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50, I imagine you are going to be a civilising influence, Mrs. Ducane."

Jennifer laughed and pouted.

"You don't think me capable of the big heroics," she said. "Civilisation sounds so—so paltry up here."

"God forbid! It's the one rag we have to cover our nakedness until we're fit to grow angel's feathers. Don't ever strip it off. And don't let any man you come in contact with strip it off in your presence. That is going to be one of your great responsibilities."

"I—I wonder if I want it," said Jennifer.

"You needn't be afraid of it," said Tempest gently. "But the most ignorant of us daily take on ourselves responsibilities that the gods would jib at. We do it because we are ignorant, of course. And that is naturally the very last reason we give for our mistakes—for it is the only one that is going to save us." He laughed, and stood up. "I have been uncivilised enough to give you advice," he said. "But you've no time to get back on me now. There's Ducane."

"Where? Where? I don't see" Then, as Tempest flung up the window, the swift running beat of an Indian cayuse came to her along the frozen track toward the house. She flashed round at Tempest with sudden crisp life in each inch of her.

"It is; it is," she cried. "But I never heard—oh, Harry!" Ducane swung round the horse-corner; dropped from the high-cantled saddle, and thrust his head through the window.

"Hallo, Jenny," he said, and slid a careless arm round her shoulders. "That you, Sergeant? Well, you're wanted down at the Portage right away. Some white fool—Englishman named Lucas—smashed his mate's head in. Oh, he's got it, sure enough. Best pile after him, I guess. Why—what's to pay, Jenny? It was one of your sex was responsible, I'll bet."

Jennifer shivered in the grasp of his big arm.

"You—you say it as if it was nothing," she whispered.

"Lucas won't find it nothing once the Sergeant has him by the neck, I promise you. Coming out this way, Tempest? Well—stand aside, Jenny."