Back in the camp the Indian waited. The white stars grew red. In the forest
the shadows deepened to the chaos of night. Once more there was sound, the
pulse and beat of a life that moves in darkness. In the camp the Indian
grew restless with the thought that Roscoe had wandered away until he was
lost. So at last he fired his rifle.
Oachi started in Roscoe's arms.
"You should go back--alone," she whispered. The old, fluttering love-note
was in her voice, sweeter than the sweetest music to Roscoe Cummins. He
turned her face up, and held it between his two hands.
"If I go there," he said, pointing for a moment into the south, "I go
_alone_. But if I go there--" and he pointed into the north--"I go
_with you_. Oachi, my beloved, I am going with you." He drew her close
again, and asked, almost in a whisper: "And when we awaken in the Valley of
Silent Men, how shall it be, my Oachi?"
And with the sweet love-note, Oachi said in Cree:
"Hand in hand, my master."
Hand in hand they returned to the waiting Indian and the fire.
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRIZZLY KING***
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