tion, this swift
exhilaration of blood, but to one who has starved for long any food is
grateful.

Jessie flew back into the house. She had a busy two hours before her.
"Mother, Mr. Morse is coming to dinner. What's in the house?"

"Fergus brought a black-tail in yesterday."

"Good. I know what I'll have. But first off, I want a bath. Lots of
hot water, and all foamy with soap. I've got to hurry. You can peel
the potatoes if you like. And fix some of those young onions. They're
nice. And Mother--I'll let you make the biscuits. That's all. I'll do
the rest."

The girl touched a match to the fire that was set in her room. She
brought a tin tub and hot water and towels. Slim and naked she
stood before the roaring logs and reveled in her bath. The sense of
cleanliness was a luxury delicious. When she had dressed herself
from the soles of her feet up in clean clothes, she felt a new and
self-respecting woman.

She did not pay much attention to the psychology of dress, but she
knew that when she had on the pretty plaid that had come from Fort
Benton, and when her heavy black hair was done up just right, she
had twice the sex confidence she felt in old togs. Jessie would have
denied indignantly that she was a coquette. None the less she was
intent on conquest. She wanted this quiet, self-contained American to
like her.

The look she had seen in his red-brown eyes at times tantalized her.
She could not read it. That some current of feeling about her raced
deep in him she divined, but she did not know what it was. He had a
way of letting his steady gaze rest on her disturbingly. What was he
thinking? Did he despise her? Was he, away down out of sight, the kind
of man toward women that West and Whaley were? She wouldn't believe
it. He had never taken an Indian woman to live with him. There was not
even a rumor that he had ever taken an interest in any Cree girl. Of
course she did not like him--not the way she did Win Beresford or even
Onistah--but she was glad he held himself aloof. It would have greatly
disappointed her to learn of any sordid intrigue involving him.

Jessie rolled up her sleeves and put on a big apron. She saw that
the onions and the potatoes were started and the venison ready for
broiling. From a chest of drawers she brought one of the new white
linen tablecloths of which she was inordinately proud. She would not
trust any one but herself to set the table. Morse had come from a good
family. He knew ab