"But with MacNair--" he stopped abruptly and shrugged. The gleam of
hate that flashed in his eyes always at the mention of the name faded.
"But why speak of him--surely there are more pleasant subjects," he
smiled, "for instance your school--it interests me greatly."

"Interests you! I thought it displeased you! Surely a look of
annoyance or suspicion leaped from your eyes when I mentioned my
mission."

The man laughed lightly. "Yes? And can you blame me--when I thought
you were in league with Brute MacNair? For, since his post was
established, no independent save myself has dared to encroach upon even
the borders of his empire."

Chloe Elliston flushed deeply. "And you thought I would league myself
with a man like _that_?"

"Only for a moment. Stop and think. All my life I have lived in the
North, and, except for a few scattered priests and missionaries, no one
has pushed beyond the outposts for any purpose other than for gain.
And the trader's gain is the Indian's loss--for, few deal fairly.
Therefore, when I came upon your big outfit upon the very threshold of
MacNair's domain, I thought, of course, this was some new machination
of the brute. Even now I do not understand--the expense, and all. The
Indians cannot afford to pay for education."

It was the girl's turn to laugh. A rippling, light-hearted laugh--the
laughter of courage and youth. The barrier that had suddenly loomed
between herself and this man of the North vanished in a breath. He had
shown her her work, had pointed out to her a foeman worthy of her