Mackenzie drew her up full height and swept her red lips with his
moustache,the, to her, foreign caress of the Wolf. It was a
meeting of the stone age and the steel; but she was none the less
a woman, as her crimson cheeks and the luminous softness of her
eyes attested.

There was a thrill of excitement in the air as 'Scruff'
Mackenzie, a bulky bundle under his arm, threw open the flap of
Thling-Tinneh's tent. Children were running about in the open,
dragging dry wood to the scene of the potlach, a babble of
women's voices was growing in intensity, the young men were
consulting in sullen groups, while from the Shaman's lodge rose
the eerie sounds of an incantation.

The chief was alone with his blear-eyed wife, but a glance
sufficed to tell Mackenzie that the news was already told. So he
plunged at once into the business, shifting the beaded sheath
prominently to the fore as advertisement of the betrothal.

'O Thling-Tinneh, mighty chief of the Sticks And the land of the
Tanana, ruler of the salmon and the bear, the moose and the
cariboo! The White Man is before thee with a great purpose. Many
moons has his lodge been empty, and he is lonely. And his heart
has eaten itself in silence, and grown hungry for a woman to sit
beside him in his lodge, to meet him from the hunt with warm fire
and good food. He has heard strange things, the patter of baby
moccasins and the sound of children's voices. And one night a
vision came upon him, and he beheld the Raven, who is thy father,
the great Raven, who is the father of all the Sticks. And the
Raven spake to the lonely White Man, saying: "Bind thou thy