Nevil Steyne had just returned from Beacon Crossing, whither he had gone to sell a load of cord-wood, and to ask for mail at the post-office. Strange as it may seem, this man still received letters from England. But to-day he had returned with only a packet of newspapers. He entered the hut without notice or greeting for Wanaha, who, in true Indian fashion, waited by the cook-stove for her lord to speak first. He passed over to the bedstead which occupied the far end of the room, and sat himself down to a perusal of his papers. He was undoubtedly preoccupied and not intentionally unkind to the woman. Wanaha went steadily on with her work. For her this was quite as it should be. He would speak presently. She was satisfied. Presently the man flung his papers aside, and the woman's deep eyes met his as he looked across at her. "Well, Wana," he said, "I've sold the wood and got orders for six more cords. Business is booming." The man spoke in English. Yet he spoke Wanaha's tongue as fluently as she did herself. Here again the curious submissive nature of the woman was exampled. He must speak his own tongue. It was not right that he should be forced to use hers. "I am much happy," she said simply. Then her woman's thought rose superior to greater issues. "You will eat?" she went on. "Yes, Wana. I'm hungry--very." "So." The woman's eyes smiled into his, and she eagerly set the food on a table made of packing cases. Steyne began at once. He was thoughtful while he ate. But after a while he looked up, and there was a peculiar gleam in his blue eyes as they rested on the warm, rich features of his willing slave. "Pretty poor sort of place--this," he said. "It's not good enough for you, my Wana." The woman had seated herself on a low stool near the table. It was one of her few remaining savage instincts she would not give up. It was not fitting that she should eat with him. "How would you like a house, a big house, like--White River Farm?" he went on, as though he were thinking aloud. "And hundreds, thousands, of steers and cows? And buggies to ride in? And farm machinery? And--and plenty of fine clothes to wear, like--like Rosebud?" The woman shook her head and indicated her humble belongings. "This--very good. Very much good. See, you are here. I want you." The man flushed and laughed a little awkwardly. But he was well pleased. "Oh, we're happy enough. You and I, my Wana. But--we'll see." Wanaha made no comment; and when his meat was finished she set a dish of buckwheat cakes and syrup before him. He devoured them hungrily, and the woman's eyes grew soft with delight at his evident pleasure. At last his thoughtfulness passed, and he put an abrupt question. "Where's your brother, now?" "Little Black Fox is by his tepee. He goes hunting with another sun. Yes?" "I must go and see him this afternoon." Steyne pushed his plate away, and proceeded to fill his pipe. "Yes?"