THE FUR BRINGERS

A STORY OF THE CANADIAN NORTHWEST

by

HULBERT FOOTNER

Author of "Jack Chanty, " "Thieves Wit, " "A Substitute Millionaire, " etc. 

NEW YORK

THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY

1920

Copyright, 1920, by

THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY

All Rights Reserved

Printed in the U. S. A. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I JUNE FEVER II FORT ENTERPRISE III COLINA IV THE MEETING V AN INVITATION TO DINE VI THE DINNER VII TWO INTERVIEWS VIII IN AMBROSE'S CAMP IX LOVERS X ANOTHER VISITOR XI ALEXANDER SELKIRK AND FAMILY XII GATHERING SHADOWS XIII THE QUARREL XIV SIMON GRAMPIERRE XV THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN XVI COLINA COMMANDS XVII THE STAFF OF LIFE XVIII A BLOODLESS CAPTURE XIX WOMAN'S WEAPONS XX UNDERCURRENTS XXI THE SUBTLETY OF GORDON STRANGE XXII THE "TEA DANCE" XXIII FIRE AND RAPINE XXIV COLINA RELENTS XXV ACCUSED XXVI CONVICTED XXVII A CHANGE OF JAILERS XXVIII A GLEAM OF HOPE XXIX NESIS XXX FREE XXXI THE ALARM XXXII THE TRAP XXXIII THE TEST XXXIV ANOTHER CHANGE OF JAILERS XXXV THE JAIL VISITOR XXXVI COLINA'S ENTERPRISE XXXVII MARTA XXXVIII THE FINDING OF NESIS XXXIX THE TRIAL XL AM UNEXPECTED WITNESS XLI FROM DUMB LIPS XLII THE AVENGING OF NESIS XLIII NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS

THE FUR BRINGERS

CHAPTER I. 

JUNE FEVER. 

The firm of Minot & Doane sat on the doorsill of its store on LakeMiwasa smoking its after-supper pipes. 

It was seven o'clock of a brilliant day in June. The westering sunshone comfortably on the world, and a soft breeze kept the mosquitoesat bay. 

Moreover, the tobacco was of the best the store afforded; yet there wasno peace between the two. They bickered like schoolboys kept indoors. 

"How many link-skins in the bale you made up today?" asked Peter Minot. 

"Three-seventy-two, " his young partner answered in a surly tone thatwas in itself a provocation. 

"I made it three-seventy-three, " said Peter curtly. 

"What's the difference?" demanded Ambrose Doane. 

"Seven dollars, " said Peter dryly. 

"Well, you can claim the extra one, can't you, " snarled Ambrose, "andmake an allowance if it's found short?"

"That's not the way I like to do business!"

"Too bad about you!"

The older man frowned darkly, clamped his teeth upon his pipe, and heldhis tongue. 

His silence was an additional aggravation to the other. "What do youwant me to do, " he burst out with an amount of passion absurdlydisproportionate to the matter at issue, "cut it open and count it overand bale it up again?"

"To blazes with it!" said Peter. "I want you to keep your temper!"

"I'm sick of this!" cried Ambrose with the wilful abandon of onehopelessly in the wrong. "You're at me from morning till night!Nothing I do is right. Why can't you leave me alone?"

Peter took his pipe out of his mouth and looked at his young partner inastonishment. His face turned a dull brick color and his blue eyessnapped. 

He spoke in a voice of portentous softness: "Who the hell do you thinkyou are? A little gorramighty? To make a mistake is natural; to flyinto a temper when it is discovered is childish. What's the matterwith you these past ten days, anyway? A man can't look at you but youbegin to bark and froth. You'd best go off by yourself a while and eatgrass to cool your blood!"

Having delivered himself, Peter pulled deeply at his pipe and gazedacross the lake with a scowl of honest resentment. 

It was a long speech to come from Peter, and it went unexpectedly tothe point. Ambrose was silenced. For a long time neither spoke. 

Little by little the angry red faded out of Peter's cheeks and neck, and his forehead smoothed itself. Stealing a glance at young Ambrose, the blue eyes began to twinkle. 

"Say!" he said suddenly. 

Ambrose twisted petulantly and muttered in his throat. 

"Stick out your tongue!" commanded Peter. 

Ambrose stared at him in angry stupefaction. "What the deuce--"

"No, " said Peter, "you're not sick. Your eyeballs is as clean as newmilk; your skin is as pink as a spanked baby. No, you're not sick, soto speak!"

There was another silence, Ambrose squirming a little and blushingunder Peter's calm, speculative gaze. 

"Have you anything against me?" Peter finally inquired. "If you have, out with it!"

The young man shook his head unhappily. 

"Forget it then!" cried Peter with a scornful, kindly grin. "Youornery worthless Slavi, you! You Shushwap! You Siwash! Change yourface or you'll give the dog distemper!"

Ambrose laughed sheepishly and stole a glance at his partner. Therewas pain in his bold eyes, and the wish to bare it to his friend as toa surgeon; but he dreaded Peter's laughter. 

There was another long silence. The atmosphere was now much clearer. 

Peter, having come to a conclusion, removed his pipe and spoke again:"I know what's the matter with you. "

"What?" muttered Ambrose. 

"You've got the June fever. "

Ambrose made no comment. 

"I mind it when I was your age, " Peter continued; "when the ice goesout of the lake and the poplar-trees hang out their little earrings, that's when a man catches it--when Molly Cottontail puts on her brownjacket and Skinny Weasel a yellow one. The south wind brings themicrobe along with it, and it multiplies in the warm earth. Gee! Itmakes even an old feller like me poetical. After six months of winterit's hell!"

Still Ambrose kept his eyes down and said nothing. 

Peter smoked on, and his eyes became reminiscent. "I mind it well, " hecontinued, "the second spring I was in the country. The first year Ididn't notice it so much, but the second year--when the warm weathercome I was like a wild man. I saw red! I wanted to fight every man Ilaid eyes on. I felt like I would go clean off my head if I couldn'tsmash something!"

Ambrose broke in on Peter's reminiscences. He seemed scarcely to haveheard. 

"I don't know what's the matter with me!" he cried bitterly. "I can'tseem to settle down to anything lately. I've got no use for myself atall. I get so cranky, anybody that speaks to me I want to punch them. God knows I need company, too. It is certainly square of you to put upwith me the way you do. I appreciate it--"

"Aw, bosh!" muttered Peter. 

"I've tried to work it off!" cried Ambrose. "You know I've worked, though I've generally made a mess of things because I can't keep mymind on anything. My head goes round like a top. Half the time I'm ina daze. I feel as if I was going crazy. I don't know what is thematter with me!"

"Twenty-five years old, " murmured Peter; "in the pink of condition!I'm telling you what's the matter with you. It's a plain case of Junefever. Ask any of the fellows up here. "

"What am I going to do?" said Ambrose. "As it is, I work till I'mready to drop. "

"I mind when I had it, " said Peter, "I came to a camp of Frenchhalf-breeds on Musquasepi, and I saw Eva Lajeunesse for the first time. It was like a blow between the eyes. You do not know what she lookedlike then. I didn't think about it this way or that; I just up andmarried her. I was glad to get her!

"Man to man I'll not deny I ain't been sorry sometimes, " he went on;"who ain't, sometimes? But, on the whole, after all these years, howcould I have done any better? She's good enough for me. A man worriesabout his children sometimes; but I guess if they go straight there's aplace for them, though they are dusky. Eva, she has her bad points, but she's been real good to me. How can I be but grateful!"

This was a rare and unusual confidence for Peter to offer his youngpartner. Ambrose, flattered and embarrassed, did not know what to say, and said nothing. 

He was right, for if he had referred to it, Peter would have beenobliged to turn it into a joke. As it was, they smoked on inunderstanding silence. Finally Peter went on:

"You see, I gave right in. You're different; you want to fight thething. Blest if I know what to tell you. "

"Eva and I don't get on very well, " said Ambrose shamefacedly. "Shedoesn't like me around the house. But I respect her. You know that. "

"Sure, " said Peter. 

"I couldn't do it, Peter, " Ambrose went on after a while with seemingirrelevance--howsoever Peter understood. "God knows it's not because Ithink myself any better than anybody else, or because I think a mandoes for himself by marrying a--by marrying up here. But I justcouldn't do it, that's all. "

"No offense, " said Peter. "Every man must chop his own trail. I won'tsay but what you're right. But what are you going to do? A man can'tlive and die alone. "

"I don't know, " said Ambrose. 

"Tell you what, " said Peter; "you take the furs out on the steamboat. "

"I won't, " said Ambrose quickly. "I went out last year. It's yourturn. "

"But I'm contented here, " said Peter. 

Ambrose shook his head. "It wouldn't do me any real good, " he said. "It makes it worse after. It did last year. I couldn't bring a whitewife up here. "

"Well, sir, it's a problem, " said Peter with a weighty shake of thehead. 

This serious, sentimental kind of talk was a strain on both partners. Ambrose made haste to drop the subject. 

"I believe I'll start the new warehouse to-morrow, " he said. "I liketo work with logs. First, I must measure the ground and make a workingplan. "

Peter was not sorry to be diverted. "Hadn't we better get lumber fromthe 'Company' mill?" he suggested. "Looks like up to date somehow. "

"A board shack looks rotten in the woods?" said Ambrose. 

"You're so gol-durn artistic, " said Peter quizzically. 

Minot & Doane's store was a long log shack with a sod roof sprouting afine crop of weeds. The original shack had been added to on one side, then on the other. There was a pleasing diversity of outline in themain building and its wings. The whole crouched low on the ground asthough for warmth. 

Three crooked little windows and three doors so low that a short manhad to duck his head under the lintels, faced the lake. The middledoor gave ingress to the store proper; the door on the right was theentrance to Peter Minot's household quarters; while that on the leftopened to a large room used variously for stores and bunks. 

Farther to the left stood the little shack that housed Ambrose Doane inbachelor solitude, and a few steps beyond, the long, low, log stablefor the use of the freighters in winter. 

Seen from the lake the low, spreading buildings in the rough clearingamong gigantic pines were not unpleasing. Rough as they were, theyfulfilled the first aim of all architecture; they were suitable to thesite. 

The traveler by water landed on a stony beach, climbed a low bank andfollowed a crooked path to the door of the store. On either handpotato and onion patches flourished among the stumps. 

From the door-sill where the partners sat, the farther shore of thelake could be seen merely as a delicate line of tree tops poised in theair. 

Off to the right their own shore made out in a shallow, sweeping curve, ending half a mile away in a bold hill-point where the Company's postof Fort Moultrie had stood for two hundred years commanding the westernend of the lake and its outlet, Great Buffalo River. 

To one who should compare the outward aspects of the twoestablishments, Minot & Doane's offered a ludicrous contrast to theimposing white buildings of Fort Moultrie, arranged military-wise onthe grassy promontory; nevertheless, as is not infrequently the caseelsewhere, the humbler store did the larger trade. 

The coming of Peter Minot ten years before had worked a kind ofrevolution in the country. He had brought war into the very strongholdof the arrogant fur monopoly, and had succeeded in establishing himselfnext door. The results were far-reaching. Formerly the Indian sathumbly on the step with his furs until the trader was pleased to openhis door; whereas now when the Indian landed, the trader ran down thehill with outstretched hand. 

Far and wide Minot & Doane were known as the "free-traders"; and someof their customers journeyed for three hundred miles to trade in thelittle log store. 

The partners were roused by a shrill hail from up the shore. Gratefulfor the interruption, they hastened to the edge of the bank. 

Summer is the dull season in the fur trade. Most of the firm'scustomers were "pitching off" among the hills, and visitors were rareenough to be notable. 

"Poly Goussard, " said Ambrose after an instant's examination of thedug-out nosing alongshore. Ambrose's keenness of vision was alreadyknown in a land of keen-eyed men. 

"Taking his woman to see her folks, " added Peter. 

Soon the long, slender canoe grounded on the stones below them. Itcontained in addition to all the worldly goods of the family, a swarthyFrench half-breed, his Cree wife and three coppery infants in pinkcalico sunbonnets. 

The man climbing over his family indiscriminately, landed and came upthe bank with outstretched hand. The woman and children remainedsitting like statues in their narrow craft, staring unwinkingly at thewhite men. 

Mrs. Goussard as a full-blooded Cree was considerably below Peter'shalf-breed wife in the social scale, and she knew better than to make acall uninvited. Even in the north, woman, the conservator, maintainsthe distinctions. 

"Stay all night, " urged Peter when formal greetings had been exchanged. "Bring your family ashore. "

Poly Goussard shook his head. Poly had a chest like a barrel, a facethe color of Baldwin apples and a pair of rolling, gleaming, sloe-blackeyes. His head of curly black hair was famous; some one had called himthe "Newfoundland dog. "

"I promise my wife I sleep wit' her folks to-night, " he said. "It isten miles yet. I jus' come ashore for a little talk. "

"Fine!" said Peter, "we're spoiling for news. Come on up to the storeand have a cigar. "

Seven hundred miles from the railway a cigar is something of aphenomenon. Poly Goussard displayed twenty dazzling teeth and madehaste to follow. The three men entered the store and found seats onboxes and bales. 

CHAPTER II. 

FORT ENTERPRISE. 

"Me, I work all winter at Fort Enterprise, " said Poly. 

"So I heard, " said Peter. "You've had quite a trip. "

The rosy half-breed shrugged. "It is easy. Jus' floatin' down theSpirit River six days. "

"What kind of a job did they give you at Enterprise?" asked Peter. 

"I drove a team, me, haulin' logs to the saw-mill, " said Poly. "Thereis plentee work at Fort Enterprise. "

"The Company's most profitable post, " remarked Peter to Ambrose. "Theyhave everything their own way there. " The look which accompanied thissuggested to Ambrose it would be a good place for Minot & Doane tostart a branch. 

"What did you think of the place, Poly?" asked Ambrose. 

The half-breed flung up his hands and dramatically rolled his eyes. 

"_Wa_! _Wa_! _Towasasuak_! It is a gran' place! Jus' lak outside!Trader him live in great big house all make of smooth boards and paint'yellow and red lak the sun! Never I see before such a tall house, andso many rooms inside full of fine chairs and tables so smoot' and shiny. 

"He is so reech he put blankets on the floor to walk on, w'at you callcarrpitt. Every day he has a white cloth on the table, and a littleone to wipe his hands! I have seen it! And silver dishes!"

"There is style for you!" said Peter, with a whimsical roll of his eyein Ambrose's direction. 

"There is moch farming by the river at Fort Enterprise, " Poly went on;"and plaintee grain grow. There is a mill to grind flour. Steam mak'it go lak the steamboat. They eat eggs and butter at Fort Enterprise, and think not'ing of it. Christmas I have turkey and cranberry sauce. I am going back, me. "

"They say the trader John Gaviller is a hard man, " suggested Peter. 

Poly shrugged elaborately. "Maybe. He owe me not'ing. Me, I wouldnot farm for him nor trade my fur at his store. Those people are hisslaves. But he pay a strong man good wages. I will tak' his wages andsnap my fingers!

"But wait!" cried Poly with a sparkling eye. "The 'mos' won'erfulthing I see at Fort Enterprise--Wa!--the laktrek light! Her shine inlittle bottles lak pop, but not so big. John Gaviller, him clap hishands, so! and Wa! she shine!

"Indians, him t'ink it is magic. But I am no fool. I know JohnGaviller make the laktrek in an engine in the mill. Me, I have seenthat engine. I see blue fire inside lak falling stars. 

"Gaviller send the laktrek to the store inside a wire. He send some tohis house too. They said it cook the dinner, but I think that is alie. If a man touch that wire they say he will jomp to the roof! Me?I did not try it. "

Peter chuckled. "Good man!" he said. 

The wonders of Fort Enterprise were not new to Ambrose. Othertravelers the preceding summer had brought the same tale. With the airthat politeness demanded he only half listened, and pursued his ownthoughts. 

On the other hand Peter, who delighted in his humble friends, drew outPoly fully. The half-breed told about the bringing in of the winter'scatch of fur; of the launching of the great steamboat for the summerseason, and many other things. 

"Enterprise is sure a wonderful place!" said Peter encouragingly. 

"There is something else, " said Poly proudly. "At Fort Enterprisethere is a white girl!"

The simple sentence had the effect of the ringing of an alarm goinginside the dreamy Ambrose. He drew a careful mask over his face, andleaned farther into the shadow. 

"So!" said Peter with a glance in the direction of his young partner. "That is news! Who is she?"

"Colina Gaviller, the trader's daughter, " said Poly. 

"Is she real white?" asked Peter cautiously. 

"White as raspberry flowers!" asseverated Poly with extravagantgestures; "white as clouds in the summer! white as sugar! Her hair islak golden-rod; her eyes blue lak the lake when the wind blows over itin the morning!"

Peter glanced again at his partner, but Ambrose was farthest from thewindow, and there was nothing to be read in his face. 

"Sure, " said Peter; "but was her mother a white woman ?"

"They say so, " said Poly. "Her long tam dead. "

"When did the girl come?" asked Peter. 

"Las' fall before the freeze-up, " said Poly. "She come down the SpiritRiver from the Crossing on a raf'. Michel Trudeau and his wife, theybring her. Her fat'er he not know she comin'. Her fat'er want herlive outside and be a lady. She say 'no!' She say ladies mak' hersick. ' Michel tell me she say that. 

"She want always to ride and paddle a canoe and hunt. Michel say sheis more brave as a man! John Gaviller say she got go out again thissummer. She say 'no!' She is not afraid of him. Me, I t'ink she lakto be the only white girl in the country, lak a queen. "

"How old is she?" inquired Peter. 

"Twenty years, Michel say, " answered Poly. "Ah! she is beautiful!" hewent on. "She walk the groun' as sof' and proud and pretty as fineyong horse! She sit her horse like a flower on its stem. Me and hergood frens too. She say she lak me for cause I am simple. Often inthe winter she ride out wit' my team and hunt in the bush while I amload up. "

"What did Eelip say to that?" Peter inquired facetiously. Eelip wasPoly's wife. 

"Eelip?" queried Poly, surprised. "Colina is the trader's daughter, "he carefully explained. "She live in the big house. I would cut offmy hand to serve her. "

"I suppose Miss Colina has plenty of suitors?" said Peter. 

Ambrose hung with suspended breath on the reply. 

Poly shook his curly pate. "Who is there for her?" he demanded. "Macfarlane the policeman is too fat; the doctor is too old, his hairis white; the parson is a little, scary man. All are afraid of her;her proud eye mak' a man feel weak inside. There are no ot'er whitemen there. She is a woman. She mus' have a master. There is no manin the country strong enough for that!"

There was a brief silence in the cabin while Poly relighted his cigar. Ambrose had given no sign of being affected by Poly's tale beyond aslight quivering of the nostrils. But Peter watching him slyly, sawhim raise his lids for a moment and saw his dark eyes glowing likecoals in a pit. Peter chuckled inwardly, and said:

"Tell us some more about her. "

Ambrose's heart warmed gratefully toward his partner. He thirsted formore like a desert traveler for water, but he dared not speak for fearof what he might betray. 

"I will tell you 'ow she save Michel Trudeau's life, " said Poly, nothing loath, "I am the first to come down the river this summer oryou would hear it before. Many times Michel is tell me this story. Never I heard such a story before. A woman to save a man!

"Wa! Every Saturday night Michel tell it at the store. And JohnGaviller give him two dollars of tobacco, the best. I guess Michel isglad the trader's daughter save him. Old man proud, lak he is saveMichel himself!"

Poly Goussard, having smoked the cigar to within half an inch of hislips, regretfully threw the half inch out the door. He paused, andcoughed suggestively. A second cigar being forthcoming, he took thetime to light it with tenderest care. Meanwhile, Ambrose kicked thebale on which he sat with an impatient heel. 

"It was the Tuesday after Easter, " Poly finally began. "It was whenthe men went out to visit their traps again after big time at the fort. There was moch frash snow fall, and heavy going for the dogs. ColinaGaviller she moch friends with Michel Trudeau for because he was bringher in on his raf las' fall. 

"Often she go with him lak she go with me. Michel carry her up on hissledge, and she hunt aroun' while he visit his traps. Michel trap upon the bench three mile from the fort. He not get much fur so near, but live home in a warm house, and work for day's wages for JohnGaviller. "

Poly paragraphed his story with luxurious puffs at the cigar andcareful attention to keep it burning evenly. 

"So on Tuesday after Easter they go out toget'er. Colina Gaviller rideon the sledge and Michel he break trail ahead. Come to the bench, leave the dogs in a shelter Michel build in a poplar bluff. Michel goto see his traps, and Colina walk away on her snowshoes wit' her littlegun. 

"Michel not ver' good lok that day. In his first trap find fool-hencatch herself. He is mad. Second trap is little cross-fox; third trapnothin' 'tall!

"Come to fourth trap, wa! see somesing black on the snow! Wa! Wa!Him heart jomp up! Think him got black fox sure! But no! It is toobig. Come close and look. What is he catch you think? It is a blackbear!

"Everybody know some tam a bear wake up too soon in winter and come outof his hole and roll aroun' lak he was drunk. He can't find somesingto eat nowhere, and don' know what to do!

"This bear him catch his paw in Michel's little fox trap. It was chainto a little tree. Bear too weak to pull his paw out or break thechain. He lie down lak dead. 

"Michel him ver' mad. Him think got no lok at all after Easter. For'cause that bear is poor as a bird out of the egg. Michel mak' a noiseto wake him up. But always he lie still lak dead. Michel think allright. 

"Bam-by he lean over with his knife. Wa! Bear jomp up lak he was burnwit' fire! Little chain break and before Michel can tak a breath, bearfetch him a crack with the steel trap acrost his head!

"Wa! Wa! Michel's forehead is bus' open from here to here lak that!Michel drop his knife in the snow. Him get ver' sick. Warm blood runall down his eyes, and he can't see not'ing no more. 

"Bear grab Michel round his body and squeeze him pretty near till hiseyes jomp out. Michel say a little prayer then. Him say him awfulsorry he ain't confessed this year. 

"But always he fight that bear and fight some more. Always he is tryget his hands aroun' that hairy throat. Bear tear Michel's shoulderwith his teeth. Michel feel the hot blood run down inside his shirtand get cold. 

"Michel, him always thinkin' Colina is not far, but he will not call toher. She is only a girl him say; she can't do not'ing to a crazy bear. Bear hurt her too, maybe, and John Gaviller is mad for that. 

"So Michel he jus' fight. He is ver' tire' now. And always theystamping and tumbling and rolling in the snow, and big red spots dropall aroun'. 

"Colina, she tell me the end of it. Colina say she is walkin' sof' inthe poplar bush looking sharp and all tam listen for game. All is ver'quiet in the bush. 

"Bam-by she hear a fonny little noise way off. Twigs crackling, andsomesing bumping and tromping in the snow. Colina think it is big gameand go quick. Some tam she stop and listen. Bam-by she hear fonnysnarling and grunting. She know there is a fight and she is a littlescare. But she go more fas'. 

"Wa! Wa! What a sight she sec there! Poor Michel he pretty neardone. She can't see his face no more for blood. She think he got noface now. Michel he see her come, and say to her loud as he can: 'Goway! Go way! You get hurt and John Gaviller give me hell!'

"Colina say not know what to do. Them two turn around so fas' she'fraid to shoot. She run aroun' and aroun' them always looking for achance. Bam-by she see the handle of Michel's knife in a hole in thesnow. She grab it up. She watch her chance. Woof! She stick thatbear between the neck and the shoulder!

"That is all!" said Poly. "Bear, him grunt and fall down. Stick hissnoot in the snow. Michel crawl away. Colina is fall down too and crylak a baby. For a little while all three are dead!

"Then Colina wash his wounds with clean snow, and tear up her petticoatfor to mak' bandage. She put him on his snowshoes and drag him backwhere the dogs is. She bring him quick to the fort. In one weekMichel is go to his traps same as ever. That is the story!"

"By God, there's a woman!" cried Peter. Ambrose said nothing. 

When Poly Goussard reembarked in his dug-out a heavy constraint fellupon the two partners. 

Ambrose dreaded to hear Peter call attention to the remarkablecoincidence of Poly's story following so close upon their own talktogether. He suspected that Peter would want to sit up and thrash thematter to conclusions. 

At the bare idea of talking about it Ambrose felt as helpless andsullen as a convicted felon. 

In this he underrated Peter's perceptions. Peter had lived in thewoods for many years. He intuitively apprehended something of theconfusion in the younger man's mind, and he was only anxious to letAmbrose understand that it was not necessary to say anything one way orthe other. 

But he overdid it a little, and when Ambrose saw that Peter was "on tohim, " as he would have said, he became still more hang-dog and perverse. 

They parted at the door of the store. Peter went off to his family, while Ambrose closed the door of his own little shack behind him, witha long breath of relief. 

Feeling as he did, it was torture to be obliged to support the gaze ofanother's eye, however kindly. So urgent was his need to be alone thathe even turned his back on his dog. For a long time the poor beastsoftly scratched and whined at the closed door unheeded. 

Ambrose was busy inside. As it began to grow dark he lit his lamp andcarefully pinned a heavy shirt inside his window in lieu of a blind. 

Since Peter and his family went to bed with the sun it would be hard tosay whom he feared might spy on him. One listening at the door mightwell have wondered what the activity inside portended. 

Later Ambrose opened the door and, putting the dog in, proceededcautiously to the store. Satisfying himself from the sounds thatissued through the connecting door that Peter and his family sleptdeeply, he lit a candle and quietly robbed the stock of what herequired. Then he wrote a note and pinned it beside the store door. 

Carrying the bundles back to his cabin, he packed a grub-box and boreit down to the water. 

His preparations completed, he went to his shack to bid good-by to hisfour-footed pal. Job, instantly, comprehending that he was to be leftbehind, whimpered and nozzled so piteously that Ambrose's heart beganto fail. 

"I can't take you, old fel'!" he explained. "You're such acommon-looking mutt. Of course, I know you're white clear through--buta lady would laugh at you until she knew you!"

Even as he said it his heart accused him of disloyalty. He suddenlychanged his mind. 

"Come on!" he whispered gruffly. "We'll chance our luck together. Ifyou open your head I'll brain you! Wait here a minute. "

Job understood perfectly. He crept down to the lake shore at hismaster's feet as quiet as a ghost. Seeing the loaded boat he hoppeddelightedly into his accustomed place in the bow. 

During June it never becomes wholly dark in the latitude of LakeMiwasa. An exquisite dim twilight brooded over the wide water and thepine-walled shore. The stars sparkled faintly in an oxidized silversea. There was no wind now, but the pines breathed like warm-bloodedcreatures. 

Ambrose's breast hummed like a violin to the bow of night. The poeticfeeling was there, though the expression was prosaic. 

"By George, this is fine!" he murmured. 

Job's curly tail thumped the gunwale in answer. 

"I'm glad I brought you, old fel', " said Ambrose. "I expect I'd goclean off my head if didn't have any one to talk to!"

Job beat a tattoo on the side of the boat and wriggled and whined inhis anxiety to reach his master. 

"Steady there!" said Ambrose. 

Presently he went on: "Three hundred miles! Six days for Poly to comewith the current; nine days to go back! Fifteen days at the best!Anything might happen in that time. . . . Poly said no danger from anyof the men there. But some one might come down the river! . . . Ifwishing could bring an aeroplane up north!"

After a silence: "I wish I could get my best suit pressed! . . . It'stwo years old, anyway. And she's just come in; she knows thestyles. . . . Lord, I'll look like a regular roughneck!"

Next morning when Peter Minot threw open the door of the store he foundthe note pinned to the door-frame. It was brief and to the point:

DEAR PETE:

You said I ought to go by myself till I felt better. So I'm off. Don't expect me till you see me. Charge me with 50 lbs. Flour, 18 lbs. Bacon, 20 lbs. Rice, 10 lbs. Sugar, 5 lbs. Prunes, 1/2 lb. Tea, 1/2lb. Baking powder, and bag of salt. Please take care of my dog. Solong! A. D. 

P. S. --I'm taking the dog. 

Peter, like all men slow to anger, lost his temper with startlingeffect. Tearing the note off the door and grinding it under foot, hecursed the runaway from a full heart. 

Eva, hearing, hastily called the children indoors, and thrusting thembehind her peeped into the store. Peter, purple in the face, waswildly brandishing his arms. 

Eva closed the door very softly and gave the children bread andmolasses to keep them quiet. Meanwhile the storm continued to rage. 

"The young fool! To run off without a word! I'd have let him gogladly if he'd said anything--and given him a good man! But to goalone! He'll break an arm and die in the bush! And to leave me likethis with the year's outfit due next week!

"I'll not see him again until cold weather--if I ever see him! Fiftypounds of flour--with his appetite! He'll starve to death if hedoesn't drown himself first! He'll never get to Enterprise! Oh, theconsummate young ass! Damn Poly Goussard and his romantic stories!"

CHAPTER III. 

COLINA. 

John Gaviller and Colina were at breakfast in the big clap-boardedvilla at Fort Enterprise. 

They were a good-looking pair, and at heart not dissimilar, though itmust be taken into account that the same qualities manifest themselvesdifferently in a man of affairs and a romantic, irresponsible youngwoman. 

They were secretly proud of each other--and quarreled continually. Colina, by virtue of her reckless honesty, frequently got the better ofher canny father. 

"Well, " he said, now with a gesture of surrender, "if you're determinedto stay here, all right--but you must live differently. "

At the word "must" an ominous gleam shot from under Colina's lashes. 

"What's the matter with my way of living?" she asked with deceitfulmildness. 

"This tearing around the country on horseback, " he said. "Going offall day hunting with this man and that--and spending the night innative cabins. As long as I considered you were here on a visit I saidnothing--"

"Oh, didn't you!" murmured Colina sarcastically. 

"--But if you are going to make this country your home, you mustconsider your reputation in the community just the same as anywhereelse--more, indeed; we live in a tiny little world here, where oursmallest actions are scrutinized and discussed. "

He took a swallow of coffee. Colina played with her food sulkily. 

Her silence encouraged him to proceed: "Another thing, " he said with adeprecating smile, "comparatively speaking, I occupy an exaltedposition now. I am the head of all things, such as they are. Great orsmall this entails certain obligations on a man. I have to study allmy words and acts. 

"If you are going to stay here with me I shall expect you to assumeyour share; to consider my interests, to support me; to play the gameas they say. What I object to is your impulsiveness, youroutspokenness with the people. Remember, everybody here is yourdependent. It is always a mistake to be open and frank withdependents. They don't understand it, and if they do, they presumeupon it. 

"Be guided by my experience; no one could justly accuse me of any lackof affability or friendliness in dealing with the people here--but theynever know what I am thinking of!"

"Admirable!" murmured Colina, "but I'm not a directors' meeting!"

"Colina!" said her father indignantly. 

"It's not fair for you to drag that in about my standing by you andsupporting you!" she went on warmly. "You know I'll do that as long asI live! But I must be allowed to do it in my own way. I'm an adultand an individual. I differ from you. I've a right to differ fromyou. It is because these people are my inferiors that I can afford tobe perfectly natural with them. As for their presuming on it, youneedn't fear! I know how to take care of that!"

"A little more reserve, " murmured her father. 

Colina paused and looked at him levelly. "Dad, what a fool you areabout me!" she said coolly. 

"Colina!" he cried again, and pounded the table. 

She met his indignant glance squarely. 

"I mean it, " she said. "I'm your daughter, am I not?--and mother's?You must know yourself by this time; you must have known mother--youought to understand me a little but you won't try--you're clever enoughin everything else! You've made up an idea for yourself of what adaughter ought to be, and you're always trying to make me fit it!"

Gaviller scarcely listened to this. "I'll have to bring in a chaperonfor you!" he cried. 

"Oh, Lord!" groaned Colina. "Anything but that! What do you want meto do?"

"Merely to live like other girls, " said Gaviller; "to observe theproprieties. "

"That's why I couldn't get along at school, " muttered Colina gloomily. "You might as well send me back. "

"You're simply headstrong!" said her father severely. "You won't tryto be different. "

"Dad, " said Colina suddenly, "what did you come north for in the firstplace, thirty years ago?"

The question caught him a little off his guard. "A natural love ofadventure, I suppose, " he said carelessly. 

"Perfectly natural!" said Colina. "Was your father pleased?"

Gaviller began to see her drift. "No!" he said testily. 

"And when you went back for her, " Colina persisted, "didn't my motherrun away north with you, against the wishes of her parents?"

"Your mother was a saint!" cried Gaviller indignantly. 

"Certainly, " said Colina coolly, "but not the psalm-singing kind. Whatdo you expect of the child of such a couple?"

"Not another word!" cried Gaviller, banging the table--last refuge ofoutraged fathers. 

Colina was unimpressed. "Now you're simply raising a dust to concealthe issue, " she said relentlessly. 

Gaviller chewed his mustache in offended silence. 

Colina did not spare him. "Do you think you can make your child andhers into a prim miss, to sit at home and work embroidery?" shedemanded. "Upon my word, if I were a boy I believe you'd suggestputting me in a bank!"

John Gaviller helped himself to another egg with great dignity andremoved the top. "Don't be absurd, Colina, " he said with a weary air. 

It was a transparent assumption. Colina saw that she had reduced himutterly. She smiled winningly. "Dad, if you'd only let me be myself!We could be such pals if you wouldn't try to play the heavy father!"

"Is it being yourself to act like a harum-scarum tomboy?" inquiredGaviller sarcastically. 

Colina laughed. "Yes!" she said boldly. "If that's what you want tocall it? There's something in me, " she went on seriously. "I don'tknow what it is--some wild strain; something that drives me headlong;makes me see red when I am balked! Maybe it is just too much physicalenergy. 

"Well, if you let me work it off it does no harm. If I can ride allday, or paddle or swim, or go hunting with Michel or one of the others;and be interested in what I'm doing, and come home tired and sleepwithout dreaming--why everything is all right. But if you insist oncooping me up!--well, I'm likely to turn out something worse thanharum-scarum, that's all!"

Gaviller flung up his arms. 

"Really, you'll have to go back to your aunt, " he said grimly. "Theresponsibility of looking after you is too great!"

Colina laughed out of sheer vexation. "The silly ideas fathers have!"she cried. "Nobody can look after _me_, not you, not my aunt, nobodybut myself! Why won't you understand that! I don't know exactly whatdangers you fancy are threatening me. If it is from men, be at ease!I can put the fear of God into them! It is the sweet and gentle girlyou would like to have that is in danger there!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to go back, " said Gaviller. 

Colina drew her beautiful straight brows together. "You make me thinkyou simply want to get me off your hands, " she said sullenly. 

Gaviller shook his head. "You know I love to have you with me, " hesaid simply. 

"Then consider me a fixture!" said Colina serenely. "This is mycountry!" she went on enthusiastically. "It suits me. I like itsuglinesses and its hardships, too! I hated it in the city. Do youknow what they called me?--the wild Highlander!

"Up here everybody understands my wildness, and thinks none the worseof me. It was different in the city--you've always lived in the north, you old innocent--you don't know! Men, for instance, in society theyhave a curious logic. They seem to think if a girl is natural she mustbe bad! Sometimes they acted on that assumption--"

"What did I tell you!" cried her father. "Men are the same everywhere!"

"Well, " said Colina, smiling to herself, "they didn't get very far. And no man ever tried it twice. Up here--how different. I don't haveto think of such things. "

"I have to think of settling you in life, " said Gaviller gloomily. "There is no one for you up here. "

"I'm not bothering my head about that, " said Colina. She went on witha kind of splendid insolence: "Every man wants me. I'll choose onewhen I'm ready. I can't see anything in men except as comrades. Thedecent ones are timid with women, and the bold ones are--well--ratherbeastly. I'm looking for a man who's brave and decent, too. Ifthere's no such thing--"

She rose from the table. Colina's was a body designed to fill ariding-habit, and she wore one from morning till night. She was astall as a man of middle height, and her tawny hair piled on top of herhead made her seem taller. 

"Well?" said Gaviller. 

"Oh, I'll choose the handsomest beast I can find, " she said, laughingover her shoulder and escaping from the room before he could answer. 

John Gaviller finished his egg with a frown. Colina had this trick ofbreaking things off in the middle, and it irritated him. He had anorderly mind. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE MEETING. 

Colina groomed her own horse, whistling like a boy. Saddling him, sherode east along the trail by the river, with the fenced grain fields onher right hand. 

Beyond the fields she could gallop at will over the rolling, grassybottoms, among the patches of scrub and willow. 

It was not an impressively beautiful scene--the river was half a milewide, broken by flat wooded islands overflowed at high water; the bankswere low, and at this season muddy. But the sky was as blue asColina's eyes, and the prairie, quilted with wild flowers, basked inthe delicate radiance that only the northern sun can bestow. 

On a horse Colina could not be actively unhappy, nevertheless she wasconscious of a certain dissatisfaction with life. Not as a result ofthe discussion with her father--she felt she had come off rather wellfrom that. 

But it was warm, and she felt a touch of languor. Fort Enterprise wasa little dull in early summer. The fur season was over, and the flourmill was closed; the Indians had gone to their summer camps; and thesteamboat had lately departed on her first trip up river, taking mostof the company employees in her crew. 

There was nothing afoot just now but farming, and Colina was not muchinterested in that. In short, she was lonesome. She rode idly withlong detours inland in search of nothing at all. 

Loping over the grass and threading her way among the poplar saplings, Colina proceeded farther than she had ever been in this direction sincesummer set in. 

She saw the painter's brush for the first time--that exquisite rose ofthe prairies--and instantly dismounted to gather a bunch to thrust inher belt. The delicate, ashy pink of the flower matched the color inher cheeks. 

On her rides Colina was accustomed to dismount when she chose, andGinger, her sorrel gelding, would crop the grass contentedly until shewas ready to mount again. To-day the spring must have been in hisblood, too. 

When Colina went to him he tossed his head coquettishly, and trottingaway a few steps, turned and looked at her with a droll air. Colinacalled him in dulcet tones, and held out an inviting hand. 

Ginger waywardly wagged his head and danced with his forefeet. 

This was repeated several times--Colina's voice ever growing morehoneyed as the rose in her cheeks deepened. The inevitablehappened--she lost her temper and stamped her foot; whereupon Ginger, with lifted tail, ran around her like a circus horse. 

Colina, alternately cajoling and commanding, pursued him bootlessly. Fond as she was of exercise, she preferred having the horse use hislegs. She sat down in the grass and cried a little out of sheerimpotence. 

Ginger resumed his interrupted meal on the grass with insultingunconcern. Colina was twelve miles from home--and hungry. 

Desperately casting her eyes around the horizon to discover some wayout of her dilemma, Colina perceived a thin spiral of smoke risingabove the edge of the river bank about a quarter of a mile away. 

She had no idea who could be camping on the river at this place, butshe instantly set off with her own confident assurance of finding aid. Ginger displayed no inclination to leave the particular patch ofprairie grass he had chosen for his luncheon. 

As Colina approached the edge of the bank she heard a voice. Sheherself made no sound in the grass. 

Looking over the edge she saw a man and a dog on the stony beach below, both with their backs to her and oblivious of her approach. Of theman, she had a glimpse only of a broad blue flannel back and a mop ofblack hair. 

She heard him say to the dog: "Our last meal alone, old fel'!To-night, if we're lucky, we'll dine with her!"

This conveyed nothing to Colina--she was to remember it later. 

In speaking he turned his profile, and she received an agreeable shock;he was young; he was not common; he had a fair, pink skin thatcontrasted oddly with his swarthy locks; his bold profile accorded withher fancy. 

What caught her off her guard was his affectionate, quizzical glance atthe dog. 

It was a seductive glimpse of a stern face softened. 

The dog scented her and barked; the man turning sprang to his feet. Colina experienced a sudden and extraordinary confusion of herfaculties. 

He was taller than she expected--that was not it; in the glance of hiseager dark eyes there was a quality that took her completely bysurprise--that took her breath away. This in one of the sex shecondescended to!

The young man was completely dumfounded by the sight of her. He hungin suspended motion; his wide eyes leaped to hers--and clung there. They silently gazed at each other--each with much the same pained andbreathless look. 

Colina struggled hard against the spell. She was badly flustered. "Please catch my horse for me, " she said with, under the circumstances, intolerable hauteur. 

He did not move. She saw a dull, red tide creep up from his neck, overhis face and into his hair. She had never seen such a painful blush. He kept his head up, and though his eyes became agonized withembarrassment, they clung doggedly to hers. 

She knew intuitively that he blushed because he fancied that she, fromhis rough clothes, had judged him to be a common tramp. 

She was glad of it--his blush gave her a little security. 

But she could not support his glance. She all but stamped her foot asshe said: "Didn't you hear me?"

With a visible effort the young man collected his wits, and withunsmiling face started to climb toward Colina. The dog, making tofollow him, he spoke a word of command and it returned to the boat. Face to face with him Colina felt as if his glowing dark eyes wereburning holes in her. 

"Where is he?" he asked soberly. 

Colina merely pointed across the bottoms where Ginger could be seenstill busy with the grass. 

"I'll bring him to you, " he said coolly, and started off. 

His assurance exasperated Colina. "It isn't as easy as you think, " shesaid haughtily, "or I shouldn't have asked for help!"

He turned his head, his face suddenly breaking into a beaming smile. "I know horses, " he said. 

Colina was furious. He made her feel like a little girl. She bit herlips to keep in the undignified answer that sprang to them. Inside hershe said it: "Smarty! I shall laugh when he leads you a chase!" Shesat down in the grass under a poplar-tree, prepared to enjoy the circusfrom afar. 

There was none. Ginger having tired of his waywardness, perhaps, orhaving eaten his fill, quietly allowed himself to be taken. The youngman came riding back on him. Colina could almost have wept withmortification. 

He slipped out of the saddle beside her and stood waiting for her tomount. There was no consciousness of triumph in his manner. 

His eyes flew back to hers with the same extraordinarily naïve glance. When Colina frowned under it he literally dragged them away, but inspite of him they soon returned. 

Many a man's eyes had been offered to Colina, but never a pair thatglowed with a fire like this. They were at the same time bold andhumble. They contained an imploring appeal without any sacrifice ofself-respect. They disturbed Colina to such a degree she scarcely knewwhat she was doing. 

He offered her a hand to mount, and she drew back with an offended air. He instantly yielded, and she mounted unaided--mounted awkwardly, andbit her lip again. 

He did not immediately loose her rein. Out of the corner of her eyeColina saw that he was breathing fast. 

"It will he late before you get home, " he said. His voice was verylow--she could feel the effort he was making not to let it shake. "Will you--will you eat with me?"

The modest tendering of this bold invitation disarmed Colina. Shehesitated. He went on with a touch of boyish eagerness: "There's onlya traveler's grub, of course. I got a fish on a night-line thismorning. Also there's a prairie chicken roasted yesterday. "

A self-deceiving argument ran through Colina's brain like quick-silver:"If I go, I shall be tormented by the feeling that he got the best ofme; if I stay a while I can put him in his place!"

She dismounted. The young man turned abruptly to tie Ginger to thepoplar-tree, but even in the boundary of his cheek Colina read hisbeaming happiness. 

With scarcely another glance at her he plunged down the bank and set towork over his fire. Colina sedately followed and seated herself on aboulder to wait until she should be served. 

Now that he no longer looked at her, Colina could not help watchinghim. A dangerous softness began to work in her breast; he was soboyish, so clumsy, so anxious to entertain her fittingly--hisunconsciousness of her nearness was such a transparent assumption. 

Colina was alarmed by her own weakness. She looked resolutely at thedog. 

He was a mongrel black and tan, bigger than a terrier, and he had aridiculous curly tail. He had received her with an insulting air ofindifference. 

"What an ugly dog!" Colina said coolly. 

The young man swung around and affectionately rubbed the dog's ear. 

"The best sporting dog in Athabasca, " he said promptly, but without anyresentment. 

Colina bit her lip again. It seemed as if everything she did was mean. "Of course his looks haven't anything to do with his good qualities, "she said. Here she was apologizing. 

"He's almost human, " said the young man. "I talk to him like a person. "

"Come here, dog, " said Colina. 

The animal was suddenly stricken with deafness. 

"What's his name?" she asked. 

"Job. "

"Come here, Job!" said Colina coaxingly. 

Job looked out across the river. 

"Job!" said his master sternly. 

The dog sprang to him as if they had been parted for years, andfrantically licked his hand. This display of boundless affection wassuspiciously self-conscious. 

The young man led him to Colina's feet. "Mind your manners!" hecommanded. 

Job in utter abasement offered her a limp paw. She touched it, and hescampered back to his former place with an air of relief, and turninghis back to her lay down again. It cannot be said that his enforcedobedience made her feel any better. 

CHAPTER V. 

AN INVITATION TO DINE. 

Lunch was not long in preparing, for the rice had been on the fire whenColina first appeared. The young man set forth the meal as temptinglyas he could on a flat rock, and at the risk of breaking his sinewscarried another rock for Colina to sit upon. His apologies for thediscrepancies in the service disarmed Colina again. 

"I am no fine lady, " she said. "I know what it is to live out. "

Colina was hungry and the food good. A good understanding rapidlyestablished itself between them. But the young man made no move toserve himself. Indeed he sat at the other side of the rock-table andproduced his pipe. 

"Why don't you eat?" demanded Colina. 

"There is plenty of time, " he said, blushing. 

"But why wait?"

"Well--there's only one knife and fork. "

"Is that all?" said Colina coolly. "We can pass them back andforth--can't we?"

Starting up and dropping the pipe in his pocket he flashed a look ofextraordinary rapture on her that brought Colina's eyelids flutteringdown like winged birds. He was a disconcerting young man. Resentmentmoved her, but she couldn't think of anything to say. 

They ate amicably, passing the utensils back and forth. 

After a while Colina asked: "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course, " he said. "Miss Colina Gaviller. "

"I don't know you, " she said. 

"I am Ambrose Doane, of Moultrie. "

"Where is Moultrie?"

"On Lake Miwasa--three hundred miles down the river. "

"Three hundred miles!" exclaimed Colina. "Have you come so far alone?"

"I have Job, " Ambrose said with a smile. 

"How much farther are you going?" she asked. 

"Only to Fort Enterprise. "

"Oh!" she said. The question in the air was: "What did you come for?"Both felt it. 

"Do you know my father?" Colina asked. 

"No, " said Ambrose. 

"I suppose you have business with him?"

"No, " he said again. 

Colina glanced at him with a shade of annoyance. "We don't have manyvisitors in the summer, " she said carelessly. 

"I suppose not, " said Ambrose simply. 

Colina was a woman--and an impulsive one; it was bound to come sooneror later: "What did you come for?"

His eyes pounced on hers with the same look of mixed boldness andapprehension that she had marked before; she saw that he caught hisbreath before answering. 

"To see you!" he said. 

Colina saw it coming, and would have given worlds to have recalled thequestion. She blushed all over--a horrible, unequivocal, burningblush. She hated herself for blushing--and hated him for making her. 

"Upon my word!" she stammered. It was all she could get out. 

He did not triumph over her discomfiture; his eyes were cast down, andhis hand trembled. Colina could not tell whether he were more bold orsimple. She had a sinking fear that here was a young man capable ofsetting all her maxims on men at naught. She didn't know what to dowith him. 

"What do you know about me?" she demanded. 

It sounded feeble in her own ears. She felt that whatever she mightsay he was marching steadily over her defenses. Somehow, everythingthat he said made them more intimate. 

"There was a fellow from here came by our place, " said Ambrose simply. "Poly Goussard. He told us about you--"

"Talked about me!" cried Colina stormily. 

"You should have heard what he said, " said Ambrose with hisventuresome, diffident smile. "He thinks you are the most beautifulwoman in the world!" Ambrose's eyes added that he agreed with Poly. 

It was impossible for Colina to be angry at this, though she wished tobe. She maintained a haughty silence. 

Ambrose faltered a little. 

"I--I haven't talked to a white girl in a year, " he said. "This is ourslack season--so I--I came to see you. "

If Colina had been a man this was very like what she might havesaid---to meet with candor equal to her own in the other sex, however, took all the wind out of her sails. 

"How dare you!" she murmured, conscious of sounding ridiculous. 

Ambrose cast down his eyes. "I have not said anything insulting, " hesaid doggedly. "After what Poly said it was natural for me to want tocome and see you. "

"In the slack season, " she murmured sarcastically. 

"I couldn't have come in the winter, " he said naïvely. 

Colina despised herself for disputing with him. She knew she ought tohave left at once--but she was unable to think of a sufficientlytelling remark to cover a dignified retreat. 

"You are presumptuous!" she said haughtily. 

"Presumptuous?" he repeated with a puzzled air. 

She decided that he was more simple than bold. "I mean that men do notsay such things to women, " she began as one might rebuke a littleboy--but the conclusion was lamentable, "to women to whom they have noteven been introduced!"

"Oh, " he said, "I'm sorry! I can only stay a few days. I wanted toget acquainted as quickly as possible. "

A still small voice whispered to Colina that this was a young man afterher own heart. Aloud she remarked languidly: "How about me? Perhaps Iam not so anxious. "

He looked at her doubtfully, not quite knowing how to take this. "Really he is too simple!" thought Colina. 

"Of course I knew I would have to take my chance, " he said. "I didn'texpect you to be waiting on the bank with a brass band and a wreath offlowers!"

He smiled so boyishly that Colina, in spite of herself, was obliged tosmile back. Suddenly the absurd image caused them to burst outlaughing simultaneously--and Colina felt herself lost. 

Laughter was as dangerous as a train of gunpowder. Even while helaughed Colina saw that look spring out of his eyes--the mysteriouslook that made her feel faint and helpless. 

He leaned toward her and a still more candid avowal trembled on hislips. Colina saw it coming. Her look of panic-terror restrained him. He closed his mouth firmly and turned away his head. 

Presently he offered her a breast of prairie chicken with amatter-of-fact air. She shook her head, and a silence fell betweenthem--a terrible silence. 

"Oh, why don't I go!" thought Colina despairingly. 

It was Ambrose who eased the tension by saying comfortably: "It's agreat experience to travel alone. Your senses seem to be morealert--you take in more. "

He went on to tell her about his trip, and Colina lulled to securityalmost before she knew it was recounting her own journey in thepreceding autumn. It was astonishing when they stuck to ordinarymatters--how like old friends they felt. Things did not need to beexplained. 

It provided Colina with a good opportunity to retire. She rose. 

Ambrose's face fell absurdly. "Must you go?" he said. 

"I suppose I will meet you officially--later, " she said. 

He raised a pair of perplexed eyes to her face. "I never thought aboutan introduction, " he said quite humbly. "You see we never had anyladies up here. "

In the light of his uncertainty Colina felt more assured. "Oh, we'resufficiently introduced by this time, " she said offhand. 

