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And--and you made them work so hard----"
"To learn to work would be their salvation!" exclaimed the man. "And I
beg you to forget what I said then. I feared for your safety. When
you refused to allow me to build the stockade, I could think only of
your being at the mercy of Brute MacNair. I tried to frighten you into
allowing me to build it. Even now, if you say the word----"
Chloe interrupted him with a laugh. "No, I am not afraid of
MacNair--really I am not. And you have already neglected your own
affairs too long."
The man assented. "If I am to get my furs to the railway, do my own
trading, and yours, and return before the lake freezes, I must, indeed,
be on my way."
"You will wait while I write some letters? And you will post them for
me?"
Lapierre bowed. "As many as you wish," he said, and together they
walked to the girl's cabin whose quaint, rustic veranda overlooked the
river. The veranda was an addition of Lapierre's, and the cabin had
five rooms, instead of three.
The quarter-breed waited, whistling softly a light French air, while
Chloe wrote her letters.


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