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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 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。
'