ontinued: "Mahtsonza says many of them died. They just lay down
and gave up hope. Etzooah was the only Kakisa who had seen the White
Medicine Man up to that time, and he went to him and asked him to make
medicine to cure the sick. So the White Medicine Man came back with
Etzooah to the village down the river. He had good words and a soft hand
to the sick. He made medicine, and, behold! the sick arose and were
well!"

"Faith cure!" muttered Doc Giddings.

"How long has Imbrie been down there by the Falls?" asked Gaviller.

"Mahtsonza says he came last summer when the ground berries were ripe.
That would be about July."

"Did he come down the river from the mountains?"

"Mahtsonza says no. Nobody on the river saw him go down."

"Where did he come from, then?"

"Mahtsonza says he doesn't know. Nobody knows. Some say he came from
under the falls where the white bones lie. Some say it is the voice of
the falls that comes among men in the shape of a man."

"Rubbish! A ghost doesn't subscribe to medical journals!" said Doc
Giddings.

"He orders flour, sugar, beans," said Gaviller.

When this was explained to Mahtsonza the Indian shrugged. Strange said:
"Mahtsonza says if he takes a man's shape he's got to feed it."

"Pshaw!" said Gaviller impatiently. "He must have come up the river. It
is known that the Swan River empties into Great Buffalo Lake. The Lake
can't be more than a hundred miles below the falls. No white man has
ever been through that way, but somebody's got to be the first."

"But we know every white man who ever went down to Great Buffalo Lake,"
said Doc Giddings. "Certainly there never was a doctor there except the
police doctor who makes the round with the treaty outfit every summer."

"Well, it's got me beat!" said Gaviller, scratching his head.

"Maybe it's someone wanted by the police outside," suggested Gordon
Strange, "who managed to sneak into the country without attracting
notice."

"He's picked out a bad place to hide," said Stonor grimly. "He'll be
well advertised up here."

* * * * *

Stonor had a room in the "quarters," a long, low barrack of logs on the
side of the quadrangle facing the river. It had been the trader's
residence before the days of the big clap-boarded villa. Stonor, tiring
of the conversation around the stove, frequently spent the evenings in
front of his own fire, and here he sometimes had a visitor, to wit, Tole
Grampierre, younge