t that, it is--" He paused as if at a loss for words. "I do
not know why," he continued, "unless, perhaps, it is because--because
you have no fear of me. That you do not fear to take your life into
your hands in defence of what you think is right. It may be that I
have learned a certain respect for you. Certainly I do not pity you.
At times you have made me very angry with your foolish blundering,
until I remember it is honest blundering, and that some day you will
know the North, and will know that north of sixty, men are not measured
by your little rule of thumb. Always I have gone my way, caring no
more for the approval of others than I have for their hatred or
scoffing. I know the North! Why should I care for the opinion of
others? If they do not know, so much the worse for them. The
reputation of being a fool injures no one. Had I not been thought a
fool by the men of the Hudson Bay Company they would not have sold me
the barren grounds whose sands are loaded with gold."

"And yet you said _I_ was a fool," interrupted Chloe. "According to
your theory, that fact should redound to my credit."

MacNair answered without a smile. "I did not say that _being_ a fool
injured no one. You _are_ a fool. Of your reputation I know nothing,
nor care." He turned abruptly on his heel and walked to the
storehouse, leaving the girl, speechless with anger, standing upon the
veranda of the cottage, as she watched his swinging shoulders disappear
from sight around the corner of the log building.

With flushed face, Chloe turned toward the river, and instantly her
attention centred upon the figure of a man, who swung out of the timber
and approached across the clearing in long, easy strides. She regarded
the man closely. Certainly he was no one she had ever seen before. He
was very near now, and at the distance of a few feet, paused and bowed,
as he swept the Stetson from his head. The girl's heart gave a wild
bound of joy. The man wore the uniform of the Mounted!

"Miss Elliston?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Chloe, as her glance noted the clear-cut, almost boyish
lines of the weather-bronzed face.

"I am Corporal Ripley, ma'am, at your service. I happened on a Fort
Rae Injun--a Dog Rib, a few days since, and he told me some kind of a
yarn about a band of Yellow Knives that had attacked your post some
time during the summer. I couldn't get much out of him because he
could speak only a few words of English, an