Without more words she turned and followed her people down to the
landing, half-dragging the brute, who hung back and turned his giant
head to the little maid, standing with her hands over her face.
He snarled and bit at Maren's wrist, but she picked him up and flung
him, half-dragging on the ground, for he was a mighty beast, into the
first canoe.
"Push off," she said; and, taking her place in the prow, she raised her
face to the cool blue sky, and turned once more to that West whose
voice had called from her cradle, but, with some strange perversity of
fate, her heart drew back to the squat stockade slowly fading into the
distance.
The sweet wind of the Whispering Hills was very faint on her soul.
CHAPTER XXIX BITTER ALOES
Eight months passed over the country of the Assiniboine, bringing their
changes. The short full-tide of the summer seemed to run out with the
going of the venturers, and the autumn to come from the north-west in a
night.
Great splashes of colour dropped on the land, spilled from the palette
of some careless giant,--gold and crimson and purple. Glorious fires
burned in the cooling skies and the sweet breath of autumn tingled in
the air.
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