ce to Vermilion's
orders had been a surly, protesting obedience; while their obedience to
Lapierre's slightest motion was the quiet, alert obedience that
proclaimed him master of men, as his own silent vigilance proclaimed
him master of the roaring waters.

When the sun finally dipped behind the barren scrub-topped hills, the
scows were beached at the mouth of a deep ravine, from whose depths
sounded the trickle of a tiny cascade. Lapierre assisted the women
from the scow, issued a few short commands, and, as if by magic, a
dozen fires flashed upon the beach, and in an incredibly short space of
time Chloe found herself seated upon her blankets inside her
mosquito-barred tent.

Supper over, Harriet Penny immediately sought her bed, and Lapierre led
Chloe to a brightly burning camp-fire.

Nearby other fires burned, surrounded by dark, savage figures that
showed indistinct in the half-light. The girl's eyes rested for a
moment upon Lapierre, whose thin, handsome features, richly tanned by
long exposure to the Northern winds and sun, presented a pleasing
contrast to the swart flat faces of the rivermen, who sat in groups
about their fires, or lay wrapped in their blankets upon the gravel.

"You have decided?" abruptly asked Chloe, in a voice of ill-concealed
eagerness. Lapierre's face became at once grave, and he gazed sombrely
into the fire.

"I have pondered deeply. Through the long hours, while the scow rushed
into the North, there came to me a vision of my people. In the rocks,
in the bush, and the ragged hills I saw it; and in the swirl of the
mighty river. And the vision was good!"

The voice of the man's Indian grandmother spoke from his lips, and the
soul of her glowed in his deep-set eyes.

"Even now _Sakhalee Tyee_ speaks from the stars of the night sky. My
people shall learn the wisdom of the white man. The power of the
oppressor shall be broken, and the children of the far places shall
come into their own."

The man's voice had dropped into the rhythmic intonation of the Indian
orator, and his eyes were fixed upon the names that curled, lean and
red, among the dry sticks of the camp-fire. Chloe gazed in fascination
into the rapt face of this man of many moods. The soul of the girl
caught the enthusiasm of his words, and she, too, saw the vision--saw
it as she had seen it upon the wave-lapped rock of the river-bank.

"You will help me?" she cried; "will join forces with me in a war
against t