smooth-flowing river.

The teepees faded, and in their place appeared rows of substantial log
cabins, each with its door-yard of neatly trimmed grass, and its beds
of gay flowers. Broad streets separated the rows. The white spire of
a church loomed proudly at the end of a street. From the doorways
dark, full-bodied women smiled happily--their faces clean, and their
long, black hair caught back with artistic bands of quill embroidery,
as they called to the clean brown children who played light-heartedly
in the grassed dooryards. Tall, lean-shouldered men, whose swarthy
faces glowed with the love of their labour, toiled gladly in fields of
yellow grain, or sang and called to one another in the forest where the
ring of their axes was drowned in the crash of falling trees.

Her vision of the North--the conquered North--her North!

As Sir James Brooke and Tiger Elliston overthrew barbarism and
established in its place an island empire of civilization, so would she
supersede savagery with culture. But, her empire of the North should
be an empire founded not upon blood, but upon humanity and brotherly
love.

The girl started nervously. Her brain-picture resolved into the
formless dark. From the black waters, almost at her feet, sounded,
raucous and loud, the voice of the great loon. Frenzied, maniacal,
hideous, rang the night-shattering laughter. The uncouth mockery of
the raw--the defiance of the unconquerable North!

With a shudder, Chloe turned and fled toward the red-flaring fires. In
that moment a feeling of defeat surged over her--of heart-sickening