If you had told Carey that he was playing with fire he would have laughed at you.  In the first place he was not in the slightest degree in love with Tannis—­he merely admired and liked her.  In the second place, it never occurred to him that Tannis might be in love with him.  Why, he had never attempted any love-making with her!  And, above all, he was obsessed with that aforesaid fatal idea that Tannis was like the women he had associated with all his life, in reality as well as in appearance.  He did not know enough of the racial characteristics to understand.

But, if Carey thought his relationship with Tannis was that of friendship merely, he was the only one at the Flats who did think so.  All the half-breeds and quarter-breeds and any-fractional breeds there believed that he meant to marry Tannis.  There would have been nothing surprising to them in that.  They did not know that Carey’s second cousin was a baronet, and they would not have understood that it need make any difference, if they had.  They thought that rich old Auguste’s heiress, who had been to school for four years in Prince Albert, was a catch for anybody.

Old Auguste himself shrugged his shoulders over it and was well-pleased enough.  An Englishman was a prize by way of a husband for a half-breed girl, even if he were only a telegraph operator.  Young Paul Dumont worshipped Carey, and the half-Scotch mother, who might have understood, was dead.  In all the Flats there were but two people who disapproved of the match they thought an assured thing.  One of these was the little priest, Father Gabriel.  He liked Tannis, and he liked Carey; but he shook his head dubiously when he heard the gossip of the shacks and teepees.  Religions might mingle, but the different bloods—­ah, it was not the right thing!  Tannis was a good girl, and a beautiful one; but she was no fit mate for the fair, thorough-bred Englishman.  Father Gabriel wished fervently that Jerome Carey might soon be transferred elsewhere.  He even went to Prince Albert and did a little wire-pulling on his own account, but nothing came of it.  He was on the wrong side of politics.

The other malcontent was Lazarre Mérimée, a lazy, besotted French half-breed, who was, after his fashion, in love with Tannis.  He could never have got her, and he knew it—­old Auguste and young Paul would have incontinently riddled him with bullets had he ventured near the house as a suitor,—­but he hated Carey none the less, and watched for a chance to do him an ill-turn.  There is no worse enemy in all the world than a half-breed.  Your true Indian is bad enough, but his diluted descendant is ten times worse.

As for Tannis, she loved Carey with all her heart, and that was all there was about it.

If Elinor Blair had never gone to Prince Albert there is no knowing what might have happened, after all.  Carey, so powerful in propinquity, might even have ended by learning to love Tannis and marrying her, to his own worldly undoing.  But Elinor did go to Prince Albert, and her going ended all things for Tannis of the Flats.