"But--what should I do at the fort?" he asked. "How can I see youagain?"

She smiled with a touch of scorn at his simplicity. "That is for youto contrive. You will naturally call on my father; if he likes you, hewill bring you home to dinner. "

Ambrose smiled with obscure meaning. "He will never do that, " he said. 

"Why not?" demanded Colina. 

"My partner and I are free-traders, " he explained; "the onlyfree-traders of any account in the Company's territory. Naturally theyare bitter against us. "

"But business is one thing and hospitality another, " said Colina. 

"You do not know what hard feeling there is in the fur trade, " hesuggested. 

"You do not know my father, " she retorted. 

"Only by reputation, " said Ambrose. 

The shade of meaning in his voice was not lost on her. Her cheeksbecame warm. "All white men who come to the post dine with us as amatter of course, " she said. "We owe you the hospitality. I inviteyou now in his name and my own. "

"I would rather you asked him about me first, " said Ambrose. 

This made Colina really angry. "I do not consult him about householdmatters, " she said stiffly. 

"Of course not, " said Ambrose; "but in this case I would be morecomfortable if you spoke to him first. "

"Are you afraid of him?" she inquired with raised eyebrows. 

"No, " said Ambrose coolly; "but I don't want to get you into trouble. "

Colina's eyes snapped. "Thank you, " she said; "you needn't be anxious. You had better come--we dine at seven. "

"I will be there, " he said. 

By this time she was mounted. As she gave Ginger his head Ambrosedeftly caught her hand and kissed it. Colina was not displeased. Ifit had been self-consciously done she would have fumed. 

She rode home with an uncomfortable little thought nagging at herbreast. Was he really so simple as she had decided? Had he not baitedher into losing her temper--and insisting on his coming to dinner?Surely he could not know her so well as that!

"Anyway, he _is_ coming!" she thought with a little gush ofsatisfaction she did not stop to examine. "I'll wear evening dress, the black taffeta, and my string of pearls. At my own table it will beeasier--and with father there to support me! We will see!"

CHAPTER VI. 

THE DINNER. 

Colina did not see her father until he came home from the store fordinner. She was already dressed and engaged in arranging the table. 

John Gaviller's eyes gleamed approvingly at the sight of her in herfinery. Black silk became Colina's blond beauty admirably. Manlike, he arrogated the extra preparations to himself. He thought it was akind of peace offering from Colina. 

"Well!" he began jocularly, only to check himself at the sight of threeplaces set at the table. "Who's coming?" he demanded with naturalsurprise. 

Colina, busying herself attentively with the centerpiece of painter'sbrush, wondered if her father had met Ambrose Doane. She gave him abrief, offhand account of her adventure without mentioning theirguest's name. 

"But who is it?" he asked. 

She answered a little breathlessly; "Ambrose Doane of Moultrie. "

Gaviller's face changed slightly. "H-m!" he said non-committally. 

"Doesn't the table look nice?" said Colina quickly. 

"Very nice, " he said. 

"We must prove to ourselves once in a while that we are not savages!"

"Naturally! Do you want me to dress?"

Colina, who had not looked at her father, nevertheless felt theinimical atmosphere. She stooped to a touch of flattery. "You arealways well dressed, " she said, smiling at him. 

"Hm!" said Gaviller again. "Call me when you're ready. " He marchedoff to his library. 

Colina breathed freely. So far so good! Ambrose Doane had not been tocall on her father. He was hardly the simple youth she had decided. But she couldn't think the less of him for that. 

When she heard the door-bell ring--Gaviller's house boasted the onlydoor-bell north of Caribou Lake--her heart astonished her with itsthumping. She ran up to her own room. Ambrose according toinstructions previously given was to be shown into the drawing-room. 

Another wonder of Gaviller's house was the full-length mirror importedfor Colina. She ran to it now. It treated her kindly. The crisp, thin, dead-black draperies showed up her white skin in dazzlingcontrast. 

On second thought she left off the string of pearls. The effect wasbetter without any ornament. Her face was her despair; her eyes weremisty and unsure; the color came and went in her cheeks; she could notkeep her lips closed. 

"You fool! You fool!" she stormed at herself. "A man you have seenonce! He will despise you!"

She could not keep the dinner waiting. Bracing herself, she startedfor the hall. A final glance in the mirror gave her better heart. After all she was beautiful and beautifully dressed. She descended thestairs slowly, whispering to herself at every step: "Be game!"

Though the sun was still shining out-of-doors, according to Colina'sfancy, every night at this hour the shutters were closed and the lampslighted. The drawing-room was lighted by a single, tall lamp with ayellow shade. 

Ambrose was standing in the middle of the room. He had changed hisclothes. His suit was somewhat wrinkled, and his boots unpolished, buthe looked less badly than he thought. At sight of Colina he caught hisbreath and turned very pale. His eyes widened with something akin toawe. Colina was suddenly relieved. 

"So you dared to come!" she said with a careless smile. 

He did not answer. Plainly he could not. He stood as if rooted to thefloor. Colina had meant to offer him her hand, but suddenly changedher mind. 

Instead, with reckless bravado considering her late state of mind, shewent to the lamp and turned it up. She felt his honest, strickenglance following her, and thrilled under it. 

"You have not met my father?"

Ambrose "took a brace" as he would have said. "No, " he answered. 

"I thought very likely you would see him this afternoon, " she said witha touch of smiling malice. 

His directness foiled it. 

"I waited down the river, " he said. "I didn't want to have a row withhim that might spoil to-night. "

"What a terrible opinion you have of poor father!" said Colina. 

"Does he know I'm coming?" asked Ambrose. 

"Certainly!"

"What did he say?"

"Nothing! What should he say?"

"He has boasted that no free-trader ever dared set foot in histerritory. "

"I don't believe it! It's not like him. Come along and you'll see. "

"Wait!" said Ambrose quickly. "Half a minute!"

Colina looked at him curiously. 

"You don't know what this means to me!" he went on, his glowing, unsmiling eyes fixed on her. "A lady's drawing-room! A lamp with asoft, pretty shade!--and you--like that! I--I wasn't prepared for it!"

Colina laughed softly. She was filled with a great tenderness for him, therefore she could jeer a little. 

Ambrose had not moved from the spot where she found him. 

"It's not fair, " he went on. "You don't need that! It bowls a manover. "

This was the ordinary language of gallantry--yet it was different. Colina liked it. "Come on, " she said lightly, "father is like a bearwhen he is kept waiting for dinner!"

The two men shook hands in a natural, friendly way. With another manAmbrose was quite at ease. Colina approved the way her youth stood upto the famous old trader without flinching. They took places at thetable, and the meal went swimmingly. 

Ambrose, whether he felt his affable host's secret animosity and wasstimulated by it, or for another reason, suddenly blossomed into anentertainer. When her father was present he addressed Colina's ear, her chin or her golden top-knot, never her eyes. 

John Gaviller apparently never looked at her either, but Colina knew hewas watching her closely. She was not alarmed. She had herself wellin hand, and there was nothing in her politely smiling, slightlyscornful air to give the most anxious parent concern. 

Under the jokes, the laughter, and the friendly talk throughout dinner, there were electric intimations that caused Colina's nostrils toquiver. She loved the smell of danger. 

It was no easy matter to keep the conversational bark on an even keel;the rocks were thick on every hand. Business, politics, and localaffairs were all for obvious reasons tabooed. More than once they werenear an upset, as when they began to talk of Indians. 

Ambrose had related the anecdote of Tom Beavertail who, upon seeing asteamboat for the first time, had made a paddle-wheel for his canoe, and forced his sons to turn him about the lake. 

"Exactly like them!" said John Gaviller with his air of amused scorn. "Ingenious in perfectly useless ways! Featherheaded as schoolboys!"

"But I like schoolboys!" Ambrose protested. "It isn't so long since Iwas one myself. "

"Schoolboys is too good a word, " said Gaviller. "Say, apes. "

"I have a kind of fellow-feeling for them, " said Ambrose smiling. 

"How long have you been in the north?"

"Two years. "

"I've been dealing with them thirty years, " said Gaviller with an airof finality. 

Ambrose refused to be silenced. Looking around the luxurious room hefelt inclined to remark, that Gaviller had made a pretty good thing outof the despised race, but he checked himself. 

"Sometimes I think we never give them a show, " he said with adeprecating air, "We're always trying to cut them to our own patterninstead of taking them as they are. They are like schoolboys, as yousay. 

"Most of the trouble with them comes from the fact that anybody canlead them into mischief, just like boys. If we think of what we werelike ourselves before we put on long trousers it helps to understandthem. "

Gaviller raised his eyebrows a little at hearing the law laid down bytwenty-five years old. 

"Ah!" he said quizzically. "In my day the use of the rod was thoughtnecessary to make boys into men!"

Ambrose grew a little warm. "Certainly!" he said. "But it depends onthe spirit with which it is applied. How can we do anything with themif we treat them like dirt?"

"You are quite successful in handling them?" queried Gaviller dryly. 

"Peter Minot says so, " said Ambrose simply. "That is why he took meinto partnership. "

"He married a Cree, didn't he?" inquired Gaviller casually. 

Colina glanced at her father in surprise. This was hardly playing fairaccording to her notions. 

"A half-breed, " corrected Ambrose. 

"Of course, Eva Lajeunesse, I remember now, " said Gaviller. "She wasquite famous around Caribou Lake some years ago. "

Ambrose with an effort kept his temper. "She has made him a goodwife, " he said loyally. 

"Ah, no doubt!" said Gaviller affably. "Do you live with them?"

"I have my own house, " said Ambrose stiffly. 

Here Colina made haste to create a diversion. 

"Aren't the Indian kids comical little souls?" she remarked. "I go tothe mission school sometimes to sing and play for them. They don'tthink much of it. One of the girls asked me for a hair. One hair wasall she wanted. "

The subject of Indian children proved to be innocuous. They tookcoffee in John Gaviller's library. 

"Colina brought these new-fangled notions in with her, " said her father. 

"They're all right!" said Ambrose soberly. 

Colina saw the hand that held his spoon tremble slightly, and wonderedwhy. The fact was the thought could not but occur to him: "How foolishfor me to think she could ever bring her lovely, ladylike ways to mylittle shack!"

He thrust the unnerving thought away. "I can build a bigger house, can't I?" he demanded of himself. "Anyway, I'll make the best play toget her that I can!"

In the library they talked about furniture. It transpired that thetrader had a passion for cabinet making, and most of the objects thatsurrounded them were examples of his skill. Ambrose admired them withdue politeness, meanwhile his heart was sinking. He could not see theslightest chance of getting a word alone with Colina. 

In the middle of the evening a breed came to the door, hat in hand, tosay that John Gaviller's Hereford bull was lying down in his stall andgroaning. The trader bit his lip and glanced at Colina. 

"Would you like to come and see my beasts?" he asked affably. 

"Thanks, " said Ambrose just as politely. "I'm no hand with cattle. "He kept his eyes discreetly down. 

Gaviller could not very well turn him out of the house. There was nohelp for it. He went. 

CHAPTER VII. 

TWO INTERVIEWS. 

The instant the door closed behind Gaviller, Ambrose's eyes flamed up. "What a stroke of luck!" he cried. 

It had something the effect of an explosion there in the quiet roomwhere they had been talking so prosily. Colina became panicky. "Idon't understand you!" she said haughtily. 

"You do!" he cried. "You know I didn't paddle three hundred milesup-stream to talk to him! Never in my life had I anything so hard togo through with as the last two hours. I didn't dare look at you forfear of giving myself away. "

There was an extraordinary quality of passion in the simple words. Colina felt faint and terrified. What was one to do with a man likethis! She mounted her queenliest manner. "Don't make me sorry I askedyou here, " she said. 

"Sorry?" he said. "Why should you be? You can do what you like! Ican't pretend. I must say my say the best way I can. I may not getanother chance!"

Colina had to fight both herself and him. She made a gallant stand. "You are ridiculous!" she said. "I will leave the room until my fathercomes back if you can't contain yourself. "

He was plainly terrified by the threat, nevertheless he had theassurance to put himself between her and the door. 

"You have no cause to be angry with me, " he said. "You know I do notdisrespect you!" He was silent for a moment. His voice broke huskily. "You are wonderful to me! I have to keep telling myself you are only awoman--of flesh and blood like myself--else I would be groveling on thefloor at your feet, and you would despise me!"

Colina stared at him in haughty silence. 

"I love you!" he whispered with odd abruptness. "No woman need beinsulted by hearing that. You came upon me to-day like a bolt oflightning. You have put your mark on me for life! I will never bemyself again. "

His voice changed; he faltered, and searched for words. "I know I'mrough! I know women like to be courted regularly. It's right, too!But I have no time! I may never see you alone again. Your father willtake care of that! I must tell you while I can. You can take yourtime to answer. "

Colina contrived to laugh. 

The sound maddened him. He took a step forward, and a vein in hisforehead stood out. She held her ground disdainfully. 

"Don't do that!" he whispered. "It's not fair! I--I can't stand it!"

"Why must you tell me?" asked Colina. "What do you expect?"

"You!" he whispered hoarsely. "If God is good to me! For life. "

"You are mad!" she murmured. 

"Maybe, " he said, eying her with the resentment which is so closelyakin to love; "but I think you understand my madness. Talking gets usnowhere. A dozen times to-day your eyes answered mine. Either youfeel it too or you are a coquette!"

This brought a genuine anger to Colina's aid. Her weakness fled. "Howdare you!" she cried with blazing eyes. 

"Coquette!" he repeated doggedly. "To dress yourself up like that todrive me mad!"

Colina forgot the social amenities. "You fool!" she cried. "This ismy ordinary way of dressing at night! It is not for you!"

"It was for me!" he said sullenly. "You were happy when you saw itseffect on me! If it's only a game I can't play it with you. It meanstoo much to me!"

"Coquette!" still made a clangor in Colina's brain that deafened her toeverything else. "You are a savage!" she cried. "I'm sorry I askedyou here. You needn't wait for my father to come back. Go!"

"Not without a plain answer!" he said. 

Colina tried to laugh; she was too angry. "My answer is no!" she criedwith outrageous scorn. "Now go!"

He stood studying her from under lowering brows. The sight of her likethat--head thrown back, eyes glittering, cheeks scarlet, and lipscurled--was like a lash upon his manhood. The answer was plain enough, but an instinct from the great mother herself bade him disregard it. Suddenly his eyes flamed up. 

"You beauty!" he cried. 

Before she could move he had seized her in her finery. Colina was noweakling, but within those steely arms she was helpless. She strainedaway her head. He could only reach her neck, under the ear. Sheyielded shudderingly. 

"I hate you! I hate you!" she murmured. 

Their lips met. 

Colina swayed ominously on his arm. She sank down on the sofa, stillstraining away from him, but weakly. Suddenly she burst intopassionate weeping. 

"What have you done to me!" she murmured. 

At sight of the tears he collapsed. "Ah, don't!" he whisperedbrokenly. "You break my heart! My darling love! What is the matter?"

"I am a fool--a fool!--a fool!" she sobbed tempestuously. "To havegiven in to you! You will despise me!"

He slipped to the floor at her feet. He strove desperately to comforther. Tenderness lent eloquence to his clumsy, unaccustomed tongue. 

"Ah, don't say that! It's like sticking a knife in me! My lovelyone! As if I could! You are everything to me! I have nothing in theworld but you! Forgive me for being so rough! I couldn't help it! Icouldn't go by anything you said. I had to find out for sure! It hadto happen! What does it matter whether it was in a day or a year? Theminute I saw you I knew how it was. I knew I had to have you or livelike a priest till I died. "

Colina was not to be comforted. "You think so now!" she said. "Later, when you have tired of me a little, or if we quarreled, you wouldremember that I--I was too easily won!"

"Ah, don't!" he cried exasperated. "If you say it again I'll have toswear. What more can I say? I love you like my life! I could notdespise you without despising myself! I don't know how to put it. Isound like a fool! But--but this is what I mean. You make me seemworth while to myself. "

Colina's hands stole to her breast. "Ah! If I could believe you!" shebreathed. 

"Give me time!" he begged. "What good does talking do! What I do willshow you!"

Little by little she allowed him to console her. Her arm stole aroundhis shoulders, her head was lowered until her cheek lay in his hair. 

They came down to earth. Ambrose seated himself beside her, andlooking in her shamed face laughed softly and deep. "You fraud, " hesaid. 

Colina hid her face. "Don't!" she begged. 

He laughed more. 

"What are you laughing at?" she demanded. 

"To think how you scared me, " he said. "With your grand clothes andhigh and mighty airs. I had to dig my toes into the floor to keep fromcutting and running. And it was all bluff!"

"Scared you!" said Colina. "I never in my life knew a man so utterlyregardless and brutal!"

"You like it, " he said. Colina blushed. 

"I had no line to go on, " said Ambrose with his engaging simplicity. "I never made love to any girls. I haven't read many books either. Iguess that's all guff, anyway. I didn't know how the thing ought to becarried through. But something told me if I knuckled under to you theleast bit it would be all day with Ambrose. "

They laughed together. 

John Gaviller's step sounded on the porch outside. They sprang upaghast. They had completely forgotten his existence. 

"Oh, Heavens!" whispered Colina. "He has eyes like a lynx!"

Ambrose's eyes, darting around the room, fell upon an album ofsnapshots lying on the table. He flung it open. 

When Gaviller came in he found them standing at the table, their backsto him. He heard Ambrose ask:

"Who is that comical little guy?"

Colina replied: "Ahcunazie, one of the Kakisa Indians in his winterclothes. "

Colina turned, presenting a sufficiently composed face to her father. "Oh, " she said. "You were gone a long while. What was the matter withthe bull?"

She strolled to the sofa and sat down. Ambrose idly closed the bookand sat down across the room from her. Gaviller glanced from one toanother--perhaps it was a little too well done. But his face instantlyresumed its customary affability. 

"Nothing serious, " he said. "He is quite all right again. "

Ambrose was tormented by the desire to laugh. He dared not meetColina's eye. "It is terrible to lose a valuable animal up here, " hesaid demurely. 

After a few desultory polite exchanges Ambrose got up to go. "I waswaiting to say good night to you, " he explained. 

"You are camping down the river, I believe. "

"Half a mile below the English mission. I paddled up. "

"I'll walk to the edge of the bank with you, " said Gaviller politely. 

As in nearly all company posts there was a flag-pole in the mostconspicuous spot on the river-bank. It was halfway between Gaviller'shouse and the store. At the foot of the pole was a lookout-bench wornsmooth by generations of sitters. 

Leaving the house after a formal good night to Colina, Ambrose wasescorted as far as the bench by John Gaviller. The trader held forthamiably upon the weather and crops. They paused. 

"Sit down for a moment, " said Gaviller. "I have something particularto say to you. "

Ambrose suspected what was coming. But humming with happiness like atop as he was, he could not feel greatly concerned. 

Still in the same calm, polite voice Gaviller said:

"I confess I was astonished at your assurance in coming to my house. "

This was a frank declaration of war. Ambrose, steeling himself, replied warily: "I did not come on business. "

"What did you come for?"

Ambrose did not feel obliged to be as frank with father as withdaughter. "I am merely looking at the country. "

"Well, now that you have seen Fort Enterprise, " said Gaviller dryly, "you may go on or go back. I do not care so long as you do not linger. "

Ambrose frowned. "If you were a younger man--" he began. 

"You need not consider my age, " said Gaviller. 

Ambrose measured his man. He had to confess he had good pluck. Theidea of a set-to with Colina's father was unthinkable. There wasnothing for him to do but swallow the affront. He bethought himself ofusing a little guile. 

"Why shouldn't I come here?" he demanded. 

"I don't like the way you and your partner do business, " said Gaviller. 

There was nothing to be gained by a wordy dispute, but Ambrose was onlyhuman. "You are sore because we smashed the company's monopoly atMoultrie, " he said. 

"Not at all, " said Gaviller calmly. "The trade is free to all. Whatlittle you have taken from us is not noticeable in the whole volume. But you have deliberately set to work to destroy what it has taken twocenturies to build up--the white man's supremacy. You breed troubleamong the Indians. You make them insolent and dangerous. "

"Company talk, " said Ambrose scornfully. "A man can make himselfbelieve what he likes. We treat the Indians like human beings. Aroundus they're doing well for the first time. Here, where you have yourmonopoly, they're sick and starving!"

"That is not true, " said Gaviller coolly. "And, in any case, I do notmean to discuss my business with you. I deal openly. You had theopportunity to do my daughter a slight service. I have repaid it withmy hospitality. We are quits. I now warn you not to show your facehere again. "

"I shall do as I see fit, " said Ambrose doggedly. 

"You compel me to speak still more plainly, " said Gaviller. "If youare found on the Company's property again, you will be thrown off. "

"You cannot frighten me with threats, " said Ambrose. 

"You are warned!" said Gaviller. He strode off to his house. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

IN AMBROSE'S CAMP. 

Ambrose was awakened in his mosquito-tent by an alarm from Job. Thesun was just up, and it was therefore no more than three o'clock. Avisitor was approaching in a canoe. 

In the North a caller is a caller. Ambrose crept out of his blanketsand, swallowing his yawns, stuck his head in the river to clear hisbrain. 

The visitor was a handsome young breed of Ambrose's own age. Ambrosesurveyed his broad shoulders, his thin, graceful waist and thighsapprovingly. He rejoiced in an animal built for speed and endurance. Moreover, the young man's glance was direct and calm. This was anative who respected himself. 

"Tole Grampierre, me, " he said, offering his hand. 

Ambrose grasped it. "I'm Ambrose Doane, " he said. 

"I know, " said the young breed. "Las' night I go to the store. Theboys say Ambrose Doane, the free-trader, is camp' down the river. So Italk wit' my fat'er. I say I go and shake Ambrose Doane by the hand. "

"Will you eat?" said Ambrose. "It is early. "

"When you are ready, " answered Tole politely. "I come early. I goback before they get up at the fort. If old man Gaviller know I cometo you it mak' trouble. My fat'er he got trouble enough wit' Gaviller. "

Tole squatted on the beach. There is an established ritual ofpoliteness in the North, and he was punctilious. 

"You are well?" he asked gravely. Ambrose set about making his fire. "I am well, " he said. 

"Your partner, he is well?"

"Peter Minot is well. "

"You do good trade at Lake Miwasa?"

"Yes. Marten is plentiful. "

"Good fur here, too. Not much marten; plenty link. "

"Your father is well?" asked Ambrose in turn. 

"My fat'er is well, " said Tole. "My four brot'ers well, too. "

"I am glad, " said Ambrose. 

More polite conversation was exchanged while Ambrose waited for hisguest to declare the object of his visit. It came at last. 

"Often I talk wit' my fat'er, " said Tole. "I say there is not'ing forme here. Old man Gaviller all tam mad at us. We don't get along. Isay I fink I go east to Lake Miwasa. There is free trade there. MaybeI get work in the summer. When they tell me Ambrose Doane is come, Isay this is lucky. I will talk wit' him. "

"Good, " said Ambrose. 

"Wat you t'ink?" asked Tole, masking anxiety under a careless air. "Isthere work at Moultrie in the summer?"

Ambrose instinctively liked and trusted his man. "Sure, " he said. "There is room for good men. "

"Good, " said Tole calmly. "I go back wit' you. "

Ambrose had a strong curiosity to learn of the situation at FortEnterprise. "What do you mean by saying old man Gaviller is mad atyou?" he asked. 

"I tell you, " said Tole. He filled his pipe and got it going wellbefore he launched on his tale. 

"My fat'er, Simon Grampierre, he is educate', " he began. "He read inbooks, he write, he spik Angleys, he spik French, he spik the Cree. Weare Cree half-breed. My fat'er's fat'er, my mot'er's fat'er, theywhite men. We are proud people. We own plenty land. We live in agood house. We are workers. 

"All the people on ot'er side the river call my fat'er head man. Whenthere is trouble all come to our house to talk to my fat'er because heis educate'. He got good sense. 

"Before, I tell you there is good fur here. It is the truth. But thepeople are poor. Every year they are more poor as last year. Thepeople say: 'Bam-by old man Gaviller tak' our shirts! He goteveryt'ing else. ' They ask my fat'er w'at to do. "

Tole went on: "Always my fat'er say: 'Wait, ' he say. 'We got get whiteman on our side. We got get white man who knows all outside ways. Hebring an outfit in and trade wit' us. ' The people don't want to wait. 'We starve!' they say. 

"My fat'er say: '_Non_! Gaviller not let you starve. For why, becauseyou not bring him any fur if you dead. He will keep you goin' poor. Be patient, ' my fat'er say. 'This is rich country. It is knownoutside. Bam-by some white man come wit' outfit and pay good prices. '

"Always my fat'er try to have no trouble, " continued Tole. "But oldman Gaviller hear about the meetings at our house. He hear everyt'ing. He write a letter to my fat'er that the men mus' come no more. 

"My fat'er write back. My fat'er say: 'This my house. This people myrelations, my friends. My door is open to all. ' Then old man Gavilleris mad. He call my fat'er mal-content. He tak' away his discount. "

"Discount?" interrupted Ambrose. 

Tole frowned at the difficulty of explaining this in English. "Allgoods in the store marked by prices, " he said slowly. "Too mochprices. Gaviller say for good men and good hunters he tak' part ofprice away. He tak' a quarter part of price away. He call thatdiscount. If a man mak' him mad he put it back again. "

The working out of such a scheme was clear to Ambrose. "Hm!" hecommented grimly. "This is how a monopoly gets in its innings. "

"Always my fat'er not want any trouble, " Tole went on. "Pretty soon, It'ink, the people not listen to him no more. They are mad. This yearthere will be trouble about the grain. Gaviller put the price down todollar-fifty bushel. But he sell flour the same. "

"Do you mean to say he buys your grain at his own price, and sells youback the flour at his own price?" demanded Ambrose. 

Tole nodded. "My fat'er the first farmer here, " he explained. "Longtam ago when I was little boy, Gaviller come to my fat'er. He say:'You have plenty good land. You grow wheat and I grind it, and bothmak' money. '

"My fat'er say: 'I got no plow, no binder, no thresher. ' Gaviller say:'I bring them in for you. ' Gaviller say: 'I pay you two-fifty bushelfor wheat. I can do it up here. You pay me for the machines a littleeach year. '

"My fat'er t'ink about it. He is not moch for farm. But he t'ink, well, some day there is no more fur. But always there is mouths forbread. If I be farmer and teach my boys, they not starve when fur isno more. 

"My fat'er say to Gaviller: 'All right. ' Writings are made and signed. The ot'er men with good land on the river, they say they raise wheat, too. 

"After that the machines is brought in. Good crops is raised. Ev'rything is fine. Bam-by Gaviller put the price down totwo-twenty-five. Bam-by he only pay two dollar. Tams is hard, he say. Las' year he pay one-seventy-five. Now he say one-fifty all he pay. 

"The farmers say they so poor now, might as well have nothing. Theysay they not cut the grain this year. Gaviller say it is his grain. He will go on their land and cut it. There will be trouble. "

"This is a kind of slavery!" cried Ambrose. 

"There is more to mak' trouble, " Tole went on with his calm air. "Three years ago Gaviller build a fine big steamboat. He say: 'Now, boys, you can go outside when you want. ' He says: 'This big boat willbring us ev'rything good and cheap from outside. '

"But when she start it is thirty dollars for a man to go to theCrossing. And fifty cents for every meal. Nobody got so much money asthat. 

"It is the same to bring t'ings in. Not'ing is cheaper. Jean BateeseGagnon, he get a big book from outside. In that book there is allthings to buy and pictures to show them. The people outside will sendyou the t'ings. You send money in a letter. "

"Mail order catalogue, " suggested Ambrose. 

"That is the name of the book, " said Tole. In describing its wondershe lost, for the first time, some of his imperturbable air. "Wa! Wa!All is so cheap inside that book. It is wonderful. Three suits ofclothes cost no more as one at the Company store. 

"Everyt'ing is in that book. A man can get shirts of silk. A man canget a machine to milk a cow. All the people want to send money fort'ings. Gaviller say no. Gaviller say steamboat only carry Companyfreight. Gaviller say: 'Come to me for what you want and I get it--atregular prices. '"

"And this is supposed to be a free country, " said Ambrose. 

"The men are mad, " continued Tole. "They do not'ing. Only JeanBateese Gagnon. He is the mos' mad. He say he don' care. He send themoney for a plow las' summer. All wait to see w'at Gaviller will do. 

"Gaviller let the steamboat bring it down. He say the freight isfifteen dollars. Jean Bateese say: 'Tak' it back again. I won't pay. 'Gaviller say: 'You got to pay. ' He put it on the book against Gagnon. "

Tole related other incidents of a like character, Ambrose listened withever mounting indignation. There could be no mistaking the truthfulring of the simple details. 

Not only was Ambrose's sense of humanity up in arms, but the trader inhim was angered that a competitor should profit by such unfair means. With a list of grievances on one side and unqualified sympathy on theother, the two progressed in friendship. 

They breakfasted together, Job making a third. Ambrose found himselfmore and more strongly drawn to the young fellow. He was reminded thathe had no friend of his own age in the country. Tole, he said tohimself, was whiter than many a white man he had known. 

Job, who as a rule drew the colorline sharply, was polite to Tole. Jobwas pleased because Tole ignored him. Uninvited overtures fromstrangers made Job self-conscious. 

Tole and Ambrose, being young, drifted away from serious business aftera while. They discussed sport. Tole lost some of his gravity intalking about hunting the moose. 

Not until Tole was on the point of embarking did the real object of hisvisit transpire. "My father say he want you come to his house, " hesaid diffidently. 

"Sure I will, " said Ambrose. 

Tole lingered by his dugout, affecting to test the elasticity of hispaddle on the stones. He glanced at Ambrose with a speculative eye. 

"Maybe you and Peter Minot open a store across the river and trade withus, " he suggested with a casual air. 

Ambrose was staggered by the possibilities it opened up. He knew theidea was already in Peter's mind. What if he, Ambrose, should bechosen to carry it out? He sparred for wind. 

"I don't know, " he said warily. "There is much to be considered. Iwill talk with your father. "

Tole nodded and pushed off. 

CHAPTER IX. 

LOVERS. 

Ambrose and Colina had had no opportunity the night before to arrangefor another meeting. Ambrose stuck close to his camp, feeling somehowthat the next move should come from her. 

It was not that he had been unduly alarmed by her father's threat, though he had a young man's healthy horror of being humiliated in thebeloved one's presence. 

But the real reason that kept him inactive was an instinctivecompunction against embroiling Colina with her father. She had onlyknown him, Ambrose, a day; she should have a chance to make sure of herown mind, he felt. 

As to what he would do if Colina made no move, Ambrose could not makeup his mind. He considered a night expedition to the fort; heconsidered sending a message by Tole. Either plan had seriousdisadvantages. It was a hard nut to crack. 

Then he heard hoofs on the prairie overhead. His heart leaped up andhis problems were forgotten. He sprang to the bank. Job heard thehoofs, too, and recognized the horse. Job hopped into the emptydugout, and lay down in the bow out of sight, like a child in disgrace. 

At the sight of her racing toward him a dizzying joy swept overAmbrose; but something was wrong. She stopped short of him, and hisheart seemed to stop, too. 

She was pale; her eyes had a dark look. An inward voice whispered tohim that it was no more than to be expected; his happiness had been tooswift, too bright to be real. 

He went toward her. "Colina!" he cried apprehensively. 

"Don't touch me!" she said sharply. 

He stopped. "What is the matter?" he faltered. 

She made no move to dismount. She did not look at him. "I--I have hada bad night, " she murmured. "I came to throw myself on yourgenerosity. "

"Generosity?" he echoed. 

"To--to ask you to forget what happened last night. I was mad!"

Ambrose had become as pale as she. He had nothing to say. 

She stole a glance at his face. At the sight of his blank, sick dismayshe quickly turned her head. A little color came back to her cheeks. 

There was a silence. 

At last he said huskily: "What has happened to change you?"

"Nothing, " she murmured. "I have come to my senses. " His stony faceand his silence terrified her. "Aren't you a little relieved?" shefaltered. "It must have been a kind of madness in you, too. "

He raised a sudden, penetrating glance to her face. She could not meetit. It came to him that he was being put to a test. The revulsion offeeling made him brutal. Striding forward, he seized her horse by therein. 

"Get off!" he harshly commanded. 

Colina had no thought but to obey. 

He tied the rein to a limb and, turning back, seized her roughly by thewrists. 

"What kind of a game is this?" he demanded. 

Colina, breathless, terrified, delighted, laughed shakily. 

He dropped her as suddenly as he had seized her, and walked away to theedge of the bank and sat down, staring sightlessly across the river andstriving to still the tumult of his blood. He was frightened by hisown passion. He had wished to hurt her. 

Colina went to him and humbly touched his arm. 

"I'm sorry, " she whispered. 

He looked at her grimly. 

"You should not try such tricks, " he said. "A man's endurance has itslimits. "

There was something delicious to Colina in abasing herself before him. She caught up his hand and pressed it to her cheek. 

"How was I to know?" she murmured. "Other men are not like you. "

"I might have surprised you, " he said grimly. 

"You did!" whispered Colina. The suspicion of a dimple showed ineither cheek. 

He rose. "Let me alone for a minute, " he said. "I'll be all right. "He went to the horse and loosened the saddle girths. 

Colina could have crawled through the grass to his feet. She lay wherehe had left her until he came back. He sat down again, but nottouching her. He was still pale, but he had got a grip on himself. 

"Tell me, " he said quietly, "did you do it just for fun, or had you areason?"

"I had a reason. "

"What was it?" he asked in cold surprise. 

"I--I can't tell you while you are angry with me, " she faltered. 

"I can't get over it right away, " he said simply. "Give me time. "

Colina hid her face in her arm and her shoulders shook a little. It isdoubtful if any real tears flowed, but the move was just as successful. He leaned over and laid a tender hand on her shoulder. 

"Ah, don't!" he said. "What need you care if I am angry. You know Ilove you. You know I--I am mad with loving you! Why--it would havebeen more merciful for you to shoot me down than come at me the way youdid!"

"I'm sorry, " she whispered. "I never dreamed it would hurt so much! Ihad to do it--Ambrose!"

It was the first time she had spoken his name. He paused for a momentto consider the wonder of it. 

"Why?" he asked dreamily. 

Colina sat up. 

"I worried all night about whether you would be sorry to-day, " shesaid, averting her head from him. "I thought that nothing so swiftcould possibly be lasting. And then this morning father and I had afrightful row. 

"I was starting out to come to you, and he caught me. He all butdisowned me. I came right on--I told him I was coming. And on the wayhere I thought--I knew I would have to tell you what had happened. 

"And I thought if you were secretly sorry--for last night--when youheard about father and I--you would feel that you had to stand by meanyway! And then I would never know if you really-- So I had to findout, first. "

This confused explanation was perfectly clear to Ambrose. 

"Will you always be doubting me?" he asked wistfully. "Can't youbelieve what you see?"

She crept under his arm. "It was so sudden!" she murmured. "When I amnot with you my heart fails me. How can I be sure?"

He undertook to assure her with what eloquence his heart lent histongue. The feeling was rarer than the words. 

"How wonderful, " said Ambrose dreamily, "for two to feel the sametoward each other! I always thought that women, well, just allowed mento love them. "

"You dear innocent!" she whispered. "If you knew! Women are notsupposed to give anything away! It makes men draw back. It makes theminsufferable. "

"It makes me humble, " said Ambrose. 

"You boy!" she breathed. 

"I'm years older than you, " he said. 

"Women's hearts are born old, " said Colina; "men's never grow out ofbabyhood. "

Her head was lying back on the thick of his arm. 

"Your throat is as lovely--as lovely as pearl!" he whispered, broodingover her. 

The exquisite throat trembled with laughter. 

"You're coming out!" she said. 

"I don't care!" said Ambrose. "You're as beautiful as--what is themost beautiful thing I know?--as beautiful as a morning in June upNorth. "

"I don't know which I like better, " she murmured. 

"Of what?" he asked. 

"To have you praise me or abuse me. Both are so sweet!"

"Do you know, " he said, "I am wondering this minute if I am dreaming!I'm afraid to breathe hard for fear of waking up. "

She smiled enchantingly. 

"Kiss me!" she whispered. "These are real lips. "

"Sit up, " he said presently, with a sigh, "We must talk hard sense toeach other. What the devil are we going to do?"

She leaned against his shoulder. 

"Whatever you decide, " she said mistily. 

"What did your father say to you?" asked Ambrose. 

She shuddered. "Hideous quarrelling!" she said. "I have the temper ofa devil, Ambrose!"

"I don't care, " he said. 

"When I told him where I was going he took me back in the library andstarted in, " she went on. "He was so angry he could scarcely speak. If he had let it go it wouldn't have been so bad. But to try to makebelieve he wasn't angry! His hypocrisy disgusted me. 

"To go on about my own good and all that, and all the time he was justplain mad! I taunted him until he was almost in a state ofungovernable fury. He would not mention you until I forced him to. 

"He said I must give him my word never to see you or speak to youagain. I refused, of course. He threatened to lock me up. He saidthings about you that put me beside myself. We said ghastly things toeach other. We are very much alike. You'd better think twice beforeyou marry into such a family, Ambrose. "

"I take my chance, " he said. 

"I'm sorry now, " Colina went on. "I know he is, too. Poor old fellow!I have you. "

"You mustn't break with him yet, " said Ambrose anxiously. 

"I know. But how can I go back and humble myself?"

"He'll meet you half-way. "

"If--if we could only get in the dugout and go now!" she breathed. 

He did not answer. She saw him turn pale. 

"Wouldn't it be the best way, " she murmured, "since it's got to beanyway?"

He drew a long breath and shook his head. 

"I wouldn't take you now, " he said doggedly. 

"Of course not!" she said quickly. "I was only joking. But why?" sheadded weakly. Her hand crept into his. 

"It wouldn't be fair, " he said, frowning. "It would be taking too muchfrom you. "

"Too much!" she murmured, with an obscure smile. 

Ambrose struggled with the difficulty of explaining what he meant. "Inever do anything prudent myself. I hate it. But I can't let youchuck everything--without thinking what you are doing. You ought tostay home a while--and be sure. "

"It isn't going to be so easy, " she said, "quarreling continually. "

"I sha'n't see you again until I come for you, " said Ambrose. "Andit's useless to write letters from Moultrie to Enterprise. I'm out ofthe way. Why can't the question of me be dropped between you and yourfather?"

"Think of living on from month to month without a word! It will beghastly!" she cried. 

"You've only known me two days, " he said sagely. "I could not leavesuch a gap as that. "

"How coldly you can talk about it!" she cried rebelliously. 

Ambrose frowned again. "When you call me cold you shut me up, " he saidquietly. 

"But if you do not make a fuss about me every minute, " she saidnaïvely, "it shames me because I am so foolish about you. "

Ambrose laughed suddenly. 

There followed another interlude of celestial silliness. 

This time it was Colina who withdrew herself from him. 

"Ah, " she said with a catch of the breath, "every minute of this ismaking it harder. I shall want to die when you leave me. "

Ambrose attempted to take her in his arms again. 

"No, " she insisted. "Let us try to be sensible. We haven't decidedyet what we're going to do. "

"I'm going home, " said Ambrose, "to work like a galley-slave. "

"It is so far, " she murmured. 

"I'll find some way of letting you hear from me. Twice before thewinter sets in I'll send a messenger. And you, you keep a little bookand write in it whenever you think of me, and send it back by mymessenger. "

"A little book won't hold it all, " she said naïvely. 

"Meanwhile I'll be making a place for you. I couldn't take you toMoultrie. "

She asked why. 

"Eva, Peter's wife, " he explained. "In a way Peter is my boss, yousee. It would be a horrible situation. "

"I see, " said Colina. "But if there was no help for it I could. "

"Ah, you're too good to me!" he cried. "But it won't be necessary. Peter and I have always intended to open other posts. I'll take thefirst one, and you and I will start on our own. Think of it! It makesme silly with happiness!"

Upon this foundation they raised a shining castle in the air. 

"I must go, " said Colina finally, "or father will be equipping an armedforce to take me. "

"You must go, " he agreed, but weakly. 

They repeated it at intervals without any move being made. At last shegot up. 

"Is this--good-by?" she faltered. 

He nodded. 

They both turned pale. They were silent. They gazed at each otherdeeply and wistfully. 

"Ah! I can't! I can't!" murmured Colina brokenly. "Such a littletime to be happy!"

They flew to each other's arms. 

"No--not quite good-by!" said Ambrose shakily. "I'll write to youto-morrow morning--everything I think of to-night. I'll send it byTole Grampierre. You can send an answer by him. "

"Ah, my dear love, if you forget me I shall die!"

"You doubt me still! I tell you, you have changed everything for me. I cannot forget you unless I lose my mind!"

CHAPTER X. 

ANOTHER VISITOR. 

Ambrose, having filled the day as best he could with small tasks, wassmoking beside his fire and enviously watching his dog. Job had nocares to keep him wakeful. It was about eight o'clock, and still fullday. 

It was Ambrose's promise to visit Simon Grampierre that had kept himinactive all day. He did not wish to complicate the already delicatesituation between Grampierre and Gaviller by an open visit to theformer. He meant to go with Tole at dawn. 

Suddenly Job raised his head and growled. In a moment Ambrose heardthe sound of a horse approaching at a walk above. Thinking of Colina, his heart leaped--but she would never come at a walk! An instinct ofwariness bade him sit where he was. 

A mounted man appeared on the bank above. It was a breed forty-fiveyears old perhaps, but vigorous and youthful still; good looking, wellkept, with an agreeable manner; thus Ambrose's first impressions. Thestranger rode a good horse. 

"Well?" he said, looking down on Ambrose in surprise. 

"Tie your horse and come down, " said Ambrose politely. He welcomed thediversion. This man must have come from the fort. Perhaps he had news. 

Face to face with the stranger, Ambrose was sensible that he had todeal with an uncommon character. There was something about him, hecould not decide what, that distinguished him from every other man ofIndian blood that Ambrose had ever met. 

He wore a well-fitting suit of blue serge and a show of starched linen, in itself a distinguishing mark up north. "Quite a swell!" wasAmbrose's inward comment. 

"You are Ambrose Doane, I suppose?" he said in English as good asAmbrose's own. Ambrose nodded. 

"I knew you had dinner with Mr. Gaviller last night, " the man went on, "but as you didn't drop in on us at the store to-day I supposed you hadgone back. I didn't expect to find you here. "

He was fluent for one of his color--too fluent the other man felt. Ambrose was sizing him up with interest. 

It finally came to him what the man's distinguishing quality was. Itwas his open look, an expression almost of benignity, absolutelyforeign to the Indian character. Indians may give their eyes freely toone another, but a white man never sees beneath the glassy surface. 

This Indian in look and manner resembled an English country gentleman, much sunburnt; or one of those university-bred East Indian potentateswho affect motor-cars and polo ponies. Oddly enough his candid lookaffronted Ambrose. "It isn't natural, " he told himself. 

"I am Gordon Strange, bookkeeper at Fort Enterprise, " the strangervolunteered. 

The bookkeeper of a big trading-post is always second in command. Ambrose understood that he was in the presence of a person ofconsideration in the country. 

"Sit down, " he said. "Fill up your pipe. "

Strange obeyed. "We're supposed to be red-hot rivals in business, " hesaid with an agreeable laugh. "But that needn't prevent, eh? Funny Ishould stumble on you like this! I ride every night after supper--aman needs a bit of exercise after working all day in the store. I sawthe light of your fire. "

He was too anxious to have it understood that the meeting wasaccidental. Ambrose began to suspect that he had ridden out on purposeto see him. 

The better men among the natives, such as Tole Grampierre, have a prideof their own; but they never presume to the same footing as the whitemen. Strange, however, talked as one gentleman to another. 

There was nothing blatant in it; he had a well-bred man's care for theprejudices of another. Nevertheless, as they talked on Ambrose beganto feel a curious repugnance to his visitor, that made him wary of hisown speech. 

"Too damn gentlemanly!" he said to himself. 

"Why didn't you come in to see us to-day?" inquired Strange. "We don'texpect a traveler to give us the go-by. "

"Well, " said Ambrose dryly, "I had an idea that my room would bepreferred to my company. "

"Nonsense!" said Strange, laughing. "We don't carry our business waras far as that. Why, we want to show you free-traders what a fineplace we have, so we can crow over you a little. Anyway, you dinedwith Mr. Gaviller, didn't you?"

"John Gaviller would never let himself off any of the duties ofhospitality, " said Ambrose cautiously. 

He was wondering how far Strange might be admitted to Gaviller'sconfidence. That he was being drawn out, Ambrose had no doubt at all, but he did not know just to what end. 

Strange launched into extensive praises of John Gaviller. "I ought toknow, " he said in conclusion. "I've worked for him twenty-nine years. He taught me all I know. He's been a second father to me. "

Ambrose felt as an honest man hearing an unnecessary and fulsomepanegyric must feel, slightly nauseated. He said nothing. 

Strange was quick to perceive the absence of enthusiasm. He laughedagreeably. "I suppose I can hardly expect you to chime in with me, " hesaid. "The old man is death on free-traders!"

"I have nothing against him, " said Ambrose quickly. 

"Of course I don't always agree with him on matters of policy, " Strangewent on. "Curious, isn't it, how a man's ruling characteristic beginsto get the better of him as he grows old. 

"Mr. Gaviller is always just--but, well, a leetle hard. He's pushingthe people a little too far lately. I tell him so to his face--Ioppose him all I can. But of course he's the boss. "

Ambrose began to feel an obscure and discomforting indignation at hisvisitor. He wished he would go. 

"You really must see our plant before you go back, " said Strange; "themodel farm, the dairy herd, the flourmill, the sawmill. Will you comeup to-morrow and let me take you about?"

His glibness had the effect of rendering Ambrose monosyllabic. "No, "he said. 

"Oh, I say, " said Strange, laughing, "what did you come to FortEnterprise for if you feel that way about us?"

Under his careless air Ambrose thought he distinguished a certaineagerness to hear the answer. So he said nothing. 

"I'm afraid you and the old gentleman must have had words, " Strangewent on, still smiling. "Take it from me, his bark is worse than hisbite. If he broke out at you, he's sorry for it now. It takes half mytime to fix up his little differences with the people here. "

He paused to give the other an opportunity to speak. Ambrose remainedmum. 

"The old man certainly has a rough side to his tongue, " murmuredStrange insinuatingly. 

"You're jumping to conclusions, " said Ambrose coolly. "John Gavillergave me no cause for offense. I was well entertained at his house. "

"U-m!" said Strange. He seemed rather at a loss. Presently he went onto tell in a careless voice of the coyote hunts they had. Afterward hecasually inquired how long Ambrose meant to stay in the neighborhood. 

"I don't know, " was the blunt answer. 

"Well, really!" said Strange with his laugh--the sound of it wasbecoming highly exasperating to Ambrose. "I don't want to pry intoyour affairs, but you must admit it looks queer for you to be campinghere on the edge of the company reservation without ever coming in. "

Ambrose was wroth with himself for not playing a better part, but theman affected him with such repugnance he could not bring himself todissimulate, "Sorry, " he said stiffly. "You'll have to make what youcan of it. "

Strange got up. His candid air now had a touch of manly pride. "Oh, Ican take a hint!" he said. "Hanged if I know what you've got againstme!"

"Nothing whatever, " said Ambrose. 

"I come to you in all friendliness--"

"Thought you said you stumbled on me, " interrupted Ambrose. 

"I mean of course when I saw you here I came in friendliness, " Strangeexplained with dignity. 

"Well, go in friendliness, and no harm done on either side, " saidAmbrose coolly. 

For a brief instant Strange lost his benignant air. "I've lived northall my life, " he said. "And I never met with the like. We havedifferent ideas about hospitality. "

"Very likely, " said Ambrose coolly. "Good night!"

When his visitor rode away Ambrose turned with relief to his dog. Thesight of Job's honest ugliness was good to him. 

"He's a cur, Job!" he said strongly. "A snake in the grass! An oilyscoundrel! I don't know how I know it, but I know it! A square manwould have punched me the way I talked to him. "

Job wagged his tail in entire approval of his master's judgment. Ambrose turned in, feeling better for having spoken his mind. 

Nevertheless, as he lay waiting for sleep it occurred to him that hehad been somewhat hasty. After all, he had nothing to go on. And, supposing Strange were what he thought him, how foolish he, Ambrose, had been to show his band. 

If he had been craftier he might have learned things of value for himto know. Following this unsatisfactory train of thought, he fellasleep. 

CHAPTER XI. 

ALEXANDER SELKIRK AND FAMILY. 

Again Ambrose was awakened by a furious barking from Job. It was evenearlier than on the preceding morning. The sun was not up; the riverwas like a gray ghost. 

Ambrose, expecting Tole, looked for a dugout. There was none in sight. Job's agitated barks were addressed in the other direction. 

Issuing from his tent, Ambrose beheld a quaint little man squatting ontop of the bank like an image. He had an air of strange patience, asif he had been waiting for hours, and expected to wait. 

His brown mask of a face changed not a line at the sight of Ambrose. 

"What do you want?" demanded the white man. 

"Please, I want spik wit' you, " the little man softly replied. 

"Come down here then, " said Ambrose. 

The early caller looked at Job apprehensively. Ambrose silenced thedog with a command, and the man came slowly down the bank, cringing alittle. 

The quaintness of aspect was largely due to the fact that he wore acoat and trousers originally designed for a tall, stout man. Ambrosesuspected he had a child to deal with until he saw the wrinkles and thesophisticated eyes. 

"Who are you?" he asked. 

"I Alexander Selkirk, me, " was the answer. 

Ambrose could not but smile at the misapplication of the sonorousScotch name to such a manikin. 

"You Ambrose Doane?" the other said solemnly. 

"Everybody seems to know me, " said Ambrose. 

Alexander stared at him with a sullen, walled, speculative regard, exactly, Ambrose thought, like a schoolboy facing an irate master, andwondering where the blow will fall. 

To carry out this effect he was holding something inside his voluminousjacket, something that suggested contraband. 

"What have you got there?" demanded Ambrose. 

Without changing a muscle of his face, Alexander undid a button andproduced a gleaming black pelt. 

Ambrose gasped. It was a beautiful black fox. Such a prize does notcome a trader's way once in three seasons. The last black fox Minot &Doane had secured brought twelve hundred dollars in London--and it wasnot so fine a specimen as this. 

Lustrous, silky, black as anthracite; every hair in place, and not awhite hair showing except the tuft at the end of the brush. 

"Where did you get it?" Ambrose asked, amazed. 

