Nor　did　he　seek　them。　Hearts　opened　to　him　as　spontaneously　as　flowers
  to　the　sun。　Even　the　priest；　Father　Roubeau；　had　been　known　to　confess
  to　him；　while　the　men　and　women　of　the　Northland　were　ever　knocking　at
  his　door…　a　door　from　which　the　latch…string　hung　always　out。　To
  Madeline；　he　could　do　no　wrong；　make　no　mistake。　She　had　known　him
  from　the　time　she　first　cast　her　lot　among　the　people　of　her
  father's　race；　and　to　her　half…barbaric　mind　it　seemed　that　in　him　was
  centered　the　wisdom　of　the　ages；　that　between　his　vision　and　the
  future　there　could　be　no　intervening　veil。
  There　were　false　ideals　in　the　land。　The　social　strictures　of　Dawson
  were　not　synonymous　with　those　of　the　previous　era；　and　the　swift
  maturity　of　the　Northland　involved　much　wrong。　Malemute　Kid　was
  aware　of　this；　and　he　had　Cal　Galbraith's　measure　accurately。　He
  knew　a　hasty　word　was　the　father　of　much　evil；　besides；　he　was
  minded　to　teach　a　great　lesson　and　bring　shame　upon　the　man。　So
  Stanley　Prince；　the　young　mining　expert；　was　called　into　the
  conference　the　following　night　as　was　also　Lucky　Jack　Harrington　and
  his　violin。　That　same　night；　Bettles；　who　owed　a　great　debt　to
  Malemute　Kid；　harnessed　up　Cal　Galbraith's　dogs；　lashed　Cal　Galbraith；
  Junior；　to　the　sled；　and　slipped　away　in　the　dark　for　Stuart　River。
  II
  'So；　one…　two…　three；　one…　two…　three。　Now　reverse！　No；　no！　Start　up
  again；　Jack。　See…　this　way。'　Prince　executed　the　movement　as　one
  should　who　has　led　the　cotillion。
  'Now；　one…　two…　three；　one…　two…　three。　Reverse！　Ah！　that's
  better。　Try　it　again。　I　say；　you　know；　you　mustn't　look　at　your
  feet。　One…　two…　three；　one…　two…　three。　Shorter　steps！　You　are　not
  hanging　to　the　gee…pole　just　now。　Try　it　over。　There！　that's　the
  way。　One…　two…　three；　one…　two…　three。'
  Round　and　round　went　Prince　and　Madeline　in　an　interminable　waltz。
  The　table　and　stools　had　been　shoved　over　against　the　wall　to　increase
  the　room。　Malemute　Kid　sat　on　the　bunk；　chin　to　knees；　greatly
  interested。　Jack　Harrington　sat　beside　him；　scraping　away　on　his
  violin　and　following　the　dancers。
  It　was　a　unique　situation；　the　undertaking　of　these　three　men　with
  the　woman。　The　most　pathetic　part；　perhaps；　was　the　businesslike　way
  in　which　they　went　about　it。　No　athlete　was　ever　trained　more
  rigidly　for　a　coming　contest；　nor　wolf…dog　for　the　harness；　than　was
  she。　But　they　had　good　material；　for　Madeline；　unlike　most　women　of
  her　race；　in　her　childhood　had　escaped　the　carrying　of　heavy　burdens
  and　the　toil　of　the　trail。　Besides；　she　was　a　clean…limbed；　willowy
  creature；　possessed　of　much　grace　which　had　not　hitherto　been
  realized。　It　was　this　grace　which　the　men　strove　to　bring　out　and
  knock　into　shape。
  'Trouble　with　her　she　learned　to　dance　all　wrong；'　Prince　remarked
  to　the　bunk　after　having　deposited　his　breathless　pupil　on　the
  table。　'She's　quick　at　picking　up；　yet　I　could　do　better　had　she　never
  danced　a　step。　But　say；　Kid；　I　can't　understand　this。'　Prince　imitated
  a　peculiar　movement　of　the　shoulders　and　head…　a　weakness　Madeline
  suffered　from　in　walking。
  'Lucky　for　her　she　was　raised　in　the　Mission；'　Malemute　Kid
  answered。　'Packing；　you　know；…　the　head…strap。　Other　Indian　women　have
  it　bad；　but　she　didn't　do　any　packing　till　after　she　married；　and　then
  only　at　first。　Saw　hard　lines　with　that　husband　of　hers。　They　went
  through　the　Forty…Mile　famine　together。'
  'But　can　we　break　it？'
  'Don't　know。　Perhaps　long　walks　with　her　trainers　will　make　the
  riffle。　Anyway；　they'll　take　it　out　some；　won't　they；　Madeline？'
  The　girl　nodded　assent。　If　Malemute　Kid；　who　knew　all　things；　said
  so；　why　it　was　so。　That　was　all　there　was　about　it。
  She　had　come　over　to　them；　anxious　to　begin　again。　Harrington
  surveyed　her　in　quest　of　her　points　much　in　the　same　manner　men
  usually　do　horses。　It　certainly　was　not　disappointing；　for　he　asked
  with　sudden　interest；　'What　did　that　beggarly　uncle　of　yours　get
  anyway？'
  'One　rifle；　one　blanket；　twenty　bottles　of　hooch。　Rifle　broke。'
  She　said　this　last　scornfully；　as　though　disgusted　at　how　low　her
  maiden…value　had　been　rated。
  She　spoke　fair　English；　with　many　peculiarities　of　her　husband's
  speech；　but　there　was　still　perceptible　the　Indian　accent；　the
  traditional　groping　after　strange　gutturals。　Even　this　her　instructors
  had　taken　in　hand；　and　with　no　small　success；　too。
  At　the　next　intermission；　Prince　discovered　a　new　predicament。
  'I　say；　Kid；'　he　said；　'we're　wrong；　all　wrong。　She　can't　learn　in
  moccasins。　Put　her　feet　into　slippers；　and　then　onto　that　waxed　floor…
  phew！'
  Madeline　raised　a　foot　and　regarded　her　shapeless　house…moccasins
  dubiously。　In　previous　winters；　both　at　Circle　City　and　Forty…Mile；
  she　had　danced　many　a　night　away　with　similar　footgear；　and　there
  had　been　nothing　the　matter。　But　now…　well；　if　there　was　anything
  wrong　it　was　for　Malemute　Kid　to　know；　not　her。
  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　traine