and notoriously bad-tempered. But Tannis was a beauty. 
   Tannis' great-grandmother had been a Cree squaw who 
   married a French trapper. The son of this union became 
   in due time the father of Auguste Dumont. Auguste 
   married a woman whose mother was a French half-breed 
   and whose father was a pure-bred Highland Scotchman. 
   The result of this atrocious mixture was its 
   justification - Tannis of the Flats - who looked as if 
   all the blood of all the Howards might be running in 
   her veins. 
   But, after all, the dominant current in those same 
   veins was from the race of plain and prairie. The 
   practiced eye detected it in the slender stateliness of 
   carriage, in the graceful, yet voluptuous, curves of 
   the lithe body, in the smallness and delicacy of hand 
   and foot, in the purple sheen on straight-falling 
   masses of blue-black hair, and, more than all else, in 
   the long, dark eye, full and soft, yet alight with a 
   slumbering fire. France, too, was responsible for 
   somewhat in Tannis. It gave her a light step in place 
   of the stealthy half-breed shuffle, it arched her red 
   upper lip into a more tremulous bow, it lent a note of 
   laughter to her voice and a sprightlier wit to her 
   tongue. As for her red-headed Scotch grandfather, he 
   had bequeathed her a somewhat whiter skin and ruddier 
   bloom than is usually found in the breeds. 
   Old Auguste was mightily proud of Tannis. He sent her 
   to school for four years in Prince Albert, bound that 
   his girl should have the best. A High School course and 
   considerable mingling in the social life of the town - 
   for old Auguste was a man to be conciliated by astute 
   politicians, since he controlled some two or three 
   hundred half-breed votes - sent Tannis home to the 
   Flats with a very thin, but very deceptive, veneer of 
   culture and civilization overlying the primitive 
   passions and ideas of her nature. 
   Carey saw only the beauty and the veneer. He made the 
   mistake of thinking that Tannis was what she seemed to 
   be - a fairly well-educated, up-to-date young woman 
   with whom a friendly flirtation was just what it was 
   with white womankind - the pleasant amusement of an 
   hour or season. It was a mistake - a very big mistake. 
   Tannis understood something of piano playing, something 
   less of grammar and Latin, and something less still of 
   social prevarications. But she understood absolutely 
   nothing of flirtation. You can never get an Indian to 
   see the sense of Platonics. 
   Carey found the Flats quite tolerable after the 
   homecoming of Tannis. He soon fell into the habit of 
   dropping into the Dumont house to spend the evening, 
   talking with Tannis in the parlor - which apartment was 
   amazingly well done for a place like the Flats - Tannis 
   had not studied Prince Albert parlors four years for 
   nothing - or playing violin and piano duets with her. 
   When music and conversation palled, they went for long 
   gallops over the prairies together. Tannis rode to 
   perfection, and managed her bad-tempered brute of a 
   pony with a skill and grace that made Carey applaud 
   her. She was glorious on horseback. 
   Sometimes he grew tired of the prairies and then he and 
   Tannis paddled themselves over the river in Nitchie 
   Joe's dug-out, and landed on the old trail that struck 
   straight into the wooded belt of the Saskatchewan 
   valley, leading north to trading posts on the frontier 
   of civilization. There they rambled under huge pines, 
   hoary with the age of centuries, and Carey talked to 
   Tannis about England and quoted poetry to her. Tannis 
   liked poetry; she had studied it at school, and 
   understood it fairly well. But once she told Carey that 
   she thought it a long, round-about way of saying what 
   you could say just as well in about a dozen plain 
   words. Carey laughed. He liked to evoke those little 
   speeches of hers. They sounded very clever, dropping 
   from such arched, ripely-tinted lips. 
