steel. She darted a swift glance toward Lapierre who sat staring into
the fire. Would not this man prove an invaluable ally in her war of
deliverance?

"Do not trouble yourself about the expense," she smiled. "I have
money--'oodles of it,' as we used to say in school--millions, if I need
them! And I'm going to fight this Brute MacNair until I drive him out
of the North! And you? Will you help me to rid the country of this
scourge and free the people from his tyranny? Together we could work
wonders. For your heart is with the Indians, as mine is."

Again the girl glanced into the man's face and saw that the deep-set
black eyes fairly glittered with enthusiasm and eagerness--an eagerness
and enthusiasm that a keener observer than Chloe Elliston might have
noticed, sprang into being suspiciously coincident with her mention of
the millions. Lapierre did not answer at once, but deftly rolled a
cigarette. The end of the cigarette glowed brightly as he filled his
lungs and blew a plume of grey smoke into the air.

"Allow me a little time to think. For this is a move of importance,
and to be undertaken not lightly. It is no easy task you have set
yourself. It is possible you will not win--highly probable, in fact,
for----"

"But I _shall_ win! I am _right_--and upon my winning depends the
future of a people! Think it over until tomorrow, if you will, but--"
She paused abruptly, and her soft, hazel eyes peered searchingly into
the depths of the restless black ones. "Your sympathies _are_ with the
Indians, aren't they?"