Her friend out there. Sam had spoken of him as her friend; and he was her friend. It amazed her, when she realized how very close she had come to that young man who had gone alone to the Rock, to count how few hours they had been together. And how clearly her mind gave her vision of him: now as he was beside her on his skis, looking down at her; now as he stood with his hands outstretched before the fire in the cabin, having forgotten her for the instant and dreaming; now as he went away alone down the road to Wheedon's, his voice coming back to her:
"Ah, j'y étais mousquetaire!"
And her grandfather had thought she would sell him out, him who had been the little white boy Barney with the Indians and who had built up his pride; him to whom her father would speak. It had been all very well out in the noon sunshine to say that, since her father had been killed in June, it could not have been he who would have spoken to Barney Loutrelle in London in November; but now it was very dark, with only the shimmer of stars outside above the black boughs of the trees and, within Ethel's room, the only light was coming from the door of the wood stove which stood open a little and let a ruby flicker of flame dance silent shadows on the wall.
How low she would have sunk if—when she was being bribed—she had told about him. He had asked of her no pledge of secrecy; never once had he even said he was speaking in confidence. He had been too certain that she could not repeat to others such matters as he related; besides, if she had sold him out, she somehow would have sold out herself as well. And now,