   If you had told Carey that he was playing with fire he 
   would have laughed at you. In the first place he was 
   not in the slightest degree in love with Tannis - he 
   merely admired and liked her. In the second place, it 
   never occurred to him that Tannis might be in love with 
   him. Why, he had never attempted any love-making with 
   her! And, above all, he was obsessed with that 
   aforesaid fatal idea that Tannis was like the women he 
   had associated with all his life, in reality as well as 
   in appearance. He did not know enough of the racial 
   characteristics to understand. 
   But, if Carey thought his relationship with Tannis was 
   that of friendship merely, he was the only one at the 
   Flats who did think so. All the half-breeds and 
   quarter-breeds and any-fractional breeds there believed 
   that he meant to marry Tannis. There would have been 
   nothing surprising to them in that. They did not know 
   that Carey's second cousin was a baronet, and they 
   would not have understood that it need make any 
   difference, if they had. They thought that rich old 
   Auguste's heiress, who had been to school for four 
   years in Prince Albert, was a catch for anybody. 
   Old Auguste himself shrugged his shoulders over it and 
   was well-pleased enough. An Englishman was a prize by 
   way of a husband for a half-breed girl, even if he were 
   only a telegraph operator. Young Paul Dumont worshipped 
   Carey, and the half-Scotch mother, who might have 
   understood, was dead. In all the Flats there were but 
   two people who disapproved of the match they thought an 
   assured thing. One of these was the little priest, 
   Father Gabriel. He liked Tannis, and he liked Carey; 
   but he shook his head dubiously when he heard the 
   gossip of the shacks and teepees. Religions might 
   mingle, but the different bloods - ah, it was not the 
   right thing! Tannis was a good girl, and a beautiful 
   one; but she was no fit mate for the fair, thorough-
   bred Englishman. Father Gabriel wished fervently that 
   Jerome Carey might soon be transferred elsewhere. He 
   even went to Prince Albert and did a little wire-
   pulling on his own account, but nothing came of it. He 
   was on the wrong side of politics. 
   The other malcontent was Lazarre Merimee, a lazy, 
   besotted French half-breed, who was, after his fashion, 
   in love with Tannis. He could never have got her, and 
   he knew it - old Auguste and young Paul would have 
   incontinently riddled him with bullets had he ventured 
   near the house as a suitor, - but he hated Carey none 
   the less, and watched for a chance to do him an ill-
   turn. There is no worse enemy in all the world than a 
   half-breed. Your true Indian is bad enough, but his 
   diluted descendant is ten times worse. 
   As for Tannis, she loved Carey with all her heart, and 
					     					 			/>
   that was all there was about it. 
   If Elinor Blair had never gone to Prince Albert there 
   is no knowing what might have happened, after all. 
   Carey, so powerful in propinquity, might even have 
   ended by learning to love Tannis and marrying her, to 
   his own worldly undoing. But Elinor did go to Prince 
   Albert, and her going ended all things for Tannis of 
   the Flats. 
   Carey met her one evening in September, when he had 
   ridden into town to attend a dance, leaving Paul Dumont 
   in charge of the telegraph office. Elinor had just 
   arrived in Prince Albert on a visit to Tom, to which 
   she had been looking forward during the five years 
   since he had married and moved out West from Avonlea. 
   As I have already said, she was very beautiful at that 
   time, and Carey fell in love with her at the first 
   moment of their meeting. 
   During the next three weeks he went to town nine times 
   and called at the Dumonts' only once. There were no 
   more rides and walks with Tannis. This was not 
   intentional neglect on his part. He had simply 
   forgotten all about her. The breeds surmised a lover's 
   quarrel, but Tannis understood. There was another woman 
   back there in town. 
   It would be quite impossible to put on paper any 
   adequate idea of her emotions at this stage. One night, 
   she followed Carey when he went to Prince Albert, 
   riding out of earshot, behind him on her plains pony, 
   but keeping him in sight. Lazarre, in a fit of 
   jealousy, had followed Tannis, spying on her until she 
   started back to the Flats. After that he watched both 
   Carey and Tannis incessantly, and months later had told 
   Tom all he had learned through his low sneaking. 
