MacNair wasted no time, but striding up to the girl, who stood upon the veranda of her cottage, plunged unceremoniously into the business at hand.

“Do not misunderstand me,” he began gruffly.  “I did not bring my Indians here to receive the benefits of your education, nor as a sop to your anger, nor for any other reason than to procure for them food and shelter until such time as I myself can provide for them.  If they were trappers this would be unnecessary.  But they have long since abandoned the trap-lines, and in the whole village there could not be found enough traps to supply one tenth of their number with the actual necessities of life.  I have sent runners to the young men upon the barren grounds, with orders to continue the caribou kill and bring the meat to you here.  I have given my Indians their instructions.  They will cause you no trouble, and will be subject absolutely to your commands.  And now, I must be on my way.  I must pick up the trail of Lapierre.  And when I return, I shall confront you with evidence that will prove to you beyond a doubt that the words I have spoken are true!”

“And I will confront you,” retorted the girl, “with evidence that will place you behind prison bars for the rest of your life!” Again Chloe saw in the grey eyes the twinkle that held more than the suspicion of a smile.

“I think I would make but a poor prisoner,” the man answered.  “But if I am to be a prisoner I warn you that I will run the prison.  I am MacNair!” Something in the man’s look—­he was gazing straight into her eyes with a peculiar intense gaze—­caused the girl to start, while a sudden indescribable feeling of fear, of helplessness before this man, flashed over her.  The feeling passed in an instant and she sneered boldly into MacNair’s face.

“My, how you hate yourself!” she cried.  “And how long is it, Mr. Brute MacNair—­” was it fancy, or did the man wince at the emphasis of the name?  She repeated, with added emphasis, “Mr. Brute MacNair, since you have deemed it worth your while to furnish me with evidence?  You told me once, I believe, that you cared nothing for my opinion.  Is it possible that you hope at this late day to flatter me with my own importance?”

MacNair, in no wise perturbed, regarded her gravely.  “No,” he answered “It is not that, it is—­” He paused as if at a loss for words.  “I do not know why,” he continued, “unless, perhaps, it is because—­because you have no fear of me.  That you do not fear to take your life into your hands in defence of what you think is right.  It may be that I have learned a certain respect for you.  Certainly I do not pity you.  At times you have made me very angry with your foolish blundering, until I remember it is honest blundering, and that some day you will know the North, and will know that north of sixty, men are not measured by your little rule of thumb.  Always I have gone my way, caring no more for the approval of others than I have for their hatred or scoffing.  I know the North!  Why should I care for the opinion of others?  If they do not know, so much the worse for them.  The reputation of being a fool injures no one.  Had I not been thought a fool by the men of the Hudson Bay Company they would not have sold me the barren grounds whose sands are loaded with gold.”