claim to be a friend of the Indians.
Do you realize that up on Snare Lake, right now, are a bunch of Indians
who depend on MacNair for their existence? MacNair's absence will
cause suffering among them and even death. If his storehouse has been
burned, what are they going to eat? On your statements I've got to
enter charges against MacNair. First and foremost the charge of
murder. He will also be charged with importing liquor, having liquor
in prohibited territory, smuggling whiskey, and supplying liquor to the
Indians.

"Now, Miss Elliston, for the good of those Indians on Snare Lake I want
you to withdraw the charge of murder. The other offences are bailable
ones, and in my judgment he should be allowed to return to his Indians.
Then, when his trial comes up at the spring assizes, the charge of
murder can be placed against him. I'll bet a year's pay, MacNair isn't
to blame. In the meantime we will get busy and comb the barrens for
the real criminals. I've got a hunch. And you can take my word that
justice shall be done, no matter where the blow falls."

Suddenly, through Chloe's mind flashed the memory of what Lapierre had
told her of the Mounted. She arose to her feet and, drawing herself up
haughtily, glared into the face of the officer. When she spoke, her
voice rang hard with scorn.

"It is very evident that you don't want to arrest MacNair. I have
heard that he is a law unto himself--that he would defy arrest--that he
has the Mounted subsidized. I did not believe it at the time. I
regarded it merely as the exaggerated statement of a man who justly
hates him. But it seems this man was right. You need not trouble
yourself about MacNair's Indians. I will stand sponsor for their
welfare. They are my Indians now. I warn you that the day of MacNair
is past. I refuse to withdraw a single word of my charges against him,
and you will either arrest him, or I shall go straight to Ottawa. And
I shall never rest until I have blazoned before the world the whole
truth about your rotten system! What will Canada say, when she learns
that the Mounted--the men who have been held up before all the world as
models of bravery, efficiency, and honour--are as crooked and grafting
as--as the police of New York?"

Corporal Ripley's face showed red through the tan, and he started to
his feet with an exclamation of anger. "Hold on, Corporal." The voice
of MacNair was the quiet voice with which one sooths a petu