"Yes, theirs of right!" she flashed. "The education that was freely
offered to me, and to you--and of which we availed ourselves."

For a long time the man continued to gaze in silence, and, when at
length he spoke, it was to ask an entirely irrelevant question.

"Miss Elliston, you have heard my name before?"

The question came as a surprise, and for a moment Chloe hesitated.
Then frankly, and looking straight into his eyes she answered:

"Yes, I have."

The man nodded, "I knew you had." He turned his injured eye quickly
from the dazzle of the sunlight that flashed from the surface of the
river, and Chloe saw that it was discoloured and bloodshot. She arose,
and stepping to his side laid her hand upon his arm.

"You _are_ hurt," she said earnestly, "your eye gives you pain."

Beneath her fingers the girl felt the play of strong muscles as the arm
pressed against her hand. Their eyes met, and her heart quickened with
a strange new thrill. Hastily she averted her glance and then---- The
man's arm suddenly was withdrawn and Chloe saw that his fist had
clinched. With a rush the words brought back to him the scene in the
trading-room of the post at Fort Rae. The low, log-room, piled high
with the goods of barter. The great cannon stove. The two groups of
dark-visaged Indians--his own Chippewayans, and MacNair's Yellow
Knives, who stared in stolid indifference. The trembling, excited