In the hush of that moment a shadow falling in the open door of the
factory caught his eye and he looked up to see the form of Maren Le
Moyne leaning against the lintel, her face filled with eagerness, her
eyes, clear as a child's and as far-seeing, fixed on the Indians. He
glanced swiftly to that tight braid just above the temple, where he had
last seen a small red flower nodding impishly, and was conscious of a
feeling of relief to find it gone.
It was irregular, the intrusion of an outsider in the ceremony of the
opening of the trade; but for his life the young factor of De Seviere
could not have said so to this girl who went fearlessly where she
listed and whose eyes held such mystery of strength and wistfulness.
Moreover, Quamenoka was speaking and the council harkened.
CHAPTER VII FOREST NEWS
He was an old man, this chief of the Assiniboines, and his face was
wrinkled like the dried bed of a stream` where the last little ripples
have cast up the sand in a thousand ridges. His black eyes were mild,
for these Indians were a peaceful people, relying on the trapping and
the hunting and the friendship of the white men at the posts which they
had held for three generations.
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