that was not of Indian garments.
Donald rose to his feet expectantly, his finely molded head inclined
in an attitude of listening, and a flickering light in his dark-blue
eyes. There was a moment's pause, and then a girl entered the narrow
doorway.

She was tall, slender, and dressed in gray wool, warmed by touches
of red velvet at waist and throat and cuffs. Her skin was clear
and soft, toned to the rich hues of perfect health by the whipping
winds of the North. Her eyes, too, were blue, but of a lighter
color than were the man's, while her hair, against the firelight,
was a flaming aureole of bronze.

Donald caught a quick breath of admiration, as he took the hand
she held out to him. Each time, it came involuntarily--this breath
of admiration. Last spring, when the _brigade_ had come to the fort
after the winter's trapping; last fall, when he had gone away from
the fort, after a few weeks' hazardous attentions under the malicious
eyes of old Fitzpatrick; and here, again, this winter... And, as
he saw her now, after their long separation, there arose in him a
need as imperative as hunger, and as fierce. Years in the solitudes
had instilled into Donald something of the habits and instincts of
the animals he trapped, and now, as he approached thirty, this
longing that was of both soul and body, laid hold of him with an
unreasoning, compelling grip which could not be ignored.

"They told me you were here," said Jean Fitzpatrick, "and I think
it nice of you to give one of your precious hours for a call on me."

"You know I would give them all if I could," returned McTavish,
simply. "I would sledge the width of Keewatin for half a day
with you."

"Donald, you mustn't say those things; I don't understand them
quite, and, besides, father made himself clear about your privileges
last summer, didn't he?"

McTavish looked at the girl, and told himself that he must remember
her limitations before he lost his patience. For he knew that,
despite her pure Scotch descent, she had never been more than two
days' journey from Fort Severn in all her life. The only men she
had ever known were Indians, half-breeds, French-Canadians, and a
few pure-white fort captains like himself. And of these last,
perhaps three in all her experience had been worthy an hour's chat.
And, as to these three, orders emanating from the secret councils
in Winnipeg had moved them out of her sphere before she had more
than merely met them.

Innocent,