"I trap him, me, myself, " said Alexander. 

"When?"

"Las' Februar'. "

"Are you offering it to me?" asked Ambrose, eying it desirously. 

"'Ow much?" demanded Alexander, affecting a wall-eyed indifference. 

Ambrose made a more careful examination. There was no doubt of it; theskin was perfect. He thrilled at the idea of returning with such aprize to his partner. He made a rapid calculation. 

"Five hundred and fifty cash, " he said. "Seven hundred fifty in trade. "

A spark showed in Alexander's eyes. 

"It is yours, " he said. 

"How can we make a trade?" asked Ambrose, perplexed. "John Gavillerwould never honor any order of mine. I have no goods here to give youin trade. "

"All right, " said Alexander imperturbably. "I go to Moultrie to getgoods. "

"You, too, " said Ambrose. "I can't import you all. "

"I got go Moultrie, me, " said Alexander. "I got trouble wit' Gaviller. He starve me and my children. They sick. "

"Starve you!"

"Gaviller say give no more debt till I bring him my black fox, "Alexander went on apathetically. "Give no flour, no sugar, no meat, notea. My brot'er feed us some. Gaviller say to him better not. So nowwe have nothing. We ongry. "

This promised difficulties. Ambrose frowned. "Tell me the wholestory, " he said. 

The little man was eying the grub-box wolfishly. Throwing back thecover, Ambrose offered him a cold bannock. 

"Here, " he said. "Eat and tell me. "

Alexander without a word turned and scrambled up the bank anddisappeared, clutching the loaf to his breast. The white man shoutedafter him without effect. He left the precious pelt behind him. 

Ambrose shrugged philosophically. "You never can tell. "

Presently Alexander came back, his seamy brown face as blank as ever. He vouchsafed no explanation. Ambrose affected not to notice him. Hehad long since found it to be the best way of getting what he wanted. The breed squatted on the stones, prepared to wait for thejudgment-day, it seemed. 

After a while he said with the wary, defiant look of a child beggar whoexpects to be refused, perhaps cuffed: "Give me 'not'er piece of bread. "

Ambrose without a word broke his remaining bannock in two and gave himhalf. Alexander bolted it with incredible rapidity and sat as before, waiting. 

Ambrose, wearying of this, dropped the pelt on his knees, saying: "Takeyour black fox. I cannot trade with you. "

It had the desired effect. Alexander arose and put the skin inside thetent. "It is yours, " he said. "Give me tobacco. "

Ambrose tossed him his pouch. 

When the little man got his pipe going, squatting on his heels asbefore, he told his tale. "Me spik Angleys no good, " he said, fingering his Adam's apple, as if the defect was there. "Las' winter Iver' poor. All tam moch sick in my stummick. I catch him fine blackfox. Wa! I say. I rich now. 

"I tak' him John Gaviller. Gaviller say: 'Three hunder twenty dollarin trade. ' Wa! That is not'in'. I am sick to hear it. Already I owethat debt on the book. Then I am mad. Gaviller t'ink for because Ipoor and sick I tak' little price. I t'ink no!

"So I tak' her home. The men they look at her. Wa! they say, she is_miwasan_--what you say, beauty? They say, don' give Gaviller thatblack fox, Sandy. He got pay more. So I keep her. Gaviller laugh. He say: 'You got give me that black fox soon. I not pay so moch insummer. '"

The apathetic way in which this was told affected Ambrose strongly. His face reddened with indignation. The story bore the hall-marks oftruth. 

Certainly the man's hunger was not feigned; likewise his eagerness toaccept the moderate price Ambrose had offered him was significant. Ambrose scowled in his perplexity. 

"Hanged if I know what to do for you!" he said. "I'll give you areceipt for the skin. I'll give you a little grub. Then you go homeand stay until I can arrange something. "

Alexander received this as if he had not heard it. 

"You hear, " said Ambrose. "Is that all right?"

"I got go Moultrie, " the little man said stolidly. 

"You can't!" cried Ambrose. 

Alexander merely sat like an image. 

This was highly exasperating to the white man. "You've got to go home, I tell you, " he cried. 

"I not go home, " the native said with strange apathy. "Gaviller killme now. "

"Nonsense!" cried Ambrose. "He has got to respect the law. "

Alexander was unmoved. "He not give me no grub, " he said. "I starvehere. "

This was unanswerable. Ambrose, divided between annoyance andcompassion, fumed in silence. He himself had only enough food for afew days. The breed wore him out with his stolidity. 

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked at last. 

"Give me little flour, " said Alexander. "I go to Moultrie. "

"What will you do with your family?"

"I tak' them. "

"How many?"

"My woman, my boy, my two girl, my baby. "

"Good Lord!" cried Ambrose. "Have you a boat?"

"_Non_! There is timber down the river. I mak' a raf, me. "

"It would take you two weeks to float down, " cried Ambrose. "I haveonly thirty pounds of flour. "

Alexander shrugged. "We ongry, anyway, " he said. "We lak be ongry onthe way. "

Ambrose swore savagely under his breath. This was nearly hopeless. Hestrode up and down, thrashing his brains for a solution. 

Alexander, squatting on his heels, waited apathetically for theverdict. He had shifted his burden to the white man. 

"Where is your family?" demanded Ambrose. 

Alexander looked over his shoulder and spoke a word in Cree. Instantlyfour heads appeared over the edge of the bank. Job barked once instartled and indignant protest, and went to Ambrose's heels. 

Ambrose could not forbear a start of laughter at the suddenness of theapparition. It was like the genii in a pantomime bobbing up throughthe trapdoors. 

"Come down, " he said. 

A distressful little procession faced him; they were gaunt, ragged, appallingly dirty, and terrified almost into a state of idiocy. Firstcame the mother, a travesty of womanhood, dehumanized except for hertragic, terrified eyes. 

A boy of sixteen followed her, ugly and misshapen as a gargoyle; hecarried the baby in a sling on his back. Two timorous little girlscame last. 

They lugged their pitiful belongings with them--a few rags of beddingand clothes, some traps and snowshoes, and cooking utensils. Thesmaller girl bore a holy picture in a gaudy frame. 

Ambrose's heart was wrung by the sight of so much misery. He stormedat Alexander. "Good God! What a state to get into. What's the matterwith you that you can't keep them better than that? You've no right tomarry and have children!"

Somehow they apprehended the compassion that animated his anger, andwere not afraid of him. They lined up before him, mutely bespeakinghis assistance. 

Their faith in his power to rescue them was implicit. That was whatmade it impossible for him to refuse. 

"Here, " he said roughly. "You'll have to take my dugout. I'll getanother from Grampierre. You can make Moultrie in six days in that ifyou work. That'll give you five pounds of flour a day--enough to keepyou alive. "

The word "dugout" galvanized Alexander into action. Without a glancein Ambrose's direction, he ran to the craft, and running it a littleway into the water rocked it from side to side to satisfy himself therewere no leaks. 

Turning to his family he spoke a command in Cree, and forthwith theybegan to pitch their bundles in. 

Ambrose was accustomed to the thanklessness of the humbler natives. They are like children, who look to the white man for everything, andtake what they can get as a matter of course. Still he was a littlenonplused by the excessive precipitation of this family. 

It occurred to him there was something more in their desperateeagerness to get away than Alexander's tale explained. But havinggiven his word, he could not take it back. 

From father down to babe their faces expressed such relief and hope hehad not the heart to rebuke them. Alexander came to him for the food, and he handed over all he had. 

"Wait!" he said. "I will give you a letter for Peter Minot. Lord!" heinwardly added. "Peter won't thank me for dumping this on him!"

On a leaf of his note-book he scribbled a few lines to his partnerexplaining the situation. 

"You understand, " he said to Alexander, "out of your credit for theblack fox, John Gaviller must be paid what you owe him. "

Alexander nodded indifferently, mad to get away. 

As Alexander's squaw was about to get in the dugout she paused on thestones and looked at Ambrose, her ugly, dark face working with emotion. Her eyes were as piteous as a wounded animal's. She flung up her handsin a gesture expressing her powerlessness to speak. 

It seemed there was some gratitude in the family. Moved by a suddenimpulse she caught up Ambrose's hand and pressed it passionately to herlips. The white man fell back astonished and abashed. Alexander paidno attention at all. 

In less than ten minutes after Ambrose had given them the dugout thedistressed family pushed off for a new land. Father and son paddled asif the devil were behind them. 

"I wonder if I done the right thing?" mused Ambrose. 

The Selkirks had not long disappeared down the river when Ambrosereceived another visitor. This was a surly native youth who, withoutgreeting, handed him a note, and rode back to the fort. Ambrose'sheart beat high as he examined the superscription. 

He did not need to be told who had written it. But he was not preparedfor the contents:

DEAR:

Come to me at once. Come directly to the house. I am in great trouble. 

COLINA. 

CHAPTER XII. 

GATHERING SHADOWS. 

Ambrose, hastening back to Gaviller's house with a heart full ofanxiety, came upon Gordon Strange as he rounded the corner of thecompany store. The breed was at the door. Evidently he harbored noresentment, for his face lighted up at the sight of an old friend. 

"Well!" he said. "So you came to see us. "

Ambrose felt the same unregenerate impulse to punch the smooth face. However, with more circumspection than upon the previous occasion, hereturned a civil answer. 

"Have you heard?" asked Strange, with an expression of serious concern. 

Ambrose reflected that Strange probably knew a message had been sent. 

"Heard what?" he asked non-committally. 

"Mr. Gaviller was taken sick last night. "

"What's the matter with him?" asked Ambrose quickly. 

Strange shrugged. "I do not know exactly. The doctor has not come outof the house since he was sent for. A stroke, I fancy. "

"I will go to the house and inquire, " said Ambrose. 

He proceeded, telling himself that Strange had not got any change outof him this time. He was relieved by the breed's news; he had fearedworse. 

To be sure, it was terribly hard on Colina, but on his own account hecould not feel much pain of mind over a sickness of Gaviller's. 

The half-breed girl who admitted him showed a scared yellow face. Evidently the case was a serious one. She ushered him into thelibrary. The aspect, the very smell of the little room, brought backthe scene of two days before and set Ambrose's heart to beating. 

Presently Colina came swiftly in, closing the door behind her. She wasvery pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She showed theunnatural self-possession that a brave woman forces on herself in thepresence of a great emergency. Her eyes were tragic. 

She came straight to his arms. She lowered her head and partly brokedown and wept a little. 

"Ah, it's so good to have some one to lean on!" she murmured. 

"Your father--what is the matter with him?" asked Ambrose. 

The look in her eyes and her piteous shaking warned him to expectsomething worse than the tale of an illness. 

She lifted her white face. 

"Father was shot last night, " she said. 

"Good God!" said Ambrose. "By whom?"

"We do not know. "

"He's not--he's not--" Ambrose's tongue balked at the dreadful word. 

She shook her head. "A dangerous wound, not necessarily fatal. Wecan't tell yet. "

"You have no idea who did it?"

Colina schooled herself to give him a coherent account. The sight ofher forced calmness, with those eyes, was inexpressibly painful toAmbrose. 

"No. He went out after dinner. He said he had to see a man. He didnot mention his name. He came back at dusk. I was on the veranda. Hewas walking as usual--perfectly straight. But one hand was pressed tohis side. 

"He passed me without speaking. I followed him in. In the passage hesaid: 'I am shot. Tell no one but Giddings. Then he collapsed in myarms. He has not spoken since. "

Ambrose heard this with mixed feelings. His heart bled for Colina. Yet the grim thought would not down that the tyrannous old trader hadreceived no more than his deserts. He soothed her with clumsytenderness. 

"Why do you want to keep it a secret?" he asked, after a while. 

"Father wished it, " said Colina. "We think he must have had a goodreason. The doctor thinks it is best. There has been a good deal oftrouble with the natives; many of them are ugly and rebellious. And wewhites are so few!

"Father could keep them in hand. They are in such awe of him; theyregard him as something almost more than mortal. If they learn that heis vulnerable--who knows what might happen!"

"I understand, " said Ambrose grimly. 

"So no one knows, not even the servants. I have hidden allthe--things. Of course, the man who did it will never tell. " The calmvoice suddenly broke in a cry of agony. "Oh, Ambrose!"

He comforted her mutely. 

"It is so dreadful to think that any one should hate him so!" said poorColina. "So unjust! They are like his children. He is severe withthem only for their good!"

Ambrose concealed a grim smile at this partial view of John Gaviller. 

"He lies there so white and still, " she went on. "It nearly breaks myheart to think how I have quarreled with him and gone against hiswishes. If waiting on him day and night will ever make it up to him, I'll do it!"

Ambrose's breast stirred a little with resentment, but he kept hismouth shut. He understood that it was good for Colina to unburden herbreast. 

"Ah, thank God I have you!" she murmured. 

They heard the doctor coming, and Colina drew away. She introduced thetwo men. 

"Mr. Doane is my friend, " she said. "He is one of us. "

The doctor favored Ambrose with a glance of astonishment before makinghis professional announcement. Ambrose saw the typical hanger-on of atrading-post, a white man of Gaviller's age, careless in dress, with ahumorous, intelligent face, showing the ravages of a weak will. Atpresent, with the sole responsibility of an important case on hisshoulders, he looked something like the man he was meant to be. 

It was no time for commonplaces. 

"John is conscious, " he said directly. "He is showing remarkableresistance. There is no need for any immediate alarm. He wants tomake a statement. I made the excuse of getting pencil and paper tocome down. In a matter of such importance I think there should beanother witness. "

"I will go, " said Colina. 

Giddings shook his head. "Your father expressly forbade it, " he said. "He wishes to spare you. "

Colina made an impatient gesture, but seemed to acquiesce. 

"You go, " she said to Ambrose. 

Giddings looked doubtful, but said nothing. 

"I'm afraid the sight of me--" Ambrose began. 

"I don't mean that you should go in, " said Colina. "If you stand inthe doorway he cannot see you the way he lies. "

Ambrose nodded and followed Giddings out. 

"What is the wound?" he asked. 

"Through the left lung. He will not die of the shot. I can't tell yetwhat may develop. "

Ambrose halted at the open door of Gaviller's room. The windows lookedout over the river, and the cooling northwest wind was wafted through. The hospital-like bareness of the room evinced a simple taste in theowner. The gimcracks he loved to make were all for the public roomsbelow. 

The head of the bed was toward the door. On the pillow Ambrose couldsee the gray head, a little bald on the crown. 

Giddings, after feeling his patient's pulse, sat down beside the bedwith pad and pencil. 

"I'm ready to take down what you say, " he said. 

The wounded man said in a weak but surprisingly clear voice:

"You understand this is not to be used unless the worst happens to me. "

Giddings nodded. 

"You must give me your word that no proceedings will be taken againstthe man I name--unless I die. I will not die. When I get up I willattend to him. "

"I promise, " said Giddings. 

After a brief pause Gaviller said:

"I was shot by the breed known as Sandy Selkirk. "

Ambrose sharply caught his breath. A great light broke upon him. 

Gaviller went on:

"He caught a black fox last winter that he has persistently refused togive up to me. Out of sheer obstinacy he preferred to starve hisfamily. Yesterday Strange told me he thought it likely Selkirk wouldtry to dispose of the skin to Ambrose Doane, the free-trader who ishanging around the fort. "

Giddings sent a startled glance toward the door. 

"Strange said perhaps news of it had been carried down the river, andthat was what Doane had come for. So I went to Selkirk's shack lastnight to get it. I consider it mine, because Selkirk already owes thecompany its value. Any attempt to dispose of it elsewhere would be thesame as robbing me. 

"Selkirk refused to give it up, and I took it. He shot me from behind. There were no witnesses but his family. That is all I want to say. "

"I have it, " murmured Giddings. 

The gray head rolled impatiently on the pillow. "Giddings, don't letthat skin get away. I rely on you. Be firm. Be secret. "

"I'll do my best, " said the doctor. 

He came to the door, ostensibly to close it, showing a scared face. "Ididn't know what was coming, " his lips shaped. 

Ambrose nodded to him reassuringly, meaning to convey that nothing hehad heard would influence his actions. 

Giddings closed the door, and Ambrose returned down-stairs with a heartthat sunk lower at each step. What he had at first regarded calmlyenough as Gaviller's tragedy he now clearly saw was likely to provetragic for himself. 

It was useless to try to put Colina off. 

"I must know!" she cried passionately. "I'm the head here now. I mustknow where we all stand. "

Ambrose told her. To save her feelings he instinctively softened theharsher features. It did not do his own cause any good later. 

"Oh, the wretch!" breathed Colina between set teeth. "I know him! Asneaking little scoundrel! Just the one to shoot from behind! Tothink we must let him go! That is the hardest. "

Ambrose was silent. 

"We must get the skin, " she went on eagerly. "Giddings can't handlethe natives. You do that for me. "

"It is too late, " said Ambrose grimly. "He is gone with it. "

"Gone?" she exclaimed, with raised eyebrows. "How do you know?"

"He came to my camp at dawn, " said Ambrose. Honesty compelling him, headded with a touch of defiance; "I gave him my dugout. "

Colina shrank from him. 

"You helped him get away!" she cried. 

"I didn't know what had happened, " he said indignantly. 

"Of course not!" said Colina, with quick penitence. 

But she did not return to him. Presently the frown came back; shebegan to breathe quickly. "You saw the skin; you must have talked withhim. You took his part against father!"

Ambrose had nothing to say. He could have groaned aloud in hishelplessness to avert the catastrophe that he saw coming. 

It was as if a horrible, black-shrouded shape had stepped between himand Colina. 

She, too, was aware of it. For an age-long moment they stared at eachother with a kind of chilled terror. 

Neither dared speak of what both were thinking. 

At last Colina tried to wave the hideous fantom away. 

"Ah, we mustn't quarrel now!" she said tremulously. "Couldn't the manbe overtaken and the skin recovered?"

"Possibly, " admitted Ambrose. "I wouldn't advise it. "

Colina, freshly affronted, struggled with her anger. 

"Let me explain, " said Ambrose. "I agreed to take the skin from him, but on the understanding that out of the price Mr. Gaviller must bepaid every cent of what was owing him. " His reasonable air suddenlyfailed him. "Colina, " he burst out imploringly, "it was worth morethan double what your father offered! That was the trouble! What is askin to us? I pledge myself to transmit whatever price it brings toyour father. Won't that do?"

"Don't say anything more about it, " said Colina painfully. "You'reright; we mustn't quarrel about a thing like that. "

A wretched constraint fell upon them. For the moment the catastrophehad been averted, but both felt it was only for the moment. 

They had nothing to say to each other. 

Finally Colina moved toward the door. 

"I must see if anything is wanted up-stairs, " she murmured. "Wait herefor me. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE QUARREL. 

When Colina returned she said immediately: "Ambrose, can you stay atFort Enterprise a little while longer?"

His heart leaped up. "As long as I can help you!" he cried. 

They looked at each other wistfully. They wanted so much to befriends--but the black shape was still there in the room. 

"I'd be glad to have you stay here in the house, " said Colina. 

Ambrose shook his head. "I'd much better stay in camp. "

She acquiesced. "There are three white men here, " she went on, "Giddings, Macfarlane the policeman, and Mr. Pringle the missionary. Each is all right in his way, but--"

"They're all in love with you, " suggested Ambrose. 

She smiled faintly. "How did you know?"

Ambrose shrugged. "Deduced it. "

"You see I cannot take any of them into my confidence. "

"Colina!" he said. "If you would only let me--"

"Ah, I want to!" she returned. "If only, only you will not abusehim--wounded and helpless as he is!"

Here was the black shape again. 

"I suppose Gordon Strange will run the business, " said Ambrose. 

"Naturally, " said Colina. "He knows everything about it. "

"If you want my advice, " Ambrose said diffidently, "do not trust himtoo far. "

She looked at him in astonishment. "Mr. Strange is almost like one ofthe family. He's been father's right-hand man for years and years. Father says he's the best servant the company possesses. "

"That may be, " said Ambrose doggedly, "but a good servant makes a badmaster. After all, he is not one of us. If you value my advice at allyou will never let him know he is running things. "

"How can I help it? I haven't told him yet what has happened; but Dr. Giddings and I agreed that he must be told. He never mixes with thenatives. "

"Of course he must know your father was wounded, but he needn't be toldhow seriously. If I were you I would make him inform me of everydetail of the business on the pretext of repeating it to your father. And I would issue orders to him as if they came from your father's bed. "

"How can I?" said Colina. "I know nothing of the business. "

"I can help you, " said Ambrose--"if you want me to. I know it. "

"But, Ambrose, " she objected, "what reason have you to feel so stronglyagainst Mr. Strange?"

"No reason, " he said; "only an instinct. I believe he's a crook. "

"Father relies on him absolutely. "

"Maybe his influence with your father was sometimes unfortunate. "

Colina's eyebrows went up. "Influence! Father would hardly allow hisjudgment to be swayed by a breed. "

"You're a woman, " said Ambrose earnestly. "You should not despisethese feelings that we have sometimes and cannot give a reason for. Isaw Strange on my way here. I exchanged only half a dozen words withhim, yet I am as sure as I can be that he was glad of the accident toyour father and hopes to profit by it somehow. "

Colina was still incredulous. 

"Look what he wrote me this morning!" she cried. "It sounds sogenuine. "

She handed him a note from the desk. He read:

DEAR MISS COLINA:

They are saying that your father has been taken ill; that the doctorhas been with him all night. I am more distressed than I can tell you. You know what he is to me! Do send me some word. He was so cheerfuland well yesterday that I cannot believe it can be serious. Nativegossip always magnifies everything. 

If it is all right to speak to him about business, will you remind himthat a deputation from the farmers is due at the store this morning toreceive his final answer as to the price of wheat this year. As far asI know his intention is to offer one-fifty a bushel, but something mayhave come up to cause him to change his mind. Unless he is very ill, Iwould rather not take this responsibility upon myself. 

Do let me have word from you. 

G. S. 

"Anybody can write letters, " said Ambrose. "It sounds to me as if hewas just trying to find out how bad your father is. He could easilyput the farmers off. "

"I can't believe he's as bad as you say, " said Colina gravely. "Why, he was here long before I was born. But I will be prudent. With yourhelp I'll try to run things myself. "

Ambrose sent her a grateful glance--shot with apprehension. He dreadedwhat was still to come. 

"This question of the price of the wheat, " Colina went on; "we have togive him an answer or confess father is very ill. "

Ambrose nodded gloomily. 

"Fortunately that is easy, " she continued; "for he spoke about it atdinner last night. He means to pay one-fifty. " She moved toward thedesk. "I'll send a note over at once. "

The critical moment had arrived--even more swiftly than he feared. Hecould not think clearly, for the pain he felt. 

"Ah, Colina, I love you!" he cried involuntarily. 

She paused and smiled over her shoulder. 

"I know, " she said, surprised and gentle. "That's why you're here. "

"I've got to advise you honestly, " he cried, "no matter what trouble itmakes. "

"Of course, " she said. "What's the matter, Ambrose?"

"You should offer them one-seventy-five for their wheat. "

The eyebrows went up again. "Why?"

"It's only fair. Two dollars would be fairer. "

"But father said one-fifty. "

"Your father is wrong in this instance. "

Colina frowned ominously. 

"How do you know?" she demanded. 

"I know the price of flour at the different posts, " he saiddeprecatingly. "I know the risks that must be allowed for and the fairprofit one expects. "

"Do you mean to say that father is unfair?" she cried. 

He was silent. An unlucky word had betrayed him. He could have bittenhis tongue. Still, he reflected sullenly, it was bound to come. Youcan't make black white, however tenderly you describe it. 

Colina sprang to her feet. 

"Unfair!" she cried. "That is to say a cheat! You can say it while heis lying up-stairs desperately wounded!"

"Colina, be reasonable, " he implored. "The fact that he is sufferingcan't make a wrong right. "

"There is no wrong!" she cried. "What do you know about conditionshere?"

"They come to my camp, " he said simply, "one after another to beg me tohelp them. "

"And you were not above it, " she flashed back, "murderers and others!"

An honest anger fired Ambrose's eyes. "You're talking wildly, " he saidsternly. "I'm trying to help you. "

Colina laughed. 

With a great effort he commanded his temper, "What do you see yourselfin your rides about the settlement?" he asked. "Poverty andwretchedness! How do you explain it when times are good--when this isknown as the richest post in the north?"

Colina would have none of his reasoning. "These are just the dangerousideas my father warned me against!" she cried passionately. "This ishow you make the natives discontented and unruly!"

"You will not listen to me!" he cried in despair. 

"Listen to you! I see him lying there--helpless. I am sick withcompassion for him and with hatred against the creatures who did it. And you dare to attack him, to excuse them! I will not endure it!"

"I am not attacking him. Right or wrong, he has brought about adisastrous situation. He's the first to suffer. We're all standing onthe edge of a volcano. We are five whites here, and three hundredmiles from the nearest of our kind. If we want to save him and saveourselves we've got to face the facts. "

Of this Colina heard one sentence. "Do you mean, to say that fatherbrought this on himself?" she demanded, breathlessly angry. 

Ambrose made a helpless gesture. 

"I am to understand that you justify the breed?" she persisted. 

"You have no right to put words into my mouth!"

Colina repeated like an automaton. "Do you think the breed wasjustified in shooting my father?"

"I will not answer. "

"You've got to answer--before you and I go any farther!"

"Colina, think what you're doing!" he cried. "We must not quarrel. "

"I'm not quarreling, " she said with an odd, flinty quietness. "I'mtrying to find out something necessary for me to know. You might aswell answer. Do you think the breed was justified in shooting myfather?"

Ambrose, baited beyond endurance, cried: "I do! He went into the man'shouse and laid hands on his property. Even a breed has rights. "

Colina bowed her head as if in polite acceptance. "You had better go, "she said in soft tones more terrible than a cry. "I am sorry I eversaw you!"

The bitterness of lovers' quarrels is in ratio with their passion foreach other. These two loved with complete abandon, consequently eachcould wound the other maddeningly. 

But the plant of their love, vigorous as it was, was not rooted in oldacquaintance. When the top withered under the blasts of anger therewas no store of life below. Now each was secretly terrified by thestrangeness of the being to whom he had yielded his soul. 

Ambrose, wild with pain, no longer recked what he said. "You make aman mad!" he cried. "You will not listen to reason. A thing must beso just because you want it that way. I rack my brains for words tosave your feelings, and this is what I get! Very well, you shall havethe bald truth. "

"Leave the house!" cried Colina. 

"Not until I have spoken out!"

She clapped her hands over her ears. 

"That is childish!" he said scornfully. "You can hear me! Throughoutthe whole north your father is called the slave-driver!"

Colina faced him still and white. This was the very incandescence ofanger. "Go!" she said. "I'm done with you!"

"One thing more, " he said doggedly. "The price of wheat. I shouldn'thave said anything about justice. Putting that aside, it will be goodbusiness for you to pay the farmers their price. Otherwise you'll havered rebellion on your hands!"

As Ambrose made for the door he met Gordon Strange coming in. 

"Wait!" Colina commanded. "I want you to hear this. "

It was impossible to tell from her set face what she meant to do, Ambrose waited, hoping against hope. 

"You want to know about the wheat?" said Colina. 

"First, your father, " said Strange, anxious and compassionate. 

"He is not dangerously ill, " said Colina. 

"Ah!" said Strange. "Yes, the farmers are waiting. "

Colina said clearly: "The price is to be one-fifty per bushel. "

"That's what I thought, " said Strange. "I will tell them. " He went. 

"Ah, Colina!" cried Ambrose brokenly. 

She left the room slowly, as if he had not been there. 

Ambrose could not have told how he got out of the house. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

SIMON GRAMPIERRE. 

Ambrose lay in his tent with his head hidden in his arms, trying not tothink. Job licked his hand unheeded. A hail from the river forced himto rouse himself. As he crawled out he instinctively cast a glance atthe sun. It was mid-afternoon. 

Tole Grampierre landed on the stones. "You are seeck!" he exclaimed, seeing Ambrose's face. 

Though life loses all its savor, it must be carried on with a good air. "_Mal de tête_!" said Ambrose, making light of it. "It will soon pass. "

Tole accepted the explanation. He told Ambrose that he had come thatmorning and found him gone. He had come back to tell him what thewhite man already knew--that, though Gaviller had been laid low by amysterious stroke, he had sent word from his sick-bed that he would payno more than one-fifty for wheat. 

"The men are moch mad, " Tole went on in his matter-of-fact way. "Theynot listen to my fat'er no more. Say he too old. All come to meet toour house to-night. There will be trouble. My fat'er send me for you. He say maybe you can stop the trouble. "

"I stop it?" said Ambrose, laughing harshly. "What the devil can I do?"

Tole shrugged. "My fat'er say nobody but you can stop it. "

It was clear to Ambrose that "trouble" signified danger to Colina. "I'll come, " he said apathetically. 

"Where is your dugout?" asked Tole. 

Ambrose explained. 

"Bring all your things, " said Tole. "You stay at our house now tillyou go back. My mot'er got good medicine. She cure _mal de tête_. "

Ambrose reflected bitterly that Mrs. Grampierre's simples could hardlyreach his complaint. Nevertheless, he was not anxious to be leftalone--he was not one to nourish a sorrow. He packed up what remainedof his outfit, and Tole stowed it in the dugout. 

The Grampierre house was a mile and a half above the Company'sestablishment on the other side of the river. The two young men had, therefore, a three-mile paddle against the current. 

Landing, Ambrose saw before him a low, wide-spreading house built ofsquared logs and whitewashed. Ample barns and outhouses spread arounda rough square. The whole picture brought to mind a manor-house ofearlier and simpler times. 

The patriarch himself waited at the door. He was a fine figure ofmanhood--lean, straight, rugged as a jack-pine. He had the nobleaquiline features of the red side of the house, and his dark face waswonderfully set off by a luxuriant, snowy thatch. 

Ambrose, indifferent as he was, could not but be struck by the oldman's beauty, and his dignity was equal to his good looks. YoungTole's naïve pride in his parent was explained. 

Ambrose was introduced to a wide interior of a dignified bareness. This was the main room of the house; the kitchen they called it, thoughthe cooking was done outside. 

It was spotlessly clean; none too common a thing in the north. Clearlythese people had their pride. 

Still Ambrose was reminded of the difference between white and red, forthe women of the house were ignored, and when later he sat down to supwith Simon and his five strong sons the wives waited humbly on thetable. 

Afterward the men sat before the door, smoking. Simon kept Ambrose athis right hand, and conversed with him as with an honored guest. Heavoided all reference to what had brought him. 

When Ambrose, not understanding the reason for his delicacy, askedabout the coming meeting, Simon said:

"When all come you learn what every man thinks. I not want to shapeyour mind to my mind until all are here. "

They came by ones and twos, a little company of twenty-odd. Manyanomalies of race were exhibited. Some showed a Scotch cast offeature, some French, some purely Indian. 

One or two might have been taken for white men had it not been for anodd cast of the eye. Yet it might happen the Indian and the white manwere full brothers. The general character of the faces was stolidrather than passionate. 

There was little talk. 

The room having been cleared, they went inside. The women haddisappeared. Simon Grampierre sat at an end of the room, with Ambroseat his right, and his sons ranged about him. The other men faced themfrom the body of the room. 

There were not chairs for all, but indeed chairs suggested church, thetrader's house, and other places of ceremony; and those without, squatting on their heels around the walls, were the happier. 

Talk was slow to start. They kept their hats on and stolidly lookeddown their noses. When it began to grow dark a single little lamp wasbrought in and stood upon a dresser in the corner. 

The wide room with its one spot of light and all the still, shadowyfigures conveyed an effect of grimness. 

Simon Grampierre opened the meeting. Out of courtesy to Ambrose allthe talk was in English. 

"Men!" said the patriarch. "John Gaviller send word that he will payonly one-fifty a bushel for our grain. We meet to talk and decide whatto do. All must agree. In agreement there is strength. 

"Already there has been much talk about our grain. I will waste nowords now. For myself and my sons I pledge that we will not sell onebushel of grain less than dollar-seventy-five. What do the others say?"

One by one the men arose and repeated the pledge, each raising hisright hand. Ambrose began to be aware that the stolidity masked a highemotional tension. It was his own presence that restrained them. 

Simon rose again. "I have heard talk that you will spoil your grain, "he said. "Some say let the cattle and horses in the field while it isgreen. Some say burn it when it gets ripe. That is foolish talk. 

"Grain is as good as money or as fur. A man does not feed money tocattle nor burn up fur. I say cut your grain and thrash it and storeit. Some one will buy it. 

"Gaviller himself got to buy when he see we mean to stand together. Hehas made contracts to send flour to the far north. Who wants to speak?"

A little man of marked French characteristics sprang to his feet. Hiseyes flashed. "I speak!" he cried. 

"This Jean Bateese Gagnon, " explained Simon to Ambrose. 

"Simon Grampierre say wait!" cried the little man passionately. "Always he say, 'Wait, wait, wait!' All right for Simon Grampierre towait. He got plenty beef and potatoes and goods in his house. He canwait. 

"What will a poor man do while he wait? What will I do--starve, andsee my children starve? If we not sell grain we get no credit at thestore. Where I get warm clothes for the winter and meat and sugar andpowder for my gun?

"What do we wait for, _un miracle_? Do we wait for Gaviller's heart tosoften? We wait a long tam for that I fink, me! While we wait I thinkGaviller get busy. He say he come and cut our grain. Will we wait andlet him?"

The old man interrupted here: "If Gaviller put his men on our land wefight, " he said. 

"Aha!" cried Jean Bateese. "He will not wait then. You say let us cutour grain and store it and wait for one to buy, " he went on. "Whatwill Gaviller do? I tell you. He will go to law! It is not the firsttime. He mak' the law to serve him. 

"We all owe him for goods. He will send out and get law papers to saybecause we owe him money for goods our grain is his grain. If he gotlaw-papers the police come and take our grain for him. Wat you say tot'at, hein?"

Old Simon was plainly disconcerted. He turned to Ambrose. "Will youspeak?"

Ambrose's heart sank. How is a dead man to sway passionate, livingmen? However, he rose with the best assurance he could muster. 

"I have only one thing to say, " he began, conscious of the feeblenessof his words. "John Gaviller is a sick man. I have seen the doctor. You cannot fight a sick man. I say do not accept his price--do notrefuse it. The grain is not ripe yet. Wait till he is well. "

A murmur of dissent went around the room. Ambrose being a stranger, there was a note of politeness in it. 

Jean Bateese sprang to his feet again. "Ambrose Doane say wait!" hesaid. "He is good man. We lak him. But me, I am sick of waiting!

"To-day we hear John Gaviller is sick. All are sorry. All forget wehave trouble wit' him. We wait to hear how he is. Wa! he say to usright out of his bed dollar-fifty or starve! Why should we wait tillhe get well? He does not wait!"

Another man, a burly, purple-cheeked son of earth, took up the harangueat the point where Jean Bateese dropped it. This was Jack Mackenzie, Simon said. 

"Me, I am sick of waiting, too!" he cried. "Always we wait, and JohnGaviller do what he like! Why he put down the price of grain? Why hedo everything? It is to keep us in his debt. We can work till ourbacks break, but he fix it so we are still in debt. 

"Because we can do not'ing when we are in his debt. We are his slaves!We got to break our slave chains. It is time to act. Now I say outloud what all are whispering: let us burn the store!"

Thirty men took a sharp breath between their teeth. There was a littlesilence; then quick cries of approval broke out. The meeting was withthe speaker. 

Ambrose, thinking of Colina, turned a little sick with apprehension. Simon rose to still the noise, but Mackenzie held the floor. 

"I know w'at Simon Grampierre goin' to say!" he cried, pointing. "Hegoin' to say if you break the law you fix yourselves. They send manypolice and put you all in jail. Simon Grampierre got good property. He not want lose it. 

"Me, I say all right! I go to jail. There is a trial. Everything gotcome out. John Gaviller he cannot make slaves after that. I say letthem send me to jail. My children will be free!"

The meeting went wild at this. Simon had lost control. Even his ownsons, as could be read in their faces, sympathized with the speakers. The old man betrayed nothing in his face. He stood like a rock untilhe could get a hearing. 

"Jack Mackenzie say I rich, " he said proudly. "Say I think of myproperty first. I now say whatever we do, we do together. We willdecide by vote. If you vote to burn the store I will put the fire toit myself!"

They cheered him to the echo. Some cried: "Burn the store!" Somecried: "Vote!" By this move Simon captured their attention again. Heheld up a hand for silence. 

"Wait!" he said. "I have a little more to say. Jack Mackenzie say wegot to break our chains. Those are true words! But how? If we burnthe store we only rivet them tighter. 

"Gaviller will cry these are bad men and lawbreakers. These are_incendiaries_! It is a word the white men hate. They will say dowhat you like to the incendiaries. They deserve no better. "

The strange word intimidated them. But a voice cried defiantly: "Mustwe wait some more?" And their cries threatened to down the old man. 

"No!" he cried in a voice that silenced them. "Here is Ambrose Doane!"He paused for dramatic effect. 

"I ask Ambrose Doane to our meeting to talk with us. I now say tohim"--he turned to Ambrose--"you have heard these men. They are somuch wronged they cannot see the right. They are so mad they don'tknow what they do. 

"I ask, Ambrose Doane, will you save them from their madness? Will youhelp us break our chains? _Buy our grain_?"

CHAPTER XV. 

THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. 

An absolute silence followed Simon Grampierre's unexpected words. Theastute old man had withheld his proposal until the psychologicalmoment. Ambrose was a little dazed by it. He rose, feeling everyeager eye upon him, and said slowly:

"I must have a little time to consider. I must talk with SimonGrampierre. I will give him my answer before morning. "

Simon said to the company: "Men, will you sell your wheat to AmbroseDoane at a dollar-seventy-five?"

The question broke the spell of silence. There could be no mistakethat the proposal was successful. A chorus of acclamations filled theroom. 

"Very good!" said Simon. "I will talk with Ambrose Doane and try tomake him trade with us. "

The meeting broke up. It was then a little after nine. 

Simon and Ambrose went apart to a bench on the river bank. There wereinnumerable questions to be asked and answered. Simon estimated thatthe grain in question, provided they had no frost, would amount totwenty thousand bushels of wheat, and half as much oats. It was amomentous decision for a youth like Ambrose to be called upon to make. 

The greatest difficulty was how to grind the wheat. 

"You have an engine here?" asked Ambrose. 

"Yes, for our thrashing-machine, " said Simon. 

"I could order a small process mill from outside, " said Ambrose, "butit's doubtful if we could get it in this year. "

"I have a hand mill, " said Simon. "We call her the mankiller. Workall day, grind a couple bags of flour. It is very old. "

"Could it be rigged to the engine?" Ambrose asked. 

"Wa! I never think of that, " said Simon. "Maybe grind four bags aday, then. "

Ambrose had no intention of giving an answer until he had communicatedwith Colina. Strongly against Simon's advice, he insisted thatGaviller, as he said, must be given one more chance to relent. Simonunwillingly yielded. At ten o'clock Ambrose and Tole started down theriver in a dugout. 

Ambrose did not mean to seek the interview with Colina. Beforestarting he scribbled a hasty note. 

DEAR COLINA:

The farmers have asked me to buy their grain. I've got to do it unlessyou will pay their price. It's not much good to say it now, but I'dsooner cut off my hand than seem to be fighting you. 

I can't help myself. You won't believe it, but it's a fact just thesame, if you won't pay their price I must, in order to save you. Ifyou will agree to pay them one-seventy-five, I'll go back to Moultrieto-morrow, and never trouble you again. AMBROSE. 

Landing below Gaviller's house Ambrose sent Tole up the bank with this. In a surprisingly short time he saw the half-breed returning. 

"Did you see her?" he demanded. 

"Yes, " said Tole. 

"Did she send an answer back?"

"Only this. "

Ambrose held out his hand, and Tole dropped the torn fragments of hisown letter into it. Ambrose stared at them stupidly. He had steeledhimself against a possible humiliation at her hands--but to behumiliated before the half-breed!

He drew a long breath to steady himself, and opening his hand, let thefragments float away on the current. 

"Let us go back, " he said quietly. 

During the whole of the way he did not speak. 

Grampierre was waiting for them in the big kitchen. 

"I will now give you my answer, " said Ambrose. 

"Well?" said the old man eagerly. 

"It is only a partial answer. I agree to purchase enough of your grainat one-seventy-five to see you all through the winter; and I agree tobring a stock of goods here to supply your necessities. "

Simon warmly grasped his hand. "It is well!" he cried. "I expected nomore. "

"I will return to Moultrie to-morrow, " Ambrose went on in his dull, quiet way. "I will consult with my partner, and if we can finance it, we will buy all your grain. "

"Tole shall go with you, " said Simon. "You can send him back to mewith a letter. "

Ambrose went to bed, and slept without dreaming. Nature is merciful. After a certain point of suffering has been passed, she administers ananesthetic. 

Next morning Ambrose transacted his business with Simon, and preparedfor the journey, to all appearances his usual matter-of-fact self. 

Only Job perceived the subtle change in his master. The faithful browneyes continually sought Ambrose's face, and the ridiculous curly tailwas agitated in vain to induce a smile. 

On the afternoon of the sixth day following, Ambrose and Tole landed atMoultrie. Nothing was changed there. The sight of Peter's honest redface was like balm to Ambrose's sore heart. 

Seeing Ambrose, the remnants of Peter's anger evaporated like mist inthe sun. He clapped his young partner on the back until the other'slungs rang. 

Peter's blue eyes beamed with honest gladness, meanwhile he utteredloud abuse in his own style. 

"So you're back, damn you! You ornery little whipper-snapper! Tosneak off from working like a breed after you feed him! I was hopingI'd never lay eyes on you again. But here you are to plague me!"

Ambrose smiled sheepishly, and gripped his hand. 

Peter sent Tole off to Eva to be fed, while he went with Ambrose to thelatter's little shack. Ambrose looked around his own place curiously. It was like another man's house now. He had lost the old self who usedto live here. 

"What's happened to you?" asked Peter with an offhand air. 

"Why do you ask?" said Ambrose quickly. He hated to think it was allwritten in his face. 

"You look older, " said Peter. "I don't see you grinning so much. "

Ambrose immediately grinned--after a fashion. "I've got a lot to tellyou, " he said. "We'll talk after supper. "

Half the night they talked. Ambrose laid his proposal before Peter inanxious trepidation. Peter earned the young man's lifelong gratitudeby the promptness and heartiness of his response. 

"You did right!" he cried with another clap on the back. "It will be afine adventure! We'll go into Fort Enterprise and make a killing!We'll buy all the grain in sight!"

"It's a big weight to swing, " murmured Ambrose. 

"Sure!" cried Peter. "But no man would refuse it. What if it doesbreak us? We're young. And we'll have a grand run for our money. "

The excess of Ambrose's relief unnerved him a little. "Peter, you're aman!" he murmured brokenly. "I was near crazy, wondering if you'dstand by me!"

"Hey, cut it out!" cried Peter. "Buck up! We got work to do to-night!"

Throughout the hours of darkness they counted up their resources, decided as to the friends they could call on for assistance, andplanned ways and means. 

There was not a day to be lost, and it was first of all decided thatAmbrose must start for the outside world next morning. Once started hewould be out of touch with his partner for good, therefore everyquestion had to be discussed that night, and there were a hundred. 

Ambrose was astonished by Peter's pluck and dash in business affairs. Like many another junior partner he had been accustomed to patronizehis elder a little. 

"I'll stand by you to the limit, " Peter had said. "But this is yourput. You must do everything yourself. "

Therefore, after the details had been arranged, it fell to Ambrose tocompose the letter to Simon Grampierre. It was the longest letter hehad ever written. 

Tole and I arrived yesterday after a quick trip. I have talked with mypartner. We agree to purchase all the grain grown around FortEnterprise this season at one-seventy-five per bushel. 

We will load up a york boat immediately with a small load of suppliesfor present use. Tole will steer it up the river. He will take thisletter to you. It may take four or five days to get a crew. 

(Here followed an inventory of the goods they had decided to send. )

We appoint you our agent to distribute these goods. I will send you abook in which to put down all the charges. Let the crew of the yorkboat have two dug-outs to return home in, and keep the york boat atyour place to send down grain and flour later. 

I have missed the steamboat on her first trip out. I will start to-dayby canoe with an Indian. It will take me ten days to cross the lakeand go up the Miwasa to the landing and so to town. 

I will order a full outfit in town, and bring it in immediately by wayof Caribou Lake, and down stream to you. I will bring a little processmill if I can get one. If I have no trouble you will see me about thefirst of September. Anyway I will be in before the ice begins to run. 

Coming back I will have no trouble going up the Miwasa or Musquasepi oracross Caribou Lake, because Martin Sellers has steamboats there, andhe is independent and friendly to us. They can't stop me on the SpiritRiver either, because I can build a raft and bring my stuff down. 

Where they will try to get me is on the portage between Caribou Lakeand the Spirit. They will try to tie up the teams. On my way out Iwill see Martin Sellers about it. He has power. 

As soon as the grain is begun to be thrashed start the mankiller goingto try and get a little ahead with the flour. 

Send Tole and another good man in a dugout up to the crossing to meetme. Let them start August 8. 

I am sending by Tole two bottles of Madeira wine. Send it to the sickman at the fort without letting him know it comes from me. Foryourself Peter Minot sends a box of cigars with his compliments. 

If I think of anything else I'll write at the landing and send it in bythe August mail. My regards to the boys. 

Yours truly, AMBROSE DOANE. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

COLINA COMMANDS. 

On August 25, well within his schedule, Ambrose arrived at Spirit RiverCrossing with ten loaded wagons. 

For six long days they had been floundering through the bottomlessmudholes of the portage trail and men and horses were alike played out;but the rest of the way to come was easy, and Ambrose paid off hisdrivers with a light heart. 

The york boat and crew he had engaged at the crossing werenon-existent, and no explanation forthcoming. He had met with similarsmall reverses all along the line. This one was not important; itmeant three days delay to build a raft. 

There was a current of nearly four miles an hour to carry him to hisdestination, and no rapids in the three hundred miles to endanger hiscargo. 

Tole Grampierre and his brother Germain were waiting for Ambrose. Withtwo such aides he could afford to smile at the mysterious scarcity oflabor which developed on his arrival. 

Tole's budget of news from down the river contained nothing startling. John Gaviller had been very sick all summer with pneumonia as a resultof his wound. He was getting better: "pale and skinny as an old rabbitin the snow, " in Tole's words. 

Gaviller had sent up the launch to get what grain had been grown at thecrossing; but it was not enough to fill his contracts for flour upnorth. He had been obliged to pay two dollars a bushel for it. Ambrose smiled at this piece of information. 

Ambrose waited eagerly for some word of her who was seldom out of histhoughts, but to Tole the matter was not of such great importance. Ambrose could not bring himself to name her name. Not until Tole hadcovered everything else did he say casually:

"Colina Gaviller rides all around on her yellow horse. She is proudnow. Never speaks to the people. "

That was all. Ambrose's heart stirred with compassion for the one, whoby her loyalty was forced to embrace the wrong cause. 

Another time Tole remarked: "Gordon Strange run the store all summer. "

"So!" said Ambrose. "What do the people say about him? What does yourfather say?"

Tole shrugged. "He say not'ing, " he said cautiously. He could not beinduced to commit himself further in this direction. 

They built their raft, and loading up, started without untowardincident. Traveling day and night, allowing for stoppages and delays, they expected to be nearly five days on the way. 

On the third day, Ambrose chafing at their slow progress, put thedugout overboard, and set off ahead to warn the settlement of theircoming. He had no hesitation leaving the raft with the Grampierreboys; they could handle it better than himself. 

He paddled all day, and at night cut down a tree so that it would fallin the water, and tied his canoe to it, that he might not be blownashore while he slept. 

For hours he lay waiting for sleep, watching the stars circle round hishead as his canoe was swung in the eddies, and considering hissituation. 

He could not rest for his eagerness to be at the end of his journey, though he had no hope of what awaited there--that is to say not muchhope; there is always a perhaps. 

But how could Colina relent when she beheld him arriving laden withammunition to make war upon her? Ambrose wondered sadly if any loverbefore him ever found himself in such a plight. 

By ten o'clock next morning he was within a mile or two of Grampierre'splace. The river was dazzling in the morning sunlight, the air likewine. 

The poplar trees had put on their gorgeous autumn dress of saffron andscarlet, which showed like names against the chocolate colored hills. Suddenly in a grassy ravine on his right, Ambrose saw the "yellow"horse feeding. 

His heart set up a furious beating. No power on earth could haveprevented him from landing, though common sense told him clearly nogood could come of it. That "perhaps" drew him ashore, that hopeagainst hope. 

After a short search he found her sleeping under a poplar-tree in ahollow of the bank that was hidden from the river. 

She wore her khaki riding-habit, as usual; her head was couched in thecrook of her arm, and in the other hand she held her Stetson hat by itsstrap. Ambrose brooded over her wistfully. 

Her face was paler and thinner; evidently she herself had not beenhaving too easy a time these two months past. 

These blemishes on her beauty made her seem infinitely more beautifuland dearer to him. And all relaxed and disarmed in sleep as she was, it seemed so easy a thing to gather her up in his arms and make herforget what divided them. 

Ambrose's dim thought was: "If somehow I could only send her real selfa message while her head-strong, unreasonable self is asleep, maybeshe'd confess the truth when she woke. "

While he was hungrily gazing at her her eyelids fluttered. He movedback to a more respectful distance. She awoke without alarm. For aninstant she lay looking at him as calmly as a babe in its crib. 

Then in a flash recollection returned, and she sprang to a sittingposition, both hands, womanlike, flying to her hair. She eyed him witha certain discomposure. It was as if she felt that she ought to befuriously angry, and was somewhat dismayed because it did not come. 

"What do you want?" she asked coldly. 

In her cold eye Ambrose was conscious of a wall between them moreimpenetrable than granite. His heart gave up hope. "Nothing, " he saidsullenly. 

"It's not exactly agreeable, " she said, frowning, "to find oneselfspied upon. "

Ambrose started and frowned. This construction of his act had notoccurred to him. "I saw Ginger from the river, " he said indignantly. "I landed to find you. "

"What did you want?" she asked coolly. 

"I don't know, " said Ambrose. 

There was a silence between them. Her cold look told him to go. Prideand common sense both urged him to obey--but he could not. He was likea bit of iron filing in the presence of a magnet. 

"I--I suppose I wanted to find out how you were, " he said at last. "Was that so extraordinary?"

She ignored the question. "I am well, " she said. 

"How is your father?" he asked. 

She looked at him levelly and did not answer. 

A slow red crept up from Ambrose's neck. "I asked you a civilquestion, " he muttered. 

