. I put on de stove now an’ get hot.”

She spoke confidently, just as usual, as if nothing out of the ordinary were going on 247 in the shack, but it was a transparent effort to encourage the others, and she was not able to keep it up long. She happened to look at Hugo again, and suddenly her face fell and her hands went up, while she buried her face in her blue apron and sobbed right out.

“De good Lord Heem bring an’ de good Lord Heem take away,” was what she said, and it sounded like a knell in the ears of the others.

Since the light was beginning to fail Madge lit the little lamp. Mrs. Papineau took some of the soup out of the pot and stirred it with a spoon to cool it, and then she lifted the sick man’s head. Her voice became soft and caressing, as if she had spoken to a child.

“My leetle Hugo,” she said, “dere’s a good fellar. Try an’ drink, jus’ one bit. H’open mouth, dat way. Now you swallow, dere’s good boy. An’ now you try heem again, jus’ one more spoon. H’it is awful good, from de big moose what Philippe he get. Jus’ one more spoon an’ I not bodder you no more.”

Whether Hugo understood or not no one could have told. At any rate, with infinite patience, she was able to feed him a little, until he finally pushed her hand away from him.

Stefan, whose back had been resting on the door and whose arms had been hanging dejectedly at his side, took a step towards the girl.

“Ay go down de road a bit an’ meet Papineau if he come back,” he proposed. “If de togs is tired I take de doctor on my toboggan. Get back qvicker dat vay. So long! I comes back soon anyvays, sure.”

He started away at a swift pace, his strong dogs, amply rested, barking and throwing themselves hard upon the breastpieces of their harness. After he was out of hearing the two women sat very close together, for mutual comfort and consolation, and the older one began to speak in a low whisper.

“You very lucky, mademoiselle. It ees lucky it ain’t you h’own man as lie dere an’ you haf to see heem like dat. It is turriple ting to see. One time Papineau heem get h’awful seek, an’ I watch him five––no, six day and de nights. An’ it vos back in de Grand Nord, no doctor nor noding at all. An’ me wid my little Justine jus’ two month ole in my h’arms. An’ den come de day ven de good Lord Heem ’ear ’ow I pray all de time an’ Papineau heem begin to get vell again. But de time vos like having big knife planted in my ’eart, jus’ like dat.”

She made a gesture as if she had stabbed herself, and went on:

“You not know ’ow ’appy you must be you no love a man as goin’ for die soon. You––you go crazy times like dat!”

But Madge made no answer and could only continue to stare at the form that seemed to grow dimmer as the small oil lamp cast flickering shadows in the room. In her ears the continued, eternal sound of the great falls had taken on an ominous character. It was like some solemn dirge that rose and fell, unaccountably, like the breathing of a vast force that could reck nothing of the piteous tragedy being enacted. It appeared to be growing ever so much colder again. A few feet away from the stove it was freezing. She sought to look out of the little window but great massing clouds had hidden the crimson of sunset. A strong wind was arising and caused the great firs and spruces to groan dismally. The minutes were again becoming cruel things that tortured one with their maddening slowness. The girl became conscious of the beats of her heart, unaccountably slow, as she thought.

And then, for a moment, that heart stopped utterly. A shout had come from the little lumber road and Maigan was barking at the door excitedly, in spite of the older woman’s 250 scolding. The toboggan slithered over the snow and there was a patter of dogs’ feet.

Madge threw the door open and let in a man in a great coonskin coat, who was carrying a bag. In spite of the heaviest fur mitts his hands were chilled and for a moment he held them to the glow of the stove, before turning calmly to his patient, after a curt nod to each of the women.