he had the appearance of Santa Claus on his mission of goodwill.
After her cry of joy Marion was too much overcome to utter another word until Hugo had thrown the rope from off his shoulders, and stepped from his snow-shoes. She then sprang to his side, and impulsively threw her arms around his huge body, much to Rolfe’s surprise. Tears of thankfulness were streaming down her cheeks as she looked into her father’s face.
“Thank God, you have come!” she at length murmured. “But have you met Sergeant North? Is he safe?”
It was well for Marion’s peace of mind that she did not notice the expression which leaped into Hugo’s eyes as she asked that question. She wondered, though, why her father somewhat roughly unclasped her arms and moved closer to the fire. She mistook his meaning, thinking that he was the bearer of bad news which he was loath to impart. Her face turned very white.
“Has anything happened to him?” she asked in a voice that was almost a whisper. “Surely he is not dead.”
“No, he is not dead,” Hugo replied, without looking at her. “At least, he wasn’t the last time I saw him. But he was in a bad way when I stumbled across him in that storm. But never mind about him now. How are you two making out? Plenty of grub, eh?”
“Just what you see there,” Rolfe replied, pointing to the last of the moose meat hanging from the limb of a tree. “We’ve had nothing but meat diet for days.”
“Well, you might be worse off, young man,” Hugo reminded, looking keenly at the constable. “But I’ve something here which will be a change. It’s all I could scrape together, but I guess it will last until we get