"If you want a truthful answer, " said Colina clearly, "I think you havea cheek to ask. "

"I didn't shoot him!" Ambrose burst out. 

"What is the use of our bandying words?" she asked with cold scorn. "Nothing you can say to me or I to you can help matters now. "

"Good Lord, but women can be stony!" Ambrose cried involuntarily. 

Colina took it as a compliment. Her eye brightened with a kind ofpride. "I don't know what men are!" she cried. "Apparently you wantto fight me with one hand and hold the other out in friendship. Only aman could think of such a thing. "

Ambrose gazed at her sullenly. "You are right!" he said abruptly. "Iam a fool!"

He left her with his head up, but inwardly beaten and sore. Somehowshe had got the better of him, he could not have told how. He wasconscious of having intended honestly. This cold parting was worsethan the most violent of quarrels. 

Simon Grampierre was waiting on a point of his land that commanded aview up and down river. Here he had set up a lookout bench like thatat the fort. At sight of Ambrose he shouted from a full breast andhastened down to the waterside. He received him with both handsextended. 

"You have come!" he cried. "It is well!"

Ambrose was surprised and a little disconcerted to see the grim oldpatriarch so moved. 

"Where is your outfit?" Simon asked anxiously. 

"Half a day behind me, " said Ambrose. "It is safe. "

"Have you flour?" asked Simon. 

"Flour? No!" said Ambrose staring. "With twenty thousand bushels ofwheat here?'"

"Have you got a little mill?"

Ambrose shook his head. "There was none in Prince George, " he said. "I had to telegraph to the East. It had not arrived when I was readyto start, and I couldn't wait. 

"I made arrangements for it to be forwarded; a friend of mine willbring it in. Martin Sellers promised to hold the last boat at thelanding until October 1st for it. "

"Wa!" said Simon, raising his hands. "That is bad! We need flour. Wecannot wait a month for flour. "

"What's the matter with the mankiller?"

"Broke, " was the laconic answer. "We fix it. Every day it breakagain. Now it is all broke. "

"Well, every family will have to grind for themselves, " said Ambrose. 

Simon shrugged. "We have a new trouble here. "

"What is it?" Ambrose anxiously demanded. 

"The Kakisa Indians, " Simon said. "They are the biggest tribe aroundthis post, and the best fur bringers. They live beside the KakisaRiver, hundred fifty miles northwest. 

"All summer they come in two or six or twenty and get a little flour, little sugar, tea, tobacco from me. They want to trade with youbecause Gaviller is hard to them like us. They are good hunters, buthe keep them poor. 

"In the late summer they come all together to get a fall outfit. Theyare here now. They want a hundred bags of flour. They come to me. Isay I have got no flour. They go to the fort. 

"Gaviller say; 'Ambrose Doane bought all the grain. You want to tradewith him; all right. Make him sell you flour now. '

"They are here a week now--sixty teepees. I feed them what I can. Itis not much. They are ongry. They begin to talk ugly. "

Ambrose would not let Simon see that he was in any way dismayed by thissituation. "Where are the Indians camped?" he asked coolly. 

"Mile and a half down river. Across from the fort. "

"Very well, " said Ambrose. "Tell them at your house to keep watch hereuntil Tole and Germain come with the raft. Six men should be ready tohelp them land and unload. You come with me in the dugout, and we willgo down and talk to the Indians. "

A gleam of approval shot from under Simon's beetle brows. "Good!" hesaid. "You go straight to a thing. I like that, me!"

Ambrose found the teepee village set up in the form of a square on agrassy flat beside the river. The quadrangle was filled with the usualconfusion of loose horses, quarrelsome dogs, and screaming children. 

Simon called his attention to a teepee in the middle of the northerlyside distinguished by its size and by gaudy paintings on the canvas. 

"Head man's lodge, " he said. "Name Joey Providence Watusk. "

"A good mouthful, " said Ambrose. 

"Joey for English, Providence for French, Watusk for Kakisa, " explainedSimon. 

He called a boy to him, and made him understand that they wished to seethe head man. 

"I send a message that we are coming, " he explained to Ambrose. "Helak to be treated lak big man. It is no harm when you are trading withthem. "

Ambrose agreed. "So this what's-his-name fancies himself, " he remarkedwhile they waited. 

"It is so, " said Simon, grimly. "Thinks he is a king! All puff upwith wind lak a bull frog. He mak' me mad with his foolishness. Whatwould you? You cannot deal with the Kakisas only what he say. Becauseonly Watusk speaks English. He does what he wants. "

"And can nobody here speak Kakisa?" Ambrose asked. 

"Nobody but Gordon Strange. It is hard talk on the tongue. "

"What else about him?"

"Wa! I have told you, " said Simon. "You will know him when you see!All tam show off lak a cock-grouse in mating-time. He is not Kakisa. He is a Cree who went with them long tam ago. Some say his father wasa black man. "

"So!" said Ambrose. "And they stand for that?"

Simon shrugged. "The Kakisas a funny people. Not mix with the whites, not mix with other Indians lak Crees. They keep old ways. They nottalk about their ways to other men. So nobody knows what they do athome. " Simon lowered his voice. "Some say cannibals. "

"Pooh!" said Ambrose, "that yarn is told about every strange tribe!"

"Maybe, " said Simon, cautiously. "I do not know myself. "

The Indian boy returning, signified that Joey Providence Watusk awaitedthem. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE STAFF OF LIFE. 

Lifting the blind over the entrance, Ambrose dived inside the teepee, Simon Grampierre at his heels. In the center a small fire burned onthe ground, and behind it sat five dark-skinned figures in a semicircle. 

Not one of the five faces changed a muscle at their entrance. Theprincipal man with a grave inclination of the head, waved them ablanket which had been placed for them opposite him. 

It was like an old-time Indian council, but the picturesqueness was agood deal spoiled by the gingham shirts they wore, and the ill-fittingcoats and trousers from the store. 

Moreover, the red men's pipes, instead of the graceful calumets wereEnglish briars with showy silver bands. The bowl of Watusk's pipe, ofwhich he appeared to be inordinately proud, was roughly carved into thelikeness of a death's head. 

Watusk was an extraordinary figure. Ambrose was reminded of a quackdoctor in poor circumstances. He was middle-aged and flabby, and hadlong, straggling gray hair, bound round with a cotton fillet, none tooclean. 

He wore a frock coat all buttoned up before, each button constrictinghis fat, with a bulge between. His trousers were made from a blanketonce white, with a wide black band around the calf of each leg, and hewore fine doeskin moccasins, richly embroidered with silk. 

His dirty fingers displayed a quantity of brass rings from the store, set with gems of colored glass. His heavy, loose-featured face wasunremarkable, except for the extraordinarily bright, quick, shalloweyes, suggesting at different moments the eyes of a child, an animal, and a madman. 

His skin showed a tinge of yellow as distinguished from the pure copperof his companions, and Ambrose was reminded of the black man. 

Watusk grandiloquently introduced his four companions. "Mycouncilors, " he said: "Toma, minister of state; Lookoovar, minister ofwar; Mahtsonza, minister of interior; Tatateecha, minister of medicine. "

Thus their uncouth names as Ambrose got them. He avoided Simon's eye, and bit his lip to keep from laughing. The four were all small menwith the fine characteristic faces of pure bred savages. 

They understood not a word of what was said, but preserved anunshakable gravity throughout. Ambrose, as they were named, christenedthem anew, according to their several characteristics: Coyote, Moose, Bear and Weasel. 

The last was a little shriveled creature, hung with charms and amuletsin tobacco bags until he looked like a scarecrow. He had an eye evenwilder and shiftier than his master's. 

"Conjure-man, " murmured Simon in Ambrose's ear. 

"Let Ambrose Doane speak, " said Watusk. He used good English. 

Ambrose had adopted from Peter Minot the maxim: "Make the other manspeak first, and get a line on him. " He bowed politely. "AmbroseDoane will not speak until Watusk has spoken, " he said. 

Watusk highly gratified, bowed again, and forthwith began. "I am gladto see Ambrose Doane. He is good to my eyes lak the green leaves inspring. He is come to Fort Enterprise and there is no more winter. 

"The name of Peter Minot and the name of Ambrose Doane make good wordsto my ear. They are the friends of the red men. They pay good pricefor fur. They sell outside goods cheap. I want a box of cigars me, same lak you send Simon Grampierre. "

Ambrose recognizing Watusk's type was not put out by the sudden dropfrom the sublime to the ridiculous. He now had a "line" on his man. Swallowing his laughter, he answered in a similar strain. 

"I am glad to see Watusk. I wish to be his friend. I come from thebig lake six days' journey toward the place of the rising sun. So faras that men tell me of the Kakisa nation, and tell of Watusk who rulesthem. 

"Men say the Kakisa men are the best hunters of the north and honest asthe sun in summer-time. Men say Watusk is a wise chief and a goodfriend of the white men. I have plenty cigars in my outfit. "

The chief swelled with gratification until his much-tried buttonsthreatened altogether to part company with his coat. 

A good deal more of this airy exchange was necessitated before Watuskcould be induced to talk business. When he finally condescended to it, the story was as Simon had forecast:

"When Ambrose Doane come here I say to my people: 'Trade with him. Hewill be your father. He will feed you. ' Now when they come for flourSimon Grampierre say you got no flour. 

"When I go to John Gaviller for flour, he mock me. He say: 'You takeAmbrose Doane for your father. All right. Let him feed you now. ' SoI am not know what to do. Every day my people more ongry, more mad. 

"Pretty soon the young men make trouble. There is no game here. Wecan't stay here without flour. We can't go back without flour. I amfeel moch bad. But Ambrose Doane is come now. It is all right!"

The last of this was delivered with something like a leer, warningAmbrose's subconsciousness that Watusk, notwithstanding the flowerycompliments, wished him no good. 

"I have plenty of grain, " he said warily. "Let each woman grind forher own family. "

Watusk shook his head. "Long tam ago we got stone bowls for grind wildrice in, " he said. "So many years we buy flour all the bowls is brokeand throw away now. "

Ambrose could not deny to himself the gravity of the situation. He wasreminded afresh that he was dealing with a savage by the subtle, threatening note that presently crept into Watusk's smooth voice. 

"John Gaviller say to Gordon Strange for say to me: 'Ambrose Doane gotall the grain. Let Ambrose Doane sell his grain to me, and I give youflour. '"

Ambrose, perceiving the drift, swore inwardly. 

"Gordon Strange tell that in Kakisa language, " Watusk went on slyly;"some hear it and tell the others. All know now. If my people getmore hungry what can I do? Maybe my young men steal the grain and takeit to Gaviller. "

"If they lay hands on my property they'll be shot, " said Ambrose, curtly. 

Watusk spread out his hands deprecatingly. "Me, I tell them that, " hesaid. "But they are so mad!"

"John Gaviller is trying to use you to work his own ends, " said Ambrose. 

Watusk shrugged indifferently. This was the real man, Ambrose thought. "Maybe so. You got trouble with Gaviller. That is not my trouble. All I want is flour. "

"You shall have it!" cried Ambrose boldly. "Enough to-morrow morningto feed every family. Enough in three days to fill your order. "

Watusk appeared to be a little taken aback, by the prompt granting ofhis demand. "Where will you get it?" he asked. 

"I will get it, " Ambrose said. "That is enough. "

When Ambrose and Simon got outside the teepee Simon asked the samequestion: "Where _will_ you get it?"

"I don't know, " said Ambrose. "Give me time. I'll find a way!"

"If Gaviller gets the Kakisa fur you'll make no profit this year, "suggested Simon. 

"I have to consider other things as well as profit, " Ambrose said. "There are more years to come. "

Reaching the dugout, Simon asked: "Where now?"

"To the Fort, " said Ambrose. "You don't have to come. "

"We are together, " said Simon grimly. 

Ambrose, deeply moved by gratitude, growled inarticulately. He felthimself young to stand alone against such powerful forces. 

Crossing the river, they landed below the big yellow house and appliedat the side door for Colina. She had returned from her ride, they weretold. They were shown into the library. 

In this little room Ambrose had already touched the summit ofhappiness, and tasted despair. He hated it now. He kept his eyes onthe carpet. 

Simon was visibly uneasy while they waited. "You think this any good?"he suggested. 

"No, " said Ambrose bitterly. "I know well enough what I'll get. ButI've got to go through with it before taking the next step. "

"John Gaviller live well, " said Simon significantly, but withoutbitterness. 

Colina came in with her queenliest air. She had changed her ridinghabit for clinging white draperies that made her look like a lovely, arrogant saint. Ambrose, raising his sullen eyes to her, experienced anew shock of desire that put the idea of flour out of his head. 

To old Simon, Colina inclined her head as gracefully and indifferentlyas a swan. The grim patriarch became humble under the spell of herwhite beauty. He fingered his hat nervously. To Ambrose Colina saidwith subtle scorn meant for his ear alone:

"What is it?"

Ambrose screwed down the clamps of self-control. "I asked for you, " hesaid stolidly, "because I did not know if your father was well enoughto talk business. May I see him for five minutes?"

"No, " she said, without condescending to explain. 

"Then I will tell you, " said Ambrose. "It is about the Indians acrossthe river. I must have some flour for them. "

"Must?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows. 

"They are suffering from hunger, " he said firmly. 

"You will have to see Mr. Strange, " she said coolly. "He is in chargeof the business. "

"This is a question for the head to decide, " warned Ambrose. 

"You will have to see Mr. Strange, " she repeated, unmoved. 

Ambrose's eyes flamed up. For a moment the two pairscontended--Ambrose's passionate, Colina's steely. The man wasstruggling with the atavic impulse to thrash the maddening, arrogantwoman creature into a humbler frame of mind. 

It may be, too, that deep in her heart of hearts Colina desiredsomething of the kind. Perhaps she could not master her worser selfalone. Anyhow, it was impossible there in her own stronghold, withSimon looking on. They were too civilized or not civilized enough. 

Ambrose merely bowed to her and led the way out of the room and out ofthe house. 

"Thank God, that is over!" he murmured outside. 

Crossing the square, they entered the store. It was the first timeAmbrose had been inside that famous show-place of the north, but he hadno eyes for it now. Gordon Strange welcomed them with smilingheartiness. 

"Come in! Come in!" he cried, leading the way into the rear office. "Sit down! Have a cigar!"

The scowling Ambrose stared as if he thought the man demented. Hewaved the cigar away and came directly to the point. 

"I want to find out what you're willing to do about the Kakisa Indians. "

"Sure!" cried Strange with apparently the best will in the world. "Sitdown. What do you propose?"

"How much will you charge me to grind me five hundred bushels of grainfor them?"

"I'm sorry, " said Strange. "The old man won't hear of it. "

"Will you let them starve?" cried Ambrose. 

"What can I do?" said Strange distressfully. "I'm not the head. "

"Grind it in spite of him, " said Ambrose. "Humanity and prudence wouldboth be on your side. You'll get their fur by it. "

"I think Mr. Gaviller expects to get the fur anyway, " said Strange witha seeming deprecatory air--but the suspicion of a smirk wreathed hisfull lips. 

"Then I am to understand that you refuse to grind my grain at anyprice, " said Ambrose. 

"Orders are orders, " murmured Strange. 

"Has Gaviller given you this order since he knew the people werehungry?"

"He has told me his mind many times. "

"That is not a direct answer. Some one must take the fullresponsibility. If I write a short note to Gaviller will you deliverit and bring me back an answer?"

Strange hesitated for the fraction of a second. "Yes, " he said. 

Ambrose wrote a succinct statement of the situation, and Strangedeparted. 

"Gaviller will never do it, " said Simon. 

"I don't expect him to, " said Ambrose. "But he's got to commithimself. "

In due course Strange returned. He offered Ambrose a note, still withhis deprecating air. It was in Colina's writing. Ambrose read:

"John Gaviller begs to inform Mr. Ambrose Doane that the only proposalhe is willing to discuss will be the sale to him of all the grain inMr. Doane's possession at one dollar and a half per bushel. In such anevent he will also be willing to purchase Mr. Doane's entire outfit ofgoods at cost. It will be useless for Mr. Doane to address him furtherin any other connection. 

"Enterprise House, September 3. "

Ambrose stood reflecting with the note in his hand. For a singlemoment his heart failed him. His inexperience was appalled by theweight of the decision he had to make. 

Oh, for Peter Minot's strong, humorous sense at this crisis! Thethought of Peter nerved him. Peter had taken it for granted that hewould make good. Ambrose remembered the sacrifices Peter hadcheerfully made to finance this expedition. 

To accept John Gaviller's contemptuous offer would not only be toconfess a humiliating failure, it would mean pocketing a loss thatwould cripple the young firm for the time being. 

Peter would say: "Lose it if you must, but lose it fighting. " Thisthought was like an inspiration to Ambrose. His jaw stiffened, and ameasure of serenity returned to his eyes. He passed the note to Simon. 

"Read it, " he said coolly, "and save it. It may be useful as evidence, later. "

A subtle change passed over Gordon Strange's face. For the moment hewas pure Indian. Quickly veiling his eyes, he asked with an innocentair: "What does Mr. Gaviller say?"

This was too much for Ambrose to stomach. "You know damned well whathe says!" he answered scornfully. 

Strange swallowed it. "Is there any answer?" he asked. 

"No!" said Ambrose. 

The half-breed's curiosity overcame his prudence. "What are you goingto do?" he asked slyly. 

Ambrose strode out of the store without answering. 

The two men paddled back to Grampierre's place in silence. Simon withnative tact, forbore to ask questions. Such is the potency of thewhite man's eye that the leader of the breeds had unhesitatinglyyielded the direction of affairs to the youth who was little more thana third of his age. 

Upon landing, Ambrose pointed to the lookout bench. "Let us sit thereand talk, " he said. 

"Simon, " he said immediately, "suppose it came to a fight, how many mendo you think Gaviller could count on?"

The old man took the question as a matter of course. "There is thepoliceman, the doctor and the parson, " he said. "The parson is bestfor praying. There is the engineer and the captain of the steamboat;there is young Duncan Greer. 

"In summer he is purser on the steamboat; in winter he is the miller. That is six white men. John Gaviller is no good yet. There is thecrew of the steamboat, and the men who work for wages, maybe fifteennatives, not more. "

"What sort of a man is Greer?" asked Ambrose. 

"A lad; full of fun and jokes; a good machinist. "

"Where does he sleep at the Fort?"

"He has a room in the old quarters. Gaviller's old house. "

"Does he sleep alone?"

"He does. "

"Simon, " said Ambrose, finally, "can you get me twenty-five good men bydark; steady men with cool heads, who will do what I tell them?"

"I can, " said Simon. 

"Let them meet at your house, " Ambrose went on. "Let every man carryhis gun, but you must see that the magazines are emptied, and that noman has any shells in his pocket. I will have no shooting. Above all, do not let the Indians know that anything is going on to-night. "

"It is well!" said Simon laconically. The old dark eyes gleamed. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

A BLOODLESS CAPTURE. 

In a more innocent state of society such as that which exists in thenorth, such a thing as a nightwatch is undreamed of. Insomnia islikewise unknown there. At eleven o'clock every soul in FortEnterprise was drowned deep in slumber. 

There was no light in any window; the very buildings seemed to crouchon the earth as if they slept, too. At sundown a film of cloud hadcrept across the sky, and the moon was dark. It was the very night fordeeds of adventure. 

Down on the current came a rakish york boat floating as idly as a pieceof wreckage. Its hold was filled with bags of grain, on which squattedand lay many dark figures scarcely to be distinguished from the bags. 

No whisper marked its passage; not a pipe-bowl glowed. On the littlesteering platform stood Simon Grampierre wielding a long sweep runthrough a ring astern. The ring was muffled with strips of cloth. 

Simon kept the craft straight in the current, and as they approachedthe Company buildings, gradually edged her ashore. 

The dark steamboat lay with her nose drawn up on a point of stonesbelow the flagstaff. Steamboat and point together caused a littlebackwater to form beyond, of which Simon was informed. 

All he had to do was to urge the nose of his boat into it, and shegrounded of herself at the spot where they had chosen to land; that isimmediately below the mills. 

A dozen moccasined men let themselves softly into the water, andputting their backs under the prow lifted her up a little on thestones. Instantly, as if by the starting of a piece of machinery achain of bags was started ashore from hand to hand. 

Ambrose and Tole, who was to be engineer, climbed the bank toreconnoiter. So far no word had been spoken. 

Above, along the edge of the bank, were three small buildings in aline, close together. That in the middle was the engine house, withthe sawmill on the left and the flour mill on the right. 

Ambrose and Tole made for the engine which was housed in a littlestructure of corrugated iron. The door faced the sawmill. It was aniron sliding door, fastened with hasp and padlock. 

Ambrose inserted the point of a crowbar under the hasp, and the wholething came away with a single metallic report. If any sleeper wasawakened by the sound, hearing no other sounds, he probably fell asleepagain. Anyhow no alarm was raised as yet. 

Tole went back to get assistance in carrying slabs into the engineroom. The sawmill was merely an open shed, and there was an abundanceof fuel in sight. 

The water supply, being furnished by gravity from a tank overhead, wassecure. 

With the aid of his electric torch, Ambrose found the belt to run theflour mill in a corner of the engine room. So far so good. Hisinstructions to Tole were simple. 

"I'll let you have one man to help you. If they besiege us, I won't beable to communicate with you. Whatever happens, keep the engine going. Store enough slabs in here to keep her going all night, then close thedoor, and fasten it some way. "

The flour mill was likewise built of corrugated iron. It had two irondoors, one giving on the road, fastened with a padlock, the other onthe river side, hooked from within. 

Ambrose broke open the first, and throwing back the second, allowed thegrain bags to be hustled inside direct from the beach. 

He lit a lantern, and cloaking it within his coat, examined themachine. His heart sank at the thought of his difficulties, supposingthe next step of his plan should fail. 

Ambrose was enough of a machinist to appreciate the difficulty ofoperating this complicated arrangement of wheels and rollers and framesby lantern light. 

Taking five velvet-footed men, he set off around the back of the store, and across the corner of the square to the "quarters. " The building sodesignated was in the middle of the side of the square facing the river. 

It was a low, spreading affair, of several dates of construction. OnceGaviller's residence, it was now used to house the white employees ofthe company and chance travelers. 

Greer's room was in the end of the building nearest the store. Thepoliceman slept at the other side, separated by several partitions. 

The room they were making for had a door opening directly on the yard. It was not locked. Ambrose merely lifted the latch and walked in withhis five men at his heels. 

Inside, in the thick darkness they heard the sound of deep breathing. Ambrose flashed his light around. A typical boy's room was revealed, with college banners, colored prints, photographs and firearms. 

On a bed in the corner lay the owner, a good-looking blond boy sleepingon his back with an arm flung above his head. He was a hearty sleeper. 

Not until the command was twice repeated in no uncertain tones, did hewaken. It was to find himself looking into the blazing white eye ofthe electric torch. 

"What time is it?" he murmured, blinking. 

One of the men chuckled. 

"Time to get up, " said Ambrose grimly. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" cried the voice from the bed in accents ofhonest alarm. 

"Get up and dress, " commanded Ambrose. 

"What for?" stammered the boy. 

"I have five armed men here, " said Ambrose. "Do what you're toldwithout asking questions. If you make a racket you'll be cracked overthe head with the butt of a gun. "

As he spoke Ambrose flashed the light from one to another of his men. The sight of the quiet dark-skinned breeds, each with a Winchester onhis arm was sufficiently intimidating. The boy swung his legs out ofbed. 

"All right, " he said, philosophically. "Throw your light on myclothes, will you?"

He commenced to dress without more ado. Presently he asked coolly;"What do you want me for, and who are you anyway?"

"I'm Ambrose Doane, " said Ambrose. "I've seized the flour mill. You've got to run it. "

"There's no grain there, " said Greer. 

"I brought my grain with me, " said Ambrose. 

A sound like a chuckle escaped the boy. No doubt he was well-informedas to the situation. "You didn't lose much time, " he said. 

They started back to the mill, a breed on either side of Greer with ahand upon his shoulder. 

"If you make a break, you'll be knocked down and carried in, " warnedAmbrose. 

Apparently Greer had no such intention. He was a matter-of-fact youthand prone to laughter. He laughed now. "Golly! the old man will be ina wax when he hears of it! How many men have you got?"

"Twenty-five, " said Ambrose. 

"Well, he can't blame me if I'm forced to work by overwhelming numbers!Oh, golly! but there'll be a time to-morrow!"

Ambrose breathed more freely. This which had promised to be the mostdifficult part of his plan was proving easy. 

Entering the mill, Greer looked around the dim place with its littlecrowd of still, silent, armed men, and chuckled again. "Darned if itisn't as good as a melodrama!" he said. 

"Go to it!" said Ambrose, pointing to the machinery. He lit plenty oflanterns, careless now if the fort were aroused. They had to wake upsooner or later. "You can smoke, " he said to his men. 

Matches were quickly struck, and coals pressed into pipe bowls withguttural grunts of satisfaction. 

Greer lit a cigarette, and picked up his oil can and wrench as a matterof course. He set to work, whistling softly between his teeth. 

Ambrose, watching him, could not make up his mind whether this was dueto pluck or sheer light-headedness. Either way, he was inclined tolike the boy. 

"I say, Ambrose, " Greer said cheekily. "Give us a hand with thesebolting frames, will you? Do you want fine flour or coarse?"

"The most in the least time, " said Ambrose. 

"We'll leave in the middlings then. It's wholesome. "

They worked amicably together. Greer in his simplicity explainedeverything as they went, and Ambrose cannily stored it away. 

Fortunately, the mill had lately been operated, grinding the grain fromthe Crossing, and all was practically in readiness to start. Within anhour after the landing of the party, Tole turned on his steam. 

The wheels began to revolve, Greer threw in the clutch, and presently averitable stream of flour began to issue from the mouth of the machine. Ambrose repressed an inclination to cheer. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

WOMAN'S WEAPONS. 

The steady hum of machinery was more effective to awaken theinhabitants of the Fort than any scattered noises. 

The sounds of movement began to be heard among the houses. Lights werelit, and doors opened. No one who looked out of doors could mistakewhat was going on, for a stream of sparks was now issuing from theengine-house stack. 

The first notice of attack came in a single shot from across the road. A bullet sang through the doorway, flattening itself with a whang onthe iron wall. Those around the opening fell back. 

Some one crashed the door to. Ambrose as quickly opened it, andstooping low, peered out. He was in time to see a crouching figuredisappear around the corner of the store. Something in the bulk of it, the neat outline gave him a clue. 

"Strange, by gad!" he said to himself. 

Aloud, Ambrose said: "The door must be open. We've got to see and hearwhat they're up to. Let every man keep out of range. Make a wall ofthe bags of grain on this side of the machine, and put the lanternsbehind it, so Greer will have light. "

While they worked to obey him, Ambrose, flinging himself down at fulllength, watched with an eye at the crack of the door. He saw a groupof men gradually gather at the corner of the store. They advanced, hesitated, fell back. 

Finally, an authoritative figure showed itself. Ambrose guessed it tobe Macfarlane, the policeman. He advanced boldly down the sidewalk, and took up a position across the road. The others straggled after him. 

"Who is there?" challenged the leader. Ambrose distinguished the tunicand forage cap. 

Ambrose rose, and opening the door wider, showed himself. "AmbroseDoane, " he said. He warily watched the crowd, for any movementsuggestive of raising a gun. 

"You're under arrest!" cried the policeman. 

"All right, " said Ambrose coolly. "What charge?"

"Unlawful entry. "

"You'll have to come and take me!"

"If you resist the law the consequences will be on your own head!"

"I accept the consequences. "

"Stop the machinery!" cried the policeman. "If you destroy the millwe'll all starve!"

"The miller himself is running it, " said Ambrose coolly. "With a gunto his head, " he added, grinning over his shoulder. "I seized him inhis bed and carried him here. "

"Good man!" Greer, behind him, gratefully murmured. 

"If you refuse to give yourself up I'll take you by force!" criedMacfarlane. 

"Come ahead!" sang Ambrose. "I've got twenty-five men here. They haveorders not to shoot, but if you open fire on us, the consequences willbe on your head!"

"I'll do my duty!" shouted the policeman. 

"Get your crowd together!" taunted Ambrose. "Lay your guns down, andcome on over and put us out if you're men enough. We'll stand by theresult. "

The men behind Ambrose raised a cheer. The sound did not improve themorale of the other side. Even in the dark, the difference between thetwo crowds could be felt. 

Ambrose's men were fighting for what they felt to be their rights; themen behind the policeman had no incentive--except their jobs. Macfarlane paused to consult with another man--probably Gordon Strange. 

The others talked in excited whispers, and circled on one anotherwithout making any forward movement. Messengers were despatched up anddown the road. 

Suddenly a petticoated figure came flying down the sidewalk from thestore. Ambrose's heart leaped up, and then as suddenly calmed. Hetold himself grimly he was cured. 

It was Colina. "What are you standing here for?" she criedpassionately. "Are you afraid? They are nothing but common robbers!Go and put them out!"

No man moved. 

"Fire on them!" cried Colina. "I order it! I take the responsibility. "

They still hung back. Macfarlane could be seen attempting toexpostulate with her. 

"Don't speak to me!" cried Colina. "When you find robbers in yourhouse you shoot them down! You're afraid! I will go myself!"

All in a breath she came flying across the road. Ambrose, surprised, fell back a step from the door. Before he could recover himself shestood in the middle of the shed facing them with blazing eyes. 

She had risen hastily; her glorious hair was twisted in a loose coiland pinned insecurely; the habit she had thrown on was still open atthe throat. 

She had caught up a riding-crop; the knuckles that gripped it werewhite. Ambrose, admiring her in an odd, detached way, was reminded ofBellona, the goddess of anger. 

"What does this mean?" she cried. 

"What you see, " said Ambrose coldly. 

"Get out!" she cried. "All of you! I order it!"

The men cringed under her angry glances, and their eyes bolted. Onlythe sight of Ambrose standing firm, kept them in their places. Colinaturned on Ambrose. 

"You thief!" she cried with ringing scorn. 

Ambrose coldly faced her out. Somehow he found it was his turn tosmile. As a matter of fact he had suffered so much at her hands thathe had become callous and strong enough to resist her. 

Indeed there was a kind of bitter sweetness in this moment. She, whohad humiliated him so many times was now powerless before him, let herrage as she might. He was only human. 

Seeing the cold smile Colina felt as if the ground was suddenly cutfrom under her. Her cheeks paled, and the imperious blaze of her eyeswas slowly dimmed. 

When the bolt of passion is launched without effect, a horribleblankness faces the passionate one. The men seeing Colina falterbreathed more freely. They were frankly terrified of her. 

Colina fought on though her forces were in confusion. "Have youanything to say for yourself?" she demanded of Ambrose. "What are youdoing on my father's property?"

"I have nothing to say, " said Ambrose. "You know the situation as wellas I. "

Once more their eyes contended. Hers fell. She turned away from him. When she came back it was with an altered air. "May I speak to youalone?" she asked in low tones. 

"Please say it here, " said Ambrose. "They cannot hear. "

"My father--" she murmured with a deprecating air, "I am afraid thiswill kill him. I have locked him in his room. I don't know what hewill do. Can't you stop until to-morrow?"

"If you will pledge yourself for him to finish grinding my grainto-morrow, " said Ambrose. 

"How can I pledge him?" she said pettishly. "I am not his master. "

"Then we must grind on. "

She was silent for a moment, looking on the ground. When she raisedher eyes the look in them sent all the blood flying from his heart. "Ambrose!" she murmured on the deep note he remembered so well. "Haveyou forgotten?"

He stared at her in a kind of horror. 

"How can you be so hard to me?" she murmured. 

She overdid it. Behind the intoxicating, soft appeal of her eyes, heperceived a dangerous glitter, and steeled himself. 

"Come outside a moment, " she whispered, turning up her face a little. 

The unregenerate man in him leaped to accept what she offered and stillhold firm. If she chose to play that game let her take theconsequences? His more generous self held back. Somehow he realizedthat the humiliation would almost kill her--later. 

"It is too late, " he said coldly. 

This in itself was a humiliation the proud Colina could not haveconceived herself living after. From between narrowed lids she shothim a glance of the purest hate, and quickly turned away. 

The riding crop switched the air like the tail of an angry cat. Therewas a silence. All watched to see what she would do next. 

Meanwhile the mill was grinding smoothly. The young miller was hiddenfrom Colina by the barricade of grain bags. Finally she looked overthe top and saw him attending the machine. 

"Greer!" she exclaimed in surprise. 

The boy started, and turned a pair of stricken eyes in her direction. His ruddy cheeks paled a little. Manifestly she wielded a power overhim too. 

"Are you against me?" she murmured sadly. 

This was the same tone she had just used to Ambrose. His lip curled. "He has to do what I tell him or be knocked on the head, " he saidquickly. 

Colina ignored this. "You could fight for me if you would, " shemurmured to the boy. 

A hot little flame of jealousy scorched Ambrose's breast. He laughedjeeringly. "Who's next?" he cried. 

Colina, not looking at him, drew a baleful breath between her teeth. Suddenly she turned, and with hanging head slowly made her way towardthe door. 

Ambrose thought she was beaten, and a swift wave of compassion almostunmanned him. He abruptly turned away. He could stand anything but tosee Colina defeated and grieving. He clenched his teeth to keep fromcrying out to her. 

She had another card to play. She stopped at the door, and lookedabout through her lashes to see if the way out was clear. 

"Duncan!" she softly cried. The word was accompanied by a dazzlingsmile of invitation. 

The boy dropped his wrench as if he had been shot, and vaulting overthe grain bags, was out through the door after her before any one couldstop him. 

CHAPTER XX. 

UNDERCURRENTS. 

As Greer disappeared in the darkness several men started in pursuit. 

Ambrose was quicker. He flung himself into the opening, and thrustthem back. Though he was on fire with jealousy, he would not go afterGreer, nor let the others go. 

He could scarcely have explained why--perhaps because he dimlyapprehended that it was Colina's game to drive him mad with jealousy. 

"Let him go, " he said thickly. "I will run the mill myself!"

So long as the wheels revolved smoothly and the stream of creamy flourissued from the mouth of the machine the miller had a sinecure. Ambrose scowling and grinding his teeth scarcely saw what his eyes wereturned on. His mind was busy outside. 

He was sharply recalled to his job by a tearing sound from within themachinery. The flour came out mixed with bran. The wheels jammed andstopped. 

Ambrose threw out the clutch, and doggedly attacked the problem. Itwas cruelly hard to concentrate his mind on machinery while a damnablelittle voice in his brain persisted in asking over and over:

"Where are they? What are they doing? How far will rage carry her?"

He contrived to remove the torn frame without much difficulty, but howto clean out the mass of stuff that clogged every part of the mechanismdefied his ingenuity. Apparently the thing must be taken apart. Howcould he hope to put it together by lantern light?

There was a stir at the door, and Duncan Greer slouched in with ahang-dog scowl. Never in his life had Ambrose been so glad to see aman. He was careful to mask his joy. He glanced at the boy carelesslyand went on with his work. Duncan came directly to him. 

"I'm your man, " he muttered. "For keeps, if you want me. "

"Sure, " said Ambrose, very offhand. "Help me get this thing going, will you?"

As they worked side by side in the lantern light, Ambrose perceived ared welt across the boy's forehead and cheek that was momentarilygrowing darker. He smiled grimly. Duncan, finding his eyes fixed onit, flushed up painfully. 

"Women are the devil!" he muttered. 

A great unholy joy filled Ambrose's breast. In his relief he couldhave hugged the boy, and laughed. 

"Don't abuse the women, my son, " he said grimly. "They have to fightwith what weapons they can. You were warned. You only got what wascoming to you!"

When the machine was running smoothly again, Ambrose went to the doorto reconnoiter. 

"They've gone, " he said. "I don't think they'll trouble us againbefore morning. You can all sleep. "

Daybreak and the following hours found Ambrose and his party on the_qui vive_ for a renewed demonstration from the other side. None wasmade. 

Neither Macfarlane, Gordon Strange, nor Colina could have mustered acorporal's guard of the natives to their aid. The breeds in their ownmysterious way had simply disappeared. 

Without them, the half dozen whites could do nothing against Ambrose'sstrong party. Colina herself had suffered a moral defeat, and requiredtime to recoup her losses. 

In the back of the store the white men and Gordon Strange held lengthyconsultations without agreeing on any course of action. Strange in hismodest way deferred to Macfarlane and the others. 

But John Gaviller's absolute sway at the post had sapped the lessermen's initiative. He was not able to be present, and they werehelpless. 

It was decided to send for help to police headquarters at Caribou Lake. They could not despatch the big steam-boat which had been dismantledfor the winter, but the launch was available. 

Gaviller had it to use at the end of summer when the water ran low inthe river. They managed to collect enough half-breeds for a crew;Masters ran the engine, and Captain Stinson piloted. 

Thus in order to send for help the little force had to rob itself oftwo of its best defenders. They got away in the middle of theafternoon. With luck they could be back with the red-coats in twoweeks or three. 

Meanwhile the mill was grinding blithely. 

Ambrose, who desired at all costs to keep the Indians in ignorance ofwhat was happening, for fear they might get out of hand, sent GermainGrampierre to his father's house to get what little flour they had, andcarry it to Watusk to feed the Kakisas for that day. 

As far as he could see there was no other communication from one sideof the river to the other. He observed the departure of the launch, with a calm brow. He guessed its errand, and was not at all averse tohaving the police brought down, and the whole matter thoroughly aired. 

All day the wheels revolved, and all during the following night, Ambrose and young Greer watching the machine by turn. 

At breakfast time on the second morning the hopper was empty, and thelast bag of flour tied up. They had enough to satisfy the Kakisasdemands, and something besides. 

In the center of the shed Ambrose left the miller's tithe in payment, with an ironical note affixed to one of the bags. The flour was loadedin the york boat, and the entire party set off in high feather. 

Their arrival with the flour at the Indian camp created something of asensation. The children came running down to the water, capering andshrieking, accompanied by the barking dogs. 

Men followed, eager to toss the bags to their shoulders. They made along procession back to the teepees, the women crowding around, laughing, gesticulating, and caressing the fat, dusty bags. 

By Ambrose's orders the bags were piled up in an imposing array in themiddle of the square. He knew the value of a dramatic display. 

The half-breeds who had been on duty for thirty-six hours, scattered totheir homes up and down the river. Simon Grampierre and Tole remainedwith Ambrose. 

The york boat was left drawn up on the beach below the camp. To thisfact Ambrose traced all the subsequent disasters. But he could nothave foreseen what would happen. The Indians at the sight of so muchfood were as candid and happy as children. 

When the last bag of flour topped the pile, Ambrose sought out Watusk. He found the head man as before, evidently awaiting an officialcommunication, with his dummy councilors on either hand. Watusk'ssmooth, flabby face was as blank as a plaster wall. 

"I have brought your flour, " said Ambrose with a note of exultationjustifiable under the circumstances. 

Watusk was not impressed. "It is well, " he said with a stolid nod. 

Ambrose was somewhat taken aback. An instant told him that Watuskalone of all the tribe was not glad to see the flour. Ambrose scenteda mystery. 

"Where you get the flour?" asked Watusk politely. 

"I borrowed Gaviller's mill to grind it, " Ambrose answered in kind. 

Watusk's eyes narrowed. He puffed out his cheeks a little, and Ambrosesaw that an oration was impending. 

"I hope there will be no trouble, " the Indian began self-importantly. "Always when there is trouble the red man get blame. When the fur isscarce, when summer frost turn the wheat black it is the same. Theysay the red man make bad medicine. 

"Two white men have a fight, red man come along, know nothing. Thosetwo white men say it is his fault, and kick him hard. You break openGaviller's mill. Gaviller is mad, send for police. When the policecome I think they say it is Watusk's fault. Send him to jail!"

It was evident from this that Watusk was pretty well informed of whathad happened. "How do you know they have sent for the police?" Ambrosedemanded. 

Watusk shrugged expressively. "I see the launch go up the river in ahurry, " he said. 

In the light of his insolent demand two days before, the Indian'spresent attitude was more than exasperating. "This is foolishness, "said Ambrose sharply. "I sell you the flour. How I got it is myaffair. I take the responsibility. The police will deal with _me_!"

"I hope so, " said Watusk smugly. 

"I have made out a receipt, " Ambrose went on. "You sign it, thendistribute the flour among the people, and give me the men's names so Ican charge them on my book. 

"To-morrow I give it out, " said Watusk. "To-day I put the flour inGaston Trudeau's empty house by the river. Maybe goin' to rainto-night. "

"Just as you like about that, " said Ambrose. "When are you going topull out for home?"

"Soon, " replied Watusk vaguely. 

"They tell me it is the best time now to hunt the moose, " remarkedAmbrose suggestively. "And the bear's fur is coming in thick and soft. You have been here two weeks without hunting. "

Again Watusk's eyes narrowed like a sulky child's. "Must the Kakisasgot hunt every day?" he asked spreading out his hands. "The people areweak with hunger. We got eat before we travel. "

Ambrose left this interview in a highly dissatisfied state of mind. 

Later in the day Watusk must have thought better of his surliness forhe sent a polite message to Ambrose at Simon Grampierre's house, requesting him and Simon to come to a tea dance that night. 

He had borrowed Jack Mackenzie's house for the affair since no teepeewas big enough to contain it. Mackenzie's was the first house west ofthe Kakisa encampment. 

"Tea-dance! Bah! Indian foolishness!" said Simon. 

"Let us go anyway, " said Ambrose. "I feel as if there was somethingcrooked going on. This Indian will bear watching. "

CHAPTER XXI. 

THE SUBTLETY OF GORDON STRANGE. 

At the same moment Gordon Strange was sitting on the bench at the footof the flag-staff, smoking, and gazing speculatively across the riverat the teepee village. 

Colina issued out of the big house, and seeing him, joined him. It washer first public appearance since the scene at the mill, and it wassomething of an ordeal. 

Her face showed what she was going through. She was elaboratelyself-conscious; defiance struggled with a secret shame. In her heartshe knew she was wrong, yet she thirsted for justification. 

"What is the situation?" she asked haughtily. 

Strange told her briefly. His air was admirable. He betrayed noconsciousness of anything changed in her; he was deferential withoutbeing obsequious. 

He let her understand that she was still his peerless mistress whocould do no wrong. This was exactly what Colina wanted. She warmedtoward him, and sat down. 

"Ah! I can talk straight to you, " she said. "The others act as if thetruth was too strong for me!"

"I know better than that, " said Strange quietly. "You have the besthead of any of us. "

"Except when I lose it!" Colina thought. She smiled at him more warmlythan she knew. A little flame that leaped up behind the man's eyeswarned her. "Would he ever dare!" she thought. 

"How is your father?" asked Strange quietly. 

She shrugged helplessly. "Still weak, " she said, "but there has beenno return of fever. I have managed to keep the truth from him, but hesuspects if. I cannot keep him in his room much longer. "

"Ah! It makes me mad when I think of him!" Strange muttered. 

There was a silence between them. His sympathy was sweet to her. Sheallowed it to lull her instinct of danger. 

"What about the Kakisas?" she asked. "I gathered from Macfarlane's andDr. Giddings's careful attempts to reassure me, that they feared dangerfrom that source. "

Strange smiled enigmatically. 

"Surely the idea of an Indian attack is absurd, " said Colina. "Therehasn't been such a thing for thirty years. "

"I know the Indians better than any man here, " said Strange. "One mayexpect danger without being afraid. "

"Danger!" cried Colina, elevating her eyebrows. "They would neverdare!--"

"Not of themselves--but with a leader!"

"Ambrose Doane?" said Colina quickly. Her intelligence instantlyrejected the suggestion, but self-love snatched at it in justification. Wounded vanity makes incongruous alliances. "That would be devilish!"she murmured. 

Strange shrugged. "I can't be sure of what is going on, " he said. "Idon't want to alarm you unnecessarily. But I have a reason to suspectdanger. "

Colina turned pale. "Tell me exactly what you mean, " she said. 

"The Indians have learned by now how easy it was to seize the mill, " hesaid with admirable gravity. "It seems to me that to the Indian mindlooting the store will next suggest itself. We know they are incensedagainst your father. His long weakness makes them bold. "

"But these are merely surmises!"' cried Colina. 

"There is something else. Their minds work obliquely. They never comeout straight with anything. I have received a kind of warning. It wasan invitation to spend the night with Marcel Charlbois down the river. But it came from the other side. "

"Why should they warn you?" asked Colina. 

"Some man among them probably has compunctions, " said Strange. "Watusk, the head man is a decent sort. Perhaps this is his way ofletting me know that he cannot keep his people in hand. "

"What do you expect will happen?" she asked. 

"I think there will be an attack to-night, " he said quietly. "It is myduty to tell you. If it doesn't come, no harm done. "

Strange's quiet air was terribly impressive. Colina sat pale andsilent, letting the horror sink in. She was no weakling, but this wasa prospect to appal the strongest man. 

"We are so helpless!" she murmured at last. 

A spark, one would have said of satisfaction, shot from beneathStrange's demurely lowered eyelids. "We cannot depend on our breeds, "he went on soberly, "and Greer has gone over to the other side. "

Colina winced. 

"That leaves us four men and yourself and your father. If we had astone building we could snap our fingers at them but everything is ofwood. And fire is their favorite weapon. There are two courses opento us. We can go before they come, or we can stay and defendourselves. "

Colina stared before her, wide-eyed. "Father would never let us takehim away without an explanation, " she murmured. "And if we told himwhat we feared, he would flatly refuse to go--"

Strange maintained a discreet silence. 

Colina suddenly flung up her head. "We stay here!" she cried. 

Strange's dark eyes burned--but with what kind of a feeling Colina wasin no state to judge. "You're brave!" he cried. "That's what I wantedyou to say!"

"What must we do to prepare?"

"There is little we can do. We must abandon the store. There is noway to defend it. Perhaps they will be satisfied with looting it. Wewill all take up our station in the house. At the worst, I do not fearany harm to any of us, except perhaps--"

"Father?" murmured Colina. 

"They have been wrought up to a high pitch against him, " Strange saiddeprecatingly. 

"Oh, why did that man have to come here!" murmured Colina. 

They were silent for a while, Colina looking on the ground, and Strangewatching Colina with his peculiar limpid, candid eyes, which, when onelooked deep enough, were not candid at all. 

He finally looked away from her. 

"There is something I want to say, " he began an low tones. "Yourfather--he shall be my special care to-night. They can strike athim--only through me. "

"Ah, you're so good to me!" murmured Colina. 

"Do not thank me, " he said quickly. "Remember I owe him everything. All I am. All I have I would gladly--gladly--I sound melodramatic, don't I. But I don't often inflict this on you. You know what I mean. If I could save him!"

Colina impulsively seized his hand. Tears of gratitude sprang to hereyes. "I will thank you!" she cried. "You're the best friend I havein the world!"

"And even if I owed him nothing, " Strange went on, not looking at her, "he would still be your father!"

An hour before Colina would have crushed him. But it came at anemotional moment. She was blind to his color then. 

"I will never, never forget this, " she said. 

He respectfully lifted her hands to his lips. 

The under devil whose especial business it is to preside over fineacting must have rubbed his hands gleefully at the sight of hisdark-skinned protégé's aptitude. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE "TEA DANCE. "

When Ambrose and Simon Grampierre arrived at the tea-dance they foundpresent as many of the Kakisas of both sexes as could be wedged withinJack Mackenzie's shack. 

All around the room they were pressed in tiers, the first linesquatting, the second kneeling, the third standing, and others behind, perched on chairs, beds and tables, that all might have a clear view ofthe floor. 

The cook-stove occupied the center of the room, and around it a narrowspace had been left for the dancers. The air was suffocating to whitelungs, what with human emanations combined with the thick fumes ofkinnikinic. 

Watusk, still sporting the frock coat and the finger-rings, hadimproved his costume by the addition of a battered silk hat with achaplet of red paper roses around the brim. 

He squatted on the floor in the center of the back wall, and places hadbeen left at his right and left for Ambrose and Simon. He was disposedto be gracious and jocular to-night. 

For very slight cause, or for none at all he laughed until he shook allover. This was his way of appearing at his ease. 

As they took their places Ambrose was struck by the pretty, wistfulface of a girl who knelt on the floor behind Watusk. It had a finequality that distinguished it sharply from the stolid flat countenancesof her sisters. 

It was more than pretty; it was tragically beautiful, though she waslittle more than a child. What made it especially significant toAmbrose was the fact that the girl's sad eyes instantaneously singledhim out when he entered. 

As he sat in front of her he was aware that they were dwelling on him. When he caught her glance, the eyes naïvely suggested that she had acommunication to make to him, if she dared!

The fun had not yet commenced. The two drummers sat idle in a corner, and all the company sat in stolid silence. Only Watusk chatted andlaughed. The women stared at Ambrose, and the men looked down theirnoses. All were somewhat embarrassed by the presence of a white man. Ambrose, looking around, was struck by the incongruity of the women'sneat print dresses and the men's store clothes taken with their savage, walled faces. Such faces called for blankets, beads, war paint andeagles' feathers. 

Ambrose, seeing the entire tribe gathered here as it seemed, thought alittle anxiously of the flour he had been at such pains to grind. 

Mackenzie's house was a good distance from the teepees, and the shackthey were using for a store-house almost as far on the other side. 

"Is anybody watching your flour?" he asked Watusk. 

"I send four men to watch, " was the reply. 

"Good men? Men who will not sneak up to the dance?"

"Good men, " said Watusk calmly. 

Watusk presently gave a signal to the stick-kettle men, and theycommenced to drum with their knuckles. The drums were wide woodenhoops with a skin drawn over one side. 

The drummers had a lamp on the floor between them, and when the skinrelaxed they dried it over the chimney. Like dances everywhere thisone was slow to get under way. No one liked to be the first one totake the floor. 

Gradually the drummers warmed to their work. The stick-kettle had avoice of its own, a dull, throbbing complaint that caused evenAmbrose's blood to stir vaguely. 

Finally a handsome young man arose and commenced to hitch around thestove with stiff joints, like a mechanical figure. The company brokeinto a wild chant in a minor key, commencing on a high note anddescending the whole gamut, with strange pauses, lifts and falls. 

Half way down the women came in with a shrill second part. It diedaway into a rumble, ever to be renewed on the same high, long-drawnnote. Ambrose was reminded of the baying of hounds. 

The dancer knotted his handkerchief as he circled the stove. Dancingup to another man, he offered him the end of it with some spoken words. 

It was accepted, and they danced together around the stove, joined bythe handkerchief. 

The hunching, spasmodic step never varied. Ambrose asked Watusk aboutit. 

"This is the lame man's dance, " his host explained. 

