Instead, she was El-Soo, daughter of Klakee-Nah, a chief, and she lived in the Holy Cross Mission where were no artists, but only pure-souled Sisters who were interested in cleanliness and righteousness and the welfare of the spirit in the land of immortality that lay beyond the skies.

The years passed.  She was eight years old when she entered the Mission; she was sixteen, and the Sisters were corresponding with their superiors in the Order concerning the sending of El-Soo to the United States to complete her education, when a man of her own tribe arrived at Holy Cross and had talk with her.  El-Soo was somewhat appalled by him.  He was dirty.  He was a Caliban-like creature, primitively ugly, with a mop of hair that had never been combed.  He looked at her disapprovingly and refused to sit down.

“Thy brother is dead,” he said shortly.

El-Soo was not particularly shocked.  She remembered little of her brother.  “Thy father is an old man, and alone,” the messenger went on.  “His house is large and empty, and he would hear thy voice and look upon thee.”

Him she remembered—­Klakee-Nah, the headman of the village, the friend of the missionaries and the traders, a large man thewed like a giant, with kindly eyes and masterful ways, and striding with a consciousness of crude royalty in his carriage.

“Tell him that I will come,” was El-Soo’s answer.

Much to the despair of the Sisters, the brand plucked from the burning went back to the burning.  All pleading with El-Soo was vain.  There was much argument, expostulation, and weeping.  Sister Alberta even revealed to her the project of sending her to the United States.  El-Soo stared wide-eyed into the golden vista thus opened up to her, and shook her head.  In her eyes persisted another vista.  It was the mighty curve of the Yukon at Tana-naw Station.  With the St. George Mission on one side, and the trading post on the other, and midway between the Indian village and a certain large log house where lived an old man tended upon by slaves.

All dwellers on the Yukon bank for twice a thousand miles knew the large log house, the old man and the tending slaves; and well did the Sisters know the house, its unending revelry, its feasting and its fun.  So there was weeping at Holy Cross when El-Soo departed.

There was a great cleaning up in the large house when El-Soo arrived.  Klakee-Nah, himself masterful, protested at this masterful conduct of his young daughter; but in the end, dreaming barbarically of magnificence, he went forth and borrowed a thousand dollars from old Porportuk, than whom there was no richer Indian on the Yukon.  Also, Klakee-Nah ran up a heavy bill at the trading post.  El-Soo re-created the large house.  She invested it with new splendour, while Klakee-Nah maintained its ancient traditions of hospitality and revelry.