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Nor did he seek them。 Hearts opened to him as spontaneously as flowers

to the sun。 Even the priest; Father Roubeau; had been known to confess

to him; while the men and women of the Northland were ever knocking at

his door… a door from which the latch…string hung always out。 To

Madeline; he could do no wrong; make no mistake。 She had known him

from the time she first cast her lot among the people of her

father's race; and to her half…barbaric mind it seemed that in him was

centered the wisdom of the ages; that between his vision and the

future there could be no intervening veil。

  There were false ideals in the land。 The social strictures of Dawson

were not synonymous with those of the previous era; and the swift

maturity of the Northland involved much wrong。 Malemute Kid was

aware of this; and he had Cal Galbraith's measure accurately。 He

knew a hasty word was the father of much evil; besides; he was

minded to teach a great lesson and bring shame upon the man。 So

Stanley Prince; the young mining expert; was called into the

conference the following night as was also Lucky Jack Harrington and

his violin。 That same night; Bettles; who owed a great debt to

Malemute Kid; harnessed up Cal Galbraith's dogs; lashed Cal Galbraith;

Junior; to the sled; and slipped away in the dark for Stuart River。






                              II



  'So; one… two… three; one… two… three。 Now reverse! No; no! Start up

again; Jack。 See… this way。' Prince executed the movement as one

should who has led the cotillion。

  'Now; one… two… three; one… two… three。 Reverse! Ah! that's

better。 Try it again。 I say; you know; you mustn't look at your

feet。 One… two… three; one… two… three。 Shorter steps! You are not

hanging to the gee…pole just now。 Try it over。 There! that's the

way。 One… two… three; one… two… three。'

  Round and round went Prince and Madeline in an interminable waltz。

The table and stools had been shoved over against the wall to increase

the room。 Malemute Kid sat on the bunk; chin to knees; greatly

interested。 Jack Harrington sat beside him; scraping away on his

violin and following the dancers。

  It was a unique situation; the undertaking of these three men with

the woman。 The most pathetic part; perhaps; was the businesslike way

in which they went about it。 No athlete was ever trained more

rigidly for a coming contest; nor wolf…dog for the harness; than was

she。 But they had good material; for Madeline; unlike most women of

her race; in her childhood had escaped the carrying of heavy burdens

and the toil of the trail。 Besides; she was a clean…limbed; willowy

creature; possessed of much grace which had not hitherto been

realized。 It was this grace which the men strove to bring out and

knock into shape。

  'Trouble with her she learned to dance all wrong;' Prince remarked

to the bunk after having deposited his breathless pupil on the

table。 'She's quick at picking up; yet I could do better had she never

danced a step。 But say; Kid; I can't understand this。' Prince imitated

a peculiar movement of the shoulders and head… a weakness Madeline

suffered from in walking。

  'Lucky for her she was raised in the Mission;' Malemute Kid

answered。 'Packing; you know;… the head…strap。 Other Indian women have

it bad; but she didn't do any packing till after she married; and then

only at first。 Saw hard lines with that husband of hers。 They went

through the Forty…Mile famine together。'

  'But can we break it?'

  'Don't know。 Perhaps long walks with her trainers will make the

riffle。 Anyway; they'll take it out some; won't they; Madeline?'

  The girl nodded assent。 If Malemute Kid; who knew all things; said

so; why it was so。 That was all there was about it。

  She had come over to them; anxious to begin again。 Harrington

surveyed her in quest of her points much in the same manner men

usually do horses。 It certainly was not disappointing; for he asked

with sudden interest; 'What did that beggarly uncle of yours get

anyway?'

  'One rifle; one blanket; twenty bottles of hooch。 Rifle broke。'

She said this last scornfully; as though disgusted at how low her

maiden…value had been rated。

  She spoke fair English; with many peculiarities of her husband's

speech; but there was still perceptible the Indian accent; the

traditional groping after strange gutturals。 Even this her instructors

had taken in hand; and with no small success; too。

  At the next intermission; Prince discovered a new predicament。

  'I say; Kid;' he said; 'we're wrong; all wrong。 She can't learn in

moccasins。 Put her feet into slippers; and then onto that waxed floor…

phew!'

