walk above. Thinking of Colina,
his heart leaped--but she would never come at a walk! An instinct of
wariness bade him sit where he was.

A mounted man appeared on the bank above. It was a breed forty-five
years old perhaps, but vigorous and youthful still; good looking, well
kept, with an agreeable manner; thus Ambrose's first impressions. The
stranger rode a good horse.

"Well?" he said, looking down on Ambrose in surprise.

"Tie your horse and come down," said Ambrose politely. He welcomed the
diversion. This man must have come from the fort. Perhaps he had news.

Face to face with the stranger, Ambrose was sensible that he had to
deal with an uncommon character. There was something about him, he
could not decide what, that distinguished him from every other man of
Indian blood that Ambrose had ever met.

He wore a well-fitting suit of blue serge and a show of starched linen,
in itself a distinguishing mark up north. "Quite a swell!" was
Ambrose's inward comment.

"You are Ambrose Doane, I suppose?" he said in English as good as
Ambrose's own. Ambrose nodded.

"I knew you had dinner with Mr. Gaviller last night," the man went on,
"but as you didn't drop in on us at the store to-day I supposed you had
gone back. I didn't expect to find you here."

He was fluent for one of his color--too fluent the other man felt.
Ambrose was sizing him up with interest.

It finally came to him what the man's distinguishing quality was. It
was his open look, an expression almost of benignity, absolutely
foreign to the Indian character. Indians may give their eyes freely to
one another, but a white man never sees beneath the glassy surface.

This Indian in look and manner resembled an English country gentleman,
much sunburnt; or one of those university-bred East Indian potentates
who affect motor-cars and polo ponies. Oddly enough his candid look
affronted Ambrose. "It isn't natural," he told himself.

"I am Gordon Strange, bookkeeper at Fort Enterprise," the stranger
volunteered.

The bookkeeper of a big trading-post is always second in command.
Ambrose understood that he was in the presence of a person of
consideration in the country.

"Sit down," he said. "Fill up your pipe."

Strange obeyed. "We're supposed to be red-hot rivals in business," he
said with an agreeable laugh. "But that needn't prevent, eh? Funny I
should stumble on you like this! I ride every night after supper--a
man needs a bit