ted the trading-post four years back, and had prospered very
considerably. He had started in a small way, taking trips into Indian
villages and bargaining for furs. A man of quick intelligence, he soon
acquired a substantial knowledge of most of the queer Indian dialects,
which proved a tremendous asset from a business point of view.

After one year's profitable trading he had built the "post." It was a
fairly commodious affair, boasting three rooms upstairs and three below,
plus a long shed attached to the rear of the main building where he
carried on his business, with two half-breed assistants, who slept in the
shed itself.

A year after the post was completed Natalie, Devinne's only daughter, a
woman of uncertain age, came out to keep house for him. Natalie had all
the quick passions of her Southern mother, which doubtlessly accounted for
the sudden rupture between herself and her husband after but a brief span
of married life.

Two years in Alaska had not changed her nature. Unlike Devinne, she was
quick to anger. She ruled her father as completely as she had ruled her
husband, until that worthy sought refuge under the wing of another, less
tyrannous, woman.

On this night, in late May, Natalie and her father sat in the big front
room which afforded them an uninterrupted view of the river. Natalie was
busy at crochet-work, and Devinne was going over some accounts with a view
to finding what profit the year had yielded. Judging by his frequent purrs
and sighs, the result was not displeasing. Natalie looked up.

"Well?" she queried, in French.

"Another good season and we'll be able to get away."

"Where to?"

"Los Angeles would not be so bad. A good, equable climate, a little
society, and a club or two--ah!"

"But is it safe?"

He furrowed his brows.

"We'll risk it. Four years is a long time, and I think I am changed
somewhat. You won't be sorry to leave this country--ma cherie?"

Natalie put down her crochet.

"No. It seems a waste of one's life. Mon Dieu, I am tired of it."

Devinne cocked up his ears as two shrill hoots came from the river. He
sprang to the window and saw the dim light of a ship going up the river.

"It's the old _Topeka_ back again. She's early this season, which is
fortunate, for we're badly in need of that consignment. 'Chips' will have
to get up to Dawson to-morrow and bring the stuff back. Maybe the piano is
aboard."

"Was it wise to get the piano, when we are leaving ne