  Madeline raised a foot and regarded her shapeless house…moccasins

dubiously。 In previous winters; both at Circle City and Forty…Mile;

she had danced many a night away with similar footgear; and there

had been nothing the matter。 But now… well; if there was anything

wrong it was for Malemute Kid to know; not her。

  But Malemute Kid did know; and he had a good eye for measures; so he

put on his cap and mittens and went down the hill to pay Mrs。

Eppingwell a call。 Her husband; Clove Eppingwell; was prominent in the

community as one of the great Government officials。 The Kid had

noted her slender little foot one night; at the Governor's Ball。 And

as he also knew her to be as sensible as she was pretty; it was no

task to ask of her a certain small favor。

  On his return; Madeline withdrew for a moment to the inner room。

When she reappeared Prince was startled。

  'By Jove!' he gasped。 'Who'd a' thought it! The little witch! Why my

sister…'

  'Is an English girl;' interrupted Malemute Kid; 'with an English

foot。 This girl comes of a small…footed race。 Moccasins just broadened

her feet healthily; while she did not misshape them by running with

the dogs in her childhood。'

  But this explanation failed utterly to allay Prince's admiration。

Harrington's commercial instinct was touched; and as he looked upon

the exquisitely turned foot and ankle; there ran through his mind

the sordid list… 'One rifle; one blanket; twenty bottles of hooch。'

  Madeline was the wife of a king; a king whose yellow treasure

could buy outright a score of fashion's puppets; yet in all her life

her feet had known no gear save red…tanned moosehide。 At first she had

looked in awe at the tiny white…satin slippers; but she had quickly

understood the admiration which shone; manlike; in the eyes of the

men。 Her face flushed with pride。 For the moment she was drunken

with her woman's loveliness; then she murmured; with increased

scorn; 'And one rifle; broke!'



  So the training went on。 Every day Malemute Kid led the girl out

on long walks devoted to the correction of her carriage and the

shortening of her stride。 There was little likelihood of her

identity being discovered; for Cal Galbraith and the rest of the

Old…Timers were like lost children among the many strangers who had

rushed into the land。 Besides; the frost of the North has a bitter

tongue; and the tender women of the South; to shield their cheeks from

its biting caresses; were prone to the use of canvas masks。 With faces

obscured and bodies lost in squirrel…skin parkas; a mother and

daughter; meeting on trail; would pass as strangers。

  The coaching progressed rapidly。 At first it had been slow; but

later a sudden acceleration had manifested itself。 This began from the

moment Madeline tried on the white…satin slippers; and in so doing

found herself。 The pride of her renegade father; apart from any

natural self…esteem she might possess; at that instant received its

birth。 Hitherto; she had deemed herself a woman of an alien breed;

of inferior stock; purchased by her lord's favor。 Her husband had

seemed to her a god; who had lifted her; through no essential

virtues on her part; to his own godlike level。 But she had never

forgotten; even when Young Cal was born; that she was not of his

people。 As he had been a god; so had his womenkind been goddesses。 She

might have contrasted herself with them; but she had never compared。

It might have been that familiarity bred contempt; however; be that as

it may; she had ultimately come to understand these roving white

men; and to weigh them。 True; her mind was dark to deliberate

analysis; but she yet possessed her woman's clarity of vision in

such matters。 On the night of the slippers she had measured the

bold; open admiration of her three man…friends; and for the first time

comparison had suggested itself。 It was only a foot and an ankle; but…

but comparison could not; in the nature of things; cease at that

point。 She judged herself by their standards till the divinity of

her white sisters was shattered。 After all; they were only women;

and why should she not exalt herself to their midst? In doing these

things she learned where she lacked and with the knowledge of her

weakness came her strength。 And so mightily did she strive that her

three traine

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