by, Chook-ra, went to live with the good Sisters, and to be
thenceforth known by another name.

But Madeline still had kinsfolk, the nearest being a dissolute uncle
who outraged his vitals with inordinate quantities of the white man's
whisky. He strove daily to walk with the gods, and incidentally, his
feet sought shorter trails to the grave. When sober he suffered
exquisite torture. He had no conscience. To this ancient vagabond Cal
Galbraith duly presented himself, and they consumed many words and much
tobacco in the conversation that followed. Promises were also made; and
in the end the old heathen took a few pounds of dried salmon and his
birch-bark canoe, and paddled away to the Mission of the Holy Cross.

It is not given the world to know what promises he made and what lies
he told--the Sisters never gossip; but when he returned, upon his
swarthy chest there was a brass crucifix, and in his canoe his niece
Madeline. That night there was a grand wedding and a potlach; so that
for two days to follow there was no fishing done by the village. But in
the morning Madeline shook the dust of the Lower River from her
moccasins, and with her husband, in a poling-boat, went to live on the
Upper River in a place known as the Lower Country. And in the years
which followed she was a good wife, sharing her husband's hardships and
cooking his food. And she kept him in straight trails, till he learned
to save his dust and to work mightily. In the end, he struck it rich
and built a cabin in Circle City; and his happiness was such that men
who came to visit him in his home-circle became restless at the sight
of it and envied him greatly.

But the Northland began to mature and social amenities to make their
appearance.

Hitherto, the Southland had sent forth its sons; but it now belched
forth a new exodus--this time of its daughters. Sisters and wives they
were not; but they did not fail to put new ideas in the heads of the
men, and to elevate the tone of things in ways peculiarly their own. No
more did the squaws gather at the dances, go roaring down the center in
the good, old Virginia reels, or make merry with jolly 'Dan Tucker.'
They fell back on their natural stoicism and uncomplainingly watched
the rule of their white sisters from their cabins.

Then another exodus came over the mountains from the prolific Southland.

This time it was of women that became mighty in the land. Their word
was law; their law was steel. They f