"What lame man?" asked Ambrose. "How did it begin?"

Watusk shrugged. "It is very old, " he said. 

The first man dropped out, and the second chose a new partner. Sometimes there were two or three couples dancing at once. Partnerswere chosen indiscriminately from either sex. 

In each case the knotted handkerchief was offered with the same spokenformula. Ambrose asked what it was they said. 

"This is give-away dance, " Watusk explained. "He is say: 'This myknife, this my blanket, this my silk-worked moccasins. ' What he wantto give. After he got give it. "

Ambrose observed that each dancer laid two matches on the cold stove ashe took his place, and when he retired from the dance picked them upagain. He asked what that signified. 

Watusk shrugged again. "How do I know?" he said. "It is always done. "

Ambrose learned later that this was the invariable answer of theKakisas to any question concerning their customs. 

Watusk was exerting himself to be hospitable, continually pressing cupsof steaming bitter tea on Ambrose and Simon. Ambrose, watching him, made up his mind that the chief's unusual affability masked a deepdisquiet. 

The sharp, shifty eyes were continually turning with an expectant lookto the door. Ambrose found himself watching the door, too. 

To Ambrose the uncouth dance had neither head nor tail; nevertheless, it had a striking effect on the participators and spectators. 

Minute by minute the excitement mounted. The stick-kettles throbbedfaster and ever more disquietingly. It seemed as if the skin of thedrums were the very hearts of the hearers, with the drummers' knucklessearching out their secrets. 

Eyes burned like stars around the walls, and the chant was renewed witha passionate abandon. The figures hitched and sprang around the homelyiron stove like lithe animals. 

Suddenly the noise of running feet was heard outside, and a man burstin through the door with livid face and starting eyes. The drumming, the song, and the dance stopped simultaneously. 

The man cried out a single sentence in the Kakisa tongue. Cried itover and over breathlessly, without any expression. 

The effect on the crowd was electrical. Cries of surprise and alarm, both hoarse and shrill, answered him. A wave of rage swept over themall, distorting their faces. They jammed in the doorway, fighting toget out. 

"What is it?" cried Ambrose of Watusk. 

Watusk's face was working oddly with excitement. 

But it was not rage like the others. The difference between him andall his people was marked. 

"The flour is burning!" the chief cried. 

"This was what he expected, " thought Ambrose. 

As he struggled to get out, Ambrose's hand was seized and pressed by asmall warm one. 

He had a momentary impression of the wistful girl beside him. Then shewas swept away. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

FIRE AND RAPINE. 

The Kakisas ran down the trail like a heap of dry leaves propelled by asquall of wind. To Ambrose it all seemed as senseless and unreal as anightmare. 

The alarm had been given at a moment of extreme emotional excitement, and restraint was thrown to the winds. It was like a rout after battle. 

The men shouted; the women wailed and forgot their children. Thethrong was full of lost children; they fell by the road and layshrieking. 

Ambrose never forgot the picture as he ran, of an old crone, crazed byexcitement, whirling like a dervish, rocking her skinny arms andtwisting her neck into attitudes as grotesque as gargoyles. 

The trail they covered was a rough wagon-road winding among patches ofpoplar scrub and willow. Issuing out upon the wide clearing whichcontained their village they saw afar the little storehouse burninglike a torch, and redoubled their cries. 

They swept past the teepees without stopping, the biggest ones in thevan, the little ones tailing off and falling down and getting up againwith piteous cries. 

Reaching the spot, all could see there was nothing to be done. Theshack was completely enveloped in names. There were not half a dozenpracticable water-pails in the tribe, and anyhow the fire was a goodfurlong from the river. 

Ambrose, seeing what a start it had got, guessed that it was noaccident. It had been set, and set in such a way as to insure theshack's total destruction. He considered the sight grimly. 

The mystery he had first scented that morning was assuming trulyformidable proportions. He believed that Watusk was a party to it; buthe could not conceive of any reason why Watusk should burn up hispeople's bread. 

There was nothing to be done, and the people ceased their cries. Theystood gazing at the ruby and vermilion flames with wide, charmed eyes. 

Among the pictures that this terrible night etched with acid onAmbrose's subconsciousness, the sight of them standing motionless, allthe dark faces lighted by the glare, was not the least impressive. 

With a sickening anxiety he perceived the signs of a rising savagerage. The men scowled and muttered. More than once he heard thewords: "John Gaviller!" Men slipped away to the teepees and returnedwith their guns. 

Ambrose looked anxiously for Watusk. He could not reach the peopleexcept through the man he distrusted. 

He found him by himself in a kind of retreat among some poplars alittle way off, where he could see without being seen. Ambrose draggedhim back willy-nilly, adjuring him by the way. 

"The people are working themselves into a rage. They speak ofGaviller. You and I have got to prevent trouble. You must tell themGaviller is a hard man, but he keeps the law. He did not do thisthing. This is the act of another enemy. "

"What good tell them?" said Watusk sullenly. "They not believe. "

"You are their leader!" cried Ambrose. "It's up to you to keep themout of trouble. If you do not speak, whatever happens will be on yourhead! And I will testify against you. Tell the people to wait untilto-morrow and I pledge myself to find out who did this. "

"You know who did it?" asked Watusk sharply. 

"I will not speak until I have proof, " Ambrose said warily. 

"What happened to the men you left on guard?"

"They say they play jack-pot with a lantern near the door, " saidWatusk. "See not'ing. Hear not'ing. Poof! she is all burn!"

"H-m!" said Ambrose. 

They were now among the people. 

"Speak to them!" he cried. "Tell them if they keep quiet Ambrose Doanewill pay for the flour that is burned up, and will grind them somemore. Tell them to wait, and I promise to make things right. Tellthem if they make trouble to-night the police will come and take themaway, and their children will starve!"

Watusk did, indeed, move among the men speaking to them, but with ahalf-hearted air. He cut a pitiful figure. It was not clear whetherhe was unwilling to oppose them or afraid. 

Ambrose did not even know what Watusk was saying to them. At any ratethe men ignored their leader. Ambrose was wild at the necessity whichmade him dependent on such a poor creature. 

He followed Watusk, imploring them in English to keep their heads. Some of the sense of what he said must have reached them through histones and gestures, but they only turned sullen, suspicious shouldersupon him. 

That Ambrose should take the part of his known enemy, John Gaviller, seemed to their simple minds to smack of double-dealing. 

The roof of the burning shack fell in, sending a lovely eruption ofsparks to the black sky. At the same moment as if by a signal one ofthe savages brandished his gun aloft and broke into a passionatedenunciation. 

Once more Ambrose heard the name of Gaviller. Instantly the crowd wasin an uproar again. Cries of angry approval answered the speaker fromevery throat. The man was beside himself. He waved his gun in thedirection of the river. 

Ambrose waited to hear no more. He saw what was coming. Black horrorfaced him. He ran to the river, straining every nerve. He heard thembehind him. Then it was that he so bitterly reproached himself forhaving left the york boat within reach. 

Leaping down the bank, he put his back under the bow and struggled topush it off. He would gladly have sacrificed it. It was too heavy forhim to budge. Tole Grampierre and Greer reached his side. 

"Quick!" cried Ambrose breathlessly. "Set her adrift!"

But at that moment the whole tribe came pouring over the bank like aflood. Ambrose and the breed sprang into the bow of the boat in anendeavor to hold it against them. Old Simon presently joined them. 

"Back! Back!" cried Ambrose. "For God's sake listen to me, men! Goto your lodges and talk until morning. The truth will be clear in thedaylight! The police are coming. They will give you justice. 

"Justice is on your side now. If you break the white man's law he willwipe you out! Where is your leader? He knows the truth of what I say. Watusk is not here! He won't risk his neck!"

It had about as much effect as a trickle of water upon a conflagration. They made no attempt to dislodge Ambrose from in front, but swarmedinto the water on either side, and putting their backs under the boat, lifted her off the stones. Scrambling over the sides, they shoulderedAmbrose and the breed ashore from behind. 

Ambrose shouted to the breeds: "Go home and stay there all night. Youmust not be mixed up in this. "

"What will you do?" cried Simon. 

The york boat was already floating off, the crew running out thesweeps. Ambrose, without answering, ran into the water and clamberedaboard. In the confusion and the dark the Indians could not tell if hewere white or red. 

He made himself inconspicuous in the bow. His only conscious thoughtwas how to get a gun. He had no idea of what to do upon landing. 

Upon pushing off, moved by a common instinct of caution, the Indiansfell silent, and during the crossing there was no sound but thegrumbling of the clumsy sweeps in the thole-pins, and the splash of theblades. 

Standing on the little platform astern, silhouetted against the sky, Ambrose recognized the man who had given the word to attack Gaviller. 

He marked him well. He was of middle size, a tall man among the littleKakisas, with a great shock of hair cut off like a Dutchman's at theneck. 

On the way over Ambrose was greatly astonished to feel his sleevegently plucked. He studied the men beside him, and finally made outTole under his flaring hatbrim. 

Into his ear he whispered: "I told you to go home. "

"I go with you, " Tole whispered back. "I your friend. "

Ambrose's anxious heart was warmed. He needed a friend. He grippedTole's shoulder. 

"Have you a gun?" he asked. 

The breed shook his head. 

"Get guns for us both if you can, " said Ambrose. 

On the other side, the instant the york boat touched the shingle, theIndians set up a chorus of yelling frightful to hear, and scrambledashore. 

Ambrose and Tole were among the first out. Together they drew aside alittle way into the darkness to see what would happen. There was noneed to warn the Company people; the yelling did that. 

The Indians set off across the beach and up the bank, workingthemselves up with their strident, brutish cries. The habits of thirtyyears of peace were shed like a garment. The young men of the tribehad never heard the war-cry until that moment. 

Ambrose followed at their heels. At the top of the bank, to hisunbounded relief, they turned toward the store. He still had a littletime. All he could do was to offer himself to the defenders. 

"I'm going to the side door of Gaviller's house, " he said to Tole. "Get guns for us, somehow, and come to me there. "

He knew that Tole, who was as dark as the Kakisas, and in no waydistinguished from them in dress, ran little risk of discovery in theconfusion. 

There was no sign of life about the post; every window was dark. TheIndians swarmed across the quadrangle without meeting any one. 

As Ambrose reached the fence around Gaviller's house he heard thestore-door and the windows go in with a series of crashes. He crouchedbeside the gate to wait for Tole. It was useless for him to offerhimself without a weapon. 

They started a fire outside the store. Fed with excelsior and emptyboxes, the flames leaped up instantaneously, illuminating every cornerof the quadrangle, and throwing gigantic, distorted shadows of men onthe store front. 

On the nearer side of the fire the silhouettes darted back and forthwith the malignant activity of demons in a pit. Men issued out of thestore with armfuls of goods that they flung regardless to the flames. 

Already they were dressing themselves up in layer after layer ofclothes until they no longer resembled human creatures. What theycould not wear they hung about their necks. 

Some came out tearing at food like wolves. Others darted into darkcorners of the square to hide their prizes. A man appeared dressed ina woman's wrapper and hat, and capered around the fire to theaccompaniment of shrieks of obscene laughter. 

There was a continuous sound of rending and crashing from within thestore. The trader in Ambrose groaned to witness the destruction ofgood weapons and cloth stuffs and food. Some one would suffer for thelack of it in the winter. 

Within the store, by the door, a furious altercation arose. This waswhere the case of cheap jewelry stood. Two men rolled out on theplatform fighting. 

Ambrose saw a raised arm, and the gleam of steel. After a few momentsone of the men got up and the other lay still. Thereafter, all whowent in and came out stepped indifferently over his body. 

Ambrose gazed fascinated and oddly unmoved. It was like a horribleplay in a theater. The insane yelling rose and fell intermittently. 

At last Ambrose saw a man detach himself from the group and run aroundthe square, darting behind the houses for cover. The runner reappearednearer to him, and he saw that it was Tole. He came to him, runninglow under shelter of the palings. He thrust a rifle into Ambrose'shands. 

"Loaded!" he gasped. "Plenty more shells in my pocket. "

"Did you hear any talk?" asked Ambrose. "Are they coming over here?"

"Talk no sense, " said Tole. "Only yell. It is moch bad. They gotwhisky. "

"Whisky!" echoed Ambrose, aghast. 

"A big jug. It was in the store. "

Ambrose's heart sank. "Come, " he said grimly. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

COLINA RELENTS. 

As Ambrose and Tole started in the gate they were hailed from the darkdoorway under the porch. "Stand, or I fire!" It was the voice ofMacfarlane. 

"It is Ambrose Doane and Tole Grampierre, " cried Ambrose. 

They heard an exclamation of astonishment from the door. 

"What do you want?" demanded the voice. 

"To help you defend yourselves. "

From the sounds that reached him, Ambrose gathered that the door wasopen and that Macfarlane stood within the hall. From farther backColina's voice rang out:

"How dare you! Do you expect us to believe you? Go back to yourfriends!"

"They are not my men, " Ambrose answered doggedly. 

"Wait!" cried still another voice. Ambrose recognized the smoothaccents of Gordon Strange. "We can't afford to turn away anydefenders. I say let him come in. "

Ambrose was surprised, and none too well pleased to hear his part takenin this quarter. There was a silence. He apprehended that they wereconsulting in the hall. Finally Macfarlane called curtly:

"You may come in. "

As he went up the path Ambrose saw that the windows of the lower floorhad been roughly boarded up. The thought struck him oddly: "How couldthey have had warning of what was going to happen?"

"There's barbed wire around the porch, " said Macfarlane, "You'll haveto get over it the best way you can. "

Ambrose and Tole helped each other through the obstruction. They foundMacfarlane sitting on a chair in the doorway, with his rifle across hisknees. 

"Go into the library, " he said. 

The door was on the right hand as one entered the hall. Within a lamphad just been lighted; even as Ambrose entered Colina was turning upthe wick. 

Heavy curtains had been bung over the windows to keep any rays of lightfrom escaping, and the door was instantly closed behind Ambrose andTole. 

Inside the little room that he already knew so well Ambrose found allthe defenders gathered. The only one strange to him was littlePringle, the missionary, who sat primly on the sofa. It had much thelook of an ordinary evening party, but the row of guns by the door tolda tale. 

John Gaviller sat in his swivel chair behind his desk, leaning his headon his hand. Ambrose was shocked by the change that three months'illness had worked in him. 

The self-assured, the scornfully affable trader had become a merepantaloon with sunken cheeks and trembling hands. Ambrose looked withquick compassion toward Colina. 

She went to her father and stood by his chair with a hand on hisshoulder. She coldly ignored Ambrose's glance. 

"What have you to say for yourself?" Gaviller demanded in a weak, harshvoice. 

"Do you know the reason for this attack?" demanded Ambrose. 

Several voices answered "No!"

"All the flour was stored in Michel Trudeau's shack. Some wretch setfire to it and destroyed it all. Naturally they thought it was done byJohn Gaviller's orders. This is their reprisal. "

"You dared to think we would stoop to such a thing!" cried Colina. 

The general animosity that he felt like a wall around him made Ambrosedefiant. 

"I said they thought so, " he retorted. "I harangued them until mythroat was sore. I couldn't hold them, and I hid myself and came withthem, thinking perhaps I could help you. "

"How did they come?" asked Strange smoothly. 

"In my boat that they seized, " said Ambrose. 

"It all comes back to you whichever way you trace it, " cried Gaviller. "If you had not attacked us yesterday, they would never have daredto-day! You have brought us to this! I hope you're satisfied. Iwarned you what would happen as a result of your tampering with thenatives. If we're all murdered it will be on your head!"

"On the contrary, if we're murdered it will be because they foundwhiskey in your store, " retorted Ambrose. 

"Impossible!" cried Gaviller and Strange together. 

Ambrose laid a hand on Tole's shoulder. "This man saw it on thecounter, " he said. "I sent him to the store to get guns for us both. It had no business to be there, as you all know. "

"They must have brought it with them, " said Strange. "I locked thestore myself. "

"Of course they brought it, " said Gaviller. 

"Not much use to discuss that point, " said Ambrose curtly. "They haveit, and it has robbed them of the last vestiges of manhood. They'renothing but brutes now. "

The old man rose. "Silence!" he cried quaveringly. "You are insolent!By your light-mindedness and vanity you have raised a storm that no mancan see the end of! You have plunged us into the horrors of Indianwarfare after thirty years' peace! How dare you come here and attemptto hector us! Silence, I say, and keep your place!"

"Father, " murmured Colina remonstratingly. "You must save yourstrength. "

He shook her off impatiently. "Must I submit to be bearded in my ownhouse by this scamp, this fire-brand, this destroyer?"

Ambrose could not bandy words with this wreck of a strong man. Hesigned to Tole, and they went outside and joined Macfarlane. 

The three of them waited in the doorway in a kind of armed truce, smoking and watching the Indians across the square. At any moment theyexpected to see the yelling demons turn against the house. 

By and by Ambrose heard the library door open. The light inside hadbeen put out again for greater safety. 

He heard Colina come out, and go the other way in the passage. He knewher by the rustle of her skirts. She went up-stairs on some errand. 

His heart leaped up. He could no longer deceive himself with the fancythat he had ceased to love her. Not with death staring them both inthe face. He quietly made his way back into the house to intercept heron her return. 

When he heard her coming he whispered her name. Here in the middle ofthe house it was totally dark. 

"You!" she gasped, stopping short. But the scorn had gone out of hervoice, and somehow he knew that he was already in her thoughts when hespoke. He put out a hand toward her. 

"Don't touch me!" she whispered, shrinking sharply. 

There, in the compelling darkness, with danger waiting outside, theycould not hide their souls from each other. "Colina, " he whispered, "don't harden yourself against me to-night. I love you!"

Her breath came quickly. She could not speak. Her anger againstAmbrose was, at the best, a pumped-up affair. She felt obliged to hatehim because she loved her father. And her overweening pride hadsupported it. All this fell away now. She longed to believe in him. 

Perceiving his advantage he followed it close. 

"It may be the last night, " he whispered. "I'm not afraid to speak ofdeath to you. You're no coward. Colina, it would be hard to diethinking that you hated me!"

"Don't!" she murmured painfully. "Don't try to soften me. I need tobe hard. "

"Not to me, " he whispered. "I love you!'"

She was silent. He heard her breathing on a shaken breast. 

"If I knew it was my last word I should say the same, " he went on. "Icame back to Enterprise because I thought I had to come to save you!"

"It hasn't turned out that way, has it?" she said sadly and bitterly. 

"There is some evil influence working against us all, " he said. "If Ilive I shall show you. "

"I don't know what to think, " she murmured. 

They were standing close together. Suddenly the sense of her nearnessin the dark, the delicate emanation of her hair, of her whole person, overwhelmed his senses like a wave. 

"Oh, my darling, " he murmured brokenly. "Those devils outside can onlykill me once. You make me die a thousand deaths!"

"Ah, don't!" she whispered sharply. "Not now. First, I must believein you!"

He beat down the passion that dizzied him. He sought for her hand andgripped it firmly. She allowed it. "Listen, " he said. "Take me intothe light and look in my eyes. "

Her hand turned in his and took command of it, drawing him after her. Crossing the stair-hall they entered the dining-room. Colina closedthe door and lighted the lamp. 

Ambrose gazed at her hungrily. She came to him straight and, offeringhim both her hands, looked deep into his eyes. 

"Now tell me, " she murmured. 

This was the real Colina, simple as a child. Her eyes--the lamp beingbehind her--showed as deep and dark as the night sky. 

Her lovely face yearned up to his, and Ambrose's self-command totteredagain--but this was no moment for passion. His voice shook, but hiseyes were as steady as hers. 

"I love you, " he said quietly. "When you hated me most I was doing thebest for you that I could. I--I'm afraid I sound like a prig. But itis the truth. I stood out against you when I thought you were wrongbecause I loved you!"

Her eyes fell. Her hands crept confidingly up his arms. "Ah! I wantso to believe it, " she faltered. 

He thought he had won her again. His arms swept around her, crushingher to him. "My love!" he murmured. 

She went slack in his arms and coldly averted her head. "Do not kissme, " she said. 

He instantly released her. 

"It's not the time, " she murmured. "It seems horrible to-night. I--Iam not ready. By what happens to-night I will know for always!"

"But, Colina--" he began. 

She offered him her hand with a beseeching air. "I do not hate you anymore, " she said quickly. "You have a lot to forgive in me, too. Bemerciful to me. Show me--to-night. "

He drew a steadying breath. "Very well, " he said. "I am contented. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

ACCUSED. 

The long suspense wore terribly on the defenders of the house. 

To wait inactive, listening to the frightful yelling and watching theplay of the fire, not knowing at what moment yelling, bullets, and firemight be directed at themselves, was disorganizing to the stoutestnerves. 

When the attack should come all knew that their refuge was more like atrap than a fortress. Ambrose wished to abandon the house for theCatholic church up the river. 

This little structure was stoutly built of squared logs; moreover, itwas possible that some lingering religious feeling might restrain theIndians from firing it. 

The suggestion was received with suspicion. John Gaviller refusedpoint-blank to leave his house. 

As the hours passed without any change in the situation they began tofeel as if they could endure no more. They were almost ready to wishthat the savages might attack them and have done with it. 

They endlessly and vainly discussed what might be passing in the redmen's minds. Tole Grampierre, hearing this talk, offered to go andfind out. 

There was no danger to him, he said. Even if they should discover thathe was not one of themselves, they had no quarrel with his people. Ambrose let him go. 

He never returned. Ambrose and Macfarlane helped him through thebarbed wire, and he set off, making a wide detour behind the housesthat faced the river, meaning to join the Indians from the other side. 

Most of the Indians had for some time been engaged in rifling thewarehouse, which adjoined the store behind. 

Ambrose and Macfarlane, anxiously watching from the porch, heard asudden outcry raised in this quarter, and saw a man come runningdesperately around the corner of the store, pursued by a howling dozen. 

Ambrose knew the runner by his rakish, broad-brimmed hat and flyingsash. His heart leaped into the race. Tole was gaining. 

"Go it! Go it!" Ambrose cried. 

Tole was not bringing his pursuers back to the big house, but led theway off to one side by the quarters. Only a few yards separated himfrom the all-concealing darkness. 

"He's safe!" murmured Ambrose. 

At the same moment half of Tole's pursuers stopped dead, and theirrifles barked. The flying figure spun around with uptossed arms, andplunged to the ground. 

Ambrose groaned from the bottom of his breast. Nerved by a blind rage, his own gun instinctively went up. He could have picked off one or twofrom where he stood. Macfarlane flung a restraining arm around him. 

"Stop! You'll bring the whole mob down on us!" he cried. He looked atAmbrose not unkindly. The sacrifice of Tole obliged him to change hisattitude. 

Ambrose turned in the door, silently grinding his teeth. At the end ofthe passage he found a chair, and dropped upon it, holding his headbetween his hands. 

The face of Tole as he had first beheld it--proud, comely, and full ofhealth--rose before him vividly. 

He remembered that he had said to himself then: "Here is one young, like myself, that I can make a friend of. " And almost the last thingTole had said to him was: "I am your friend. "

It was his youth and good looks that made it seem most horrible. Ambrose pictured the bloody ruin lying in the square, and shuddered. 

Gordon Strange offered to go out in order to make sure that Tole wasbeyond aid. It seemed like a kindly impulse, but Ambrose suspected itsgenuineness. 

Even from where they were, a glance at the huddled figure was enough totell the truth. None of the others would hear of Strange's going. Colina and Giddings pleaded with him. Gaviller forbade him. Strangewith seeming reluctance finally gave in. 

Whenever he witnessed such evidences of their trust in the half-breedAmbrose's lip curled in the darkness. He was more than ever convincedthat Strange was a blackguard. 

Evidence he had none, only his warning intuition, which, among the malesex at least, is not considered much to go on. 

It gave Ambrose a shrewd little twinge of jealousy to hear Colinabegging this man not to risk his life by leaving the house. 

About three o'clock it began to seem as if they might allow themselvesto relax a little. The madness of the Indians had burned itself out. There had not been enough whisky perhaps to maintain it for more than afew hours. 

In any case, since the whites had been spared at the height of theirfury, it seemed reasonable to hope they might escape altogether. Theyelling had ceased. 

Most of the men were now engaged in carrying flour and other goods downto the york boat. The watchers from the house wondered if they daredbelieve this signified an early departure. 

As the tension let down it could be seen that John Gaviller was on theverge of a collapse. Colina strove with him to go to his room and reston his bed. 

He finally consented upon condition that she lay in her own roomup-stairs. Colina and Gordon Strange half led, half carried the oldman up-stairs. 

Strange, returning, relieved Macfarlane's watch at the side door. Macfarlane, Ambrose, Giddings, and Pringle lay down on the sofa and onthe floor of the library. 

Three of them were almost instantly asleep. Not so Ambrose. As soonas he saw the half-breed left in sole charge his smoldering suspicionsleaped into activity. 

"If he's meditating anything queer this is the time he'll start it!" hethought. He took care to choose his position on the floor nearest thedoor. He left the door open. 

From the outside only occasional sounds came now. The Indians werebusy and silent. Within the house it was so still that Ambrose couldhear Gordon Strange puffing at his pipe. 

The half-breed was sitting in the doorway outside, with his chairtipped back against the wall. By and by Ambrose heard the front legsof the chair drop to the floor, and an instinct of caution bade himclose his eyes and breathe deeply like a man asleep. 

Sure enough Strange came into the library. He was taking no pains tobe silent. Stepping over Ambrose he crossed to the mantel, where hefumbled for matches, and striking one made believe to relight his pipe. 

Now Ambrose knew that Strange had matches, for when they took JohnGaviller up he had seen him light the lamp at the foot of the stairsand return the box to his pocket. 

This then must be a reconnoitering expedition. Ambrose had no doubtthat when the match flared up the half-breed took a survey of thesleeping men. 

He left the room, and Ambrose heard the chair tipped back against thewall once more. 

A little later Ambrose became conscious that Strange was at the librarydoor again, though this time he had not heard him come. 

He paused a second and passed away as silently as a ghost--but whetherback to his chair or farther into the house Ambrose could not tell. 

Rising swiftly to his hands and knees he stuck his head out of thedoor. There was light enough from the outside to reveal the outlinesof the chair--empty. 

Without a thought Ambrose turned in the other direction and creptswiftly and softly through the passage into the stair hall. He did notknow what he expected to find. His heart beat thick and fast. 

He scarcely suspected danger to Colina, who was strong and brave. Wasit her father? Reaching the foot of the stairs he heard a velvetfootfall above. 

He hastened up on all fours. The stairs were thickly carpeted. Gaining the top his strained ears detected the whisper of a sound thatsuggested the closing of Gaviller's door. 

He knew the room. It was over the drawing-room, and cut off from theother rooms of the house. To reach the door one had to pass around therail of the upper landing. 

Arriving at the door he did indeed find it closed. Under thecircumstances he was sure Colina would have left it open. 

He did not stop to think of what he was doing. With infinite slowpatience he turned the knob with one hand, holding his electric torchready in the other. 

When the door parted he flashed the light on the spot where he knew thebed stood. The picture vividly revealed in the little circle of lightrealized his unacknowledged fears. 

He saw Strange kneeling on the bed, his face hideously distorted, histwo hands at the old man's throat. 

Strange yelped once in mingled terror and rage like an animalsurprised--and with the quickness of an animal sprang at Ambrose. 

The two men went down with a crash athwart the sill, and the doorslammed back against the wall. There was a desperate struggle on thefloor. 

Strange was nerved with the strength of a madman. He could not haveseen who it was that surprised him, but in that frantic embrace helearned. 

"It's you, is it?" he snarled. "I've got you now!"

Forthwith he began to shout lustily for help. "Macfarlane! Giddings!"

Colina was already out of her room. She did not scream. The three menwere on the stairs. 

"Bring a light!" gasped both the struggling men. 

It was Colina who lit a lamp and carried it out into the hall with asteady hand. Ambrose was seen to be uppermost. Recognizing the twomen her face darkened with anger. 

"What does this mean?" she cried. "Get up instantly!"

Ambrose wrenched himself free and stood up. 

"Don't let him escape!" cried Strange. 

Ambrose laughed a single note. 

"He tried to kill your father!" panted Strange. "I arrived in the nickof time!"

Ambrose gasped and fell back in astonishment. Such stupendouseffrontery was beyond the scope of his imagination. 

"It's a lie!" he cried. "It was I who discovered him in the act ofstrangling your father!"

Then for the first Colina swayed. "Oh, God!" she murmured, "have weall gone mad!"

Macfarlane seized the lamp from her failing hand. Colina ran unevenlyinto her father's room. They heard her cry out within. Giddings ranto her aid. He made a light in the room and closed the door. Thelittle parson moaned and wrung his hands. 

Macfarlane had drawn his revolver. "If you make a move I'll shoot youdown!" he said to Ambrose--thus making it clear whose story he believed. 

"You can put it up, " said Ambrose coolly. "I'm going to see this thingthrough. "

Strange had got his grip again. His smoothness was largely restored. He actually laughed. "He's a cool hand!" he said. 

"You damned black villain!" said Ambrose softly. "I know you now. Andyou know that I know you!"

It did not improve Ambrose's case to say it, but he felt better. Thehalf-breed changed color and edged behind Macfarlane's gun. 

Colina presently reappeared, showing a white and stony face. "Mr. Pringle, " she said, "go down and lock the side door and bring me thekey. The rest of you go to the library and wait for me. "

Ambrose flushed darkly. That Colina should even for a moment hold thebalance between him and the half-breed made him burn with anger. Passionate reproaches leaped to his lips, but pride forced them back. 

Turning stiffly he marched downstairs before Macfarlane without a word. She should suffer for this when he was exonerated, he vowed. That hemight not be exonerated immediately did not occur to him. 

In the library Strange and Macfarlane whispered together. When Pringlerejoined them all were silent. For upward of ten minutes they waited, facing each other grimly. 

The strain was too great for the nerves of the little parson. Hefinally broke into a kind of terrified, dry sobbing. 

"For God's sake say something!" he faltered. "This is too horrible!"

Macfarlane glanced at him with a contemptuous pity and stood a littleaside from the door. "Better go into the front room, " he said. "Youcan't do any good here. "

The little man shook his head, and going to the window turned his backon them and endeavored to master his shaking. 

Shortly afterward Colina came down-stairs. At her entrance all lookedthe question none dared put into words. 

Colina veiled her eyes. "My father only fainted, " she said levelly. "Dr. Giddings says he is little worse than before. "

A long breath escaped from her hearers. 

Strange cunningly contrived to get his story out first. As he spokeall eyes were bent on the ground. They could not face the horror ofthe other eyes. 

Pringle was obliged to sit on the sofa to control the trembling of hislimbs. The others stood--Macfarlane, Colina, and Strange near thedoor--Ambrose facing them from in front of the desk. 

"You will remember, " Strange began collectedly, "it was I who advisedthat this man should be admitted to the house. I thought we couldwatch him better from the inside. I have never ceased to watch himfrom that moment. 

"When you all turned in and I was left at the side door I kept my eyeon this room. The last time I looked in I saw that he had disappeared. He had slipped so softly down the hall I had not heard anything. 

"I instantly thought of danger to those up-stairs, and crept up asquickly as I could without making any sound. I found the door of Mr. Gaviller's room closed. I knew Miss Colina had left it open. I openedit softly, and saw Doane on the bed with his hands at Mr. Gaviller'sthroat. "

A shuddering breath escaped from Colina. The little parson moaned. 

"He sprang at me, " Strange went on. "We rolled on the ground. Icalled for help, and you all came. That is all. "

Ambrose was staggered by the breed's satanic cleverness. After thishis own story must sound like a pitiful imitation. He could never tellit now with the same assurance. 

"Surely, surely they must know that a true man couldn't take it socoolly, " he thought. But they were convinced; he could see it in theirfaces. 

He felt as powerless as a dreamer in the grip of a nightmare. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

CONVICTED. 

When Strange finished there was a significant silence. They werewaiting for Ambrose to speak. Stiffening himself he told his story asmanfully as he could. Conscious of its weakness he wore a hang-dog airwhich contrasted unfavorably with Strange's seeming candor. 

No comment was made upon it. Ambrose could feel their unexpressedsneers like goads in the raw flesh. Only Colina gave no sign. Macfarlane turned to her for instructions. 

She contrived to maintain her proud and stony air up to the moment shewas obliged to speak. But her self-command went out with hershuddering voice. "I--I don't know what to say, " she whisperedtremblingly. 

"Surely there can be no question here!" cried Strange with a voice fullof reproachful indignation. "I have served Mr. Gaviller faithfully fornearly thirty years. This man's whole aim has been to ruin him!"

"This is the tone I should be taking instead of letting him run meout, " Ambrose thought dispassionately, as if it were somebody else. But he remained dumb. 

"What earthly reason could I have for trying to injure my benefactor?"cried Strange. His voice broke artistically on the final word. "Youall know what I think of him. Your suspicions hurt me!"

Macfarlane crossed over and clapped him on the shoulder. Colina kepther eyes down. She was very pale; her lips were compressed and herhands clenched at her sides. 

Ambrose bestirred himself to his own defense. "Let me ask a question, "he said quietly to Strange. "You say when you opened the door you sawme with my hands on Mr. Gaviller. How could you see me?"

"With my electric flash-light, " Strange instantly answered. 

"That's a lie, " said Ambrose. "The flash-light was mine. I can proveit by a dozen witnesses. "

"Produce it, " said Strange sneering. 

"You knocked it out of my hand, " said Ambrose. "It will be foundsomewhere on the floor up-stairs. "

Strange drew his hand out of his pocket. "On the contrary, it ishere, " he said. "And it has never been out of my possession. As toyour identifying it, there are dozens like it in the country. It isthe style all the stores carry. "

Ambrose shrugged. "I've nothing more to say, " he said. "The man is aliar. The truth is bound to come out in the end. "

The white men paid little attention to this, but it stung Strange toreply. "If Mr. Gaviller were able to speak he'd soon decide betweenus!"

At that moment, as if Strange's speech had evoked, him, they heardGiddings in the hall. 

"Has he spoken?" they asked breathlessly. 

Colina kept her eyes hidden. 

Giddings nodded. "He sent me down-stairs to order Macfarlane to arrestDoane. "

Colina fell back against the door-frame with a hand to her breast. "Did he--did he _see_ him?" she whispered. 

"No, " said Giddings reluctantly. "He did not see his assailant. Butsaid to accuse Strange of the deed was the act of a desperate criminal. "

"You're under arrest!" Macfarlane said bruskly to Ambrose. Turning toColina, he added deprecatingly: "You had better leave the room, MissGaviller. "

She shook her head. Clearly speech was beyond her. Not once duringthe scene had Ambrose been able to see her eyes, Macfarlane waited amoment for her to go, then shrugged deprecatingly. 

"Will you submit to handcuffs or must I force you?" he demanded ofAmbrose. 

Ambrose did not hear him. His eyes were fastened on Colina. So longas he was tortured by a doubt of her he was oblivious to everythingelse. 

The heart knows no logic. It deals directly with the heart. Lovelooks for loyalty as its due. Ambrose was amazed and incredulous andsickened by his love's apparent faint-heartedness. 

"Colina!" he cried indignantly, "have you nothing to say? Do youbelieve this lie?"

Her agonized eyes flew to his--full of passionate gratitude to hear himdefend himself. His scorn both abased and overjoyed her. Her heartknew. 

None of the others recognized what was passing in those glances. 

Macfarlane took a step forward. "Here! Leave Miss Gaviller out ofthis!" he said harshly. 

Ambrose did not look at him, but his hand clenched ready to strike. His eyes were fixed on Colina, demanding an answer. 

Color came back to her cheeks and firmness to her voice. "Stop!" shecried to Macfarlane in her old imperious way. "I'm the mistress here. My father is incapable of giving orders. You've no right to judge thisman. None of us can choose. There is no evidence. I will not haveeither one handcuffed!"

Macfarlane fell back disconcerted. "I was thinking of your father'ssafety, " he muttered. 

"I will watch over him myself, " she said. She went swiftly up thestairs. 

Ambrose sat by himself on a chair at the junction of the side passagewith the stair hall. Naturally, after what had passed, he avoided theother men--and they him. 

It was growing light. He saw the panes of the side door gray andwhiten. Later he could make out the damaged front of the store acrossthe square. 

Macfarlane was again upon watch by the door. Strange and Pringle werein the library. Giddings was with Colina and the sick man up-stairs. 

Ambrose watched the coming of day with grim eyes. He had had plenty oftime to consider his situation. True, Colina had not failed him, buthe did not minimize the dangers ahead. 

He knew something of the uncertainty of men's justice. Out of thetumult of rage that had at first shattered him had been born a resolveto guard himself warily. 

Daylight had an odd effect of novelty. It seemed to him as if yearsseparated him from the previous day. 

Strange came out of the library to take an observation. At the sightof him Ambrose's eyes burned. If scorn could kill the half-breed wouldhave fallen in his tracks. 

"They're still quiet, " remarked Macfarlane. 

"Too quiet, " said Strange. "If they made a noise we could guess whatthey were up to!"

The two men held a low-voiced colloquy by the door. Ambrose supposedthat Strange was again offering to go out to reconnoiter. Thepoliceman was expostulating with him. 

He heard Strange say; "I'm afraid they may attempt to wreck the millbefore they go. That would be fatal for all of us. I had noopportunity yesterday to put on new locks. "

Macfarlane begged Strange not to risk himself. 

"He's safe enough, " thought Ambrose grimly. 

Strange finally had his way. 

Ambrose speculated on what his real object might be. "That bull-headedredcoat is likely to get a surprise!" he thought. 

In less than ten minutes the half-breed returned. Macfarlane warmlygrasped his hand. 

"It's all right, " said Strange. "I went straight up to them. I had notrouble. Even now the older heads are thinking of the consequences. Ithink they'll be gone directly. "

After some further talk in low tones Strange went back into thelibrary, and Macfarlane sat down with his gun across his knees. 

Once more quiet ruled the house. Ambrose's head fell forward on hisbreast and he slept uneasily. 

He was roused by the cry they had waited all night in dread of hearing:"They're coming!"

Strange and Pringle ran out into the hall. Low as the cry was it washeard above. Colina and Giddings came flying down-stairs. Ambrose hadalready joined the others. 

In the face of the deadly danger that threatened the men forgot theiranimosity for the moment. They were all crowded together in the narrowpassage, far enough back from the closed door to see through the paneswithout being seen. 

The five whites were afraid, as they might well be--but without panic. The half-breed was suspiciously calm. They lacked an unquestionedleader. 

"That is Myengeen leading them, " said Strange; "a bad Indian!"

"Macfarlane--tell us what to do, " said Giddings. 

"They're quiet now, " said Colina. "I shall speak to them!"

Macfarlane put out a restraining hand. "Leave this to me!" he saidquickly. 

"We're in each other's way here, " cried Ambrose. "Let us spreadthrough some of the rooms. "

"Right!" said Macfarlane. "Doane, Giddings, and Miss Colina--go intothe library and throw up the windows on this side. Shoot between theboards if I give the word. The guns are inside the door. "

A cry from Strange brought them out into the hall again. "They'veraised a white flag! They want to parley not to fight. "

The others murmured their relief. 

"Open the door!" cried Strange. "I will speak to them. "

Ambrose fell back a little. The other men crowded around Strange, urging him to be careful of himself. Strange was doing the modest hero!

It was a pretty little play. At the sight of it a harsh jangle oflaughter rang inside Ambrose. Colina took no part in the scene. 

Strange stepped out on the porch. Ambrose heard him speaking theuncouth Kakisa tongue, and heard the murmur of replies. He would havegiven a bale of furs to understand what was being said. 

The exchange was brief. Strange presently stepped inside and said:

"They say they want their leader--Ambrose Doane. "

A dead silence fell on the little group. They turned and stared atAmbrose. He, for the moment, was stunned with astonishment. He wasaware only of Colina's stricken, white face. She looked as if she hadbeen shot. 

"They say they are ready to go, " Strange went on. "They promise tomake no more trouble if we give Doane up. If we refuse, they say theywill take him, anyway. "

"It's an infernal lie!" cried Ambrose desperately. "I am no leader oftheirs!"

She did not believe him. Her eyes lost all their luster and her lovelyface looked ashen. She seemed about to fall. 

Giddings went to her aid, but she pushed him away. She seemedunconscious of the presence of the ethers. Her accusing eyes werefixed on Ambrose. 

"I believed in you, " she murmured in a dead voice. "I believed in you!Oh, God!" Her hands were flung up in a despairing gesture. "Let himgo!" she cried to Macfarlane over her shoulder, and ran down the halland up the stairs. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

A CHANGE OF JAILERS. 

There was a significant silence in the passage when Colina had gone. 

Finally Macfarlane said stubbornly, "He's my prisoner. It's my duty tohold him against any odds. It's the first rule of the service. "

Giddings and Pringle urgently remonstrated with him. Strange heldapart as if he considered it none of his business. At last, with adeprecating air, he added his voice to the other men's. 

"Look here, " he said smoothly; "you know best, of course; but aren'tthere times when a soldier must make his own rules? All of us menwould stand by you gladly, but there's a sick man up-stairs that theyhave been taught to hate. And a woman. "

Macfarlane gave in with a shrug. "I suppose you'll stand by me if I'mhauled up for it, " he grumbled. 

He drew his revolver and stood aside to let Ambrose pass. The otherslikewise drew back, as from one marked with the plague. Every face washard with scorn. 

Ambrose kept his eyes straight ahead. When he appeared on the porch, cries, apparently of welcome, were raised by the Kakisas. 

Ambrose supposed that Strange had made a deal with the Kakisas to puthim out of the way. He believed that he was going straight to hisdeath. 

He accepted it sooner than make an appeal to those who scorned him. Hewished to speak to them before he went; but it was to warn them, not toask for aid for himself. 

He faced the little group in the doorway. "I tell you again, " he said, "this is all a put-up job. You know nothing of what is going on butwhat this breed chooses to tell you. He's a liar and a murderer. Ifyou put yourselves in his hands, so much the worse for you. "

The white men laughed in Ambrose's face. The breed smileddeprecatingly and forgivingly. 

"Hold your tongue, and be thankful you're getting off so easy, "Macfarlane said, full of honest contempt. 

Ambrose became very pale. He turned his back, on them, and, climbingover the wire barrier, marched stiffly down to the gate. Theconsciousness of innocence is supposed to be sufficient to armor a managainst any slanders, but this is only partially true. 

When one's accusers are honest, their scorn hurts, hurts more than anyother wound we are capable of receiving. Ambrose was of the type thatrages against a hurt. At present, for all he was outwardly so pale andstill, he was deafened and blinded by rage. 

It was now full daylight. An extraordinary picture faced the watchersfrom the doorway--the ruined store in the background, the grotesquecrew hanging to the fence palings. 

Their ordinary rags were covered with layers of misfit clothing out ofthe store, while many of them wore several hats, and others had extrapairs of shoes hanging around their necks. 

There was a great display of gaudy silk handkerchiefs. Pockets bulgedwith small articles of loot, and nearly every man lugged someparticular treasure according to his fancy, whether it was an alarmclock or a glass pitcher or a bolt of red flannel. 

The younger men, still susceptible to gallantry, mostly were burdenedwith crushed articles of feminine finery, gaily trimmed hats, red orblue shawls, fancy satin bodices, corsets with the strings dangling. 

The faces, after a night of unbridled license, showed dull and slack inthe daylight. 

Myengeen, whom Ambrose had marked earlier as a leader of the mob, gripped his hand at the gate and cried out with hypocritical joy. Others crowded around, those who could not obtain his hands, strokinghis sleeves and fawning upon him. 

There was an ironical note in the demonstration. Ambrose observed thatthe majority of the Indians looked on indifferently. He smeltedtreachery in the air. 

The mob, facing about, started to move in open order toward the river. Ambrose, as they opened up, caught sight of the two dead bodies. Itafflicted him with a dull at the pit of the stomach--these were thefirst deaths by violence he had witnessed. 

They still lay where they had fallen--the Indian sprawling in themiddle of a black stain on the platform; Tole huddled on the bare earthof the quadrangle. Ambrose's heart sank at the thought of returning toSimon Grampierre with the gift of a dead son. 

The Indians gave no regard to the bodies--apparently they meant toleave them behind. Ambrose with no uncertain gestures commandedMyengeen to have them taken up and carried to the boat. It was done. 

When they got down the bank out of sight of the house Myengeen and theothers gave over their hollow pretense of enthusiasm at Ambrose'srelease. 

Thereafter none paid the least attention to him. 

He saw that they had not only loaded the boat they came in, but on theprinciple of in for a penny, in for a pound, had also taken possessionof one of the company york boats, and had loaded it to the gunwale. 

They immediately embarked and pushed off. Ambrose secured a placebelow Myengeen's steering platform. In the bottom of the boat, at hisfeet, lay the wizened Indian in his rags, and the straight, slim bodyof Tole--side by side like brothers in a bed. 

Tole's face was not disfigured; serene, boyish, and comely, it gaveAmbrose's heart-strings a fresh wrench. He covered them both with apiece of sail-cloth. 

Across the river, as the Indians started to unload, Watusk came down tothe beach, followed by several of his councilors. It was impossible totell from his inscrutable, self-important air what he thought of allthis. 

His flabby, yellow face changed neither at the sight of all the wealththey brought nor at the two dead men. Ambrose demanded four men of himto carry Tole's body to his father's house. 

Watusk kept him waiting while he listened to a communication fromMyengeen. Ambrose guessed that it had to do with himself, for both menglanced furtively at him. Watusk finally turned away without havinganswered the white man. 

Ambrose, growing red, imperiously repeated his demand. Watusk, stillwithout looking at him directly, spoke a word to some Indians withincall, and Ambrose was immediately seized by a dozen hands. 

He was finally bound hand and foot with thongs of hide. This was nomore than he expected, still he did not submit without a fierce butineffectual struggle. 

When it was done his captors looked on him with respect--they did notlaugh at him nor evince any anger. It was impossible for him to readany clue in their stolid faces what was going forward. 

Half a dozen of them carried him up the bank and laid him at the doorof a teepee. Presently Watusk passed by. Ambrose so violentlydemanded an explanation that the Indian was forced to stop. He said, still without meeting Ambrose's eye:

"Myengeen say you kill Tom Moosa. You got to take our law. "

"It's a lie!" cried Ambrose, suffocating with indignation. 

Watusk shrugged and disappeared. It was useless for Ambrose to shoutat any of the others. He fumed in silence. The Indians gave hisdangerous eyes a wide berth. 

Meanwhile the camp was plunged into a babel of confusion by the orderto move. 

Boys ran here and there catching the horses, the teepees came down onthe run, and the squaws frantically to pack their household gear. Infants and dogs infected with a common excitement outvied each otherin screaming and barking. 

Ambrose saw only the beginning of the preparations. A horse wasbrought to where he lay, and the six men whom he was beginning torecognize as his particular guard unbound his ankles and lifted himinto the saddle. 

They never dared lay hands on him except in concert--he took whatcomfort he could out of that tribute to his prowess. They tied hisbound wrists to the saddle-horn, and also tied his ankles under thehorse's belly, leaving just play enough for him to use the stirrups. 

The six then mounted their own horses, and they set off at a swift lopeaway from the river--one leading Ambrose's horse. 

They extended themselves in single file along a well-beaten trail. This, Ambrose knew, was the way to the Kakisa River--their own country. 

A chill struck to his breast. Any intelligible danger may be facedwith a good heart, but to be cast among capricious and inscrutablesavages, whom he could neither command nor comprehend, was enough toundermine the stoutest courage. 

Nevertheless he strove with himself as he rode. "They cannot put itover me unless I knuckle under, " he thought. "They're afraid of me. No Indian that ever lived can face out a white man when the white manknows his power. "

Several dogs followed them out of camp. There was one that the othersall snapped at and drove from among them. Ambrose suddenly recognizedJob, and his heart leaped up. 

He had left him at Grampierre's the night before. The faithful littlebeast must have followed him down to the Kakisa camp and have beenwaiting for him ever since to return. 

During the events of the last half-hour Job had no doubt been regardinghis master from afar. The other dogs would not let him run at thehorses' heels, but he followed indomitably in the rear. 

Every time they went over a hill Ambrose saw him trotting patiently farbehind in the trail. When they stopped to eat there was a joyfulreunion. 

Ambrose no longer felt friendless. He divided his rations with hishumble follower. The Indians smiled. In this respect they evidentlyconsidered the formidable white man a little soft-headed. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A GLEAM OF HOPE. 

In the middle of the third day of hard riding over a flower-starredprairie, and through belts of poplar bush, they came to the Kakisa River. 

By this time Ambrose had become somewhat habituated to his captivity. Atany rate, he was more philosophical. He had been treated well enough. 

There was a village at the end of the trail. Hearing the astonishingnews of what had happened, the people stared at Ambrose with their hard, bright eyes as at a phenomenon. 

Ambrose figured that they had left Fort Enterprise a hundred and fiftymiles behind. He looked at the river with interest. He had heard thatno white man had ever descended it. 

He saw a smoothly flowing brown flood some two hundred yards wide windingaway between verdant willows. A smaller stream joined it at this point, and the teepees stretched along either bank. 

Across the larger stream loomed a bold hill-point with a striking clumpof pines upon it, and under the trees the gables of an Indianburying-ground like a village of toy houses. 

The flat where the rivers joined was hemmed all around by low hills. Onthe right, half-way up the rise, a log shack dominated the village--andto it Ambrose's captors led him. 

This was evidently intended to be his prison. Window and door wereclosely boarded up. The Indians tore the boards from the doorway and, casting off Ambrose's bonds, thrust him inside. They closed the door, leaving him in utter darkness. He heard them contriving a bar to keephim in. 

Ambrose, after waving his arms about to restore the circulation, set toexploring his quarters by sense of touch. First he collided with acounter running across from side to side. 

Behind, in the middle of the room, he found an iron cook-stove; againstthe right hand wall were tiers of empty shelves; at the back a bedsteadfilled with moldy hay; on the left side an empty chest, a table, and achair. 

Thus it was a combination of store and dwelling; no doubt it had beenbuilt for Gordon Strange's use when he came to trade with the Kakisas. 

The window was over the table. Ambrose found it nailed down, besidesbeing boarded up outside. He had no intention of submitting to thedeprivation of light and air. 

He picked up the chair and swinging it delivered a series of blows thatshattered the glass, cracked the frame, and finally drove out the boards. He found himself looking into the impassive faces of his jailers. 

They did not even seem surprised, and made no demonstration against him. Ambrose whistled. Job came running and scrambled over the window-sillinto his master's arms. 