   Tannis trailed Carey to the Blair house, on the bluffs 
   above the town, and saw him tie his horse at the gate 
   and enter. She, too, tied her pony to a poplar, lower 
   down, and then crept stealthily through the willows at 
   the side of the house until she was close to the 
   windows. Through one of them she could see Carey and 
   Elinor. The half-breed girl crouched down in the shadow 
   and glared at her rival. She saw the pretty, fair-
   tinted face, the fluffy coronal of golden hair, the 
   blue, laughing eyes of the woman whom Jerome Carey 
   loved, and she realized very plainly that there was 
   nothing left to hope for. She, Tannis of the Flats, 
   could never compete with that other. It was well to 
   know so much, at least. 
   After a time, she crept softly away, loosed her pony, 
   and lashed him mercilessly with her whip through the 
   streets of the town and out the long, dusty river 
   trail. A man turned and looked after her as she tore 
   past a brightly lighted store on Water Street. 
   "That was Tannis of the Flats," he said to a companion. 
   "She was in town last winter, going to school - a 
   beauty and a bit of the devil, like all those breed 
   girls. What in thunder is she riding like that for?" 
   One day, a fortnight later, Carey went over the river 
   alone for a ramble up the northern trail, and an 
   undisturbed dream of Elinor. When he came back Tannis 
   was standing at the canoe landing, under a pine tree, 
   in a rain of finely sifted sunlight. She was waiting 
   for him and she said, with any preface: 
   "Mr. Carey, why do you never come to see me, now?" 
   Carey flushed like any girl. Her tone and look made him 
   feel very uncomfortable. He remembered, self-
   reproachfully, that he must have seemed very 
   neglectful, and he stammered something about having 
   been busy. 
   "Not very busy," said Tannis, with her terrible 
   directness. "It is not that. It is because you are 
   going to Prince Albert to see a white woman!" 
   Even in his embarrassment Carey noted that this was the 
   first time he had ever heard Tannis use the expression, 
   "a white woman," or any other that would indicate her 
   sense of a difference between herself and the dominant 
   race. He understood, at the same moment, that this girl 
   was not to be trifled with - that she would have the 
   truth out of him, first or last. But he felt 
   indescribably foolish. 
   "I suppose so," he answered lamely. 
   "And what about me?" asked Tannis. 
   When you come to think of it, this was an embarrassing 
   question, especially for Carey, who had believed that 
   Tannis understood the game, and played it for its own 
   sake, as he did. 
   "I don't understand you, Tannis," he said hurriedly. 
   "You have made me love you," said Tannis. 
   The words sound flat enough on paper. They did not 
   sound flat to Tom, as repeated by Lazarre, and they 
   sounded anything but flat to Carey, hurled at him as 
   they were by a woman trembling with all the passions of 
   her savage ancestry. Tannis had justified her criticism 
   of poetry. She had said her half-dozen words, instinct 
   with all the despair and pain and wild appeal that all 
   the poetry in the world had ever expressed. 
   They made Carey feel like a scoundrel. All at once he 
   realized how impossible it would be to explain matters 
   to Tannis, and that he would make a still bigger fool 
   of himself, if he tried. 
   "I am very sorry," he stammered, like a whipped 
   schoolboy. 
   "It is no matter," interrupted Tannis violently. "What 
   difference does it make about me - a half-breed girl? 
   We breed girls are only born to amuse the white men. 
   That is so - is it not? Then, when they are tired of 
   us, they push us aside and go back to their own kind. 
   Oh, it is very well. But I will not forget - my father 
   and brother will not forget. They will make you sorry 
   to some purpose!" 
   She turned, and stalked away to her canoe. He waited 
   under the pines until she crossed the river; then he, 
   too, went miserably home. What a mess he had contrived 
   to make of things! Poor Tannis! How handsome she had 
   looked in her fury - and how much like a squaw! The 
   racial marks always come out plainly under the stress 
   of emotion, as Tom noted later. 
