Rt of other men, even

[Whang Shanno]

Tamp of the breed. I knew I risked the loss of that when I sent you
away, but I had faith in the persistence of the blood and I took the
chance; doubted and feared when you were gone; waited and prayed dumbly,
and hoped oftentimes hopelessly; and then the day dawned, the day of
days! When they said your boat was coming, death rose and walked on the
one hand of me, and on the other life everlasting. _Made or marred; made
or marred_,--the words rang through my brain till they maddened me.
Would the Welse remain the Welse? Would the blood persist? Would the
young shoot rise straight and tall and strong, green with sap and fresh
and vigorous? Or would it droop limp and lifeless, withered by the heats
of the world other than the little simple, natural Dyea world? "It was
the day of days, and yet it was a lingering, watching, waiting tragedy.
You know I had lived the years lonely, fought the lone fight, and you,
away, the only kin. If it had failed . . . But your boat shot from the
bluffs into the open, and I was half-afraid to look. Men have never
called me coward, but I was nearer the coward then than ever and all
before. Ay, that moment I had faced death easier. And it was foolish,
absurd. How could I know whether it was for good or ill when you drifted
a distant speck on the river? Still, I looked, and the miracle began,
for I did know. You stood at the steering-sweep. You were a Welse. It
seems so little; in truth it meant so much. It was not to be expected of
a mere woman, but of a Welse, yes. And when Bishop went over the side,
and you gripped the situation as imperatively as the sweep, and your
voice rang out, and the Siwashes bent their backs to your will,--then
was it the da
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