an old fire." Accepting this explanation meekly, as partly a reproach
for her caprice of the previous night, Teresa hung her head.

"I'm very sorry," she said, "but wouldn't that," pointing to the carcass
of the bear, "have made them curious?"

But Low's logic was relentless.

"By this time there would have been little left to excite curiosity, if
you had been willing to leave those beasts to their work."

"I'm very sorry," repeated the woman, her lips quivering.

"They are the scavengers of the wood," he continued in a lighter tone;
"if you stay here you must try to use them to keep your house clean."

Teresa smiled nervously.

"I mean that they shall finish their work to-night," he added, "and I
shall build another camp-fire for us a mile from here until they do."

But Teresa caught his sleeve.

"No," she said hurriedly, "don't, please, for me. You must not take the
trouble, nor the risk. Hear me; do, please. I can bear it, I WILL
bear it--to-night. I would have borne it last night, but it was so
strange--and"--she passed her hands over her forehead--"I think I must
have been half mad. But I am not so foolish now."

She seemed so broken and despondent that he replied reassuringly: