her mind was dark to deliberate analysis, but she yet possessed
her woman's clarity of vision in such matters. On the night of the
slippers she had measured the bold, open admiration of her three
man-friends; and for the first time comparison had suggested itself. It
was only a foot and an ankle, but--but comparison could not, in the
nature of things, cease at that point. She judged herself by their
standards till the divinity of her white sisters was shattered. After
all, they were only women, and why should she not exalt herself to
their midst? In doing these things she learned where she lacked and
with the knowledge of her weakness came her strength. And so mightily
did she strive that her three trainers often marveled late into the
night over the eternal mystery of woman.

In this way Thanksgiving Night drew near. At irregular intervals
Bettles sent word down from Stuart River regarding the welfare of Young
Cal. The time of their return was approaching. More than once a casual
caller, hearing dance-music and the rhythmic pulse of feet, entered,
only to find Harrington scraping away and the other two beating time or
arguing noisily over a mooted step. Madeline was never in evidence,
having precipitately fled to the inner room.

On one of these nights Cal Galbraith dropped in. Encouraging news had
just come down from Stuart River, and Madeline had surpassed
herself--not in walk alone, and carriage and grace, but in womanly
roguishness. They had indulged in sharp repartee and she had defended
herself brilliantly; and then, yielding to the intoxication of the
moment, and of her own power, she had bullied, and mastered, and
wheedled, and patronized them with most astonishing success. And
instinctively, involuntarily, they had bowed, not to her beauty, her
wisdom, her wit, but to that indefinable something in woman to which
man yields yet cannot name.

The room was dizzy with sheer delight as she and Prince whirled through
the last dance of the evening. Harrington was throwing in inconceivable
flourishes, while Malemute Kid, utterly abandoned, had seized the broom
and was executing mad gyrations on his own account.

At this instant the door shook with a heavy rap-rap, and their quick
glances noted the lifting of the latch. But they had survived similar
situations before. Harrington never broke a note. Madeline shot through
the waiting door to the inner room. The broom went hurtling under the
bunk, and by the time Cal