What with the vagrant blood in her and the heritage compounded of many races, Jees Uck developed a wonderful young beauty.  Bizarre, perhaps, it was, and Oriental enough to puzzle any passing ethnologist.  A lithe and slender grace characterized her.  Beyond a quickened lilt to the imagination, the contribution of the Celt was in no wise apparent.  It might possibly have put the warm blood under her skin, which made her face less swart and her body fairer; but that, in turn, might have come from Shpack, the Big Fat, who inherited the colour of his Slavonic father.  And, finally, she had great, blazing black eyes—­the half-caste eye, round, full-orbed, and sensuous, which marks the collision of the dark races with the light.  Also, the white blood in her, combined with her knowledge that it was in her, made her, in a way, ambitious.  Otherwise by upbringing and in outlook on life, she was wholly and utterly a Toyaat Indian.

One winter, when she was a young woman, Neil Bonner came into her life.  But he came into her life, as he had come into the country, somewhat reluctantly.  In fact, it was very much against his will, coming into the country.  Between a father who clipped coupons and cultivated roses, and a mother who loved the social round, Neil Bonner had gone rather wild.  He was not vicious, but a man with meat in his belly and without work in the world has to expend his energy somehow, and Neil Bonner was such a man.  And he expended his energy in such a fashion and to such extent that when the inevitable climax came, his father, Neil Bonner, senior, crawled out of his roses in a panic and looked on his son with a wondering eye.  Then he hied himself away to a crony of kindred pursuits, with whom he was wont to confer over coupons and roses, and between the two the destiny of young Neil Bonner was made manifest.  He must go away, on probation, to live down his harmless follies in order that he might live up to their own excellent standard.

This determined upon, and young Neil a little repentant and a great deal ashamed, the rest was easy.  The cronies were heavy stockholders in the P. C. Company.  The P. C. Company owned fleets of river-steamers and ocean-going craft, and, in addition to farming the sea, exploited a hundred thousand square miles or so of the land that, on the maps of geographers, usually occupies the white spaces.  So the P. C. Company sent young Neil Bonner north, where the white spaces are, to do its work and to learn to be good like his father.  “Five years of simplicity, close to the soil and far from temptation, will make a man of him,” said old Neil Bonner, and forthwith crawled back among his roses.  Young Neil set his jaw, pitched his chin at the proper angle, and went to work.  As an underling he did his work well and gained the commendation of his superiors.  Not that he delighted in the work, but that it was the one thing that prevented him from going mad.

The first year he wished he was dead.  The second year he cursed God.  The third year he was divided between the two emotions, and in the confusion quarrelled with a man in authority.  He had the best of the quarrel, though the man in authority had the last word,—­a word that sent Neil Bonner into an exile that made his old billet appear as paradise.  But he went without a whimper, for the North had succeeded in making him into a man.