Unconsciously, he read them aloud, and as he read a strange lump arose in his throat so that his voice became husky and the words faltered.  He read the letter through to the end.  He leaped to his feet and strode rapidly up and down the room, his fists clenched and his breath coming in great gasps.

Bob MacNair was fighting.  Fighting against an irresistible impulse—­an impulse as new and strange to him as though born of another world—­an impulse to find Chloe Elliston, to take her in his arms, and to crush her close against his wildly pounding heart.

Minutes passed as the man strode up and down the length of the little room, and then once more he seated himself at the table and read the letter through.

“DEAR MR. MACNAIR: 

“I cannot leave the North without this little word to you.  I have learned many things since I last saw you—­things I should have learned long ago.  You were right about the Indians, about Lapierre, about me.  I know now that I have been a fool.  Lapierre always removed his hat in my presence, therefore he was a gentleman!  Oh, what a fool I was!

“I will not attempt to apologize.  I have been too nasty, and hateful, and mean for any apology.  You said once that some day we should be friends.  I am reminding you of this because I want you to think of me as a friend.  Wherever I may be, I will think of you—­always.  Of the splendid courage of the man who, surrounded by treachery and intrigue and the vicious attacks of the powers that prey, dares to stand upon his convictions and to fight alone for the good of the North—­for the cause of those who will never be able to fight for themselves.

“It will not be necessary to tell you that I shall go straight to the headquarters of the Mounted and withdraw my charge against you.  I have heard of your lawless raids into the far North; I think they are splendid!  Keep the good work up!  Shoot as straight as you can—­as straight as you shot that night on Snare Lake.  I should love to stand at your side and shoot, too.  But that can never be.

“Just a word more.  Lena is going to marry LeFroy; and, knowing Lena as I do, I think his reformation is assured.  I am leaving everything to them.  The contents of the storehouse will set them up as independent traders.

“And now farewell.  I want you to have my most valued possession, the portrait of my grandfather, Tiger Elliston, the man I have always admired more than any other until——­”

Until what? wondered MacNair.  The word had been crossed out, and he finished the letter still wondering.

“When you look at the picture in its splintered frame, think sometimes of the ‘fool moose-calf,’ who, having succeeded by the narrowest margin in eluding the fangs of ‘the wolf’ is returning, wiser, to its mountains.

“Yours very truly—­and very, very repentantly,

“CHLOE ELLISTON.”