The Fur Bringers | Page 8

sugar, 5 lbs. prunes, 1/2 lb. tea, 1/2 lb. baking
powder, and bag of salt. Please take care of my dog. So long! A. D.
P. S.--I'm taking the dog.
Peter, like all men slow to anger, lost his temper with startling effect.
Tearing the note off the door and grinding it under foot, he cursed the

runaway from a full heart.
Eva, hearing, hastily called the children indoors, and thrusting them
behind her peeped into the store. Peter, purple in the face, was wildly
brandishing his arms.
Eva closed the door very softly and gave the children bread and
molasses to keep them quiet. Meanwhile the storm continued to rage.
"The young fool! To run off without a word! I'd have let him go gladly
if he'd said anything--and given him a good man! But to go alone! He'll
break an arm and die in the bush! And to leave me like this with the
year's outfit due next week!
"I'll not see him again until cold weather--if I ever see him! Fifty
pounds of flour--with his appetite! He'll starve to death if he doesn't
drown himself first! He'll never get to Enterprise! Oh, the consummate
young ass! Damn Poly Goussard and his romantic stories!"
CHAPTER III.
COLINA.
John Gaviller and Colina were at breakfast in the big clap-boarded villa
at Fort Enterprise.
They were a good-looking pair, and at heart not dissimilar, though it
must be taken into account that the same qualities manifest themselves
differently in a man of affairs and a romantic, irresponsible young
woman.
They were secretly proud of each other--and quarreled continually.
Colina, by virtue of her reckless honesty, frequently got the better of
her canny father.
"Well," he said, now with a gesture of surrender, "if you're determined
to stay here, all right--but you must live differently."

At the word "must" an ominous gleam shot from under Colina's lashes.
"What's the matter with my way of living?" she asked with deceitful
mildness.
"This tearing around the country on horseback," he said. "Going off all
day hunting with this man and that--and spending the night in native
cabins. As long as I considered you were here on a visit I said
nothing--"
"Oh, didn't you!" murmured Colina sarcastically.
"--But if you are going to make this country your home, you must
consider your reputation in the community just the same as anywhere
else--more, indeed; we live in a tiny little world here, where our
smallest actions are scrutinized and discussed."
He took a swallow of coffee. Colina played with her food sulkily.
Her silence encouraged him to proceed: "Another thing," he said with a
deprecating smile, "comparatively speaking, I occupy an exalted
position now. I am the head of all things, such as they are. Great or
small this entails certain obligations on a man. I have to study all my
words and acts.
"If you are going to stay here with me I shall expect you to assume
your share; to consider my interests, to support me; to play the game as
they say. What I object to is your impulsiveness, your outspokenness
with the people. Remember, everybody here is your dependent. It is
always a mistake to be open and frank with dependents. They don't
understand it, and if they do, they presume upon it.
"Be guided by my experience; no one could justly accuse me of any
lack of affability or friendliness in dealing with the people here--but
they never know what I am thinking of!"
"Admirable!" murmured Colina, "but I'm not a directors' meeting!"

"Colina!" said her father indignantly.
"It's not fair for you to drag that in about my standing by you and
supporting you!" she went on warmly. "You know I'll do that as long as
I live! But I must be allowed to do it in my own way. I'm an adult and
an individual. I differ from you. I've a right to differ from you. It is
because these people are my inferiors that I can afford to be perfectly
natural with them. As for their presuming on it, you needn't fear! I
know how to take care of that!"
"A little more reserve," murmured her father.
Colina paused and looked at him levelly. "Dad, what a fool you are
about me!" she said coolly.
"Colina!" he cried again, and pounded the table.
She met his indignant glance squarely.
"I mean it," she said. "I'm your daughter, am I not?--and mother's? You
must know yourself by this time; you must have known mother--you
ought to understand me a little but you won't try--you're clever enough
in everything else! You've made up an idea for yourself of what a
daughter ought to be, and you're always trying to make me fit it!"
Gaviller scarcely listened to this. "I'll have to