Later one of the Indians came with strips of moose hide which he pinnedacross outside the window. From each strip dangled a row of bells, suchas are fastened to dog-harness. It was cunningly contrived--Ambrosecould not touch one of the strips ever so gently without giving an alarm. 

Thereafter, as long as it was light, he could see them loafing andsleeping in the grass outside with their guns beside them. After darktheir pipe-bowls glowed. 

Three days of inexpressible tedium followed. Had it not been for Job, Ambrose felt he would have gone out of his mind. His window overlookedthe teepee village, and his sole distraction from his thoughts lay inwatching the Indians at work and play. 

His jailers put up a teepee outside the shack. There were never lessthan three in sight, generally playing poker--and with their guns besidethem. 

Ambrose knowing the inconsequentiality of the Indian mind guessed thatthey must have had strong orders to keep them on guard so faithfully. Any thought of escape was out of the question. He could not travel ahundred and fifty miles without a store of food. He sought to keep out alittle from every meal that was served him, but he got barely enough forhim and Job, too. 

On the fourth day the arrival of the main body of Indians from FortEnterprise created a diversion. They came straggling slowly on foot downthe hill to the flat, extreme weariness marked in their heavy gait andtheir sagging backs. 

Only Watusk rode a horse. Every other beast was requisitioned to carrythe loot from the store. Some of the men--and all the women bore packsalso. This was why they had been so long on the way. 

True to their savage nature they had taken more than they could carry. As Ambrose learned later, there were goods scattered wantonly all alongthe trail. 

Ambrose naturally anticipated some change in his own condition as aresult of the arrival of Watusk. But nothing happened immediately. Thepatient squaws set to work to make camp, and by nightfall the village ofteepees was increased fourfold. 

In the motionless twilight each cone gave a perpendicular thread of smoketo the thin cloud that hung low over the flat. 

As the darkness increased the teepees became faintly luminous from thefires within, and the streets gleamed like strings of pale Japaneselanterns. Ambrose, expecting visitors, watched at his window until late. 

None came. 

In the morning he made the man who brought his breakfast understand bysigns that he wished to speak with Watusk. The chief did not, however, vouchsafe him a call. 

To-day it transpired that the Indians were only making a temporary haltbelow. After a few hours' rest they got in motion again, and allafternoon were engaged in ferrying their baggage across the river indugouts and in swimming their horses over. 

On the following morning, with the exception of Watusk's lodge and half adozen others, all the teepees were struck, and the whole body of thepeople crossed the river and disappeared behind the hill. All on thatside was no man's land, still written down "unexplored" on the maps. 

Thereafter day succeeded day without any break in the monotony ofAmbrose's imprisonment. He occasionally made out the portly figure ofWatusk in his frock coat, but received no word from him. 

It was now the 20th of September, and the poplar boughs were bare. Everymorning now the grass was covered with rime, and to-day a flurry of snowfell. Winter would increase the difficulties of escape tenfold. 

Ambrose speculated endlessly on what might be happening at FortEnterprise. He thought, too, of Peter Minot who was relying on him tosteer the hazarded fortunes of the firm into port--and groaned at hisimpotence. 

As with all solitary prisoners, throughout the long hours Ambrose's mindpreyed upon itself. True, he had Job, who was friend and consoler in hisdumb way, but Job was only a dog. 

To joke or to swear at his jailers was like trying to make a noise in avacuum. Not to be able to make himself felt became a positive torture toAmbrose. 

On the night of this day, lying in bed, he found himself wide awakewithout being able to say what had awakened him. He lay listening, andpresently heard the sound again--the fall of a little object on the floor. 

The chinks of the log walls were stopped with mud which had dried andloosened; nothing strange that bits of it should fall--still his heartbeat fast. 

He heard a cautious scratching and another piece dropped and broke on thefloor. Now he knew a living agency was at work. Job growled. Ambroseclutched his muzzle. 

Suddenly a whisper stole through the dark--in his amazement Ambrose couldnot have told from what quarter. "Angleysman! Angleysman!"

Awe of the supernatural shook Ambrose's breast. He had come straightfrom deep slumber. A fine perspiration broke out upon him. It was awoman's whisper, with a tender lift and fall in the sound. 

Job struggled to release his head. Ambrose sternly bade him be quiet. The dog desisted, but crouched trembling. 

The whisper was repeated; "Angleysman!"

A man must answer his summons. "What do you want?" asked Ambrose softly. 

"Come here. "

"Where are you?"

"Here--at the corner. Come to the foot of your bed. "

Ambrose obeyed. Reaching the spot he said: "Speak again. "

"Here, " the voice whispered. "I mak' a hole in the mud. Put your eardown and I spik sof'. "

Ambrose identified the spot whence the sound issued. He put his lips toit. "Who are you?" he whispered. 

"Nesis, " came the softly breathed answer. "I your friend. "

Friend was always a word to warm Ambrose's breast, and surely at thismoment of all his life he needed a friend. "Thank you, " he said from afull heart. 

"I see you at the tea-dance, " the voice went on. 

Ambrose had an intuition. "Were you the girl--"

"Yes, " she said. "I sit be'ind you. I think you pretty man. When werun out I squeeze your hand. "

Ambrose grinned into the darkness. "I thought you were pretty, too, " hereturned. 

"Oh, I wish I in there, " she whispered. 

He was a little nonplused by her naïve warmth. 

"The men say you strong as one bear, " she went on. "They say you gotgold in your teeth. Is that true?"

"Yes, " said Ambrose laughing. 

"I lak' to see that. "

In spite of the best intent on both sides conversation languished. It isdifficult to make acquaintance through a wall of logs. Finally Ambroseasked how it was she could speak English, and that unlocked her simplestory. 

"My fat'er teach me, " she said. "He is half a white man. He come herelong tam ago and marry Kakisa. He spik ver' good Angleys. When Watuskis make head man he mad at my fat'er because my fat'er spik Angleys. 

"Watusk not want nobody spik Angleys but him around. Watusk fix it tomak' them kill my fat'er. It is the truth. Watusk not know I spikAngleys, too. My fat'er teach me quiet. If Watusk know that he cut outmy tongue, I think. I lak spik Angleys--me. I spik by myself so notforget. I come spik Angleys with you. "

"Your father is dead?" said Ambrose. "Who do you live with?"

"Watusk, " came the surprising answer. "I Watusk's youngest wife. Gotfour wives. "

"Good Lord!" murmured Ambrose. 

"When my fat'er is kill, Watusk tak' me, " she went on. "I hate him!"

"What a shame!" cried Ambrose, remembering the wistful face. 

"I wish I in there!" she whispered again. 

"Will you help me to get out?" Ambrose asked eagerly. "I can make it ifyou can slip me some food. "

"I not want you go 'way, " she said slowly. 

"I can't live locked up like this!" he cried. 

"Yes, I help you, " she whispered. 

"Could you get me a horse, too?" he asked. 

"Yes, " she said. "But many men is watch the trail for police. Tak' acanoe and go down the river. "

"Where does this river go?"

"They say to the Big Buffalo lake. "

"Good! I can get back to Moultrie from there. Can you bring me a strongknife?"

"I bring him to-morrow night, Angleysman. "

"I will cut a hole in the floor and dig out under the wall. "

Nesis was not anxious to talk over the details of his escape. "Have yougot a wife?" she asked. "Why not?" There was no end to her questions. 

Finally she said with a sigh: "I got go now. I put my hand inside. Youcan touch it. "

Ambrose felt for the little fingers that crept through the slit, andgratefully pressed his lips to them. 

"Ah!" she breathed wonderingly. "Was that your mouth? It mak' me jomp!Put your hand outside, Angleysman. "

He did so, and felt his fingers brushed as with rose-petals. 

"Goo'-by!" she breathed. 

"Nesis, " he asked, "do you know why Watusk is keeping me locked up here?What does he think he's going to do with me?"

"Sure I know, " she said. "Ev'rybody know. If the police catch him hesay he not mak' all this trouble. He say you mak' him do it all. GordonStrange tell him say that. "

A great light broke on Ambrose. "Of course!" he said. 

"Goo'-by, Angleysman!" breathed Nesis. "I come to-morrow night. "

CHAPTER XXIX. 

NESIS. 

After this, Ambrose's dreary imprisonment took on a new color. True, the hours next day threatened to drag more slowly than ever, but withthe hope that it might be the last day he could bear it philosophically. 

Hour after hour he paced his floor on springs. "Tomorrow the free skyover my head!" he told himself. "I'll be doing something again!"

He watched the teepees with an added interest, wondering if any of thewomen's figures he saw might be hers. The most he could distinguish atthe distance was the difference between fat and slender. 

In the middle of the morning he saw Watusk ride forth, accompanied byfour men that he guessed were the councilors. Watusk now had amilitary aspect. 

On his head he wore a pith helmet, and across the frock coat a broadred sash like a field marshal's. He and his henchmen climbed the trailleading back to Enterprise. 

Later, Ambrose saw a party of women leave camp, carrying birch-barkreceptacles that looked like school-book satchels. They commenced topick berries on the hillside. Ambrose wondered if his little friendwere among them. 

They gradually circled the hill and approached his shack. As they drewnear he finally recognized Nesis in one who occasionally straightenedher back and glanced toward his window. She was slenderer than theothers. 

The shack stood on a little terrace of clean grass. Above it and belowstretched the rough hillside, covered with scrubby bushes and weeds. It was in this rough ground that the women were gathering wildcranberries. 

Coming to the edge of the grass, they paused with full satchels, talking idly, nibbling the fruit and casting inquisitive glances towardAmbrose's prison. 

There were eight of them, and Nesis stood out from the lot like a star. The four men playing poker in the grass at one side paid no attentionto them. 

Nesis with a sly smile whispered in her neighbor's ear. The other girlgrinned and nodded, the word was passed around, and they all cameforward a little way in the grass with a timid air. 

Their inquisitive eyes sought to pierce the obscurity of the shack. Ambrose, not yet knowing what was expected of him, kept in thebackground. 

The fat girl, prompted and nudged by Nesis, suddenly squalled somethingin Kakisa, which convulsed them all. Ambrose had no difficulty inrecognizing it as a derisive, flirtatious challenge. 

Not to be outdone, he came to the window and answered in kind. Theycould not contain their laughter at the sound of the comical Englishsyllables. 

Badinage flew fast after that. Ambrose observed that Nesis herselfnever addressed him, but circulated slyly from one to another, making acup of her hand at each ear. 

Becoming emboldened, they gradually drew closer to the window. Theymade outrageous faces. Still the poker-players affected not to beaware of them. As men and hunters they disdained to notice suchfoolishness. 

Suddenly Nesis, as if to prove her superior boldness, darted forward tothe very window. Ambrose, startled by the unexpected move, fell back astep. Nesis put her hands on the sill and shrieked an unintelligiblejibe into the room. 

The other girls hugged themselves with horrified delight. This was toomuch for the jailers. They sprang up and with threatening voice andgestures drove the girls away. They scampered down-hill, shriekingwith affected terror. 

When Nesis placed her hands on the sill a thin package slipped out ofher sleeve and thudded upon the floor. Ambrose's heart jumped. 

As the girls ran away, under cover of leaning out and calling afterthem, he pushed her gift under the table with his foot. One of thejailers, coming to the window and glancing about the room, found himunconcernedly lighting his pipe. 

When the poker game was resumed Ambrose retired with his prize to thefarthest corner of the shack. It proved to be the knife he had askedfor, a keen, strong blade. 

She had wrapped it in a piece of moose hide to keep it from clatteringon the floor. Ambrose's heart warmed toward her anew. "She's asplucky and clever as she is friendly, " he thought. He stuffed theknife in his bed and resigned himself as best he could to wait fordarkness. 

Fortunately for his store of patience, the days were rapidly growingshorter. His supper was brought him at six, and when he had finishedeating it was dark enough to begin work. 

Outside the moon's first quarter was filling the bowl of the hills witha delicate radiance, but moonlight outside only made the interior ofthe shack darker to one looking in. 

Ambrose squatted in the corner at the foot of his bed, and set to workas quietly as a mouse in the pantry. 

He had finished his hole in the flooring and was commencing to dig inthe earth, when a soft scratching on the wall gave notice of Nesis'spresence outside. 

"Angleysman, you there?" she whispered through the chink. 

"Here!" said Ambrose. 

"The boat is ready, " she said. "I got grub and blanket and gun. "

"Ah, fine!" whispered Ambrose. 

"You almost out?" she asked. 

He explained his situation. 

"I dig this side, too, " she said. "We dig together. Mak' no noise!"

Since the shack was innocent of foundation it was no great matter todig under the wall. With knife and hands Ambrose worked on his sideuntil he had got deep enough to dig under. 

Occasional little sounds assured him that Nesis was not idle. Suddenlythe thin barrier of earth between them caved in, and they clasped handsin the hole. 

Five minutes more of scooping out and the way was clear. Ambroseextended his long body on the floor and wriggled himself slowly underthe log. 

Outside an urgent hand on his shoulder restrained him. Throwingherself on the ground, she put her lips to his ear. "Go back!" shewhispered. "The moon is moch bright. You must wait little while. "

Ambrose, mad to taste the free air of heaven, resisted a littlesullenly. 

"Please go back!" she whispered imploringly. "I come in. I got talkwith you. "

He drew himself back into the shack with none too good a grace. Standing over the hole when she appeared, he put his hands under herarms and, drawing her through, stood her upon her feet. 

He could have tossed the little thing in the air with scarcely aneffort. She turned about and came close to him. 

"I so glad to be by you!" she breathed. 

She emanated a delicate natural fragrance like pine-trees or wildroses--but Ambrose could only think of freedom. 

"You managed to get here without being seen, " he grumbled. 

"You foolish!" she whispered tenderly. "I little. I can hide behindleaves sof' as a link. Your white face him show by the moon lak alittle moon. Are you sorry you got stay with me little while?"

"No!" he said. "But--I'm sick to be out of this!"

She put her hands on his shoulders and drew him down. "Sit on thefloor, " she whispered. "Your ear too moch high for my mouth. "'

They sat, leaning against the footboard of the bed, Like a confidingchild she snuggled her shoulder under his arm and drew the arm aroundher. What was he to do hut hold her close?

"It is true, you ver' moch strong, " she murmured. "Lak a bear. But abear is ogly. "

"You didn't think I was pretty to-day, did you, ", he said with a grin, "with a week's growth on my chin?"

She softly stroked his cheek. "Wah!" she said, laughing. "Lakporcupine! Red man not have strong beard lak that. They say youscrape it off with a knife every day. "

"When I have the knife, " said Ambrose. 

"Why you do that?" she asked. "I lak see it grow down long lak myhair. That would be wonderful!"

Ambrose trembled with internal laughter. 

"I lak everything of you, " she murmured. 

He was much troubled between his gratitude and his inability toreciprocate the naïve passion she had conceived for him. It ispleasant to be loved and flattered and exalted, but it entailsobligations. 

"I never can thank you properly for what you've done, " he said clumsily. 

"I do anything for you, " she said quickly. "So soon my eyes see you tothe dance I know that. Always before that I am think about white men. I not see no white men before, only the little parson, and the old menat the fort. They not lak you? My father is the same as me. He lakwhite men. We talk moch about white men. My fat'er say to me neverforget the Angleys talk. Do I spik Angleys good, Angleysman?"

"Fine!" whispered Ambrose. 

She pulled his head forward so that she could breathe her soft speechdirectly in his ear. 

"My father and me not the same lak other people here. We got whiteblood. Men not talk with their girls moch. My fat'er talk man talkwith me. Because he is got no boys, only me. So I know many things. 

"I think, women's talk foolish. Many tam my fat'er say to me, Angleystalk mak' men strong. He say to me, some day Watusk kill me for causeI spik the Angleys. 

"So in the tam of falling leaves lak this, three years ago, my fat'erhe is go down the river to the big falls to meet the people from BigBuffalo Lake. 

"My fat'er and ten men go. Bam-by them come back. My fat'er not inany dugout. Them say my fat'er is hunt with Ahcunza one day. Myfat'er is fall in the river and go down the big falls. 

"They say that. But I know the truth. Ahcunza is a friend of Watusk. Watusk give him his vest with goldwork after. My fat'er is dead. I amlak wood then. My mot'er sell me to Watusk. I not care for not'ing. "

"Your mother, sell you!" murmured Ambrose. 

"My mot'er not lak me ver' moch, " said Nesis simply. "She mad forcause I got white blood. She mad for cause my fat'er all tam talk withme. "

"Three years ago!" said Ambrose. "You must have been a little girlthen!"

"I fourteen year old then. My mot'er got 'not'er osban' now. Commonman. They gone with Buffalo Lake people. I not care. All tam I thinkof my fat'er. He is one fine man. 

"Las' summer the priest come here. Mak' good talk, him. Say if wegood, bam-by we see the dead again. What you think, is that true talk, Angleysman?"

Ambrose's arm tightened around the wistful child. "Honest truth!" hewhispered. 

She opened her simple heart fully to him. Her soft speech tumbled outas if it had been dammed all these years, and only now released by atouch of kindness. 

Ambrose was touched as deeply as a young man may be by a woman he doesnot love, yet he could not help glancing over her head at the square ofsky obliquely revealed through the window. It gradually darkened. 

"The moon has gone down, " he said at last. 

Nesis clung to him. "Ah, you so glad to leave me!" she whimpered. 

He gently released himself. "Think of me a little, " he said. "I mustget a long start before daylight. "

She buried her face on her knees. Her shoulders shook. 

"Nesis!" he whispered appealingly. 

She lifted her head and flung a hand across her eyes. "No good cry, "she murmured. "Come on!"

Nesis led the way out through the hole they had dug. Job followedAmbrose. Outside, for greater safety, he took the dog in his arms. 

The moon had sunk behind the hill across the river, but it was stilldangerously bright. Nesis took hold of Ambrose's sleeve and pointedoff to the right. She whispered in his ear:

"Ev'ry tam feel what is under your foot before step hard. "

She did not make directly for the river, but led him step by step upthe hill toward a growth of timber that promised safety. The firsthundred yards was the most difficult. 

They rose above the shack into the line of vision of the guards infront, had they elevated their eyes. Nesis, crouching, moved like acat after a bird. 

Ambrose followed, scarcely daring to breathe. Even the dog understoodand lay as if dead in Ambrose's arms. 

The danger decreased with every step. When they gained the trees theycould fairly count themselves safe. Even if an alarm were raised nowit would take time to find them in the dark. 

Nesis, still leading Ambrose, pattered ahead as if every twig in thebush was familiar to her. She did not strike down to the river untilthey had gone a good way around the side of the hill. 

This brought them to the water's edge at a point a third of a mile ormore below the teepees. Ambrose distinguished a bark canoe drawn upbeneath the willows. In it lay the outfit she had provided. 

He put it in the water, and Job hopped into his accustomed place in thebow. 

"You love that dog ver' moch, " Nesis murmured jealously. 

"He's all I've got, " said Ambrose. 

Her hand swiftly sought his. 

"Tell me how I should go, " said Ambrose hastily, fearing ademonstration. 

Nesis drew a long sigh. "I tell you, " she said sadly. "They say it isfour sleeps to the big falls. Two sleeps by quiet water. Many badrapids after that. You mus' land by every rapid to look. They say thefalls mak' no noise before they catch you. Ah! tak' care!"

"I know rivers, " said Ambrose. 

"They say under the water is a cave with white bones pile up!" shefaltered. "They say my fat'er is there. I 'fraid for you to go!"

"I'll be careful, " he said lightly. "Don't you worry!"

"At the falls, " she went on sadly, "you mus' land on the side away fromthe sun, and carry your canoe on your back. There is pretty goodtrail. Three miles. After that one more sleep to the big lake. ACompany fort is there. "

Like an honest man he dreaded the mere formulas of thanks at such amoment, but neither could an honest man forego them. "How can I everrepay you!" he mumbled. 

She clapped a warm hand over his mouth. 

As he was about to step in the canoe Ambrose saw a bundle lying on theground to one side that he had not remarked before. "What is that?" heasked. 

"Nothing for you, " she said quickly. 

The evasive note made him insist upon knowing. 

For a long time she would not tell, thus increasing his determinationto find out. Finally she said very low: "I jus' foolish. I thinkmaybe--maybe you want tak' me too!"

Ambrose's heart was wrung. His arm went around her with a right goodwill. "You poor baby!" he murmured. "I can't!"

She struggled to release herself. "All right, " she said stiffly. "Inot think you tak' me. Only maybe. "

"By God!" swore Ambrose. "If I live through my troubles I'll find away of getting you out of yours!"

"Ah, come back!" she murmured, clinging to his arm. 

"Good-by, " he said. 

"Wait!" she said, clinging to him. She lifted her face. "Kiss meonce, lak' white people kiss!"

He kissed her fairly. 

"Goo'-by, " she whispered. "I always be think of you. Goo'-by, Angleysman!"

CHAPTER XXX. 

FREE!

Ambrose put off with a heart big with compassion for the piteous littlefigure he was leaving behind him. His impotence to aid her poisonedthe joy of his escape. 

The worst of it was that it was impossible for him to return thefeeling she had for him--even though Colina were lost to him forever. Her unlucky passion almost forbade him to be the one to aid her. 

Yet he had profited by that passion to make his escape. He must findsome way. 

As he drove his paddle into the breast of the dark river, and put onepoint of willows after another between him and danger, it must beconfessed that his spirits rose steadily. 

Never had his nostrils tasted anything sweeter than the smell of warmriver water on the chill air, nor his eyes beheld a friendlier sightthan the cheery stars. The one who fares forth does not repine. 

After all he had only known Nesis for two days; she was fine andplucky--but he could not love her, and that was all there was to it. He had matters nearer his heart than the sad fate of an Indian maiden. 

Master of his actions once more it was time for him to consider what todo to get out of the coil he was in. Nesis passed into the back of hismind. 

No desire for sleep hampered him. He had had enough of sleeping thepast two weeks. His arms had ached for this exercise. There was afair current, and the willows moved by at a respectable rate. 

He estimated that he could put forty miles between him and the Kakisavillage by morning. The pleasant taste of freedom was heightened bythe spice of heading into the unknown, and by night. 

Night returns a rare sympathy to those who cultivate her. Ambrose, sofar as he knew, was the first white man ever to travel this way. Thisriver had no voice. The night was so still one could almost fancy oneheard the stars. 

Sometimes the looming shapes of islands confused him as to his course, but if he held his paddle the canoe would of itself choose the maincurrent. 

He had no apprehension as to what each bend in the stream would reveal, for with the experienced riverman's intuition he looked for a change inthe character of the shores to warn him of any interruption of thecurrent's smooth flow. 

"Like old times, old fel'!" he said to his dumb partner. 

Job's tail thumped on the gunwale. Ambrose contended that at night Jobpurposely turned stern formost to the most convenient hard object thathis signals might be audible. 

"To-night is ours anyway, old fel', " said Ambrose. "Let's enjoy itwhile we can. The worst is yet to come!"

It was many a day since Job had heard this jocular note in his master'svoice. He wriggled a little and whined in his eagerness to reach him. Job knew better than to attempt to move much in the bark canoe. 

In due course the miracle of dawn was enacted on the river. The worldstole out of the dark like a woman wan with watching. First the lineof tree-tops on either bank became blackly silhouetted against thegraying sky, then little by little the masses of trees and bushesresolved into individuals. 

Perspective came into being, afterward atmosphere, and finally color. The scene was as cool and delicate as that presented to a diver on thefloor of the sea. As the light increased it was as if he mounted intoshallower water toward the sun. 

The first distinctive note of color was the astonishing green of thegoosegrass springing in the mud left by the falling water; then thecurrent itself became a rich, brown with creamy flakes of foam sailingdown like little vessels. While Ambrose looked, the world blossomedfrom a pale nun into a ruddy matron. 

With the rising of the sun the need of sleep began to afflict him. Hehad thought he never would need sleep again. His paddle became leadenin his hands, and Olympian yawns prostrated him. 

He did not wish to take the time to sleep as yet, but he resolved tostimulate his flagging energies with bread and hot tea. 

Landing on a point of stones, he built a fire, and hung his littlecopper pot over it. The sight of everything he had been provided withbrought the thought of Nesis sharply home again, and sobered him. 

Here was everything a traveler might require, even including two extrapairs of moccasins, worked, he was sure, by herself. "How can I everrepay her?" he thought uncomfortably. 

Job was gyrating madly up and down the beach to express his joy attheir deliverance. Ambrose was aroused from a drowsy contemplation ofthe fire by an urgent bark from the dog. 

Looking up, he was frozen with astonishment to behold another barkcanoe sweeping around the bend above. When motion returned to him, hishand instinctively shot out toward the gun. But there was only onefigure. It was a woman--it was Nesis!

Ambrose dropped the gun and, jumping up, swore helplessly under hisbreath. He stared at the oncoming boat, fascinated with perplexity. 

During the few seconds between his first sight of it and its groundingat his feet, the complications bound to follow on her coming presentedthemselves with a horrible clearness. His face turned grim. 

Nesis, landing, could not face his look. She flung up an arm over hereyes. "Ah, don't look so mad to me!" she faltered. 

"God help us!" muttered Ambrose. "What will we do now?"

She sank down in a heap at his feet. "Don't, don't hate me or I die!"'she wailed. 

It was impossible for him to remain angry with the forlorn littlecreature. He laid a hand on her shoulder. 

"Get up, " he said with a sigh. "I'm not blaming you. The questionis--what are we going to do?"

She lifted her head. "I go with you, " she whispered breathlessly. "Ihelp you in the rapids. I bake bread for you. I watch at night. "

He shook his head. "You've got to go back, " he said sternly. 

"No! No!" she cried, wringing her hands. "I can' go back no more!Las' night when you go I fall down. I think I goin' die. I sorry Inot die. I want jump in river; but the priest say that is a bad thing. 

"I can' go back to Watusk's teepee no more. If he touch me I got killhim! That is bad, too! I don't know what to do! I want be good so Isee my fat'er bam-by!"

Ambrose groaned. 

She thought he was relenting, and came and wound her arms about him. "Tak' me wit' you, " she pleaded like a little child. "I be good, Angleysman!"

Ambrose firmly detached the imploring arms. "You mustn't do that, " hesaid as to a child. "We've got to think hard what to do. "

"Ah, you hate me!" she wailed. 

"That's nonsense!" he said sharply. "I am your friend. I will neverforget what you did for me!"

He took an abrupt turn up and down the stones, trying to think what todo. "Look here, " he said finally. "I've got to hurt you. I shouldhave told you before, but I couldn't bring myself to hurt you. I can'tlove you the way you want. I'm in love with another woman. "

She flung away from him, shoulder up as if he had raised a whip. Herface turned ugly. 

"You love white woman!" she hissed with extraordinary passion. "ColinaGaviller! I know! I hate her! She proud and wicked woman. She hatemy people!" Nesis's eyes flamed up with a kind of bitter triumph. Hervoice rose shrilly. 

"She hate you, too! Always she is bad to you. I know that, too. Whatyou want wit' Colina Gaviller? Are you a dog to lie down when she beatyou?"

Ambrose's eyes gleamed ominously. "Stop it!" he cried. "You don'tknow what you're talking about. " His look intimidated her. The fury ofjealousy subsided to a sullen muttering. "I hate her! She bad to thepeople. She want starve the people. She think her yellow horse betterthan an Indian!"

Ambrose, seeing her lip begin to tremble and her eyes fill, relented. "Stop it, " he said mildly. "No use for us to quarrel. "

She suddenly broke into a storm of weeping and cast herself down, hiding her face in her arms. Ambrose could think of nothing better todo than let her weep herself out. He sat down on a boulder. 

She came creeping to him at last, utterly humbled. "Angleysman, tak'me wit' you, " she murmured, clasping her hands before him. Her breathwas still caught with sobs. "I not expec' you marry me. I not bot'eryou wit' much talk lak' a wife. I jus' be your little servant. Younot want me, you say: Go 'way. I jus' wait till you want me again. "

Ambrose turned his head away. He had never imagined a man having to gothrough with anything like this. 

"Always, always I work for you, " she whispered. "Let Colina Gavillermarry you. She not mind me. I guess she not mind that little dog youlove. I jus' poor, common red girl. She think not'ing of me!"

Ambrose laughed a bitter note at the picture she called up. "Thatwould hardly work, " he said. 

"But tak' me wit' you, " she implored. She finally ventured to lay hercheek on his knee. 

He laid a hand on her hair. "Listen, you baby, " he said, "and try tounderstand me. You know that they are going to try to put off all thistrouble on me. They will say I made the Indians do bad. They will sayI tried to kill John Gaviller. The police will arrest me, and therewill be a trial. You know what that is. "

"Everybody see you not a bad man, " she said. 

"It's not as simple as that, " he said with a wry smile. "I have nobodyto speak for me but myself. Now, if you go away with me everybody willsay: 'Ambrose Doane stole Watusk's wife away from him. Ambrose Doaneis a bad man. ' And then they will not believe me when I say I did notlead the Indians into wrong; I did not try to kill John Gaviller. "

"I speak for you, " cried Nesis. "I tell Gordon Strange and Watusk fixall trouble together. "

"If you go with me, they will not believe you either, " said Ambrosepatiently. "They will say: 'Nesis is crazy about Ambrose Doane. Hemakes her say whatever he wants. '"

"It is the truth I am crazy 'bout you, " said Nesis. 

Ambrose sighed. "Listen to me. I tell you straight, if you go with meit will ruin me. I am as good as a jailbird already. "

She gave her head an impatient shake. "I not understand, " she saidsadly. "You say it. I guess it is truth. "

There was a silence. Nesis's childlike brows were bent into a frown. She glanced into his face to see if there was any reprieve from thehard sentence. Finally she said very low:

"Angleysman, you got go to jail if you tak' me?"

"Sure as fate!" he said sadly. 

She got up very slowly. "I guess I ver' foolish, " she murmured. Shewaited, obviously to give him a chance to speak. He was mum. 

"I go back now, " she whispered heart-brokenly, and turned toward hercanoe. 

With her hand on the prow she waited again, not looking at him, hopingagainst hope. There was something crushed and palpitating in heraspect like a wounded bird. Ambrose felt like a monster of cruelty. 

Suddenly a fresh fear attacked him. "Nesis, " he asked, "how will youexplain being away overnight? They will connect it with my escape. What will they do to you?"

She turned her head, showing him a painful little smile. "You notthink of that before, " she murmured. "I not care what they do by me. You not love me. "

He strode to her and clapped a rough hand on her shoulder. "Here, Icouldn't have them hurt you!" he cried harshly. "You baby! You comewith me. I'm in as bad as I can be already. A little more or lesswon't make any difference. I'll chance it, anyway. You come with me!"

"Oh, my Angleysman!" she breathed, and sank a little limp heap at hisfeet. 

Ambrose blew up the forgotten fire and made tea. Nesis quicklyrevived. Having made up his mind to take her, he put the best possibleface on it. 

There were to be no more reproaches. Her pitiful anxiety not to angerhim again made him wince. Her eyes never left his face. If he so muchas frowned at an uncomfortable thought they became tragic. 

"Look here, I'm not a brute!" he cried, exasperated. 

Nesis looked foolish, and quickly turned her head away. 

Over their tea and bannock they became almost cheerful. Motion hadmade them both hungry. 

Ambrose glanced at their slender store. "We'll never hang out to thelake at this rate, " he said laughing. 

"I set rabbit snare when we sleep, " Nesis said quickly. "I catch fish. I shoot wild duck. "

"Shall we leave one of the canoes?" asked Ambrose. 

She shook her head vigorously. "Each tak' one. Maybe one bus' inrapids. You sleep in your canoe now. I pull you. "

Ambrose shook his head. "No sleep until to-night, " he said. 

Ambrose was lighting his pipe and Nesis was gathering up the thingswhen suddenly Job sprang up, barking furiously. At the same momenthalf a score of dark faces rose above the bank behind them, andgun-barrels stuck up. 

Among the ten was a distorted, snarling, yellow face. Ambrose snatchedup his own gun. Nesis uttered a gasping cry; such a sound of terrorAmbrose had never heard. 

"Shoot me!" she gasped, crawling toward him. "You shoot me!Angleysman, quick! Shoot me!"

Her heartrending cries had so confused him, he was seized before hecould raise his gun. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE ALARM. 

Ambrose was pacing his log prison once more. The earth had been filledin, the hole in the floor roughly repaired, and now his jailers tookturns in patrolling around the shack. 

Imprisonment was doubly hard now. Day and night Nesis's strange criesof terror rang in his ears. He knew something about the Indians' ideasof punishing women. His imagination never ceased to suggest terriblethings that might have befallen her. 

"God! Every one that comes near me suffers!" he cried in his firstdespair. 

The explanation of their surprise proved simple. Watusk and his crew, pursuing them in two dugouts, had seen the smoke of their fire from upthe river. 

They had landed above the point and, making a short detour inland, hadfallen on Ambrose and Nesis from behind. Nesis had been carried backin one dugout, Ambrose in the other. 

During the trip no ill-usage had been offered her, as far as he couldsee, but upon reaching the village she had been spirited away, and hehad not seen her since. 

His last glimpse had shown him her child's face almost dehumanized withterror. 

Ambrose now for the first time received a visit from Watusk. Watuskhad also traveled in the other dugout ascending the river, and they hadexchanged no words. 

He came to the shack attended by his four little familiars, and thedoor was closed behind them. These four were like supers in a theater. They had no lines to speak. Watusk's aspect was intended to beimposing. 

In addition to the red sash he now wore three belts, the first full ofcartridges, the second supporting an old cavalry saber, the thirdcarrying two gigantic . 45 Colts in holsters. 

He carried the Winchester over his arm, and still wore the grimy pithhelmet. Ambrose smiled with bitter amusement. It seemed like the verysport of fate that he should be placed in the power of such a poorcreature as this. 

"How!" said Watusk, offering his hand with an affable smile. 

Ambrose, remembering the look of his face when it rose over the bank, was sharply taken aback. He lacked a clue to the course of reasoningpursued by Watusk's mongrel mind. However, he quickly reflected thatit was only by exercising his wits that he could hope to help Nesis. He took the detestable hand and returned an offhand greeting. 

"You mak' beeg mistak' you try run away, " said Watusk. "You mos' safehere. "

"How is that?" asked Ambrose warily. 

"I your friend, " said Watusk. 

Ambrose suppressed the inclination to laugh. 

"I keep you here so people won't hurt you, " Watusk went on. "My peoplelak children. Pretty soon forget what they after. Pretty soon forgetthey mad at you. Then I let you out. "

"Do you still mean to say that I killed one of your men?" demandedAmbrose hotly. 

Watusk shrugged. "Myengeen say so. "

"It's a lie!" cried Ambrose scornfully. An expectant look in Watusk'seye arrested him from saying more. "He's trying to find out how muchNesis told me, " he thought. Aloud he said, with a shrug like Watuskhimself: "Well, I'll be glad when it blows over. "

"Two three day I let you out, " Watusk said soothingly. "You can haveanything you want. "

"How is Nesis?" demanded Ambrose abruptly. 

There was a subtle change in Watusk's eyes; no muscle of his facealtered. 

"She all right, " he said coolly. 

"Where is she?"

"I send her to my big camp 'cross the river. "

"You shouldn't blame Nesis for helping me out, " Ambrose saidearnestly--not that he expected to make any impression. "She's only achild. I made her do it. "

Watusk spread out his palms blandly. "I not blame her, " he said. "Inot care not'ing only maybe you get drown in the rapids. "

Ambrose studied the brown mask narrowly. Watusk gave nothing away. Suddenly the Indian smiled. 

"You t'ink I mad for cause she go wit' you?" he said. He laughedsilently. "Wa! There are plenty women. When I let you out I give youNesis. "

This sounded a little too philanthropic. 

"H-m!" said Ambrose. 

"You lak little Nesis, hey?" inquired Watusk, leering. 

Ambrose was warned by a crafty shadow in the other man's eye. 

"Sure!" he said lightly. "Didn't she help me out of here?"

"You lak talk wit' her, I t'ink. "

Ambrose thought fast. The only English words Nesis had spoken inWatusk's hearing were her cries of fright at his appearance. In theconfusion of that moment it was possible Watusk had not remarked them. 

"Talk to her?" said Ambrose, simulating surprise. "Only by signs. "

"How she get you out, then?" Watusk quickly asked. 

This was a poser. To hesitate was to confess all. Ambrose drew aquick breath and plunged ahead. 

"Why, she and a lot of girls were picking berries that day. They camearound the shack here and began to jolly me through the window. Ifixed Nesis with my eye and scared her. I made a sign for her to bringme a knife. She brought it at night. I put my magic on her and madeher help me dig out and get me an outfit. I was afraid she'd raise analarm as soon as I left, so I made her come, too. "

"Why you tak' two canoe?" asked Watusk. 

"In case we should break one in the rapids. "

"So!" said Watusk. 

Ambrose lighted his pipe with great carelessness. He was unable totell from Watusk's face if his story had made any impression. Thinkingof the conjure-man, he hoped the suggestion of magic might have aneffect. 

"I let you out now, " said Watusk suddenly. "You got promise me you notgo way from here before I tell you go. Give me your hand and swear. "

Ambrose smelled treachery. He shook his head. "I'll escape if I can!"

Watusk shrugged his shoulder and turned away. 

"You foolish, " he said. "I your friend. Good-by. "

"Good-by, " returned Ambrose ironically. 

Ambrose walked his floor, studying Watusk's words from every angle. The result of his cogitations was nil. Watusk's mind was at the sametime too devious and too inconsequential for a mind like Ambrose's totrack it. Ambrose decided that he was like one of the childish, unreasonable liars one meets in the mentally defective of our own race. Such a one is clever to no purpose: he will blandly attempt to lie awaythe presence of truth. 

In the middle of the afternoon Ambrose, making his endless tramp backand forth across the little shack, paused to take an observation fromthe window, and saw three horsemen come tearing down the trail intocamp. 

They flung themselves off their horses with excited gestures, and thecamp was instantly thrown into confusion. The natives darted among theteepees like ants when their hill is broken into. 

Watusk appeared, buckling on his belts. The women that were left incamp started to scuttle toward the river, dragging their children afterthem. 

Ambrose's heart bounded at the prospect of a diversion. Whateverhappened, his lot could be no worse. At the first alarm three of hisjailers had run down to the teepees. They came back in a hurry. 

The door of the shack was thrown open, and the whole six rushed in andseized him. Ambrose, seeking to delay them, struggled hard. Theyfinally got his hands and feet tied, cursing him heartily in their owntongue. They hustled him down to the riverside. 

All the people left on this side were already gathered there. Theycontinually looked over their shoulders with faces ashen with terror. The men who had horses drove them into the river and swam across with ahand upon the saddle. 

The women and children were ferried in the dugout. So great was theirhaste they came empty-handed. The teepees were left as they stood withfires burning and flaps up. 

Watusk passed near Ambrose, his yellow face livid with agitation. 

"What's the matter?" cried the white man. 

The chief was afflicted with a sudden deafness. Ambrose was cast in adugout. The indefatigable Job hopped in after and made himself smallat his master's feet. 

The mad excitement of the whole crowd inspired Ambrose with a strongdesire to laugh. The water flew in cascades from the frantic paddlesof the boat-men. 

Arriving on the other side, Ambrose was secured on a horse, as on hisfirst journey, and instantly despatched inland with his usual guard. As he was carried away they were dragging up the dugouts and concealingthem under the willows. Watusk was sending men to watch from thecemetery on top of the bold hill. 

Ambrose's guards led his horse at a smart lope around a spur of thehill and along beside a wasted stream almost lost in its stony bed. Adense forest bordered either bank. The trail was broken and spread bythe recent passage of a large number of travelers; these would be themain body of the Kakisas a week before. Ambrose guessed that they werefollowing the bed of a coulée. 

Through the tree-tops on either hand he had occasional glimpses ofsteep, high banks. 

After a dozen miles or so of this they suddenly debouched into averdant little valley without a tree. The stream meandered through itwith endless twists. 

Except for two narrow breaks where it entered and issued forth, thehills pressed all around, steep, grassy hills, fantastically knobbedand hollowed. 

The floor of the valley was about a third of a mile long and half aswide. It was flat and covered with a growth of blue-joint grass ashigh as a man's knee. 

The whole place was like a large clean, green bowl flecked here andthere with patches of bright crimson where the wild rose scrub grew inthe hollows. 

Ambrose, casting his eyes over the green panorama, was astonished tosee at intervals around the sky-line little groups of men busily atwork. They appeared to be digging; he could not be sure. One does notreadily associate Indians with spades. His guards pointed out theworkers to one another, jabbering excitedly in the uncouth Kakisa. 

They rode on through the upper entrance of the valley and plunged intoforest again. Another mile, and they came abruptly on the Indianvillage hidden in a glade just big enough to contain it. 

It had grown; there were many more teepees in sight than Ambrose hadcounted before. They faced each other in two long double rows with anarrow green between. Down the middle of the green ran the stream, here no bigger than a man might step across. 

Ambrose was unceremoniously thrust into one of the first teepees and, bound hand and foot, left to his own devices. He managed to draghimself to the door, where he could at least see something of what wasgoing on. He looked eagerly for a sight of Nesis, or, failing her, oneof the girls who had accompanied her on the berry-picking expedition, and who might be induced to give him some honest information about her. He was not rewarded. 

All who entered the village from the east passed by him. Watusk andthe rest of the people from the river arrived in an hour. 

Here among safe numbers of their own people they recovered from theiralarm. Ambrose suspected their present confidence to be as littlefounded on reason as their previous terror. Watusk, strutting like aturkey-cock in his military finery, issued endless orders. 

At intervals the workers from the hills straggled into camp. Ambrosesaw that they had been using their paddles as spades. A general andsignificant cleaning of rifles took place before the teepees. 

At dusk two more men rode in, probably outposts Watusk had left at theriver. One held up his two bands, opening out and closing the fingerstwice. Ambrose guessed from this that the coming police party numberedtwenty. 

The last thing he saw as darkness infolded the camp was the boysdriving in the horses from the hills. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE TRAP. 

He shared the teepee with his six guards. Sleep was remote from hiseyes. Nevertheless, he did fall off at last, only, it seemed to him, to be immediately awakened by his guards. 

His ankles were unbound, and he was made to understand that he mustride again. Ambrose, seeing no advantage to be gained by resistance, did what they ordered without objection. 

He got to his feet and went outside. A pitiful little yelp behind himcaused him to whirl about and dart inside again. 

"Hands off my dog!" he cried in a voice that caused the Kakisas to fallback in affright. 

There was a little light from the fire. Their attitude wasconciliatory. In their own language they sought to explain. Onepointed to a kind of pannier of birch-bark hanging from a teepee pole, whence issued a violent scratching. 

"Let him out!" cried Ambrose. 

They expostulated with him. None made any move to obey. 

"Let him out!" commanded Ambrose, "or I'll smash something!"

Watusk, attracted by the noise, stuck his head in. The matter wasexplained to him. Lifting the cover of the pannier, he exhibited thefrightened but unharmed Job to his master. 

"Him all right, " he said soothingly. "Let be. We got mak' new campto-night. Can't tak' no dogs. Him come wit' women to-morrow. "

Ambrose did not believe him, of course; but if help were really sonear, he felt it would be suicidal to provoke a conflict at thismoment. Apparently they intended the dog no harm. He assumed to becontented with Watusk's explanation. 

"Good dog, " he said to Job. "You're all right. Lie down. "

Ambrose mounted, and they tied him on as usual. On every hand he couldsee men mounting and riding out of the village. His heart slowly roseinto his throat. 

Could it be meant that he was to take part in a night attack on thepolice? Surely the redcoats would never allow themselves to besurprised! Anyhow, if he was to be present, it would be strange if hecould not help his own in some way. 

His horse was led up the hill, off at right angles to the village. Watusk remained near him. As they rose to higher ground the moon cameinto view, hanging above the tree-tops across the valley, preparatoryto sinking out of sight. 

In its light the objects around him were more clearly revealed. Apparently the riders were straggling to a rendezvous. There was nohaste. The terrible depression which had afflicted Ambrose since Nesishad disappeared was dissipated by the imminence of a great event. 

He lived in the moment. Out of the tail of his eye he observedWatusk's mount, a lustrous black stallion, the finest piece ofhorseflesh he had seen in the north. 

Ambrose heard a confused murmur ahead. Rising over the edge of thehill he saw its cause. A great body of horses was gathered closetogether on the prairie, each with its rider standing at its head. 

The animals jostled each other, bit and squealed, stamped theirforefeet, and tossed their manes. The men were silent. It made aweird scene in the fading moonlight. 

Men and horses partook of a ghostly quality; the faces nearest himblank, oval patches, faintly phosphorescent, were like symbols of thetragedy of mankind. 

Watusk kept Ambrose at his side. Facing his men, he raised his handtheatrically. They sprang to their saddles and, wheeling, set out overthe prairie. Gradually they lengthened out into single file. 

Presently the leader came loping back, and the whole body rode aroundWatusk and Ambrose in a vast circle. It was like an uncanny midnightcircus. 

The riders maintained their silence. The only sounds were the thuddingof hoofs on turf and the shaking of the horsemen in their clothes. Only one or two used saddles. The rifle-barrels caught dull gleams ofmoonlight. 

At another signal from Watusk they pulled up and, turning their horses'heads toward the center, made as small a circle as their numbers couldsqueeze into. 

Watusk addressed Ambrose with a magniloquent air. "See my children, white man! Brave as the white-face mountain bear! Swift as flyingduck! This only a few my men. Toward the setting sun I got so manymore wait my call. 

"By the big lake I got 'nother great army. Let white men tak' care howthey treat us bad. To-morrow red man's day come. He got Watusk leadhim now. Watusk see through white man's bluff!"

It was impossible for Ambrose not to be impressed, ridiculous asWatusk's harangue was. There were the men, not less than twohundred--and twenty police to be attacked. 

Watusk now rode around the circle, addressing his men in their owntongue, singling out this man and that, and issuing instructions. Itwas all received in the same silence. 

Ambrose believed these quiet, ragged little warriors to be moredangerous than their inflated leader. At least in their ignorance theywere honest; one could respect them. 

In more ways than one Ambrose had felt drawn to the Kakisas. Theyseemed to him a real people, largely unspoiled as yet by the impact ofa stronger race. 

If he could only have talked to them, he thought. Surely in fiveminutes he could put them to rights and overthrow this general of straw!

Watusk rode out of the circle, followed by Ambrose and Ambrose's guard. Several of the leading men, including one that Ambrose guessed from hissize to be Myengeen, joined Watusk in front, and the main body made asoft thunder of hoofs in the rear. 

They were headed in a southeasterly direction--that is to say, backtoward the Kakisa River. They rode at a walk. There was noconversation except among the leaders. The moon went down and theshadows pressed closer. 

In a little while there was a division. Myengeen, parted from Watuskand rode off to the right, followed, Ambrose judged from the sounds, bya great part of the horsemen. 

The remainder kept on in the same direction. Half a mile fartherWatusk himself drew aside. Ambrose's guards and others joined him, while the balance of the Indians rode on and were swallowed in thedarkness. 

Watusk turned to the right. Presently they were stopped by a bluff ofpoplar saplings growing in a hollow. Here all dismounted and tiedtheir horses to trees. 

Ambrose's ankles were loosed and, with an Indian's hand on eithershoulder, he was guided through the grass around the edge of the trees. He speculated vainly on what this move portended. 

No attack, certainly; they were striking matches and lighting theirpipes. Suddenly the dim figures in front were swallowed up. 

Immediately afterward Ambrose was led down an incline into a kind ofpit. The smell of turned earth was in his nostrils; he could still seethe stars overhead. They gave him a corner, and his ankles were againtied. 

Soon it began to grow light. Little by little Ambrose made out theconfines of the pit or trench. It was some twenty-five feet long andfive feet wide. When the Indians stood erect, the shortest man couldjust look over the edge. 

Ambrose counted twenty-one men besides Watusk and himself. It wasclose quarters. When it became light enough to see clearly, they linedup in front of him, eagerly looking over. One was lighting a littlefire and putting grass on it to make a smudge. 

Ambrose got his feet under him, and managed after several attempts tostand upright. He was tall enough to look over the heads of theIndians. 

Stretching before him he saw the valley he had remarked the eveningbefore, with the streamlet winding like a silver ribbon in a greenflounce. 

But what the Indians were looking at were little pillars of smoke whichascended at intervals all around the edge of the hills, hung for amoment or two in the motionless air, and disappeared. Ambrose countedeight besides their own. 

Watusk exclaimed in satisfaction, and ordered the fire put out. This, then, was the explanation of the digging--rifle-pits!

Ambrose marveled at the cunning with which it had all been contrived. The excavated earth had been carried somewhere to the rear. 

Wild-rose scrub had been cut and replanted in the earth around threesides of the pit, leaving a clear space between the stems for the mento shoot through, with a screen of the crimson leaves above. 

So well had it been done that Ambrose could not distinguish the otherpits from the patches of wild-rose scrub growing naturally on the hills. 

Ambrose's heart sank with the apprehension of serious danger. He beganto wonder if he and all the other whites in the country had notunder-rated these red men. Where could Watusk have learned histactics? The thing was devilishly planned. 

With the cross-fire of two hundred rifles they could mow down an armyif they could get them inside that valley. Each narrow entrance wascovered by a pair of pits. Every part of the bowl was within range ofevery pit. 

Ambrose feared that the police, in their careless disdain of thenatives, might ride straight into the trap and be lost. 

"Watusk, for God's sake, what do you mean to do?" he cried. 

Watusk was intensely gratified by the white man's alarm. He smiledinsolently. "Ah!" he said. "You on'erstan' now!"

"You fool!" cried Ambrose. "If you fire on the police you'll be wipedclean off the earth! The whole power of the government will descend onyour head! There won't be a single Kakisa left to tell the story ofwhat happened!"

Watusk's face turned ugly. His eyes bolted. "Shut up!" he snarled, "or I gag you. "

Ambrose, bethinking himself that he might use his voice to good purposelater, clenched his teeth and said no more. 

At sunrise a fresh breeze sprang up from the south. Soon after awhisper of distant trotting horses was home upon it. Ambrose's heartleaped to his throat. An excited murmur ran among the Indians. Theypicked up their guns. 

Watusk's pit was one of the pair covering the upper entrance to thevalley. It was thus farthest away from the approaching horsemen. Itfaced straight down the valley. Through the lower gap they caught thegleam of the red coats. 

Ambrose beheld them with a painfully contracted heart. He gaged in hismind how far his voice might carry. The wind was against him. 

Presumably he would only be allowed to cry out once, so it behooved himto make sure it was heard. However, the same thought was in the mindsof the Indians. They scowled at him suspiciously. 

