ew afraid, you told me that you
were part Indian. That your people were my people. I was a fool! I
listened to your words!"

The girl dropped heavily into her chair and buried her face in her arms.

"And now I know," she sobbed, "that I have not even begun to pay!"

Suddenly she leaped to her feet and, dashing around the table placed
herself between Lapierre and Chloe, who had listened white-lipped to her
words. Once more the voice of the Louchoux girl rang through the
room--high-pitched and thin with anger now--and the eyes that glared into
the eyes of Lapierre blazed black with fury.

"You have lied to her! But you cannot harm her! With my own ears I
heard your words! The same words I heard from your lips before, upon the
banks of the far-off rivers, and the words are lies--lies--lies!"--the
voice rose to a shriek--"the white woman is good! She is my friend! She
has taught me much, and now, I will save her."

With a swift movement she caught the carving-knife from the table and
sprang toward the defenceless Lapierre. "I will cut your heart in little
bits and feed it to the dogs!"

Once more the hand of Big Lena wrenched the knife from the girl's grasp.
And once more the huge Swedish woman fixed Lapierre with her vacuous
stare. Then slowly she raised her arm and pointed toward the door: "Ju
git! And never ju don't come back no more. Ay don't lat ju go 'cause Ay
lak' ju, but Ay bane 'fraid dis leetle girl she cut ju up and feed ju to
de dogs, and Ay no lak' for git dem dogs poison!"

And Lapierre tarried not for further orders. Pausing only to recover his
hat from its peg on the wall, he opened the outer door and with one
sidewise malevolent glance toward the little group at the table, slunk
hurriedly from the room.

Hardly had the door closed behind him than Chloe, who had sat as one
stunned during the girl's accusation and her later outburst of fury,
leaped to her feet and seized her arm in a convulsive grip. "Tell me!"
she cried; "what do you mean? Speak! Speak, can't you? What is this
you have said? What is it all about?"

"Why it is he, Pierre Lapierre. He is the free-trader of whom I told
you. The man who--who deceived me into believing I was his wife."

"But," cried Chloe, staring at her in astonishment. "I thought--I
thought MacNair was the man!"

"No! No! No!" cried the girl. "Not MacNair! Pierre Lapierre, he is
the man! He who sat in that chair, and whose heart I would cu