It was a clear, wild voice with a sweet trill in it.

"_Maa-rie!_" it called.
"_Maa-rie!_" "Supper," nodded the girl.

"You are just in time.

And then we are going home in the twilight." It made his heart thump, that casual way in which she spoke of his place as home.

She went ahead of him, with the sun glinting in the soft coils of her hair, and he picked up his rifle and followed, eyes and soul filled only with the beauty of her slim figure--a glory of life where for a long time he had fashioned a spirit of the dead.