trouble. I
ain't blind, Chief. I can still see offen the end o' my nose."

The trader laughed abruptly.

"Well, old timer, you seem to be seeing off the wrong side this time.
Don't you worry, Kayak. I'll be along and get you about the middle of
October. Your revenue cutter friends will be gone by that time."

Kayak Bill was silent for a moment. Then with seeming irrelevance he
said slowly:

"One time . . . a long spell back . . . I knew a woman . . . and a
man. He cheated her, and--wall, I shot him dead . . ."

"Hey, there, Kayak!" came Boreland's shout from the whale-boat. "Come
lend a hand here a minute, will you?"

Kayak Bill waited a moment. Then shaking the ashes from his pipe he
restored it to his pocket and plodded down to the boat.

Farther along the beach a little group of Thlinget women had gathered
about Ellen and Jean to bid them good-bye. Senott, self-appointed
spokeswoman for her shyer sisters, was shoving forward a plump,
good-natured looking squaw, who handed Jean a pair of hair-seal
moccasins and a small Indian basket.

"She potlatch you," explained Senott, supplementing her
words with eloquent eyes and hands. "She like you,
Girl-Who-Make-Singing-Birds-In-Little-Brown-Box. She Add-'m-up Sam
'ooman. She go Kon Klayu long time ago. She sorry you go. No river
on dat island. No salmon, no tree, no mans. Only b-i-g wind! B-I-G
sea! She sorry you go." The plump widow stood by shaking her head and
making soft clucking sounds in her throat.

Leaving Jean to thank their Indian friends Ellen slipped through the
circle. Her conventional training evidently asserted itself, for she
turned now and went to say a few words of good-bye to their host.

She looked singularly small and attractive as she stood before him, her
blue eyes raised to his face, the sea-wind blowing her hair across the
pink of her cheeks. The trader stepped down from his log to greet her.

"I wondered if you would say good-bye to me without the presence of
your whole family," he said softly, bending his head. Many a squaw in
Katleean, after incurring his displeasure, had seen the same expression
in his eyes just before he struck her in the face with the flat of his
hand. "One might almost think you are afraid of me. But . . . though
you will not stay at Katleean, I'll always have something to remind me
of you." He slipped a hand into the pocket of his flannel shirt and
the sheen of Ellen's stolen lock of hair