Lapierre smiled; drew closer, and dropped his voice to a confidential whisper.  “I can put one hundred rifles and ten thousand cartridges in the hands of your people in ten days’ time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lapierre.  I don’t need your guns.”

The man made a gesture of impatience.  “If you choose to ignore MacNair, you must, at least, be prepared to handle the Indians who will crowd your counter like wolves when they hear you are underselling the H.B.C.  When you explain that only those who are members of your school may trade at your post, you will be swamped with enrolments.  You cannot teach the whole North.

“Those that you will be forced to turn away—­what will they do?  They will not understand.  Instead of returning to their teepees, their nets, and their traplines, they will hang about your post, growing gaunter and hungrier with the passing of the days.  And the hunger that gnaws at their bellies will arouse the latent lawlessness of their hearts, and then—­if MacNair has not already struck, he will strike then.  For MacNair knows Indians and the workings of the Indian mind.  He knows how the sullen hatred of their souls may be fanned into a mighty flame.  His Indians will circulate among the hungry horde, and the banks of the Yellow Knife will be swept bare.  MacNair will have struck.  And with such consummate skill will his hand be disguised, that not the faintest breath of suspicion will point toward himself.”

“I shall sell to all alike, while my goods last, whether they are members of my school or not——­”

“That will be even worse than——­”

“It seems you always think of the worst thing that could possibly happen,” smiled the girl.

“‘To fear the worst, oft cures the worst,’” quoted Lapierre.

“’Don’t cross a bridge ’til you get to it’ is not so classic, perhaps, but it saves a lot of needless worry.”

“‘Foresight is better than hindsight’ is equally unclassic, and infinitely better generalship.  Bridges crossed at the last moment are generally crossed from the wrong end, I have noticed.”  The man leaned toward her and looked straight into her eyes.  “Oh, Miss Elliston—­can’t you see—­I am thinking of your welfare—­of your safety; I have known you but a short time, as acquaintance is reckoned, but already you have become more to me than——­”

Chloe interrupted him with a gesture.

“Don’t—­please—­I——­”

Lapierre ignored the protest, and, seizing her hand in both his own, spoke rapidly.  “I will say it!  I have known it from the moment of our first meeting.  I love you!  And I shall win you—­and together we will——­”

“Oh, don’t—­don’t—­not—­now—­please!”

The man bowed and released the hand.  “I can wait,” he said gravely.  “But please—­for your own good—­take my advice.  I know the North.  I was born in the North, and am of the North.  I have sought only to help you.  Why do you refuse to profit by my experience?  Must you endure what I have endured to learn what I offer freely to tell you?  I shudder to think of It.  The knowledge gleaned by experience may be the most lasting, but it is dearly purchased, and at a great loss—­always.”  The man’s voice was very earnest, and Chloe detected a note of mild reproach.  She hastened to reply.