ir reports show! Of course their reports show! Why shouldn't
they? Where do their reports go? To the people who pay them their
salaries! Do not understand me to say that in all cases these reports
are falsely made. They are not--that is, they are literally true. A
mission reports so many converts to Christianity during a certain
period of time. Well and good; the converts are there--they can
produce them. The Indians are not fools. If the white men want them
to profess Christianity, why they will profess Christianity--or
Hinduism or Mohammedanism. They will worship any god the white man
suggests--for a fancy waistcoat or a piece of salt pork. The white man
gives many gifts of clothing, and sometimes of food--to his converts.
Therefore, he shall not want for converts--while the clothing holds
out!"

"And _your_ Indians? Have they not suffered from their contact with
you?"

"No. They have not suffered. I know them, their needs and
requirements, and their virtues and failings. And they know me."

"Where is your fort?"

"Some distance above here on the shore of this lake."

"Will you take me there? Show me these Indians, that I may see for
myself that you have spoken the truth?"

"No. I told you you were to have nothing to do with my Indians. I
also warned my Indians against you--and your partner Lapierre. I
cannot warn them against you and then take you among them."

"Very well. I shall go myself, then. I came up here to see your fort
and the condition of your Indians. You knew I would come."

"No. I did not know that. I had not seen the fighting spirit in your
eyes then. Now I know that you will come--but not while I am here.
And when you do come you will be taken back to your own school. You
will not be harmed, for you are honest in your purpose. But you will,
nevertheless, be prevented from coming into contact with my Indians. I
will have none of Lapierre's spies hanging about, to the injury of my
people."

"Lapierre's spies! Do you think I am a spy? Lapierre's?"

"Not consciously, perhaps--but a spy, nevertheless. Lapierre may even
now be lurking near for the furtherance of some evil design."

Chloe suddenly realized that MacNair's boring, steel-grey eyes were
fixed upon her with a new intentness--as if to probe into the very
thoughts of her brain.

"Mr. Lapierre is far to the Southward," she said--and then, upon the
edge of the tiny clearing, a twig snapped. The man whir