ou see, the marks of the Brute's
hands are still too fresh upon me to regard him impersonally--an
obstacle, as it were. To me he is a brute! A fiend! A demon! I
_hate_ him!"

Lapierre shook a clenched fist toward the North, and the words fairly
snarled between his lips. With an effort he controlled himself. "I
have in mind the very place for your school, a spot accessible from all
directions--the mouth of the Yellow Knife River, upon the north arm of
Great Slave Lake. There you will be unmolested by the debauching
rivermen, and yet within easy reach of any who may desire to take
advantage of your school. The very place above all places! In the
whole North you could not have chosen a better! And I shall accompany
you, and direct the building of your houses and stockade.

"MacNair will learn shortly of your fort--everything is a 'fort' up
here--and he will descend upon you like a ramping lion. When he finds
you are a woman, he will do you no violence. He will scent at once a
rival trading-post and will hurt your cause in every way possible; will
use every means to discredit you among the Indians, and to discourage
you. But even he will do a woman no physical harm.

"And right here let me caution you--do not temporize with him. He
stands in the North for oppression; gain at any cost; for
debauchery--everything that you do not. Between you and Brute MacNair
there can be no truce. He is powerful. Do not for a moment underrate
either his strength or his sagacity. He is a man of wealth, and his
hold upon the Indians is absolute. I cannot remain with you, but
through my Indians I shall keep in touch with you, work with you; and
together we will accomplish the downfall of this brute of the North."

For a long time the two figures sat by the fire while the camp slept,
and talked of many things. And when, well toward midnight, Chloe
Elliston retired to her tent, she felt that she had known this man
always. For it is the way of life that stress of events, and not
duration of time, marks the measure of acquaintance and intimacy.
Pierre Lapierre, Chloe Elliston had known but one day, and yet she
believed that among all her acquaintances this man she knew best.

By the fire Lapierre's eyes followed the girl until she disappeared
within the tent, and as he looked a huge figure arose from the deep
shadows of the scrub, and with a hand grasping the flap of the tent,
turned and stared, silent and grim and forbidd