VIVIENNE 
seemed dead, no crisp, strong voice 
saluted her with the well-loved “Hola!” 
Bewildered, she went within and 
barred the heavy door. Her erect poise 
relaxed as she sank upon a great bear- 
skin that was thrown before the hearth. 
Her brain faltered, the room seemed to 
dance about her; a jumbled heap of 
steel traps grinned through their cruel 
teeth from a corner. Her wayward 
glance fell upon the bleeding meat she 
still held, which woke her from her 
stupor. A heavy meal threw a better 
light upon the situation. She would 
presently return for the other ham of 
the moose; her strength had come back; 
it would not take long. Gaspard was, 
perchance, quite close at hand, power- 
fully putting distance behind his snow- 
shoes. 
“Whin-r-r, whir-n-n, wheen-n-n.” 
The crooning drone of the accelerating 
winds played about the corners of the 
cabin. Opening the door, the air smote 
her flushed cheek with affronting chill; 
it was growing cold, icy. No trip for 
the treasure by the friendly river; that 
store of food must be abandoned now. 
Only time for hurried armloads of fuel, 
a trip with shovel, ax and pail to the 
spring to clear the snow fallen since the 
last drawing, to crack the ice with the 
ax; then to breathlessly hurl into place 
the weighty portal behind her as she 
dragged the full bucket into the rugged 
cabin. 
The tempest, born at Hudson’s bay 
and of unknown Northern wilds’ ado- 
lescence, swept in full growth over the 
forest. It would be short, but chaos 
while it lasted. The heavy logs of the 
walls groaned and strained but held 
intact. The close air within became 
cold and of a threatening drowsiness. 
Near the fire, upon the bear-skin and 
with blankets about her, the young girl 
clung to life in this paroxysm of the 
elements. Her wild thoughts flew ever 
to her lover, her adored Gaspard. Bon 
Dieu, where was he now? Oh, that 
this should fall mercilessly upon their 
short happiness! A shapeless dread, 
unframed, hovered about her under- 
Joo 
standing, but ever she fought it off. 
No, not that! He was strong, he was 
wise, he would not be conquered. She 
sobbed softly, her frail body swaying 
from side to side. It was night now, 
she knew. Yes, it were best to eat a 
little morsel more, he might need all her 
strength. 
Suddenly, a great weight fell against 
the door. Vivienne stood transfixed, 
one arm advanced toward the hunting 
knife upon the rough mantel. Her 
breath refused to come, she seemed to 
hear her pulse beating in her ears! A 
moment passed, something knocked 
against the door, just distinguishable 
above the bedlam of the blasts. A great 
hope welled up in her breast ; she leaped 
to the door and tore frantically at the 
fastenings. Without lay Gaspard. 
The Good Virgin, she always thought, 
must have given the strength that drew 
him into the little harbor from the 
storm and rolled his unconscious form 
upon the spreading fur by the blazing 
logs. What mattered tempest, hunger, 
privation, now! A _ great reaction 
swept over the girl-wife; she threw her- 
self upon her husband, fumbled at his 
red muffler of worsted, cried his name 
again and again. Why, he was talking 
now! Gaspard’s eyes were closed; she 
bent close to catch the words. “Henri, 
in two months, now. I’m to marry 
Vivienne, Henri. It is good to live. 
You know not that love, mon amu, 
weir lice 15 ke a-rose ..... that... 
never ... opened.” He rolled fitfully 
and shook a great sigh from his mas- 
sive chest. Vivienne loosened his cloth- 
ing and kissed the wet forehead. Then 
she brewed some meat broth while she 
forced the slivers of roasted flesh be- 
tween his starved teeth. He drew in 
the red life and sighed again. It had 
been three days and he had traveled 
tar. 
Oh, her loved one, her great, gallant 
boy! He did not know his wife! Ever 
to Henri he talked, his old mate of the 
trapping, of how he had loved her. 
“A kiss from Vivienne, Henri, and a 
man might die, his life a full one.” 
