More than little Francette had beheld that baffling expression and
squirmed beneath its strangeness. Francette looked, and the scowl drew
deeper.

She saw again this woman leaning slightly forward, her eyes a-glitter
on the prostrate DesCaut, her strong hand doubled and flecked with
blood, with Loup at her feet,--and quick on the heels of it she saw the
look in the factor's eyes as he had commanded her to silence with a
motion.

"So?" she flamed at last, recovering her natural audacity, for the maid
was spoiled to recklessness by reason of her beauty; "I meant it to be
neat."

At the look which leaped into the eyes of the stranger her own began to
waver, to shift from one to the other, and lastly dropped in confusion.

"But spoiled at the end by foolishness," said Maren Le Moyne, and all
the pleasure had slipped from her deep voice, leaving it cold as steel.

Abruptly she turned away, her high head shining in the sun, her strong
shoulders swinging slightly as she walked.

Francette looked after her, with small hands clinched and breast
heaving with, anger, and there had the stranger made her second enemy
in Fort de Seviere within the first fortnight.

Along the northern wall there was much bustle and scurry, the noise of
voices and of preparation, for the men were busy with the raising of
the first new cabin. As some whimsical fate would have it, there were