"What can I do?"
Upon its little cot the woman's child was asleep. Beside the stove there
were a few sticks of wood. He stretched himself until his neck creaked to
see if there was water in the barrel near the door. Then he looked again
at the bowed head and the shivering form at the table. In that moment
Jan's resolution soared very near to the terrible.
"Mees Cummin, I go hunt for heem!" he cried. "I go hunt for heem--an'
fin' heem!"
He waited another moment, and then backed softly toward the door.
"I hunt for heem!" he repeated, fearing that she had not heard.
She lifted her face, and the beating of Jan's heart sounded to him like
the distant thrumming of partridge wings. Ah, the Great God--would he
ever forget that look! She was coming to him, a new glory in her eyes,
her arms reaching out, her lips parted! Jan knew how the Great Spirit had
once appeared to Mukee, the half-Cree, and how a white mist, like a snow
veil, had come between the half-breed's eyes and the wondrous thing he
beheld. And that same snow veil drifted between Jan and the woman. Like
in a vision he saw her glorious face so near to him that his blood was
frightened into a strange, wonderful sensation that it had never known
before. He felt the touch of her sweet breath, he heard her passionate
prayer, he knew that one of his rough hands was clasped in both her
own--and he knew, too, that their soft, thrilling warmth would remain
with him until he died, and still go into Paradise with him.
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