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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Honor of the Big Snows"


Her merry face, laughing triumph at him through the partly open door,
destroyed the last vestige of his opposition, and he left her with
something of his old cheeriness of manner, whistling a gay forest tune
as he hurried toward the store.
When he returned with the team, Melisse was waiting for him, a gray
thing of silvery lynx fur, with her cheeks, lips and eyes aglow, her
trim little feet clad in soft caribou boots that came to her knees,
and with a bunch of the brilliant bakneesh fastened jauntily in her
cap.
"I've made room for you," he said in greeting, pointing to the sledge.
"Which I'm not going to fill for five miles, at least," declared
Melisse. "Isn't it a glorious morning, Jan? I feel as if I can run
from here to Ledoq's!"
With a crack of his whip and a shout, Jan swung the dogs across the
open, with Melisse running lightly at his side. From their cabin Jean
and Iowaka called out shrill adieus.
"The day is not far off when they two will be as you and I, my
Iowaka," said Jean in his poetic Cree. "I wager you that it will be
before her next birthday!"
And Melisse was saying:
"I wonder if there are many people as happy as Jean and Iowaka!"
She caught her breath, and Jan cracked on the dogs in a spurt that
left her panting, a full dozen rods behind him.


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