ing it. Something had happened!
Something had come to your notice that made you do all that. You
never liked Donald, but you didn't really oppose him before that
time. Now, I want to know what this is." Her voice hardened. "I'm
tired of being treated like a schoolgirl; I'm twenty-four, and old
enough to think for myself, and I demand to know what mystery has
forced a black shadow between us."

She stopped, breathless, the color going and coming in her cheeks
like the ebb and flow of northern lights in the sky.

Old Angus Fitzpatrick, amazed at the vehemence of his usually
passive daughter, had risen to his feet. To make him furious, it
was only necessary to demand something. This the girl, in excellent
imitation of his own manner, had done, and he resented it highly,
glaring at her through his spectacles.

"Do you mean to stand there and say that you demand that I tell
you something?" he roared. "Well, I refuse, that's all."

And he turned angrily away from her. The girl mastered herself,
and asked in a cold, even voice:

"Will you tell me this? Is there anything definite against Donald
McTavish?

"Do you demand to know?

"No, I ask it."

"Well, then, there is. A perfectly good reason why you can never
marry him."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you. And, if I can't, no one else can. Respect him
all you will for himself, but don't love him. I tell you this to
spare you pain later. And, if you please, Jean," he added more
gently as his temper went down, "never let us speak of this painful
subject again."

"Very well, father," she replied, calmly. "Oh, by the way, do you
wish to see that woman? She leaves this afternoon."

"No, I never want to see her again."

"She said for me to tell you there was money in it this time,"
added the girl, a slight note of contempt in her tone.

The factor hesitated.

"No," he said finally; and, without another word, Jean left the
room.

CHAPTER VIII

THE ALARM

Darkness had just fallen over the snow-enshrouded fort. Three hours
ago, Maria, with her stoical Indian son, had pulled out behind a
dog-train with fresh supplies. The old squaw had been balked in
her attempt to see the factor. Since she had not been sent for,
she did not dare try to force another entrance.

Angus Fitzpatrick and his daughters, Laura and Jean, were having
tea in the drawing-room; preparations were under way for dinner in
the kitchen. Outside, a couple of huskies got into a fight, t