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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 trainers often marveled late into the night over the eternal
mystery of woman。
In this way Thanksgiving Night drew near。 At irregular intervals
Bettles sent word down from Stuart River regarding the welfare of
Young Cal。 The time of their return was approaching。 More than once
a casual caller； hearing dance…music and the rhythmic pulse of feet；
entered； only to find Harrington scraping away and the other two
beating time or arguing noisily over a mooted step。 Madeline was never
in evidence； having precipitately fled to the inner room。
On one of these nights Cal Galbraith dropped in。 Encouraging news
had just come down from Stuart River； and Madeline had surpassed
herself… not in walk alone； and carriage and grace； but in womanly
roguishness。 They had indulged in sharp repartee and she had
defended herself brilliantly； and then； yielding to the intoxication
of the moment； and of her own power； she had bullied； and mastered；
and wheedled； and patronized them with most astonishing success。 And
instinctively； involuntarily； they had bowed； not to her beauty； her
wisdom； her wit； but to that indefinable something in woman to which
man yields yet cannot name。 The room was dizzy with sheer delight as
she and Prince whirled through the last dance of the evening。
Harrington was throwing in inconceivable flourishes； while Malemute
Kid； utterly abandoned； had seized the broom and was executing mad
gyrations on his own account。
At this instant the door shook with a heavy rap…rap； and their quick
glances noted the lifting of the latch。 But they had survived
similar situations before。 Harrington never broke a note。 Madeline
shot through the waiting door to the inner room。 The broom went
hurtling under the bunk； and by the time Cal Galbraith and Louis Savoy
got their heads in； Malemute Kid and Prince were in each other's arms；
wildly schottisching down the room。
As a rule； Indian women do not make a practice of fainting on
provocation； but Madeline came as near to it as she ever had in her
life。 For an hour she crouched on the floor； listening to the heavy
voices of the men rumbling up and down in mimic thunder。 Like familiar
chords of childhood melodies； every intonation； every trick of her
husband's voice swept in upon her； fluttering her heart and
weakening her knees till she lay half…fainting against the door。 It
was well she could neither see nor hear when he took his departure。
'When do you expect to go back to Circle City？' Malemute Kid asked
simply。
'Haven't thought much about it；' he replied。 'Don't think till after
the ice breaks。'
'And Madeline？'
He flushed at the question； and there was a quick droop to his eyes。
Malemute Kid could have despised him for that； had he known men
less。 As it was； his gorge rose against the wives and daughters who
had come into the land； and not satisfied with usurping the place of
the native women； had put unclean thoughts in the heads of the men and
made them ashamed。
'I guess she's all right；' the Circle City King answered hastily；
and in an apologetic manner。 'Tom Dixon's got charge of my
interests； you know； and he sees to it that she has everything she
wants。'
Malemute Kid laid hand upon his arm and hushed him suddenly。 They
had stepped without。 Overhead； the aurora； a gorgeous wanton； flaunted
miracles of color； beneath lay the sleeping town。 Far below； a
solitary dog gave tongue。 The King again began to speak； but the Kid
pressed his hand for silence。 The sound multiplied。 Dog after dog took
up the strain till the full…throated chorus swayed the night。 To him
who hears for the first time this weird song； is told the first and
greatest secret of the Northland； to him who has heard it often； it is
the solemn knell of lost endeavor。 It is the plaint of tortured souls；
for in it is invested the heritage of the North； the suffering of
countless generations… the warning and the requiem to the world's
estrays。
Cal Galbraith shivered slightly as it died away in half…caught sobs。
The Kid read his thoughts openly； and wandered back with him through
all the weary days of famine and disease； and with him was also the
patient Madeline； sharing his pains and perils； never doubting；
never complaining。 His mind's retina vibrated to a score of
pictures； stern； clear…cut； and the hand of the past drew back with
heavy fingers on his heart。 It was the psychological moment。
Malemute Kid was half…tempted to play his reserve card and win the
game； but the lesson was too mild as yet； and he let it pass。 The next
instant they had gripped hands； and the King's beaded moccasins were
drawing protests from the outraged snow as he crunched down the hill。
Madeline in collapse was another woman to the mischievous creature
of an hour before； whose laughter had been so infectious and whose
heightened color and flashing eyes had made her teachers for the while
forget。 Weak and nerveless； she sat in the chair just as she had
been dropped there by Prince and Harrington。 Malemute Kid frowned。
This would never do。 When the time of meeting her husband came to
hand； she must carry things off with high…handed imperiousness。 It was
very necessary she should do it after the manner of white women；
else the victory would be no victory at all。 So he talked to her；
sternly； without mincing of words； and initiated her into the
weaknesses of his own sex； till she came to understand what simpletons
men were after all； and why the word of their women was law。
A few days before Thanksgiving Night； Malemute Kid made another call
on Mrs。 Eppingwell。 She promptly overhauled her feminine fripperies；
paid a protracted visit to the dry…goods department of the P。 C。
Company； and returned with the Kid to make Madeline's acquaintance。
After that came a period such as the cabin had never seen before；
and what with cutting； and fitting； and basting； and stitching； and
numerous other wonderful and unknowable thi