Suddenly, while it was yet useless for him to cry out, they fell uponhim, bearing him to the ground!

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE TEST. 

After a fierce struggle Ambrose was securely bound and gagged. Hemanaged to get to his feet again. His soul sickened at the tragedy itforecast, yet he had to look. 

To his overwhelming relief he saw that the redcoats had halted in thelower entrance to the valley. Evidently the possibility of an ambushin so favored a spot had occurred to their leader. The baggage wassent back. 

His relief was short-lived. Presently the advance was resumed at awalk, and a pair of skirmishers sent out on either side to mount thehills. Ambrose counted sixteen redcoats in the main body, and a man inplain clothes, evidently a native guide. 

One skirmisher on the left was headed all unconscious straight for arifle pit. Ambrose, suffocated by his impotence, tugged at his bondsand groaned under the gag. "Turn back! Turn back!" shouted hisvoiceless tongue. 

There was a shot. Ambrose closed his eyes expecting a fusillade tofollow. It did not come. From his pit, Watusk hissed a negative order. 

Ambrose heard a shrill whistle from the bottom of the valley, andopening his eyes, he saw the skirmishers riding slowly back to the mainbody. Even at the distance their nonchalant air was evident. 

The main body had quietly halted in the middle of the valley. After amoment's pause, one of their number raised a rifle with a white flagtied to the barrel. 

The Indians surrounding Ambrose, lowered their guns, and murmuredconfusedly among themselves. Ambrose looked at Watusk. 

The chief betrayed symptoms of indecision, biting his lip, and pullinghis fingers until the joints cracked. Ambrose took a littleencouragement from the sight. 

To Ambrose's astonishment he saw the troopers dismounting. Flingingthe lines over their horses' heads, they allowed the beasts to crop therich grass of the bottoms. 

The men stood about in careless twos and threes, lighting their pipes. Only their leader remained in the saddle, lolling comfortably sidewise. The breeze brought the sound of their light talk and deep laughter. 

The effect on the Indians was marked. Their jaws dropped, they lookedat each other incredulously, they jabbered excitedly. 

Plainly they were divided between admiration and mystification. Watuskwas demoralized. His hand shook, an ashy tint crept under his yellowskin, an agony of impotent rage narrowed his eyes. 

Ambrose's heart swelled with the pride of race. "Splendid fellows!" hecried to himself. "It was exactly the right thing to do!"

Presently a hail was raised in the valley below; a deep English voicewhose tones gladdened Ambrose's ears. "Ho, Watusk!"

Every eye turned toward the leader. Watusk had the air of a wilfulchild called by his parent. He pished and swaggered, and made someremark to his men with the obsequious smile with which child--orman--asks for the support of his mates in his wrong-doing. 

The men did not smile back; they merely watched soberly to see whatWatusk was going to do about it. 

The hail was repeated. "Ho, Watusk! Inspector Egerton orders you tocome and talk to him!"

So it was Colonel Egerton, thought Ambrose, commander of B district ofthe police, and known affectionately from Caribou Lake to the Arctic asPatch-pants Egerton, or simply as "the old man. " He was a veteran oftwo Indian uprisings. Ambrose felt still further reassured. 

Watusk, still swaggering, nevertheless visibly weakened. In the end hehad to go, just as a child must in the end obey a calm, imperativesummons. 

He issued a petulant order. All the men except Ambrose's guard of sixtook their guns and filed out through the back of the pit. 

Watusk went last. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing that thoseleft behind were busily watching the troopers in the valley, heproduced a flask from his pocket and took a pull at it. Ambrose caughtthe act out of the corner of his eye. 

A few minutes later, Watusk and his followers rode over the edge of thehill to the left of the rifle pit, and down into the valley. Thepolicemen scarcely looked up to see them come. 

Inspector Egerton and Chief Watusk faced each other on horseback. Theother Indians remained at a respectful distance. Ambrose mightilydesired to hear what was being said on either side. He learned later. 

"Watusk!" cried the peppery little inspector. "What damn foolishnessis this? Rifle pits! Do you think you're another Louis Riel?"

Watusk, glowering sullenly, made no answer. 

"Have you got Ambrose Doane here?" the officer demanded. 

"Ambrose Doane here, " said Watusk. 

"I want him, " said Egerton crisply. "I also want you, Watusk, Myengeen, Tatateecha, and three others whose names I can't pronounce. I have a clerk belonging to the Company store who will pick them out. 

"I've got to send you all out for trial before the river closes, sothere's no time to lose. We will start back to-day. I will leave halfmy men here under Sergeant Plaskett to look after your people. Youwill instruct your people to bring in all the goods stolen from theCompany store. 

"Plaskett will have a list of everything that was taken and will creditwhat is returned. The balance, together with the amount of damage donethe store will be charged in a lump against the tribe, and the sumdeducted pro rata from the government annuities next year. They'relucky to get off so easy. "

"We get pay, too, for our flour burn up?" muttered Watusk. 

"That will be investigated with the rest, " the inspector said. "Bringin your people at once. Look sharp! There's not an hour to lose!"

Watusk made no move. The fiery spirit he had swallowed was lending adeceitful warmth to his veins. He began to feel like a hero. His eyesnarrowed and glittered. "Suppose I don' do it?" he muttered. 

The inspectors white eyebrows went up. "Then I will go and take themen I want, " he said coolly. 

"You dead before you gone far, " said Watusk. He swept his armdramatically around the hills. "I got five hundred Winchesters pointat your red coats!" he cried. "When I give signal they speak together!"

"That's a lie, " said the inspector. "You've only a few over twohundred able men in your tribe. "

"Two hundred is plenty, " said Watusk unabashed. "That is ten bulletsfor every man of yours. They are all around you. You cannot goforward or back. Ask Company man if Kakisas shoot straight!"

Inspector Egerton's answer was a hearty laugh. "Capital!" he cried. 

"Laugh!" cried Watusk furiously. "You no harder than ot'er man. Yougot no medicine to stop those bullets you sell us! No? If bullets got'rough your red coats you die lak ot'er men I guess!"

"Certainly!" cried the old soldier with a flash of his blue eyes. "That's our business. But it won't do you any good. We're but theoutposts of a mighty power that encircles the world. If you defy thatpower you'll be wiped out like the prairie grass in a fire. "

"Huh!" cried Watusk. "White man's bluff! White man always talk bigabout the power behind him. I lak see that power, me! I will show thered people you no better than them!

"When it was known Watusk has beat the police, as far as the northernocean they will take arms and drive the white men out of their country!I have sent out my messengers!"

"What do you expect me to say to that?" inquired the officerquizzically. 

"Tell you men lay their guns on the ground, " said Watusk. "They myprisoners. I treat them kind. "

Inspector Egerton laughed until his little paunch shook. "Come, " hesaid good-naturedly, "I haven't got time to exchange heroics with you. Run along and bring in your people. I'll give you half an hour. "

The inspector drew out his watch, and took note of the time. He thenturned to address his sergeant, leaving Watusk in mid air, so to speak. 

There was nothing for the Indian leader to do but wheel his horse andride back up the hill with what dignity he could muster. His men fellin behind him. 

They had understood nothing of what was said, of course, but the byplaywas sufficiently intelligible. The whole party was crestfallen. 

Observing this air on their return to the rifle pit, Ambrose's eyebrightened. Watusk seeing the keen, questioning eye, announced withdignity. 

"We won. The red-coats surrendered. "

This was so palpably a falsehood Ambrose could well afford to smilebroadly behind his gag. 

The half hour that then followed seemed like half a day to those whowatched. Ambrose, ignorant of what had occurred, could only guess thereason of the armistice. 

The police had taken down their white flag. He could see the inspectorglance at his watch from time to time. Wondering messengers came fromthe other pits presumably to find out the reason of the inaction, towhom Watusk returned evasive replies. 

Bound and gagged as he was, it was anything but an easy time forAmbrose. He had the poor satisfaction of seeing that Watusk was moreuneasy than himself. 

To a discerning eye the Indian leader was suffering visible torments. Egerton, the wily old Indian fighter, knew his man. 

If he had made the slightest move to provoke a conflict, raged, threatened, fired a gun, the savage nature would instantly havereacted, and it would have all been over in a few moments. But tolaugh and light a cigarette! Watusk was rendered impotent by a moralebeyond his comprehension. 

The longest half hour has only thirty minutes. Inspector Egertonlooked at his watch for the last time and spoke to his men. Thepolicemen caught their horses, and without any appearance of haste, tightened girths and mounted. 

They commenced to move slowly through the grass in the track ofWatusk's party, spreading out wide in open formation. The inspectorwas in the center of the line. He carried no arms. His men were stilljoking and laughing. 

They commenced to mount the hill, walking their horses, and sittingloosely in their saddles. Each trooper had his reins in one hand, hisrifle barrel in the other, with the butt of the weapon resting on histhigh. 

They were coming straight for the rifle pit; no doubt they had markedthe bushes masking it. Ambrose saw that they were young men, slim-waisted and graceful. The one on the right end had lost his hatthrough some accident. He had fair hair that caught the sun. 

This was the critical moment. The fate of the nineteen boys and theirwhite-haired leader hung by a hair. Ambrose held his breath under thegag. A cry, an untoward movement would have caused an immediateslaughter. 

The Indians' eyes glittered, their teeth showed, they fingered theirrifles. A single word from their leader would have sufficed. Watusklonged to speak it, and could not. The sweat was running down hisyellow-gray face. 

One of the horses stumbled. The Indians with muttered exclamationsflung up their guns. Ambrose thought it was all over. 

But at that moment by the grace of God, one of the troopers made a goodjoke, and a hearty laugh rang along the line. The Indians loweredtheir guns and stared with bulging eyes. They could not fight supermenlike these. 

Watusk, with the groan of total collapse, dropped his gun on theground, and turned to escape by the path out of the pit. 

Instantly there was pandemonium in the narrow place. Some tried toescape with their leader; others blocked the way. Ambrose saw Watuskseized and flung on the ground. One spat in his face. He lay where hehad fallen. 

Thus ended the Kakisa rebellion. The Indians had no further thought ofresistance. The butts of their guns dropped to the ground, and theystared at the oncoming troopers with characteristic apathy. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

ANOTHER CHANGE OF JAILERS. 

The police advanced to within twenty-five yards and, drawing closertogether, halted. 

"Watusk, come out of that!" barked the inspector in his parade groundvoice. 

Ambrose had his first look at him. He was a little man, trigly built, with a bullet head under a closely cropped thatch of white. A heavywhite mustache bisected his florid face. 

No one could have mistaken him in any dress, for aught but a soldier. He did not look as if patience and fair-mindedness were included amonghis virtues, which was unfortunate for Ambrose as the event proved. 

As Watusk gave no sign of stirring, he was seized by many hands andboosted over the edge of the pit. He rolled over, knocking down someof the bushes and finally rose to his feet, standing with wretched, hang-dog mien. 

His appearance, with the frock coat all rubbed with earth and themilitary gear hanging askew, caused the troopers to shout withlaughter. Here was a change from the fire-eater of half an hour before. 

"Ho!" cried Inspector Egerton. "The conqueror of the English!"

Watusk drew closer and began to whine insinuatingly. "I sorry I mak'that talk, me. I can' help it at all. Ambrose Doane tell me that. Heput his medicine on me. I sick. "

Ambrose attempted to cry out in his angry astonishment, but only amuffled groan issued through the handkerchief. He was not visible tothe troopers where he stood in the corner, and he could not move. 

"Is Ambrose Doane there?" demanded the officer. 

Watusk quickly turned and spoke a sentence in Kakisa. Ambrose saw thelook of craft in his yellow face. One of the men who guarded Ambrosedrew his knife and cut his bonds and untied the handkerchief. 

Ambrose's heart beat high. It never occurred to him that they couldbelieve the wretched liar! He drew himself over the edge of the pit, helped by those behind. 

"Hello!" he cried. 

There was no answering greeting. The faces before him were as grim asstone. For Watusk they had a kind of good-humored contempt--for him acold and deadly scorn. 

Evidently their minds were made up in advance. The inspector twirledhis mustache and regarded him with a hard, speculative eye. 

Ambrose's heart failed him terribly. These were men that he admired. "What's the matter?" he cried. "Do you believe this liar? I have beena prisoner up to this moment--bound hand and foot and gagged. Themarks are still on my wrists!"

Inspector Egerton did not look at his wrists. "H-m! Not bad!" he saidgrimly. "You're a cool hand, my man!"

The blood rushed to Ambrose's face. "For God's sake, will you tell mewhat I could hope to gain by stirring up the Indians?" he demanded. 

"Don't ask me, " said the inspector. "You were ready to grasp at anystraw, I expect. "

In the face of injustice so determined, it was only humiliating forAmbrose to attempt to defend himself. His face hardened. He set hisjaw and shrugged callously. 

"You're under arrest, " said the inspector. 

"On what charge?" Ambrose sullenly demanded. 

"A mere trifle, " said the inspector ironically. "Unlawful entry, conspiracy, burglary, and assault with intent to kill. To which weshall probably add treason. "

Ambrose made no answer. In his heart he had hoped that the emptycharges at Fort Enterprise had fallen of their own weight before this. 

The inspector turned his attention back to Watusk. "Deliver over yourarsenal!" he said. 

Watusk meekly unfastened his various belts and handed them to atrooper. Having observed Ambrose's rebuff, his face had become smoothand inscrutable again. 

By this time the Indians had issued out of the pit by the rear and werestanding in an uncertain group a little way off. 

"Order them to pile their weapons on the ground, " commanded theinspector. "Let each man make a mark upon the stock of his rifle sothat he can identify it when it is returned. Send messengers to theother pits with orders for all the men to bring their guns here. "

Watusk was eager to obey him. 

"Where is your camp?" the inspector asked him. 

Watusk pointed. "One mile, " he said. 

"After we get the guns you shall go there with me and we will examinethe people. "

Ambrose, hearing this, turned to the trooper who was nearest. "If yougo to the camp get me my dog, will you?" he asked sullenly. 

"What's that?" demanded the inspector. 

Ambrose explained where his dog was to be found. They looked at himcuriously as if surprised that such a desperate criminal should besolicitous about a dog. The trooper promised to bring him. 

Inspector Egerton continued to issue his orders. "Bafford, ride backand bring up the baggage. Have my tent pitched in the middle of thevalley below. Emslie"--this was the yellow-haired youth--"I shall holdyou responsible for the white prisoner. You needn't handcuff him. Hecouldn't escape if he wished to. "

Ambrose had to undergo the humiliation of walking down hill at thestirrup of the young trooper's horse. Emslie showed a less hard facethan some of the others. 

Ambrose sought to establish relations with him by asking for tobacco. He was hungry for speech with his own kind. But the look of coldcontempt with which his request was granted precluded any furtheradvances. 

Upon Inspector Egerton's return from the Kakisa village a meal wasserved. Afterward the inspector sat at his folding-table inside histent and held his investigations. 

There was a deal of business to be transacted. In due course Ambrosewas brought before him. Watusk, whose services were in continualdemand as interpreter, was present, and several troopers. 

"It is customary to ask a prisoner upon arrest if he has anything tosay for himself, " said the inspector. "I must warn you that anythingyou say may be used against you. "

Ambrose felt their animosity like a wall around him. "What's the use?"he said sullenly. "You've already convicted me in your own mind. "

"What I think of your case has nothing to do with it, " said theinspector coldly. "You will be brought before competent judges. "

"There is something I want to say, " said Ambrose, looking at Watusk. "But not before that mongrel. "

The inspector spoke to a trooper, and Watusk was led outside. "Now, then!" he said to Ambrose. 

"Watusk means to turn king's evidence, " said Ambrose. "He will make upwhat story he pleases, thinking that none of the Kakisas can testifyexcept through him--or through Gordon Strange, who is his friend. "

"Are you accusing Strange now?" interrupted the inspector. "Let metell you: Strange is pretty highly thought of back at the fort. "

"No doubt!" said Ambrose with a shrug. "There is one member of thetribe beside Watusk who can speak English, " he went on. "In theinterest of justice I ask you to find her. "

"Who is it?"

"Her name is Nesis. She is the youngest of the four wives of Watusk. "Ambrose told her story briefly and baldly. 

"So!" said the inspector with a peculiar smile. "According to your ownstory you eloped with Watusk's wife. Upon my word! Do you expect ajury to attach any weight to her evidence?"

"I take my chance of that, " said Ambrose. "If you want to get at thetruth you must find her. "

"I'll have a search made at once. "

"Watch Watusk, " warned Ambrose. "He'll stop at nothing to keep herevidence out of court--not even murder. "

The inspector smiled in an annoyed way. Ambrose's attitude did notagree with his preconceptions. 

However, he immediately rode back to the Kakisa village with threetroopers. In an hour he sent one of the men back for Watusk. In twohours they all returned--without Nesis. 

Ambrose's heart sank like a stone. By instinct he strove to concealhis discouragement from his enemies under a nonchalant air. 

The inspector, feeling that some explanation was due to Ambrose, hadhim brought to his tent again. 

"I have searched, " he said. "I can find no trace of any such person asyou describe. "

"Naturally, not with Watusk's help, " said Ambrose bitterly. 

The inspector bit his lip. According to his lights he was honestlytrying to be fair to the prisoner. 

"First I searched the teepees myself, " he condescended to explain. "Itappears there are several girls by that name. When I called on WatuskI had him watched and checked. "

"The Indians were primed in advance, " said Ambrose. "Watusk can pullwool over your eyes. "

"Silence!" cried the exasperated inspector. "Your story ispreposterous anyway. Pure romance. Nevertheless I have instructedSergeant Plaskett to continue the search. If any such girl should befound, which would surprise me, she will be sent out. You can go. "

Inspector Egerton with half his force started back for the Kakisa River_en route_ to Fort Enterprise that same afternoon. They convoyed sevenprisoners, and five additional members of the Kakisa tribe, whom Watuskhad indicated would be material witnesses. 

Ambrose watched Watusk ingratiating himself with bitterness at hisheart. The Indian ex-leader's air of penitent eagerness to atone forpast misdeeds was admirable. 

They rode hard, and crossed the river before making their first camp. The next day they covered sixty miles, reaching a station establishedby Inspector Egerton on the way over, where they found fresh horses. At the end of the third day they camped within thirty miles of FortEnterprise. 

Ambrose could never afterward think of these days without an inwardshudder. Pain angered him. Outwardly he looked the hard and recklesscharacter they thought him, because his sensibilities were raw andquivering. 

The dog knew. He was free to move about; he was well-fed and freshlyclothed, and the policemen acted toward him with a disinterestedness soscrupulous it was almost like kindness. 

Nevertheless Ambrose felt their belief in his guilt like a hunchbackfeels the difference in the world's glance. In his moments of blackestdiscouragement the suggestion flitted oddly through his brain thatmaybe he was guilty of all these preposterous crimes. 

If this was not enough, once he heard them discussing his case. He waslying in a tent, and there was a little group of troopers at the door, smoking. They thought he was asleep. 

He heard Emslie say: "Doane looks like a decent-enough head, doesn'the? Shows you never can tell. "

"The worst criminals are always a decent-looking sort, " said another. "That's why they're dangerous. "

"By gad!" said a third, "when you think of all he's responsible for, even if he didn't do it with his own hands--arson, robbery, murder--think what that girl at Enterprise has been through! By gad!hanging's too good for him!"

"Any man that would lower himself to rouse the passions of the Indiansagainst his own kind--he isn't worth the name of white man!"

"The worst of it is nothing you can do to Doane will repair the damage. He's put back the white man's work in this country twenty years!"

Ambrose rolled over and covered his head with his arms. These werehonest men who spoke, men he would have chosen for friends. 

Nest morning he showed no sign, except perhaps an added sullenness. Nevertheless he had received a hurt that would never altogether healwhile he lived. 

No matter how swift rehabilitation might follow, after an experiencelike this a man could never have the same frank confidence in the powerof truth. 

It was a point of pride with him to be a model prisoner. He gave aslittle trouble as possible, and during the whole journey made but onerequest. 

That was at the last spell before reaching the fort. He asked for arazor. Colina might scorn him like the others, but she should not seehim looking like a tramp. 

Immediately upon their arrival at Fort Enterprise, John Gaviller in hiscapacity as Justice of the Peace held a hearing in the police room inthe quarters. 

Gaviller's health was largely restored, but the old assurance waslacking, perhaps he would never be quite the same man again. He wasprompted by Gordon Strange. Colina was not present. Ambrose had notseen her upon landing. 

The hearing was merely a perfunctory affair. All the prisoners wereremanded to Prince George for trial. 

Ambrose gathered from the talk that reached his ears that it wasintended to send everybody, prisoners, and witnesses, including GordonStrange, Gaviller and Colina up the river next day in the launch and ascow. 

To travel seven days in her sight, a prisoner--he wondered if therewere any dregs of bitterness remaining in the cup after this!

They gave Ambrose the jail to himself. This was a little log-shackbehind the quarters with iron-bound door and barred window. 

To him in the course of the afternoon came Inspector Egerton moved byhis sense of duty. He officially informed Ambrose that he was to betaken up the river next morning. 

"Is there anything you want?" he asked stiffly. 

"I left a friend here, " Ambrose said with a bitter smile. "I'd like tosee him if he's willing to come. "

"Whom do you mean?"

"Simon Grampierre. "

The inspector looked grave. "He's under arrest, " he said. "I can'tlet you communicate. "

"Can I see his son then, Germain Grampierre?"

"Sorry. He's on parole. "

Ambrose had been counting on this more than he knew, to talk with someman, even a breed, who believed in him. It is a necessity of ournatures under trial. To deny it was like robbing him of his last hope. Some power of endurance suddenly snapped within him. 

"What do you come here for?" he cried in a breaking voice. "To tortureme? Must I be surrounded day and night only by those who think me amurderer! For God's sake get the thing over with! Take me to town andhang me if that's what you want! A month of this and I'd be agibbering idiot anyway!"

The ring of honest pain in this aroused dim compunctions in theadmirable little colonel. He twisted his big mustache uncomfortably. "I'm sure I've done what I could for you, " he said. 

"Everything except let me alone, " cried Ambrose. "For God's sake goaway and let me be!" He flung himself face downward on his cot. 

Inspector Egerton withdrew stiffly. 

Ambrose lay with his head in his arms, and let his shaking nerves quietdown. A fit of the blackest despair succeeded. To his other troubleshe now added hot shame--that he had broken down before his enemy. 

It seemed to him in the retrospect that he had raved like a guilty man. He foresaw weeks and weeks of this yet to come with fresh humiliationsdaily and added pain; if he gave way already what would become of himin the end? How could he hope to keep his manhood? A blank terrorfaced him. 

The sound of the key in the lock brought him springing to his feet. None of them should see him weaken again! With trembling hands he puthis pipe in his mouth, and lighted it nonchalantly. 

It was Emslie with his supper. 

"Playing waiter, eh?" drawled Ambrose. "You fellows have to beeverything from grooms to chambermaids, don't you?"

Young Emslie stared, and grew red. "What's the matter with you?" hedemanded. 

"A man must have a little entertainment, " said Ambrose. "I'm forced toget it out of you. You don't know how funny you are, Emslie. "

"You'd best be civil!" growled the policeman. 

"Why?" drawled out Ambrose. "You've got to keep a hold on yourselfwhatever I say to you. It's regulations. Man to man I could lick youwith ease!"

"By gad!" began Emslie. Very red in the face, he turned on his heel, and went out slamming the door. 

Ambrose laughed, and felt a little better. Only by allowing his bitterpain some such outlet was he able to endure it. 

Disregarding the supper, he strode up and down his prison, planning inhis despair how he would harden himself to steel. No longer would hesuffer in silence. To the last hour he'd swagger and jeer. 

These red-coats were stiff-necked and dull-witted; he could have rarefun with them. 

He saw himself in the court-room keeping the crowd in a roar with hisoutrageous gibes. And if at the last he swung--he'd step off with ajest that would live in history!

The key turned in the lock again. He swung around ready with an insultfor his jailer. 

Colina stood in the doorway. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE JAIL VISITOR. 

The light was behind Colina, and Ambrose could not at first read herexpression. There was something changed in her aspect; her chin wasnot carried so high. 

She was wearing a plain blue linen dress, and her hair was done lowover her ears. Colina was one of the women who unconsciously dress tosuit their moods. 

She looked different now, but she was indisputably Colina. 

The sight of her dear shape caused him the same old shock ofastonishment. All the blood seemed to forsake his heart; he put a handagainst the wall behind him for support. 

He presently distinguished changes in her face also. It bore the marksof sleeplessness and suffering. Pride still made her eyes reticent andcold, but the old outrageous arrogance was gone. 

In the wave of tenderness for her that engulfed him he clean forgot theself-pleasing defiance he had imagined for himself, forgot hisdesperate situation, forgot everything but her. 

He was unable to speak, and Colina did not immediately offer to. Shestood a step inside the door, with her hand on the back of the onechair the room contained. Her eyes were cast down. It was Emslie whobroke the silence. 

"Do you wish me to stay?" he respectfully asked Colina. 

She raised grave eyes to Ambrose. "Is there anything I can do foryou?" she asked evenly. 

"Yes, " said Ambrose breathlessly. 

After a moment's hesitation she said to Emslie: "Please wait outside. "

Ambrose's heart leaped up. No sooner had the door closed behind Emsliethan, forgetting everything, it burst its bonds. "Colina! How good ofyou to come! It makes me so happy to see you! If you knew how I hadhungered and thirsted for a sight of you! How charming you look inthat dress! Your hair is done differently, too. I swear it is likethe sun shining in here. You look tired. Sit down. Have some tea. What a fool I am! You don't want to eat in a jail, do you?"

Her eyes widened with amazement at his outburst. 

She shrank from him. 

"Don't be afraid, " he said. "I'm not going to touch you--a jailbird!I'm not fooling myself. I know how you feel toward me. I can't helpit. If you knew how I had been bottled up! I must speak to some oneor go clean off my head. It makes me forget just to see you. Ah, itwas good of you to come!"

"I am visiting all the prisoners, " Colina was careful to explain. "Andgetting them what they need for the journey to-morrow. "

It pulled him up short. He glanced at her with an odd smile, tender, bitter, and grim. "Charity!" he murmured. "Thanks, I have plenty ofwarm clothes, and so forth. "

Colina bit her lip. There was a silence. He gazed at her hungrily. She was so dear to him it was impossible for him to be otherwise thantender. 

"Just the same, it was mighty good of you to come, " he said. 

"You said there was something I could do for you, " she murmured. 

"Please sit down. "

She did so. 

"I don't want to beg any personal favors, " he said. "There issomething you might do for the sake of justice. "

"Never mind that, " she said. "What is it?"

"Let me have a little pride, too, " he said. "It isn't easy to askfavors of your enemies. I am surrounded by those who hate me andbelieve me guilty. Naturally, I stand as much chance of a fair trialas a spy in wartime. I'm just beginning to understand that. At firstI thought as long as one's conscience was clear nothing could happen. "

"What is it I can do?" she asked again. 

"I am taking for granted you would like to see me get off, " Ambrosewent on. "Admitting that--that the old feeling is dead and allthat--still it can't be exactly pleasant for you to feel that you oncefelt that way toward a murderer and a traitor--"

"Please, please--" murmured Colina. 

"You see you have a motive for helping me, " Ambrose insisted. "Ithought first of Simon Grampierre. He's under arrest. Then I asked tobe allowed to see Germain, his son. The inspector wouldn't have it. Igave up hope after that. But the sight of you makes me want to defendmyself still. I thought maybe you would have a note carried to Germainfor me. "

"Certainly, " she said. 

"You shall read it, " he said eagerly, "so you can satisfy yourselfthere's nothing treasonable. "

She made a deprecating gesture. 

"I'll write it at once, " he said. He carried the tray to the bed. Colina gave him the chair. 

"They let me have writing materials, " Ambrose went on with a ruefulsmile. "I think they hope I may write out a confession some night. "

To Germain Grampierre he wrote a plain, brief account of Nesis, andmade clear what a desperate need he had of finding her. 

"Will you read it?" he asked Colina. 

She shook her head. He handed it to her unsealed, and she thrust it inher dress. 

"I'm ever so much obliged to you, " he said, trying to keep up thereasonable air. "How pretty your hair looks that way!" he addedinconsequentially. The words were surprised out of him. 

She turned abruptly. It was beginning to be dark in the shack, and hecould no longer see into her face. 

Her movement was too much for his self-control. "Ah, must you go?" hecried sharply. "Another minute or two! It will be dreadful here afteryou've gone!"

"What's the use?" she whispered. 

"True, " he said harshly. "What's the use?" He turned his back on her. "Good night, and thank you. "

She lingered, hand upon the doorlatch. "Isn't there--isn't theresomething else I can do?" she asked. 

"No, thank you. "

Still she stayed. "You haven't touched your supper, " she said in asmall voice. "Mayn't I--send you something from the house?"

"No!" he cried swiftly. "Not your pity--nor your charity, neither!"

Colina fumbled weakly with the latch--and her hand dropped from it. 

"Why don't you go?" he cried sharply. "I can't stand it. I know youhate me. I tell myself that every minute. Be honest and show you hateme, not act sorry!"

"I do not hate you, " she whispered. 

He faced her with a kind of terror in his eyes. "For God's sake, go!"he cried. "You're building up a hope in me--it will kill me if itcomes to nothing! I can't stand any more. Go!"

His amazed eyes beheld her come falteringly toward him, reaching outher hands. 

"Ambrose--I--I can't!" she whispered. 

He caught her in his arms. 

Colina broke into a little tempest of weeping, and clung to him like achild. He held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring clumsy, broken phrases of comfort. 

"Don't! My dear love, don't grieve so! It's all right now. I can'tbear to have you hurt. "

"I love you!" she sobbed. "I have never stopped loving you! It wassomething outside of me that persuaded me to hate you. I've beenliving in a hell since that night! And to find you like this! Nothingto eat but bread and salt pork! Every word you said was like a knifein my breast. And not a single word of reproach!"

"There!" he said, trying to laugh. "You didn't put me here. "

She finally lifted a tear-stained face. Clinging to his shoulders andsearching his eyes, she said: "Swear to me that you are innocent, andI'll never have another doubt. "

He shook his head. "No more swearing!" he said. "If you let yourselfbe persuaded by the sound of the words, as soon as you left me andheard the others you'd doubt me again. It's got to come from theinside. Words don't signify. "

Colina hung her head. "You're right, " she said in a humbled voice. "Iguess I just wanted an excuse to save my pride. I do believe inyou--with my whole heart. I never really doubted you--I was ashamed, afraid, I don't know what. I was a coward. But I suffered forit--every night. Do you despise me?"

He laughed from a light breast. 

"Despise you? That's funny! It was natural. A damnable combinationof circumstances. I never blamed you. "

They were silent for a few moments. She looked up to find him smilingoddly. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Nothing much, " he said. "I was thinking--human beings are sort ofelastic, aren't they? After all I've been through the last fewdays--you don't know!--and then this--you dear one! It's a wonder theshock didn't kill me--but I feel fine! Just peaceful. I don't carewhat happens now. "

It was Colina's turn to lavish her pent-up tenderness upon him then. 

After a while she disengaged herself from his arms. "They will wonderwhat makes me stay so long, " she murmured. "And my eyes are red. Emslie will see when I go out. "

Ambrose poured out water in his basin. "Dabble your eyes in this, " hesaid. "When you're ready to go I'll call Emslie in. Coming in fromthe light, he won't notice anything. You can slip out ahead of him. "

Colina bathed her face as he suggested. Catching each other's eyes, they blushed and laughed. 

"We must decide quickly what we're going to do, " she said hastily. 

"First read that letter, " said Ambrose. 

She read it, leaning back against his shoulder. "A woman!" she said ina changed voice and straightened up. She read further. "She helpedyou escape!" Colina turned and faced him. "She believed in you, eh?"she said, her lip curling. 

Ambrose's heart sank. "Now, Colina--" he began. "Why, she neverthought anything about it!"

Colina consulted the letter again. "She ran away with you!" she criedaccusingly. 

"Followed me, " corrected Ambrose. 

"She was in love with you!" Colina's voice rang bitterly. 

"Are you beginning to doubt me already?" he cried, aghast. "Bereasonable! You know how it is with these native girls. The sight ofa white man hypnotizes them. You can't have lived here without seeingit. Do you blame me for that?"

She paid no attention to the question. Struggling to command herself, she said: "Answer me one question. It is my right. Did you ever kissher?"

Ambrose groaned in spirit, and cast round in his mind how to answer. 

"You hesitate!" cried Colina, suddenly beside herself. "You did! Ah, horrible!" She violently scrubbed her own lips with the back of herhand. "A brown girl! A teepee-dweller! A savage! Ugh! That's whatmen are!"

An honest anger nerved Ambrose. He roughly seized her wrists. "Listen!" he commanded in a tone that silenced her. "As I bade hergood-by on the shore she asked me to. She had just risked death to getme out, remember--worse than death perhaps. What should I have done?Answer me that!"

Colina refused to meet the question. Her assumption of indifferencewas very painful to see. She was not beautiful then. "Don't ask me, "she said with a sneer. "I suppose men understand such women. Icannot. "

Ambrose turned away with a helpless gesture. Colina moved haughtilytoward the door. Within ten minutes their wonderful happiness had beenborn and strangled again. 

"I don't suppose you will want to send my letter now, " Ambrose saidwith a sinking heart. 

Colina blushed with shame, but she would not let him see it. "Certainly, " she said coldly. "What has this to do with a question ofjustice?"

Ambrose, sore and indignant, would not make any more overtures. "There's a postscript I must add, " he said coldly, extending his handfor the letter. 

"I cannot wait for you to write it, " she said. "Tell me. I will addit myself. "

"I think it likely, " Ambrose said, "that Nesis"--Colina winced at thesound of the name--"has been spirited away from the Kakisa village. There are two other villages, one on Buffalo Lake and one on KakisaLake, about sixty miles up the Kakisa River. 

"They brought her up the river with me, so it is hardly likely she wassent down again to Buffalo Lake. I think she's at Kakisa Lake, ifshe's alive. "

Colina bowed. "I will tell Germain Grampierre, " she said. Her handrose to the door. 

Ambrose's heart failed him. "Ah, Colina!" he cried reproachfully andimploringly. 

She slipped out without answering. 

Ambrose flung himself on his bed and cursed fate again. He was notexperienced enough to realize that this was not necessarily a fatalbreak. 

All night he tried to steel his heart against fate and against Colina. It was harder now. It was an utterly wretched Ambrose that faced thedawn. 

While it was still early Emslie passed him a note through the window. Ambrose knew the handwriting, and tore it open with trembling fingers. He read:

MY DEAR LOVE:

I was hateful. It was the meanest kind of jealousy. I was furious ather because she helped you at the time when I was on the side of yourenemies. I have been suffering torments all night. Forgive me. I amgoing to find Nesis myself. That is the only way I can make up foreverything. I love you. 

COLINA. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

COLINA'S ENTERPRISE. 

Upon leaving Ambrose, Colina despatched his letter across the river byMichel Trudeau. She then dressed for dinner. 

To-night was to be an occasion, for beside Inspector Egerton they hadDuncan Seton, inspector of Company posts, and his wife. 

The Setons had come down with the police. Seton was to run the post atFort Enterprise while John Gaviller and Gordon Strange were absent atthe trials. 

Colina, buoyed up with anger, dressed with care. She saw herselfself-possessed and queenly at the foot of her own table's favoritepicture of herself. 

Nevertheless, the reaction was swiftly setting in. She couldn't helphaving a generous heart, nor could she put away the picture of Ambroseand his miserable, untasted supper. 

At the last moment her courage failed her. She knew the conversationwould have to do solely with the coming trials. She knew InspectorEgerton's style in dealing with Ambrose. She could not face it. 

She sent down-stairs the time-honored excuse of young ladies and, tearing off her finery, flung herself, like Ambrose, on her bed. 

She passed a worse night than he, for while the man accused fate, shehad to accuse herself. Colina was nothing if not whole-hearted; cowardwas the gentlest of the names she called herself. 

More than once she was on the point of rushing out of the house and, regardless of consequences, imploring Ambrose's forgiveness. 

However, after midnight a way out of her coil suggested itself like astar shining out. She slept for a peaceful hour. 

Long before dawn she arose and awakened her maid. This was Cora, astolid Cree half-breed, doggedly devoted to her mistress and accustomedto receiving her impulsive orders like inscrutable commands from Heaven. 

Upon being notified, therefore, that they were about to set off on along journey overland instead of by the launch, she set to work to getready without surprise or question. 

Colina wrote the letter to Ambrose and another to her father. Thelatter was a little masterpiece of casualness, designed to preventpursuit, if that were possible. 

She knew that they dared not wait another day, before startingup-stream in the launch. 

DEAR FATHER:

I have heard a rumor of new evidence bearing on the trials. It's notworth while telling Inspector Egerton and delaying everything, becauseI'm not sure of anything. I'm off to investigate for myself. 

I'm taking Cora, and shall have a couple of reliable men with me, sothere's no occasion to worry. You must not attempt to wait for me, ofcourse. 

If I secure any information worth while Mr. Seton will find a way tosend me out with it. If I do not, why I'm not an essential witness atthe trials, and of course I'll be all right here with the Setons untilyou get back. 

Affectionately, COLINA. 

She left the letters with the cook, giving precise instructions fortheir delivery. That to her father was not to be handed over until herabsence from the house should be discovered. Nothing was to be saidabout the other letter. 

The two girls saddled Ginger and the next best horse in the stable forCora to ride, and took a third horse with a pack-saddle for theirbaggage. 

They rowed across the river, making the horses swim in the wake of theboat. On the other side they set off forthwith on the Kakisa trail. Colina had decided that it would be a waste of precious time to turnaside to the Grampierres. 

Whether Germain started before or after her, she could find him on theway. That he would start for the Kakisa River this morning she had nodoubt. 

When they had ridden a couple of miles Cora pointed out to her wherethe tracks of four horses struck into the trail. They were just ahead, she said. 

They came upon Germain Grampierre and his brother Georges making theirfirst spell by the trail. Great was their astonishment upon hearingColina announce her intentions. 

Germain used all the obvious arguments to turn her back, and Colinasmilingly overruled them. He was openly in awe of her, and, of course, in the end she had her way, and they rode together, Germain shaking hishead with secret misgivings. 

They pushed their horses to the utmost, ever urged on by Colina, whocould not know what might be behind them. But she knew they rode thebest horses to be had at Enterprise. 

They reached the Kakisa River on the third day without any surprisefrom the rear. 

They found that the main body of the Kakisas had been brought back totheir village here, where they were pursuing their usual avocationsunder the eye of the police encamped on the terrace around the shack. 

Colina immediately addressed herself to the police headquarters. 

She had remarked Sergeant Plaskett on his arrival at Fort Enterprise, atypical mounted policeman, and a fine figure of a man to boot--tall, lean, deep-chested, deep-eyed--a dependable man. 

She approached him with confidence. The sight of her astonished, confused, and charmed him, as she meant it should. He was only a man. 

But as she told her story he stiffened into the policeman. "Sorry, " hesaid uncomfortably. "I have explicit orders from Inspector Egerton notto allow any communication between these people here and the otherbranches of the tribe. "

"Why not?" asked Colina. 

Plaskett shrugged deprecatingly. "Not for me to say. I can guess, perhaps. It's not possible to lock them all up, but these people areunder arrest just the same. I must keep the disaffected from minglingwith the loyal. "

"That's all right, " said Colina, "but you can give me a policeman to goup the river with me and make a search. "

He shook his head regretfully but firmly. "Inspector Egerton orderedme to leave the up-river people alone, " he said. "The coming of apoliceman would throw them into excitement. No one can say what theymight do. I can't take the responsibility. "

Colina shrugged. "Then the Grampierres and I must go by ourselves, "she said. 

Plaskett became even stiffer and more uncomfortable. "GermainGrampierre and his brother had no business to leave home, " he said. 

"By their own confessions they are implicated in the raid on theCompany's flour-mill. They were told that if they remained at homethey would not be molested. But if they attempted to escape they wouldimmediately be arrested. "

"They're not trying to escape!" cried Colina. 

"I don't believe they are, " said Plaskett. "But I've got to send themhome. Orders are orders. "

But this was not the kind of argument to use with a young woman whoseblood is up. 

"Don't you recognize anything but orders?" she cried. "InspectorEgerton is hundreds of miles away by this time. Are you going to waitfor his orders before you act?"

Plaskett's position was not an enviable one. "When anything new comesup I have to act for myself, " he explained stiffly. "The story aboutthis girl is not new. During the past week I have examined everyprincipal man in the tribe and many of the women. 

"I have not found any clue to the existence of such a person. Moreover, every man has testified in unmistakable signs that AmbroseDoane was not only at large while he was with them, but that hedirected all their movements. "

"They have been told that by saying this they can save themselves, "said Colina. 

"Possibly, " said Plaskett, "but I cannot believe that among so manythere is not one who would betray himself. "

For half an hour they had it out, back and forth, without making anyprogress. Plaskett used all of a man's arguments to persuade her toreturn to Enterprise. 

Colina, seeing that she was getting nowhere, finally feigned to submit. She obtained his permission to go among the Indians by herself in thehope that they might tell her something they were afraid to tell thepolice. 

Accompanied by Cora she went from teepee to teepee. The Kakisas showedthemselves awed by her condescension, but still they wereuncommunicative. 

She was Gaviller's daughter. The place of honor by the fire was madefor her, tea hastily warmed up, and doubtful Indian delicaciesproduced. But she learned nothing. 

At any mention of the names Ambrose Doane or Nesis a subtle, walledlook crept into their eyes, and they became unaccountably stupid. 

She was about to give up this line of inquiry when, at a littledistance from the nearest teepee, she came upon a girl engaged indressing a moose-hide stretched upon a great frame. There were noother Indians near. Colina resolved upon a last attempt. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

MARYA. 

Colina drew near the girl, pausing as if casually interested in herwork. She was a fat girl, with a peculiarly good-humored expression, and evinced no awe at Colina's approach, but unaffected delight. 

Colina obeyed an inward suggestion, sent Cora back to the Grampierres, and sat down beside Marya, determined to take plenty of time toestablish friendly relations. 

This was not difficult. The plump, copper-skinned maiden was overjoyedby the opportunity to examine anything so wonderful as a white girl atclose range. 

No part of Colina's person or attire escaped her scrutiny. Maryastroked her with a soft crooning. The fastidious Colina bore it, smiling. At the throat of her waist Colina was wearing a topaz-pin, towhich the Indian girl's eyes ever returned, dazzled. 

Colina finally took it off, and pinned it in Marya's cotton dress. Marya gave way to an extravagant pantomime of joy. Bowing her head, she seized Colina's hand, and pressed it to her forehead. 

Meanwhile they exchanged such simple remarks as lent themselves to themedium of signs. Colina finally ventured to pronounce the name "Nesis"at the same time asking by a sign which included the teepees if she wasthere. 

Marya looked startled. She hesitated, but Colina's hold was now strongupon her. She shook her head. First glancing cautiously around tomake sure they were not observed, she nodded in the direction of upriver. 

By simple signs she told Colina that Nesis was in a village (crossedfingers for teepees) beside a lake (a wide sweep, and an agitated, flattened hand for shimmering water), and that it could be reached by ajourney with one sleep upon the way. (Here she paddled an imaginarycanoe, stopped, closed her eyes, inclined her head on her shoulder andheld up one finger. )

Colina, overjoyed, proceeded to further question. In the same graphic, simple way she learned the story of Ambrose's imprisonment and howNesis got him out. 

"Come!" she cried, extending her hand. "We'll see what SergeantPlaskett has to say to this!"

But when Marya understood that she was expected to repeat her story tothe policeman, a frantic, stubborn terror took possession of her. Shegave Colina to understand in no uncertain signs that the Indians wouldkill her if she told the secret. 

Colina, taking into account the pains they had gone to to keep it, could not deny the danger. She finally asked Marya if she would takeher, Colina, to the place where Nesis was. 

Marya, terrified, positively refused. 

Pulling off her gauntlet, Colina displayed to Marya a ring set with agleaming opal. It was Marya's she let her understand, if she wouldserve her. 

Marya's eyes sickened with desire. She wavered--but finally refusedwith a little moan. Terror was stronger than cupidity. 

Colina debated with herself. She asked Marya if the way to go was bypaddling. 

Marya shook her head. She gave Colina to understand that the canoeswere all tied up together and watched by the police. She signed thatthe Kakisas had a few horses up the river a little way that the policedid not know about. 

They stole out of camp at dawn, caught a horse and rode up the river. Evidently there was regular travel between the two villages. Colina, thinking of the policeman's confident belief that he had interceptedall communications, smiled. 

Colina finally asked if Marya would put her on the trail to the othervillage--in exchange for the ring. Marya, after a struggle with herfears, consented, stipulating that they must start before dark. 

Colina understood from her signs that the biggest opal ever mined wouldnot tempt Marya to wander in the bush after dark. 

Colina did some rapid thinking. She doubted whether Germain Grampierreafter having been warned by the police would go with her to the othervillage. 

She quickly decided that she didn't want him with her anyway, worthy, stupid fellow that he was. Yet he had constituted himself herprotector, and he would hardly let her go without him. It did notpromise to be easy to hoodwink both Plaskett and Grampierre. 

What she was going to do when she found Nesis, Colina did not stop toconsider. The thing to do was to find the girl, and trust to pluck andmother wit for the rest. 

Colina finally thought she saw her way clear. She asked Marya if shewould meet her in an hour on the Enterprise trail outside of camp. Itwas now three o'clock. 

Marya, with her eyes upon the opal, nodded. She gave Colina tounderstand that she would be waiting at a place where the trail crosseda stream, and climbed to a little prairie with thick bushes around it. 

Leaving Marya, Colina returned to the police tents. Climbing the hill, she had the satisfaction upon looking back to see that the Indian girlhad foresaken her moose-hide. 

The edge of the bush was near her: it would not be hard for her to loseherself. Simulating an air of discouragement, Colina told SergeantPlaskett she had learned nothing and signified her willingness toreturn to Enterprise. 

"I'd start at once, " she said suggestively, "but my horses are tired. "

Plaskett was greatly relieved. "I'll furnish you with fresh horses, "he said instantly. "Let your horses stay here and rest up. I'll sendthem in with the first patrol, and you can then return mine. "

This was what Colina desired. She smiled on the policeman dazzlingly. 

Plaskett sent a trooper for the horses, and himself escorted Colinaback to the spot at the foot of the hill where she had ordered theGrampierres and Cora to wait for her. 

She told Germain the same story. The half-breed who had beeninterviewed by Plaskett in the meantime, was delighted by her resolveto return. He instantly set to work to pack up. 

In less than half an hour they started for home. As they mounted thehill, Plaskett gallantly waved his cap from below. The bush swallowedthem. Colina was thinking: "What shall I do if she is afraid, anddoesn't come?"

However, less than a mile from the river, they forded a little brook, climbed a shallow hill, and there, true to her agreement, waited Marya, standing like a statue beside the trail. 

Colina, making believe to be greatly astonished, dismounted, and drewher apart. Marya, understanding from her glance of intelligence thatthe others were not in the secret, gesticulated vividly for theirbenefit. 

"She tells me she knows where Nesis is hidden, " Colina said to Germain. "She says she will take me there. "

"We will go back, " said Germain. 

Colina shook her head. "No need for you to come back, " she said. "Itwill only anger the policeman. You and Georges go on home. I will geta policeman to go with me. "

Germain protested, but his secret desire was to obey the sergeant'sorders, and Colina had no difficulty in persuading him. 

A division of the baggage was made on the spot, and they parted. TheGrampierres continued toward Enterprise, and the three girls turnedback. 

Colina breathed more freely. Plaskett now believed that she had gonehome with Germain, and Germain believed she had gone back to Plaskett. 

Marya had mounted on their pack-horse. They had not gone far in thetrail, when she signified that they were to strike off to the left. 

Colina pulled up. "Cora, " she said, "it's not true that I am going toget help from the police. I mean to go myself to the other Indianvillage to get the girl I want. You don't have to come. You can rideafter Germain, and tell him I decided I didn't need you. "

"I go wit' you, " Cora said stolidly. 

Colina beamed on her handmaiden, and offered her her hand. She waswilling to face the thing alone, but it was a comfort to have thestolid dependable Cora at her side. Moreover, Cora was an admirablecook and packer. Colina was not enamored of the drudgery of camp. 

Marya led the way slowly through the trackless bush in the generaldirection of the afternoon sun, or southwest. Colina guessed that theywere making a wide detour around the Indian village. 

The going was not too difficult, for it was only second growth timber, poplar and birch, with spruce in the hollows. The original monarchshad been consumed by fire many years before. 

They had covered, Colina guessed, about five miles when the sky showedahead through the tree trunks, and Marya signed that they were todismount and tie the horses. Leading them to the edge of the trees, she made them lie down. 

They found themselves overlooking a grassy bottom similar to that uponwhich the Kakisa village stood. The outer edge of the meadow wasskirted by the brown flood of the river, and trees hemmed it in oneither side. A score of Indian ponies were feeding in the grass. 

Marya made Colina understand that the trail to Kakisa Lake traversedthe little plain below alongside the river. She signified that somemen were expected from the upper village that day, and that Colina mustwait where she was until she saw them pass below. Finally Maryapointed avidly to the opal ring. 

Colina handed it over. The Indian girl slipped it on her own finger, gazing at the effect with a kind of incredulous delight. The stolidCora looked on disapprovingly. 

Suddenly Marya, without so much as a look at her companions, scrambledto her feet, and hastened silently away through the trees. She wasclutching the ring finger with the other hand as if she feared to loseit, finger and all. That was the last of Marya. 

Sure enough before the sun went down, they saw a party of four Indiansissue out on the little plain from the direction of up river. Crossingthe grass and dismounting, they turned their horses out and cachedtheir saddles under the willows. 

Then they proceeded afoot. Colina waited until she was sure there wereno more to follow; then mounting, she and Cora rode down to the trail. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE FINDING OF NESIS. 

The afternoon was waning, and Colina, knowing she must have coverednearly sixty miles, began to keep a sharp lookout ahead. They had hadno adventures by the way, except that of sleeping under the starswithout male protectors near, in itself an adventure to Colina. Colinatook it like everything else, as a matter of course. 

Cora had been raised on the trail. In her impatience to arrive Colinahad somewhat scamped her horses' rest, and the grass-fed beasts weretired. 

Issuing from among the trees upon one of the now familiar grassybottoms that bordered the river, they saw grazing horses and knew theywere hard upon their destination. 

A spur of the hills cut off the view up river. Rounding it, theteepees spread before them. They were contained in a semicircularhollow of the hills like an amphitheater, with the river running closebeside. 

