is
summer. She say 'no!' She is not afraid of him. Me, I t'ink she lak
to 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!" he
went on. "She walk the groun' as sof' and proud and pretty as fine
yong horse! She sit her horse like a flower on its stem. Me and her
good frens too. She say she lak me for cause I am simple. Often in
the winter she ride out wit' my team and hunt in the bush while I am
load up."

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

"Eelip?" queried Poly, surprised. "Colina is the trader's daughter,"
he carefully explained. "She live in the big house. I would cut off
my 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 hair
is 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 white
men there. She is a woman. She mus' have a master. There is no man
in 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 a
slight quivering of the nostrils. But Peter watching him slyly, saw
him raise his lids for a moment and saw his dark eyes glowing like
coals in a pit. Peter chuckled inwardly, and said:

"Tell us some more about her."

Ambrose's heart warmed gratefully toward his partner. He thirsted for
more like a desert traveler for water, but he dared not speak for fear
of 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 or
you 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 John
Gaviller give him two dollars of tobacco, the best. I guess Michel is
glad the trader's daughter save him. Old man proud, lak he is save
Michel himself!"

Poly Goussard, having smoked the cigar to within half an inch of his
lips, regretfully threw the half inch out the door. He paused, and
coughed suggestively. A secon