"If you insist on leaving, Sir, there is an Indian woman here going
down to the MacDonald ranch--"

"MacDonald, did you say?"

"The next place along the River is the Mission. Here, Calamity, show
this stranger which way to go, will you?"

But Calamity had already bolted for the Ridge trail.

"Stranger? She doesn't look to me exactly like a stranger. Looks
precious like one of our Saskatchewan half-breeds! Haven't A seen you
before, my good woman? A'm Jack Matthews, who carried the mail for the
Company at the Big House; by an' by contractor, then by the Grace o'
God missionary to the Cree! Haven't A seen you, girl? Was it '85 at
the Agency House when Wandering Spirit--"

"Non sabe," snapped Calamity, setting off down the trail at a run paced
to keep the reverend traveller behind till she reached the last loop.
Drawing her shawl over her face, she paused with her back to the
frontiersman. To the left blinked the lights of the sheep ranch house
and the Mission, to the right the cow-boy camp and the dead glare of
the white buildings belonging to the Senator.

"Viola! dat vay!" The woman deliberately pointed to the cow-boy camp;
then vanished in the darkness.

"Mighty quick wench! A have seen you before, my sly minx, and A'll see
you some more," he said staring after the fading form.