Colina had decided that in boldness lay her best chance of success. Clapping heels to her horse's ribs, therefore, she rode smartly intothe square, appearing in the very midst of the Indians before they werewarned. This village differed in no important respect from the others. Some of the teepees were made of tanned hides in the old way. Thepeople were of the same stock, but even less sophisticated. Few ofthese had even been to Fort Enterprise to trade. 

The sudden appearance of Colina's white face affected them something inthe way of a miracle. 

Every man dropped what he was about and stared with hanging jaw. Others came running out of the teepees and stopped dead at the door. For a moment or two there was no movement whatever in the square. 

But they knew Gaviller's daughter by repute, of course, and the wordwas passed around that it was she. The tension relaxed. They slowlygathered around, looking at her with no friendly eye. 

Colina searched rapidly among them for one that might answer to thedescription of Nesis. There was no girl that by any stretch of theimagination could have been called beautiful. Not wishing to give themtime to spirit her away, Colina suddenly raised her voice and cried:"Nesis!"

There was no answer, but several heads in the crowd turnedinvoluntarily toward a certain teepee. Colina, perceiving themovement, wheeled her horse and loped across the square in thatdirection. 

Cora followed, leading the pack-horse. The Indians sidled after. Approaching the teepee she had marked, Colina heard sounds of a muffledstruggle inside. Flinging herself off her horse and throwing up theflap, she saw a figure on the ground, held down by several old crones. 

"Hands off!" cried Colina in a voice so sudden and peremptory that theold women, though the words meant nothing to them, obeyed. 

Nesis, lithe and swift as a lynx, wriggled out of their grasp, sprangto her feet, and darted outside, all in a single movement, it seemed. 

The two girls faced each other, Nesis panting and trembling. The samelook of bitter curiosity was in each pair of eyes. Each acknowledgedthe other's beauty with a jealous twinge. But in the red girl's sadeyes there was no hope of rivalry. She soon cast down her lids. 

Colina thought her eyes the saddest she had ever seen in a human face. She saw that there was little resemblance between her and her Kakisasisters. 

Nesis was as slender as a young aspen and her cheeks showed a clearolive pallor. Her lips were like the petals of a Jacqueminot rose. Colina, remembering that Ambrose had kissed them, turned a little hard. 

"You are Nesis?" she asked, though she knew it well. 

The girl nodded without looking up. 

"You know Ambrose Doane?"

Again the mute nod. 

"Will you come with me to testify for him?"

Nesis looked up blankly. 

"I mean, " explained Colina, "will you come and tell his judges that hedid not lead the Kakisas into trouble?"

Nesis, by vivid signs, informed Colina that Ambrose had been a prisoneramong the Indians. 

It occurred to Colina as strange, since she could understand English, that she should use signs. "I know he was a prisoner, " she said. "Will you come with me and tell the police that?"

Nesis turned and with a despairing gesture called Colina's attention tothe gathering Indians who would prevent her. Not a sound issued fromher lips. 

"Never mind them, " said Colina scornfully. "Are you willing to come?"

Nesis lifted her eyes to Colina's--eyes luminous with eagerness andemotion--and quickly nodded again. 

"Why doesn't she speak!" thought Colina. Aloud she said: "All right. Tell them I am going to take you. Tell them anybody that interferesdoes so at his peril. " She pointed to her rifle. 

To Colina's astonishment, the girl lowered her head and flung an arm upover her face. 

"What's the matter?" she cried. "I'll take care of you. " She drew thearm down. "Speak to them!" she said again. 

Nesis slowly raised her head. Her eyes crept to Colina's, humble andunspeakably mournful. She opened her mouth and pointed within. 

Colina looked--and sickened. A little cry of utter horror was forcedfrom her, and she fell back a step, She saw why Nesis did not speak. The disclosure was too sudden and dreadful. 

For the first and last time during that hazardous enterprise her strongspirit failed. She became as pale as snow and her hands flew to herbreast. Cora, watching her, slipped out of the saddle and glided toher aid. 

The weakness was momentary. Before Cora got to her the color camewinging back into Colina's cheeks. She thrust the half-breed girl fromher and, striding forward, faced the assembled Indians with blazingeyes. 

"You cowards!" she cried ringingly. "You pitiful, unmanly brutes! Idon't know which one of you did it. It doesn't matter. You allpermitted it. You shall all suffer for it. I promise you that!"

Under the whips of her eyes and voice they cringed and scowled. 

Colina thrust her riding-crop into the hands of Nesis. "Get on thathorse, " she commanded, pointing to the pack-animal. "Mount!" she criedto Cora. 

Meanwhile, from her own saddle she was hastily unfastening her rifle. She resolutely threw the lever over and back. At the ominous sound theIndians edged behind each other or sought cover behind convenientteepees. 

Nesis and Cora were mounted. Colina, keeping her eyes on the Indians, said to them: "Go ahead. Walk your horses. I'll follow. " She swungherself into her own saddle. 

Cora and Nesis started slowly out of the square. Colina followed, swinging sidewise in her saddle and watching the Indians behind. 

None offered to follow directly, but Colina observed that those who haddisappeared around the teepees were catching horses beyond. Othersrunning out of the square on the other side had disappeared around thespur of the hill. 

Plainly they did not mean to let her take Nesis unopposed. 

The girls finally issued from among the teepees and extended theirhorses into a trot. Cora rode first, her stolid face unchanged; frommoment to moment she looked over her shoulder to make sure that Colinawas safe. Nesis, blinded with tears, let her horse follow unguided, and Colina brought up the rear. 

Colina's face showed the fighting look, intent and resolute. Her brainwas too busy to dwell on tragedy then. 

Rounding the hill, she saw that those who had gone ahead haddisappeared. The horses that had been grazing here were likewise gone. 

It was not pleasant to consider the possibility of an ambush waiting inthe woods ahead. Other Indians began to appear in pursuit around thehill. 

Seeing the girls, they pulled in their horses and came on more slowly. Colina, wishing to see what they would do, drew her horse to a walk, whereupon the Indians likewise walked their horses. 

Evidently they meant to stalk the girls at their leisure. 

Colina, like a brave and hard-pressed general, considered the situationfrom every angle without minimizing the danger. She had really nothingbut a moral weapon to use against the Indians. If that failed her, then what?

Night was drawing on, and it would be difficult to intimidate them witheyes and voice after dark. Moreover, her horses were fatigued to thepoint of exhaustion. How could she turn them loose to rest and grazewith enemies both in the front and the rear?

She knew that a favorite Indian stratagem is to stampede theadversaries' horses after dark. Colina carried the only gun in theirlittle party. 

Striking into the woods out of sight of their pursuers, they urgedtheir horses to the best that was in them. Colina bethought herself ofprofiting by Nesis's experience. 

"Nesis, " she called, "you know these people! What should we do?"

Nesis, rousing herself and turning her dreadfully eloquent eyes uponColina, signified that they must ride on for the present. When the sunwent down she would tell what to do. 

For an hour thereafter they rode without speaking. 

While it was still light they came out on another meadow. Nesis signedto Colina that they should halt at the edge of the trees on the otherside, and, picketing the horses, let them graze for a little while. 

It was done. The horses had to feed and rest, and this looked like asgood a place as any. Meanwhile Cora built a fire and cooked theirsupper as unconcerned as if it were a picnic party an hour's ride fromhome. 

They had no sooner dismounted than the Indians appeared out of thewoods at the other side of the meadow. Seeing the girls, they likewisedismounted without coming any closer, and built a great fire. 

About a quarter of a mile separated the two fires. It grew dark. Colina sat out of range of the firelight, watching the other fire. 

Nesis took the gun and went on up the trail to guard against thesurprise from that side. Cora kept an eye upon the dim shapes of thetethered horses, and watched her mistress with sullen, doglike devotion. 

After an hour and a half Nesis returned, and signing to Cora to saddlethe horses, made a reconnaissance across the meadow. 

Coming back to the fire presently, she indicated to Colina that theywere not watched from that side, and that they should now ride on. 

Evidently the Indians thinking they had them trapped in the trail werecareless. Indians are not fond of scout duty in the dark in any case. 

They softly made ready, taking care not to let the firelight betraytheir activities. Nesis's last act was to heap fresh wood on the fire. Colina, approving all she did was glad to let her run things. Shecould not guess how she purposed evading the Indians in front. 

They mounted, and proceeded into the woods, walking their horsesslowly. Colina could not make out the trail, but her horse could. 

Nesis led the way. They climbed a little hill and descended the otherside. At the bottom the trail was bisected by a shallow stream makingits way over a stony bed to the river. 

Halting her horse in the middle of it, Nesis allowed Colina toapproach, and pointed out to her that they must turn to the right here, and let their horses walk in the water to avoid leaving tracks. 

For more than an hour they made a painfully slow journey among thestones. The intelligent horses picked their way with noses close tothe ground. 

They were now between the steep high banks of a coulée. The treesgradually thinned out, and a wide swath of the starry sky showedoverhead. Colina's heart rose steadily. 

The Indians could not possibly find the place where they had left thetrail until daylight. 

They would instantly understand their own stratagem, of course, butthey must lose still more time, searching the bed of the creek fortracks leaving it. If only the horses had been fresher!

Finally Nesis left the bed of the creek, and urged her horse obliquelyup the steep side of the coulée on the left. 

This was the side farther from the lower village, and the Enterprisetrail, and Colina wondered if she had not made a mistake. 

Mounting over the rim of the coulée a superb night-view was open tothem. Before them rolled the bald prairie wide as the sea, with allthe stars of heaven piercing the black dome overhead. 

It was still and frosty; the horses breathed smoke. To Colina'snostrils rose the delicate smell of the rich buffalo grass, which curesitself as it grows. The tired horses, excited by it, pawed the earth, and pulled at the lines. 

They halted, and Nesis turned her face up, fixing their position by thestars. She finally pointed to the southeast. Colina knew it wassoutheast because when she faced in that direction the north star, friend of every traveler by night, was over her left shoulder. 

"But the Kakisa village, the trail back to Enterprise is there, " sheobjected, pointing northeast. 

Nesis nodded. With her graceful and speaking gestures she informedColina that all the country that way was covered with almostimpenetrable woods through which they could not ride without a trail. 

Southeast, the prairie rolled smoothly all the way to the great riverthat came from the distant high mountains. 

"The spirit river?" asked Colina. 

Nesis nodded, adding in dumb-show that when they reached its banks theywould make a raft and float down to Fort Enterprise. 

"Good!" said Colina. "Let's ride on. The moon will be up later. We'll camp by the first water that we come to. "

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE TRIAL. 

Mr. Wilfred Pascoe, K. C. , arose and cleared his throat musically. Hedrew out his handkerchief, polished his glasses, returned thehandkerchief, and paused suggestively. 

Mr. Pascoe was assured that he was the leading attraction at the trialof Ambrose Doane, and that the humming crowd which filled every cornerof the court-room had come for the express purpose of hearing him, thefamous advocate from the East, sum up for the crown. 

Indeed, in his opinion, there was no one else in the case. Denholm forthe defense was a sharp and clever lad, but a mere lad! As for thejudge--well one knows these judges in the outlying provinces!

The people of Prince George did not often get a chance to listen to aman like him, therefore he wished to give them the worth of their money. 

He was a dignified, ruddy little gentleman, clad in a well turnedcutaway that fell from his highly convex middle like the wings of apouter pigeon. 

"My lord and gentlemen of the jury, " he began in a voice of insinuatingmodesty and sweetness, "in this room during the past four days we havewitnessed the unfolding of an extraordinary drama. 

"Through all the criminal annals of this country we may search in vainfor a precedent to this case. In the past we have had to try Indiansand half-breeds for rebelling against the government. 

"In such cases punishment was always tempered with mercy; we were inthe position of a parent chastising his child. 

"Here we are faced by a different situation. Here we have a white man, one of our own race charged with inciting and leading the natives torebel against authority. By tongue and deed he strove to unloosen thepassions of hell to his own profit!

"Every man of middle age in this Western country knows what Indianwarfare means. The flesh crawls at the picture of shrieking, painteddemons that is called up, the flames, the tortures, the dishonoredhomes--gentlemen, it--it is difficult for me to speak of this matterwith a becoming restraint. 

"When we come to examine the evidence we are faced by a well-nighinextricable confusion. But, gentlemen, the main issue is clear. 

"We see the prisoner having made his first false step drawn byinevitable succession deeper and deeper into the quicksands of passionand violence. Out of the mass of details I ask you to choose threefacts which in themselves constitute a strong presumptive case. 

"First, the trouble at Fort Enterprise--that pleasant little Eden ofthe far north, invaded, alas! by the serpent--the beginning of thetrouble I say was exactly coincident with the arrival of Ambrose Doane. 

"Second, in every scene of violence that followed we find him a leadingfigure. Third, all trouble ceased upon his arrest. 

"Let us glance in passing at the first act of lawlessness, the seizingof the Company's mill. The prisoner admits that he forcibly broke intothe mill, hoping, no doubt, that by confessing the minor offense he maypersuade you to believe him when he denies the greater. This is a veryancient expedient of accused persons. 

"He ground his grain and carried it back to the Indians, and theystored it in an empty shack across the river. This is conceded by bothsides. 

"On the following night during the progress of a barbaric dance amongthe Kakisas, at which the prisoner was a guest--an honored guest, remember--an alarm of fire was given. 

"Upon running to the scene they found the shack in flames. It wascompletely destroyed, together with its contents. 

"Now, gentlemen, this is one of the mysteries of the case. No evidencehas been adduced to show who set that fire. Its suddenness andviolence precludes the possibility of its having caught by accident. It was set, but who set it?

"We are reduced to mere speculation here. Was it any one connectedwith the Company? No! They had thousands of dollars' worth ofunprotected goods across the river; they were a mere handful, and theIndians three hundred. It isn't reasonable. 

"Well, then, did any of the Indians set it? Why should they? It wastheir flour; they had receipted for it. Lastly, did Ambrose Doane doit, or have it done? Ah! Let us look for possible motives. 

"He was a trader, remember. It had been so easy for him to secure thefirst lot; perhaps he wanted to sell them another lot. The simpleIndians, of course, would be persuaded that the incendiary came fromacross the river--"

Mr. Denholm rose. "I object, " he said. "My eminent friend has noright to suggest such ideas to the jury. There is no evidence--"

Mr. Pascoe beamed upon his young opponent. "Counsel overlooks thefact, " he said gently, "that I expressly stated this was merespeculation on my part. "

"Overruled, " murmured the judge. 

Mr. Pascoe resumed: "As to what followed there are several versions. The prisoner says that he pleaded with the Indians, and tried to keepthem from crossing the river. Simon Grampierre corroborates this; butGrampierre, you must remember, is the prisoner's self-confessedaccomplice in the seizure of the flour-mill. 

"Still, he may be telling the truth. Grampierre was not with Doane allthe time. It is highly probable that the prisoner, seeking to impressGrampierre, pleaded with the Indians in his hearing. The Indianscouldn't understand English, anyway. 

"Watusk testified that he had a conversation with the prisoner duringthe fire, but the confusion was so great he cannot remember what wassaid. This is very natural. 

"Myengeen, Tatateecha, and the other Indians who testified said thatthe prisoner did harangue them, and that they understood from hisgestures that he was urging them to cross the river and revengethemselves. 

"All say it was from him that they first heard Gaviller's name. Idon't think we need look any further. 

"Anyhow, the prisoner led the mob down to the beach where his york-boatwas lying, and they all embarked in his boat. He says he tried to keepthem out, but he does not deny crossing with them. Hardly likely theywould take him as a passenger, is it, if he had fought them sostrenuously?

"On what took place in John Gaviller's house that night I will touchvery briefly. It was a ghastly night for the little company ofdefenders! We have no eye-witness to the prisoner's dastardly attackon Mr. Gaviller. Mr. Strange, through the most praiseworthy motives, has refused to testify against him. 

"Mr. Strange takes the ground that since he is obliged to act asinterpreter in this case, no other being obtainable, it would beimproper for him to give evidence. 

"In the light of the prisoner's impudent charge against Mr. Strange, the latter's conduct is truly magnanimous. The charge that Strangetried to murder his employer is simply laughable. Twenty-nine years offaithful service give it the lie. 

"A great point has been made by the defense that the prisoner had nomotive in attempting to kill Mr. Gaviller. Gentlemen, he had the samemotive that has inspired every murder in history--hate!

"There is any amount of testimony to show with what hatred the prisoneralways spoke of Mr. Gaviller. Gaviller was his business rival, hisrich and successful rival. Gaviller was the head and front of thepowers that opposed his headstrong will. I repeat, it is hate andopportunity that make a murder. 

"Mr. Gaviller was prostrated with weakness. How simple to creepup-stairs in the dark and finish what the other coward's bullet hadalmost accomplished! And how impossible to prove that it was a murder!Mr. Gaviller's vitality was so low that night, the doctor hastestified, that he himself would not have suspected foul play if he hadfound him dead in the morning. 

"When they arrested Doane in the house the gun they took from him wasone that had been stolen from the Company store earlier in the night. Remember that. 

"At daylight the Indians came and made a demand on the defenders of thehouse for their leader, Ambrose Doane. They threatened to burn thehouse down if he was not given up to them. They welcomed him withextravagant expressions of joy. 

"This is positive evidence, gentlemen. Those in the house saw theprisoner give an order to bear away the dead bodies, and the order wasobeyed. Such little facts are highly significant. 

"Watusk's evidence makes the next link. I do not attempt to justifythis unfortunate man, gentlemen. At least he is contrite, and throwshimself on the mercy of the court. Watusk says when they came backacross the river the Indians were sorry for what they had done andterrified of punishment. 

"Watusk urged them to return what they had stolen. He had taken nopart in the looting of the store. But Ambrose Doane would have none ofit. He persuaded Watusk to give the order to break camp and fly backto the Kakisa River. Doane promised the bewildered Indian that hewould make good terms for the offenders with the police when they came. 

"Doane's contention that he was a prisoner among the Kakisas isunsupported. Watusk and five other Indians have sworn that not onlywas he free to come and go as he chose, but that he directed theirmovements. 

"As to the prisoner's story of the Indian girl, ah--a touching story, gentlemen!" Mr. Pascoe paused for a comfortable, silent little laugh. He wiped his eyes. "Almost worthy of one of our popular romancers!

"Not very original perhaps, the beautiful Indian maid falling a victimto the charms of the pale-faced prisoner, whispering to him at nightthrough a chink in his prison wall, and smuggling a knife to assist hisescape!

"Not very original, I say; is it possible he could have read itsomewhere, adding a few little touches of his own? Unfortunately, ourstory-teller in his desire for artistic verisimilitude has overreachedhimself. 

"That touch about Nesis--if that is what he called her, being thefourth wife of Watusk. Why fourth? one wonders. You have heard Lonatestify that she was Watusk's one and only wife. She ought to know. Ifancy I need say no more about that. 

"Next comes Inspector Egerton. The inspector testifies that the trapset for his men in the hills north of the Kakisa River was of aningenuity far beyond the compass of the Indian imagination. You haveseen a plan of it. You have heard these simple, ignorant red mentestify here. Could they have made such a plan? Impossible!

"Gentlemen, I ask you to consider the situation on that fair morning inSeptember when the gallant little band of redcoats rode into thathellishly planned trap. The heart quails at the imminence of theirperil!

"That a horrible tragedy was by a miracle averted is no credit to thisprisoner. That, instead of being the most execrated murderer in thehistory of our land, he is only on trial for a felony he has nothimself to thank. He has to thank the Merciful Providence on High whocaused the red man's heart to relent at the critical moment!

"Watusk could not give the order to shoot. You have heard thepolicemen testify that the prisoner was furious at the Indian'spusillanimity. I say it was a God-sent pusillanimity!

"Our merciful law makes a distinction between successful andunsuccessful crimes, though there is no difference in the criminal. Heis lucky! Gentlemen, all that justice demands of you is that youshould find him guilty of treason-felony!"

Mr. Pascoe sat down and blew his nose with loud, conscious modesty. The jury looked pleased and flattered. An excited murmur traveledabout the courtroom, and the judge picked up his gavel to suppressthreatened applause. 

There could be no doubt as to the way popular opinion tended in thistrial. Though the applause was stopped before it began, one could feelthe crowd's animus against the prisoner no less than if they hadshouted "Hang him!" with one voice. 

They believed that he had plotted against the popular idols, themounted police; that was enough. 

The prisoner sat at a table beside his counsel with his chin in hispalm. He was well dressed and groomed--Denholm saw to that--and hisface composed, though very pale; the eyes lusterless. 

Throughout Mr. Pascoe's arraignment he scarcely moved, nor appeared topay more than cursory attention. 

It is the characteristic picture of a prisoner on trial; guilty orinnocent makes little difference on the surface. Nature, when we havereached the limit of endurance, lends us apathy. 

Ambrose had suffered so much he was dulled to suffering. He had not afriend in the court-room except Arthur Denholm. Peter Minot, aftermaking a deposition in his favor, had been obliged to hasten north tolook after their endangered business. 

There were others who would have been glad to support him, but he wouldnot call on them. Indeed what he most dreaded were the occasionaltestimonials of sympathy which reached him. Friendliness unmanned him. 

The other way in which his ordeal made itself felt was in his greatlonging to have it over with. He looked forward to the cell which hebelieved awaited him as to relief. There at least he would be safefrom the hard, inquisitive eyes which empaled him. 

Meanwhile, as they argued back and forth and his fate hung in thebalance, he found himself staring at the patch of pale winter sky whichshowed in the tall window. The air was clean up there. The sky was anoble, empty place unpolluted by foul breath and villainy and lies!

When Denholm arose to speak for the prisoner, the jury regarded himwith curiosity tempered by pity. They liked Denholm, liked hisresourcefulness, his unassailable good-humor, his gallant struggle onbehalf of a bad cause. Plainly they were wondering what he could sayfor his client now. 

If Denholm felt that his case was hopeless, he gave no sign of it. Hewas frank, unassuming, friendly with the jury. His style of deliverywas conversational. 

"I will be brief, " he said. "I do not mean to take you over theevidence again. Every detail must be more than familiar to you. 

"What my learned friend has just said to you, what I say to you now, and what his lordship will presently say to you from the bench allamounts to the same thing--choose for yourselves what you are tobelieve. Somewhere in this jungle of contradictions lurks the truth. It is for you to track it down. 

"The prisoner's case stands or falls by his own testimony. We have aninstinct that warns us to disregard what a man says in his own defense. In this case we cannot disregard it. I ask you not to consider it asevidence against the prisoner that he has no witnesses. 

"If we go over the story in our minds, we will see that under theconditions of these happenings he could not have witnesses. Therefore, if we wish to do justice, we must weigh his own story. 

"Never mind the details now, but consider his attitude in telling it. For an entire session of the court he sat in the witness chair tellingus with the most painstaking detail everything that happened from thetime of his first arrival at Fort Enterprise up to his arrest. 

"During the whole of the following day he was on the stand under aperfect fusillade of questions from my learned friend, admittedly themost brilliant cross-examiner at the bar. He did not succeed inshaking the prisoner's story in any important particular. 

"How, I ask you, could the prisoner have foreseen and prepared for allthose ingenious traps formulated in the resourceful brain of my learnedfriend, unless he was telling the simple truth?

"Moreover, the gaps, the inconsistencies, the improbabilities in thestory which my friend has pointed out, to my mind these are thestrongest evidences of its truth. For if he had made it all up hewould be logical. Man's brain works that way. 

"Suppose for the sake of argument that the prisoner did accomplish thatmiracle; that in his brain he formulated a story so complete in everyramification that nine hours' cross-examination could batter no holesin it. 

"If that is true, it is a wonderful brain, isn't it? The prisoner, inshort, is an amazingly clever young man. Now, can you imagine a manwith even the rudiments of good sense persuading himself that he couldmake a successful Indian uprising at this date? There is a serious--"

Denholm was stopped by a commotion that arose outside the door of thecourt-room. There was a great throng in the corridor as well. Helooked to the bench for aid. 

His lordship rapped smartly with his gavel. "Silence!" he cried, "or Iwill have the room cleared!"

But the noise came nearer. 

"Officer, what is the trouble outside?" demanded the bench. 

The two doorkeepers with great hands were pressing back a threatenedirruption from the corridor. One spoke over his shoulder. 

"If you please, sir, there's a young woman here says she has evidenceto give in this case. "

CHAPTER XL. 

AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS. 

Those in the court-room jumped up and looked toward the door, and theconfusion was redoubled. Several policemen hurried to the assistanceof the doorkeepers. The judge rapped in vain. 

Finally one of the doorkeepers made his voice heard above the scuffling:

"She says her name is Colina Gaviller. "

A profound sensation was created within the court. The confusion wasstilled as by magic. All those inside turned back to look at the youngprisoner. 

He had leaped to his feet, and stood gazing toward the door with awild, white, awakened face. Denholm had a restraining hand on hisshoulder. John Gaviller, Gordon Strange, Inspector Egerton; there wasno man connected with the case but betrayed something of the sameagitation. 

"Admit Miss Gaviller, " commanded the judge. 

The two policemen, with herculean exertions, made an opening in thecrowd for Colina and two companions to enter and kept every one elseout. The doors were then closed. 

At Colina's appearance an odd murmur rippled over the crowd. Herbeauty astonished them. She walked down the aisle of the court-room, pale, erect, and self-controlled. Captain Stinson and Cora followedher. 

The crowd observed her movements with breathless attention. 

All three were admitted within the rail. John Gaviller sat near thegate. He looked somewhat dazed. They saw her offer him her hand witha swift smile, charged with meaning. 

The gentlemanly half-breed, Gordon Strange, leaned forward, seeking toattract her attention with an eager smile. Him she ignored. Sheturned to the prisoner. This was what the crowd was waiting for. 

The pale youth and the pale girl had all the look of the principalactors in a drama. What was between them? They saw her smile at him, too--an extraordinary smile, sorrowful, solicitous, cheery. None couldinterpret it. 

Ambrose was engaged in a desperate struggle to command himself. At theannouncement of her coming hope had sprung up, only to receive adeadlier wound at the first glimpse of her. 

She had not found Nesis; very well, it was all up with him. Whatmatter how dearly Colina loved him if he had to go to jail? He saw thecheer she offered him in her smile, but he rejected it. 

"Nothing can help me now, " he stubbornly insisted. "If I let myselfhope, the disappointment will drive me insane. " He fought to recoverhis apathy. 

Pascoe and Denholm each sprang up to greet the new witness as if by thewarmth of his welcome she would be attracted to his side. 

"One moment, gentlemen, " said the judge. He addressed Colina, "Youhave evidence to give in this case?"

Colina gravely inclined her head. 

His lordship frowned. "This is very irregular. I must ask you why youhave delayed until this moment?"

"I have just arrived in town, " said Colina. 

"Couldn't you have communicated with counsel?"

"I have come from the north. There was no way of sending out a messageahead. I am the first one out since the freeze-up. "

The judge nodded to show himself satisfied. "Is the evidence you haveto give favorable to the prisoner or unfavorable?"

The court-room held its breath for her answer. 

"Favorable, " she murmured. 

John Gaviller looked up astonished. 

The judge gave her over to Denholm. "Will you examine?" he asked. 

Denholm consulted with his client. Ambrose, up to this moment soindifferent to the lawyers, could be seen giving him positiveinstructions. Denholm expostulated with him. The bench showedsymptoms of impatience. Finally Denholm rose. 

"My lord, " he said. "I have never seen Miss Gaviller before thismoment. I have no inkling of the nature of her evidence. Left tomyself, I should ask for an adjournment; surely we are entitled to it. But my client insists on going ahead. My lord"--his voice shook alittle--"none but an innocent man could be so rash!"

"Never mind that, " rebuked the judge. He was distinctly nettled by theupset of court decorum. 

"I will therefore respectfully ask the indulgence of the court, "Denholm went on, "and move to reopen the taking of testimony. "

"Proceed, " said the judge. 

A court attendant led Colina to the witness stand. She was sworn. Judge, lawyers, and spectators alike searched her grave, composed facefor some suggestion of what she had to say. Nothing was to be readthere. 

"Miss Gaviller, " said Denholm, "I can only ask you to tell in your ownwords all that you know bearing on the offenses with which AmbroseDoane is charged. "

"My father, Mr. Macfarlane, Dr. Giddings have all testified, Isuppose, " said Colina. "They can tell you as much or more than I can. I have come to tell you of things that happened after his arrest, afterall the others went out of the country. "

Every one connected with the case sat up. Denholm's eye brightened. 

"Please go on, " he said and sat down. 

Colina, in a low, steady voice, commenced her story at the point whereAmbrose had asked her to find some one to go in search of Nesis. 

While she spoke her grave eyes were brooding over the prisoner's bent, dark head below. He dared not look at her. The court-room was sostill that when she paused for a word one could hear the clock on thewall tick. 

She told of her journey to the Kakisa River; her interview withSergeant Plaskett (which provoked a smile); her search among theteepees; her encounter with Marya, and all that followed on that. 

Without a trace of self-consciousness she told how she and Cora had setoff at night on the unknown trail, and how she had ridden into themiddle of the hostile village next day and demanded Nesis. 

"Two girls to defy a whole tribe of redskins!"--the thought could beread in the jurymen's startled eyes. 

The twelve men hung out of the box, listening with parted lips. Allthat had gone before in this startling trial was nothing to Colina'sstory. 

When Colina came to her meeting with Nesis her brave port was shaken. Her voice began to tremble. She could not bring herself to name thedreadful thing. The judge, perceiving a stoppage in her story, interrupted her. 

"Miss Gaviller, if the girl could understand you, why did she answer bysigns?"

Colina lowered her head. Those near saw her struggling to control ashaken breast, saw two tears steal down her pale cheeks. 

"Do you wish to be excused?" asked the judge solicitously. 

She shook her head. "One moment, " she was understood to whisper. 

An attendant handed up a glass of water. 

She finally managed to produce her voice again. "She could not speak, "she said very low. 

"Why?" asked the judge. One would have said the whole room breathedthe question. 

"They--had mutilated her, " whispered Colina. "Her--her tongue--was cutoff. "

A single low sound of horror was forced from the crowd. The prisonerhalf rose with a choking cry and collapsed with his head in his arms onthe table. 

Denholm, as pale as a sheet, flung an arm around his shoulders. Everyman connected with the case stared before him as if he beheld thehorror with his physical eyes. Colina's self-control escaped herentirely. 

She covered her face with her hands and wept like any girl. 

CHAPTER XLI. 

FROM DUMB LIPS. 

The judge proposed an adjournment. The witness, the prisoner, theprisoner's counsel were all against it. It was decided to continue. Abreath of relief escaped the spectators. Another day they might not beable to secure seats in the court-room. 

Colina described how they gave their pursuers the slip and gained theprairie. 

"We decided to make for the nearest point on the Spirit River, " shewent on, "and headed southeast. After we had ridden for two hours wecame to a slough of fresh water, and camped for the rest of the nightto let the horses feed and rest. Nesis and I could not sleep. Wetalked until morning. 

"I asked her questions, and she would answer yes or no, or let me knowby signs when I was on the wrong track. She was wonderfully clever inmaking up signs. 

"As she made signs to me I interpreted them aloud, and she would nod orshake her head according to whether I was right or wrong. I had to tryone question after another until I hit on the one she could answer. Inthis way little by little I built up her story. 

"The next day we continued on the prairie. The sky was heavilyoverclouded, and there were flurries of snow. We were lost for severalhours, until the sun came out again. Our food was almost gone, but Imanaged to shoot a rabbit. 

"The horses were very tired. Whenever we stopped I talked to Nesis. We stayed up most of that night. It was too cold to sleep. By the endof the second day I knew everything she had to tell me. "

Colina drank some water and went on. "Nesis's story begins a year ago. In the middle of the winter my father was accustomed to send GordonStrange with an outfit to the Kakisa River to trade with the tribe andbring back the fur. 

"While there he lived in a little log shack overlooking the Indianvillage. Nesis said it was Watusk's custom to go up to the shack everynight and the two men would talk. She knew that they talked Englishtogether, and she used to steal up after Watusk and listen outsidethrough a chink between the logs. "

Every eye in the court-room was turned on Gordon Strange. Thehalf-breed made marks with a pencil on a pad and tried to call up theold modest, deprecating smile. But an extraordinary ashy tint creptunder his swarthy skin. 

In spite of himself, his eyes darted furtively to measure the distanceto the door. There were half a thousand people between; moreover, thedoors were closed and guarded by six policemen. 

Colina carefully avoided glancing in Strange's direction. 

"At that time Nesis had no idea of using what she learned from theirtalk, " she went on. "She merely wished to hear English spoken, so thatshe would not forget what her father had taught her. Nesis attached amysterious virtue to the ability to speak English. It was a kind offetish with her. 

"She believed that her father's ability to speak English had threatenedWatusk's power in the tribe, and that Watusk, on that account, had hadher father put out of the way. Therefore she kept it a secret that shecould speak it, too. 

"Nesis said that all of Mr. Strange's and Watusk's talk was against thewhite people. She said they used to discuss how the whites could bedriven out of the country. She said that Mr. Strange used to tellWatusk about how Louis Riel fought the whites. 

"He said that Louis Riel would be the king of this country to-day if hehad not gone crazy. He used to ask Watusk how he would like to be aking. He used to flatter Watusk and tell him he was a great chief. 

"He explained to Watusk how he could kill a whole army of the whites ifhe could lead them into the little valley beyond the Kakisa. "

A gasp of astonishment escaped the court. In almost every sentence ofColina's there was the material of a fresh sensation. 

Ambrose lifted his head, and a little color came back to his cheeks. Whether or not it saved him in the end, it was sweet to hear himselfjustified. 

Colina continued: "Nesis said that Watusk often complained to Mr. Strange that my father was always making the goods dearer and the furcheaper. Mr. Strange told him to wait a little while and he would seegreat changes. 

"Pretty soon things would get so bad, he explained, that the Companywould take John Gaviller away and make him the trader. He told Watuskto wait until the grain was thrashed next year, meaning last summer, and there would be great trouble. 

"He said if Watusk did everything he told him he would make Watusk agreat man. At different times he gave Watusk presents--silkhandkerchiefs, finger rings, pistols, a sword. By and by he said hewould make Watusk great presents. 

"Nesis's story then jumped to the time, last summer, when Watusk andmany of the people rode into Fort Enterprise to get flour, " Colina wenton. "In the mean time Ambrose Doane had been to Enterprise, and hadgone away again to get an outfit. 

"My father refused to give the Indians any flour because they had beentrading with his competitor. The Indians were angry, Nesis said, andWatusk was scared. One night Gordon Strange came to see Watusk, andNesis listened outside the teepee. 

"She said Strange said to Watusk to let the Indians get mad. Strangesaid he wanted to have trouble. There was talk of burning the storethen. Strange said that would fix John Gaviller, all right. He toldWatusk that the police would let the people off easily because, as hesaid, my father had treated them so badly. "

Colina drew a long breath to steady herself. "They talked about thechances of my father's dying, " she went on. "He was very sick at thattime. Mr. Strange suggested to Watusk that it wouldn't take much tofinish him. They both laughed at that. 

"He told Watusk that if John Gaviller died he, Strange, would settleall the trouble, and then the Company would make him the trader forgood. He told Watusk that when he got to be trader he would soon fixAmbrose Doane, too. 

"Mr. Strange was always telling Watusk to tell the Kakisas that myfather hated them, but that he, Strange, was their friend. 

"Nesis said that a couple of days after this Ambrose Doane came downthe river, and after him his outfit on a raft. When Ambrose Doaneheard that the Indians were hungry he took men and crossed the riverand broke into the flour-mill and ground flour for them. 

"This took two nights and a day. On the second night Gordon Strangecame across to see Watusk again. Nesis said he was so angry that hestarted in talking without sending her out of the teepee. He had noidea, of course, that she could understand English. She made herselflook stupid, she said. 

"Mr. Strange was angry because, if the Indians got their flour and wentback to the Kakisa River satisfied, all his plans would be spoiled. His attempt to create a rebellion among the half-breed farmers hadalready failed. 

"Nesis said that Strange cursed Ambrose Doane for spoiling his plans. She said he told Watusk he must burn the flour, and then the Indianswould surely make trouble. They talked about how to do it. 

"It was arranged that Strange was to bring Watusk a big can ofcoal-oil: Watusk was to hide it under the floor of Gaston Trudeau'sempty shack, and afterward store the flour there. Then Watusk was togive a big tea-dance to get all the people out of the way. 

"Before going to the dance he was to pour oil over the bags, and leavethe window open so Strange could fire it after he had gone. "

Colina paused to take a drink of water. The judge whispered to a courtattendant, who in turn whispered to a policeman. Thereafter theblue-coat's eyes never left Gordon Strange. The half-breed had lostall pretense of smiling. 

He looked like a trapped animal. The court-room scarcely regarded him. They hung upon Colina's lips. 

Every time she paused her listeners' pent-up breath escaped. 

Colina went on: "At the tea-dance Nesis saw Ambrose Doane for the firsttime. She said she--" Colina lowered her eyes and sought for aword--"she liked him. After that she wanted to help him. When thealarm of fire was raised, and all ran to the burning building, Nesiskept near to Ambrose Doane and watched all that he did. 

"She said she saw him go after Watusk, and heard him make Watusk tellthe Indians not to be foolish, but go back to the teepees untilmorning. But Watusk spoke to them half-heartedly and they did notlisten. It was Myengeen, Nesis said, who urged them to go across theriver, and break into the store. 

"Nesis did not see what happened at the boat. The crowd was too greatfor her to get near. But next morning when they came back she heardMyengeen say to Watusk that Gordon Strange had sent word that they musttie Ambrose Doane up and carry him away. 

"She said it was soon known throughout the tribe that if the policecame everybody was to say that Ambrose Doane made all the trouble. Shesaid he was tied up and carried away on a horse. 

"When they all got to the Kakisa River a week later she found that hewas imprisoned in Gordon Strange's house, and watched day and night. "

So far the power of Colina's story had carried her hearers alongbreathlessly with her. Not until she reached this point did a veryobvious question occur to the judge. 

"One moment, Miss Gaviller, " he said. "I presume you understand thatthis story would have more weight as evidence if the girl Nesis wasproduced in court. Can she be brought here?"

Once more Colina faltered--and steeled herself. Her eyes became misty, but she looked directly at the judge. "My Lord, " she said simply, "sheis dead. "

CHAPTER XLII. 

THE AVENGING OF NESIS. 

His lordship started back thoroughly discomposed. "Really! Really!"he murmured helplessly. The prisoner hid his face in his arms again. An audible wave of compassion traveled over the room. 

"Should I tell about that?" Colina asked quietly. The judge signifiedhis assent. 

"On the third morning on the prairie, " Colina continued, "the Indiansfound us again. They had tracked us all the way from the Kakisa. Theydid not attack us, but followed about a quarter of a mile behind. 

"There were about fifty of them. Whenever we stopped to rest or eat, they rode around us in a big circle yelling and firing their guns inthe air--trying to break our nerve. "

A gasp escaped her hearers at the picture she evoked--three women onthe wide prairie, and a horde of yelling savages!

"I did not mind them so much, " Colina went on simply, "for I was surethey were too cowardly to attack us. But our food was all gone by thistime, and I could not leave the others to hunt for game. The horseswere completely played out. 

"At night we suffered from the cold. We could not make a fire becausethe light of it blinded us and showed us to the Indians. On the fourthnight as we were trying to push on in the hope of losing them in thedark, the horse that Nesis was riding fell down and died in his tracks. After that we took turns walking. 

"Next day they easily found us again. It was very cold, and we couldscarcely keep going. In the afternoon we came to the edge of the benchof the Spirit River. It was a long way down to the bank. 

"When we got there we saw that heavy ice was running in the river. Wehad to travel another mile along the bank before we saw enough deadtimber in one place to make a raft. I was afraid we wouldn't havestrength enough to move it. We hadn't eaten for two days. 

"It was still daylight, and we made a fire there. The Indians came andwatched us from a little knoll, less than a quarter of a mile back. 

"Cora took one of the remaining horses away and killed it, and broughtback meat to the fire and we ate a little. I thought if we slept alittle while we would be better able to start the raft. So Cora and Ilay down while Nesis kept watch. "

Colina's voice was shaking. She paused to steady it. "I was carefulto choose a place out in the open, " she went on. "We were in a grassybottom beside the river. 

"The nearest cover was a poplar bluff about three hundred yards back. He--he must have crawled down to that. I was awakened by a shot. Theyhad got her!"

Colina's clenched hands were pressed close together, her head was down. The quiet voice broke out a little wildly. 

"Ah! I have never, never ceased to blame myself! I should not haveslept! I ought not to have let her watch! But I never thought theywould dare shoot!"

Colina went on in a schooled voice more affecting than an outcry. 

"Nesis was shot through the breast. I had nothing to give her. Istanched the wound the best way I could. 

"I saw at once that she could not live. Indeed, I prayed that shewould not linger--in such pain. She lived throughout the night. Shewas conscious most of the time--and smiling. She died at daybreak. 

"I do not know what happened after that. I gave out. It was Cora whosaw the launch coming down the river, and signaled it with herpetticoat. They landed and carried us aboard. I remember that. 

"I wanted them to turn back and take us up to the crossing. But it wasimpossible to go against the current on account of the ice. They tookus down to Fort Enterprise. We took Nesis. She is buried there. 

"At Fort Enterprise we had to wait until the ice packed in the river, and enough snow fell to make a winter trail. Then we started with dogteams. I brought Captain Stinson and my servant, Cora Thomas, foradditional witnesses. It is seven hundred miles. That is why we wereso long. "

Mr. Pascoe rose. His erstwhile ruddy cheeks showed an odd pallor underthe purple veins, and he looked thoroughly disconcerted. "My Lord, " hesaid, "this is a very affecting tale. It is, however, my painful dutyto protest against its admission as evidence. "

Colina interrupted him. "I beg your pardon, " she said quickly. Sheproduced a little book from inside her dress. "May I explain further?"she asked the judge eagerly. 

"One moment, please, Mr. Pascoe, " said his lordship. He signed toColina to proceed. 

"I meant, of course, to bring Nesis here, " Colina continued. "When Isaw that--that I never would, while I didn't know anything about courtsor evidence, I felt that it would be safer to have a written statement. 

"This book is my diary that I always carry with me. That night I wrotein the blank pages what Nesis had told me, and later when she wasconscious I read it to her, and she affirmed it sentence by sentence. She understood how important it was. 

"You may know that she comprehended what she was doing because she mademe make changes--you will find them here. At the end I wrote her nameand she made a cross. Cora Thomas heard me read it to her, and saw hermake her mark. "

The judge held out his hand for the book. 

Once more Mr. Pascoe rose. "My Lord, " he said, "it must be clear toyou that the ends of justice have been defeated by the dramatic powerof this tale. It would be farcical to ask this jury to deliver animpartial verdict now. This new evidence must be weighed and siftedwith calm minds. I request that you declare a mistrial, and that--"

A still more dramatic surprise awaited Mr. Pascoe and the court. Toward the end of the telling of Colina's painful tale Gordon Strangehad been forgotten by all in the room except the policeman detailed towatch him. This man suddenly made a spring toward the half-breed, where he sat huddled beside his table. He was too late. The court waselectrified by the muffled sound of a shot. Strange fell forward onthe table. A revolver clattered to the floor from under his coat. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS. 

The following is taken from the Prince George _Star_, January 19, 19--. Extra. 

NOT GUILTY!

At 7. 53 P. M. The jury in the trial of Ambrose Doane for treason-felonyreturned a verdict of not guilty without leaving their seats. This wasa foregone conclusion. Upon issuing from the courthouse the acquittedman received an immense ovation from the waiting crowd. 

From the Prince George _Star_, January 24, 19--: Editorial. 

THE REAL CRIMINAL!

Now that the trial of Ambrose Doane is a thing of the past, a tragicmiscarriage of justice happily averted, and the excitement abated, itis time for the thoughtful to examine into the underlying causes of thetrouble at Fort Enterprise. 

That there was serious trouble no one denies; but the generaldisposition is, since the innocent man is free and the guilty one deadby his own hand, to forget the whole matter. Now is the time to takemeasures to make it impossible for anything of the kind to occur again. 

Granting that Gordon Strange, that extraordinary character, played forhigh stakes, lost and paid--was he the sole criminal? What sort ofconditions were they up there that made it possible for him to engineerhis unique schemes of villainy?

For years the arrogant policy and the unscrupulous methods of the greatcorporation that holds the north of our province in thrall have beenmatters of common gossip in the streets. But no man has dared to raisehis voice. 

"They say" that the mighty corporation rides over the helpless redskinsroughshod. "They say" that the Indians are charged exorbitant pricesfor the necessities of life, while a mere pittance is given them fortheir valuable furs. 

Is it true? Who knows? No news comes out of that sealed country saveby the pleasure of the great Company. Certain aspects of the testimonygiven in the Ambrose Doane trial leads us to suspect that these chargesare not without foundation. 

Parliament should investigate. The question is, does the Province ofAthabasca control the Northwest Fur Company, or does the Company runthe province?

From the Prince George _Star_, January 27, 19--. 

GAVILLER IS OUT!

At the head offices of the Northwest Fur Company it was given out thismorning that the resignation of John Gaviller, the Company's trader atFort Enterprise, had been accepted to take effect immediately. 

Duncan MacDonald, general manager of the Company, said, when asked fora further statement: "Mr. Gaviller's resignation was requested for thegood of the service. Owing to the conditions of our business thetraders have to be given the widest latitude in the command of theirposts, and we do not always know what is going on. 

"Mr. Gaviller was very successful at Enterprise, but the disclosures atthe Doane trial showed that his acts have not always been in accordwith the policy of this company in dealing with the Indians. To ourmind the welfare of the Indians is more important than profits. "

Mr. Gaviller was later found at the Royal George Hotel. Upon beingshown the foregoing he did not hesitate to express an opinion of it. 

"Put not your trust in corporations!" he said. "I have given themthirty years of my life, my best years, and here I am turned out overnight! It is the threat of a parliamentary investigation that has ledthem to their present panic and attempt to make a scapegoat of me. 

"If they think I'll take it lying down they are much mistaken. TheIndians' welfare more important than profits, eh? Excuse me if Ilaugh. " Mr. Gaviller added somewhat stronger expression. 

"You can say from me, " he went on, "that not only have I alwaysfollowed instructions to the letter, but that twice a year I laid mybooks open to the Company inspector, who was informed of the minutestdetails of my transactions. 

"I accept my share in the blame for what happened. I have learned mylesson. But let me tell you this, that the policy pursued at FortEnterprise was the Company's policy--letter and spirit. 

"Moreover, in my time Fort Enterprise has paid thousands and thousandsof dollars to the shareholders of the Company, and I have not profitedone cent beyond my salary. "

At this point Mr. Gaviller's daughter came downstairs and he would sayno more. Miss Gaviller declined to speak for publication. 

From the Prince George _Star_, February 3, 19--. 

A BEAUTIFUL ADORNMENT. 

Our city has the honor of containing at the present moment the mostbeautiful set of furs ever exhibited in America. It is to be seen inthe window of Messrs. Renfrew & Watkins's establishment on OliverAvenue. 

It consists of three magnificent black fox skins smooth and lustrous asjet, except for the snowy tips of the brushes. Two of the pelts go tothe neck-piece, while the third--the most beautiful skin that ever cameout of the north in the opinion of these experienced furriers--makesthe muff. 

Mr. Renfrew refused to set a value on the furs, but we learn on goodauthority that they are insured for five thousand dollars. 

There are romantic and tragic associations with these furs. Two of thepelts have been in the possession of Mr. Renfrew for some time. Heheld them on speculation until he could obtain a third to complete theset. 

This one, the finest of the three, was brought out last August byAmbrose Doane. This was the skin which almost cost John Gaviller hislife, and indirectly induced a rebellion among the Kakisa Indians. Allthose who followed the course of the recent trial will remember it. 

Upon obtaining the third pelt, Mr. Renfrew sent the three to London tobe dressed and made up. They have just been returned. 

A purchaser has already been found for the set. His name is keptsecret, but we are assured that the beautiful furs will remain in thisprovince. 

From the Prince George _Star_, February 3, 19--. 

GAVILLER GOES WITH MINOT & DOANE. 

An interesting fact leaked out yesterday when it became known thatAmbrose Doane had made an offer to John Gaviller to take charge of thenew trading-post that Minot & Doane purpose establishing on GreatBuffalo Lake. 

Mr. Doane could not be found by the Star reporter. Since the trial hehas spent a good deal of his time dodging reporters. He has a privateroom at the Athabasca Club which no representative of the press has yetsucceeded in locating. 

John Gaviller was found at the Royal George Hotel. He admitted thetruth of the report, and seemed very pleased by his new prospects. 

"It tells its own story, doesn't it?" he said. "I belong to the north. I have traded up there thirty years, and I will not be any worse traderfor what has happened. "

In answer to further questions he only shook his head. "I talked toomuch to you fellows the other day, " he said. "You caught me at adisadvantage. Nothing more to say. The arrangements between AmbroseDoane and me concern nobody but ourselves. I may say, however, thatour relations are of the happiest nature. "

From the Prince George _Star_, February 21, 19--. 

THE CULMINATION OF A ROMANCE. 

In another column of this paper will be found a notice of the marriageof Ambrose Doane to Miss Colina Gaviller, which took place a week agoto-day at the Chapel of the Redeemer on Jarvis Street. 

The ceremony was performed by the rector, Rev. Algernon Mitford. Theonly witnesses were the bride's father, who gave her away, and Mr. AndMrs. Arthur Denholm. 

With the traveling costume the bride wore the wonderful set ofblack-fox furs which have been town talk during the past month. Ambrose Doane was the purchaser. 

The news was suppressed until to-day on account of the desire of allparties to avoid further publicity. We learn that Mr. And Mrs. Doaneand Mr. Gaviller left for the north by stage on the same day. 

They part company at Miwasa landing; the bride and groom continue northto Moultrie on Lake Miwasa, while Mr. Gaviller goes northwest to FortEnterprise to settle his affairs, thence to his new post on GreatBuffalo Lake. 

We learn that Mr. Doane is to run the post at Moultrie, while hispartner, Mr. Minot, will operate an opposition store to the Company atFort Enterprise. 

A private letter from the landing tells of a wonderful van on runnersthat Ambrose Doane is building there to house his bride on their longjourney north. 

It is to contain a stove, bookshelves, side-board, piano, and all thecomforts of a city residence, and will be drawn by four horses. 

Their way lies over the regular winter road over the ice of the MiwasaRiver. Job, the little dog who was mentioned so often during thetrial, will be a member of the party. 

THE END