he outposts. But,
since you have asked, I will tell you; my name is MacNair--Robert
MacNair, by my christening--Bob MacNair, in the speech of the
country----"

"And, _Brute_ MacNair, upon the Athabasca?"

"Yes. Brute MacNair--upon the Athabasca--and the Slave, and
Mackenzie--and in the haunts of the whiskey-runners, and 'Fool'
MacNair--in Winnipeg."

"And among the oppressed and the down-trodden? Among those whose
heritage of freedom you have torn from them? What do they call
you--those whom you have forced into serfdom?" For a fleeting instant
the girl caught the faintest flicker, a tiny twinkle of amusement, in
the steely eyes. But, when the man answered, his eyes were steady.

"_They_ call me friend."

"Is their ignorance so abysmal?"

"They have scant time to learn from books--my Indians. They work."

"But, a year from now, when they have begun to learn, what will they
call you then--_your_ Indians?"

"A year from now--two years---ten years--my Indians will call
me--friend."

Chloe was about to speak, but MacNair interrupted her. "I have scant
time for parley. I was starting for Mackay Lake, but when Old Elk
reported two of yon scum's satellites hanging about, I dropped down the
river. By your words it's a school you will be building. If it were a
post I would have to take you more seriously----"

"There will be a--" Chloe felt the warning touch of Lapierre's finger
at her back and ceased abruptly. MacNair continued, as if unmindful of
the interruption.

"Build your school, by all means. 'Tis a spot well chosen by yon
devil's spawn, and for his own ends. By your eyes you are honest in
purpose--a fool's purpose--and a hare-brained carrying out of it. You
are being used as a tool by Lapierre. You will not believe this--not
yet. Later--perhaps, when it is too late--but, that is your
affair--not mine. At the proper time I will crush Lapierre, and if you
go down in the crash you will have yourself to thank. I have warned
you. Yon snake has poisoned your mind against me. In your eyes I am
foredamned--and well damned--which causes me no concern, and you, no
doubt, much satisfaction.

"Build your school, but heed well my words. You'll not tamper, one way
or another, with my Indians. One hundred and seventy miles north of
here, upon Snare Lake, is my post. My Indians pass up and down the
Yellow Knife. They are to pass unquestioned, unmolested, unproselyted.
Confine your foolishness