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She put her hand on the table. “Table,” she clearly and distinctly enunciated. “Table,” she repeated.

She looked at Mrs. Van Wyck, who nodded approbation. Li Wan exulted, but brought her will to bear and held herself steady. “Stove” she went on. “Stove.”

And at every nod of Mrs. Van Wyck, Li Wan’s excitement mounted. Now stumbling and halting, and again in feverish haste, as the recrudescence of forgotten words was fast or slow, she moved about the cabin, naming article after article. And when she paused finally, it was in triumph, with body erect and head thrown back, expectant, waiting.

“Cat,” Mrs. Van Wyck, laughing, spelled out in kindergarten fashion. “I–see–the–cat–catch–the–rat.”

Li Wan nodded her head seriously. They were beginning to understand her at last, these women. The blood flushed darkly under her bronze at the thought, and she smiled and nodded her head still more vigorously.

Mrs. Van Wyck turned to her companion. “Received a smattering of mission education somewhere, I fancy, and has come to show it off.”

“Of course,” Miss Giddings tittered. “Little fool! We shall lose our sleep with her vanity.”

“All the same I want that jacket. If it is old, the workmanship is good–a most excellent specimen.” She returned to her visitor. “Changee for changee? You! Changee for changee? How much? Eh? How much, you?”

“Perhaps she’d prefer a dress or something,” Miss Giddings suggested.

Mrs. Van Wyck went up to Li Wan and made signs that she would exchange her wrapper for the jacket. And to further the transaction, she took Li Wan’s hand and placed it amid the lace and ribbons of the flowing bosom, and rubbed the fingers back and forth so they might feel the texture. But the jewelled butterfly which loosely held the fold in place was insecurely fastened, and the front of the gown slipped to the side, exposing a firm white breast, which had never known the lip-clasp of a child.

Mrs. Van Wyck coolly repaired the mischief; but Li Wan uttered a loud cry, and ripped and tore at her skin-shirt till her own breast showed firm and white as Evelyn Van Wyck’s. Murmuring inarticulately and making swift signs, she strove to establish the kinship.

“A half-breed,” Mrs. Van Wyck commented. “I thought so from her hair.”

Miss Giddings made a fastidious gesture. “Proud of her father’s white skin. It’s beastly! Do give her something, Evelyn, and make her go.”

But the other woman sighed. “Poor creature, I wish I could do something for her.”

A heavy foot crunched the gravel without. Then the cabin door swung wide, and Canim stalked in. Miss Giddings saw a vision of sudden death, and screamed; but Mrs. Van Wyck faced him composedly.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“How do?” Canim answered suavely and directly, pointing at the same time to Li Wan. “Um my wife.”

He reached out for her, but she waved him back.

“Speak, Canim! Tell them that I am–“

“Daughter of Pow-Wah-Kaan? Nay, of what is it to them that they should care? Better should I tell them thou art an ill wife, given to creeping from thy husband’s bed when sleep is heavy in his eyes.”

Again he reached out for her, but she fled away from him to Mrs. Van Wyck, at whose feet she made frenzied appeal, and whose knees she tried to clasp. But the lady stepped back and gave permission with her eyes to Canim. He gripped Li Wan under the shoulders and raised her to her feet. She fought with him, in a madness of despair, till his chest was heaving with the exertion, and they had reeled about over half the room.

“Let me go, Canim,” she sobbed.

But he twisted her wrist till she ceased to struggle. “The memories of the little moose-bird are overstrong and make trouble,” he began.

“I know! I know!” she broke in. “I see the man in the snow, and as never before I see him crawl on hand and knee. And I, who am a little child, am carried on his back. And this is before Pow-Wah-Kaan and the time I came to live in a little corner of the earth.”

“You know,” he answered, forcing her toward the door; “but you will go with me down the Yukon and forget.”

“Never shall I forget! So long as my skin is white shall I remember!” She clutched frantically at the door-post and looked a last appeal to Mrs. Evelyn Van Wyck.

“Then will I teach thee to forget, I, Canim, the Canoe!”

As he spoke he pulled her fingers clear and passed out with her upon the trail.