"Yes, I remember singing it that night," she said. "Next day was the
Feast of the Yellow Swan."

Her eyes presently became dreamy, and her face took on a distant, rapt
look. She sat looking straight before her for a moment.

He did not speak, for he interpreted the look aright, and he was going to
be patient, to wait.

"Tell me of my father," she said. "You have been kind to him?"

He winced a little. "When I left Fort Charles he was very well," he
said, "and he asked me to tell you to come some day. He also has sent
you a half-dozen silver-fox skins, a sash, and moccasins made by his own
hands. The things are not yet unpacked."

Moccasins?--She remembered when last she had moccasins on her feet--the
day she rode the horse at the quick-set hedge, and nearly lost her life.
How very distant that all was, and yet how near too! Suddenly she
remembered also why she took that mad ride, and her heart hardened a
little.

"You have been kind to my father since I left?" she asked.

He met her eyes steadily. "No, not always; not more than I have been
kind to you. But at the last, yes." Suddenly his voice became intensely
direct and honest. "Lali," he continued, "there is much that I want to
say to you." She waved her hand in a wearied fashion. "I want to tell
you that I would do the hardest penance if I could wipe out these last