Now he looked into her eyes and said never a word, for once again he
saw that they were dazed and void of knowledge.
As he set her upon her own strength, she swayed. Her eyes went round
the hushed groups of faces with wild searching. At last they found the
face of her leader, and clung there, dark and dull.
"Prix!" she cried. "Prix! Open the gate!"
"I cannot, Maren," he said quietly; "'twould be but madness."
"But they are without!"
All horror was in the cry.
"They are among the Indians!"
"Aye,--and may the good God have mercy on them!"
Laroux hastily made the sign of the cross.
"We must guard the post, Maren."
"But--" She turned her eyes slowly around from face to face and not a
woman there but read her secret plain, the open script of love,--but
for which man?
"But-they-will--be--" She did not finish the sentence, staring at
Laroux. Once she moistened her lips.
"They will--Prix,--as I am your leader, open that gate!"
With sudden reviving the daze went out of her features and the old
light came back to her eyes, the far-seeing, undaunted light that had
beaconed the long way from Grand Portage. She was every inch the leader
again, tall, straight against the logs, her brown arm pointing
imperiously to the closed gate.
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