d of opportunity before him had immersed
himself in the lazy, dreamy life of an Alaskan trading post. Was he of
the stuff that Silvertip was made--Silvertip who was content to do odd
bits of work for the White Chief at Katleean, for which he took his pay
in tobacco or some other luxury necessary to his own comfort, while the
energetic Senott kept his house, gathered and chopped his wood, salted
fish, canned berries, dried clams and put down sea-gulls eggs in salt
for the winter? Was this good-looking young creature a squaw-man at
heart, if not in reality.

A squaw-man! She was intensely interested in those strange members of
the white race who go native. She had not the contempt for them that
Ellen felt. She had only a kindly desire to understand their point of
view. In a way she could account for the White Chief. Katleean was
his wilderness kingdom where he ruled white and native alike by sheer
strength of arm and will. Silvertip, ignorant, lazy, weak, she could
also understand vaguely. But there were others. She recalled a day on
the beach at the trading-post when she had met a tall, blond man. He
was sitting on the edge of his canoe nonchalantly smoking a cigarette,
while his Indian wife and four little half-breed children dug clams a
few feet away. One minute he had talked to her of the effect on
character of the geographical aspect of the country, sprinkling his
remarks with "Schopenhauer maintains" and "Nietzsche says." In the
next breath he had informed her proudly that he and his children were
of the eagle totem--claiming it by reason of his Thlinget wife's clan.

The incident remained vivid in her mind, setting up never ceasing
queries of "Why?" "How?" Neither Ellen or Shane encouraged her
attempts to discuss these conditions. . . .

Jean's thoughts wandered on. It occurred to her that Ellen seemed to
be changing, too. There was not the old freedom of speech between them
that had always existed prior to their coming to Kon Klayu. Perhaps it
was her own fault, for lately, especially since the day at the bluff,
she had resented Ellen's attitude toward herself and Gregg Harlan.
There were many things she wished she might talk over with the young
man. Her interest in squaw-men, for instance--but of course that would
be impossible, she reminded herself. She had nearly forgotten--there
had been that Indian girl, Naleenah.

As if in answer to her unspoken thought, Harlan turned to her
impulsivel