“All summer I’m stay on de Mackenzie, an’ I’m watch de canoes an’ I’m wait for my man to com’ back, but he don’ com’ back.  An’ in de fall my modder she go Nort’ again to watch de ships in de Bufort Sea.  She say, com’ ‘long, but I don’ go, so she go ’lone and I’m stay on de Mackenzie.  I’m stay ’til de reever freeze, an’ no more canoe can com’.  Den I’m wait for de snow.  Mebe so my man com’ wit’ de dog-team.  Den I’m hear ’bout de school de white woman build on de Yellow Knife.  Always I’m hear ’bout de white women, but I’m never seen none—­only de white men.  My man, he mos’ white.

“Den I’m say, mebe so my man lak’ de white women more dan de Injun.  He not com’ back dis winter, an’ I’m go on de school and learn de ways of de white women, an’ in de spreeng when my man com’ back he lak’ me good, an’ nex’ winter mebe he tak’ me ’long to de land of de white women.  But, eet’s a long trail to de Yellow Knife, an’ I’m got no money to buy de grub an’ de outfit.  I’m go once mor’ to de pries’ an’ I’m tell heem ‘bout dat school.  An’ I’m say, mebe so I’m learn de ways of de white women, my man tak’ me ‘long nex’ tam’.

“De pries’ he t’ink ‘bout dat a long tam’.  Den he go over to de Hudson Bay Pos’ an’ talk to McTavish, de factor, an’ by-m-by he com’ back and tak’ me over to de pos’ store an’ give me de outfit so I’m com’ to de school on de Yellow Knife.  Plent’ grub an’ warm blankets dey give me.  An’ t’irty-two sleep I’m travel de snow-trail.  Las’ night I’m mak’ my camp in de scrub cross de reever.  I’m go ‘sleep, an’ by-m-by I’m wake up an’ see you fire an’ I’m com’ ‘long to fin’ out who camp here.”

As she listened, Chloe’s hand stole from beneath the blankets and closed softly about the fingers of the Louchoux girl.  “And so you have come to live with me?” she whispered softly.

The girl’s face lighted up.  “You let me com’?” she asked eagerly, “an’ you teach me de ways of de white women, so I ain’t jus’ be Injun girl?  So when my man com’ back, he lak’ me an’ I got plent’ to eat in de winter?”

“Yes, dear,” answered Chloe, “you shall come to live with me always.”

Followed then a long silence which was broken at last by the Indian girl.

“You don’ say lak’ de pries’,” she asked, “you not marry, you bad?”

“No!  No!  No!  You poor child!” cried Chloe, “of course you are not bad!  You are going to live with me.  You will learn many things.”

“An’ som’ tam’, we fin’ my man?” she asked eagerly.

Chloe’s voice sounded suddenly harsh.  “Yes, indeed, we will find him!” she cried.  “We will find him and bring him back—­” she stopped suddenly.  “We will speak of that later.  And now that my clothes are dry you can help me put them on, and if you have any grub left in your pack let’s eat.  I’m starving.”

While Chloe finished dressing, the Louchoux girl boiled a pot of tea and fried some bacon, and an hour later the two girls were fast asleep in each other’s arms, beneath the warm folds of the big Hudson Bay blankets.