peace, and when they arrived at the fort, MacNair growled an
order, and sought his cabin beside the wall of the stockade.

A half hour later, when the Indians had gathered in response to the
hurried word of Old Elk and Wee Johnnie Tamarack, MacNair stepped from
his cabin and addressed them in their own language, or rather in the
jargon--the compromise language of the North--by means of which the
minds of white men and Indians meet on common ground. He warned them
against Pierre Lapierre, the _kultus_ breed of whom most of them
already knew, and he told them of the girl and her school at the mouth
of the Yellow Knife. And then, in no uncertain terms, he commanded
them to have nothing whatever to do with the school, nor with Lapierre.
Whereupon, Sotenah, a leader among the young men, arose, and after a
long and flowery harangue in which he lauded and extolled the wisdom of
MacNair and the benefits and advantages that accrued to the Indians by
reason of his patronage, vociferously counselled a summary descent upon
the fort of the _Mesahchee Kloochman_.

The proclamation was received with loud acclaim, and it was with no
little difficulty that MacNair succeeded in quieting the turbulence and
restoring order. After which he rebuked Sotenah severely and laid
threat upon the Indians that if so much as a hair of the white
_kloochman_ was harmed he would kill, with his own hand, the man who
wrought the harm.

As for Pierre Lapierre and his band, they must be crushed and driven
out of the land of the lakes and the rivers, but the time was not yet.
He, MacNair, would tell them when to strike, and only if Lapierre's
Indians were found prowling about the vicinity of Snare Lake were they
to be molested.

The Indians dispersed and, slinging a rifle over his shoulder, MacNair
swung off alone into the bush.

Bob MacNair knew the North; knew its lakes and its rivers, its forests
and its treeless barrens. He knew its hardships, dangers and
limitations, and he knew its gentler moods, its compensations, and its
possibilities. Also, he knew its people, its savage primitive children
who call it home, and its invaders--good and bad, and worse than bad.
The men who infest the last frontier, pushing always northward for
barter, or for the saving of souls.

He understood Pierre Lapierre, his motives and his methods. But the
girl he did not understand, and her presence on the Yellow Knife
disturbed him not a little. Had chance thrown