   Her threat did not disturb him. If young Paul and old 
   Auguste made things unpleasant for him, he thought 
   himself more than a match for them. It was the thought 
   of the suffering he had brought upon Tannis that 
   worried him. He had not, to be sure, been a villain; 
   but he had been a fool, and that is almost as bad, 
   under some circumstances. 
   The Dumonts, however, did not trouble him. After all, 
   Tannis' four years in Prince Albert had not been 
   altogether wasted. She knew that white girls did not 
   mix their male relatives up in a vendetta when a man 
   ceased calling on them - and she had nothing else to 
   complain of that could be put in words. After some 
   reflection she concluded to hold her tongue. She even 
   laughed when old Aug 
					     					 			uste asked her what was up between 
   her and her fellow, and said she had grown tired of 
   him. Old Auguste shrugged his shoulders resignedly. It 
   was just as well, maybe. Those English sons-in-law 
   sometimes gave themselves too many airs. 
   So Carey rode often to town and Tannis bided her time, 
   and plotted futile schemes of revenge, and Lazarre 
   Merimee scowled and got drunk - and life went on at the 
   Flats as usual, until the last week in October, when a 
   big wind and rainstorm swept over the northland. 
   It was a bad night. The wires were down between the 
   Flats and Prince Albert and all communication with the 
   outside world was cut off. Over at Joe Esquint's the 
   breeds were having a carouse in honor of Joe's 
   birthday. Paul Dumont had gone over, and Carey was 
   alone in the office, smoking lazily and dreaming of 
   Elinor. 
   Suddenly, above the plash of rain and whistle of wind, 
   he heard outcries in the street. Running to the door he 
   was met by Mrs. Joe Esquint, who grasped him 
   breathlessly. 
   "Meestair Carey - come quick! Lazarre, he kill Paul - 
   they fight!" 
   Carey, with a smothered oath, rushed across the street. 
   He had been afraid of something of the sort, and had 
   advised Paul not to go, for those half-breed carouses 
   almost always ended in a free fight. He burst into the 
   kitchen at Joe Esquint's, to find a circle of mute 
   spectators ranged around the room and Paul and Lazarre 
   in a clinch in the center. Carey was relieved to find 
   it was only an affair of fists. He promptly hurled 
   himself at the combatants and dragged Paul away, while 
   Mrs. Joe Esquint - Joe himself being dead-drunk in a 
   corner - flung her fat arms about Lazarre and held him 
   back. 
   "Stop this," said Carey sternly. 
   "He Had Been Afraid Of Something Of The Sort" 
   "Let me get at him," foamed Paul. "He insulted my 
   sister. He said that you - let me get at him!" 
   He could not writhe free from Carey's iron grip. 
   Lazarre, with a snarl like a wolf, sent Mrs. Joe 
   spinning, and rushed at Paul. Carey struck out as best 
   he could, and Lazarre went reeling back against the 
   table. It went over with a crash and the light went 
   out! 
   Mrs. Joe's shrieks might have brought the roof down. In 
   the confusion that ensued, two pistol shots rang out 
   sharply. There was a cry, a groan, a fall - then a rush 
   for the door. When Mrs. Joe Esquint's sister-in-law, 
   Marie, dashed in with another lamp, Mrs. Joe was still 
   shrieking, Paul Dumont was leaning sickly against the 
   wall with a dangling arm, and Carey lay face downward 
   on the floor, with blood trickling from under him. 
   Marie Esquint was a woman of nerve. She told Mrs. Joe 
   to shut up, and she turned Carey over. He was 
   conscious, but seemed dazed and could not help himself. 
   Marie put a coat under his head, told Paul to lie down 
   on the bench, ordered Mrs. Joe to get a bed ready, and 
   went for the doctor. It happened that there was a 
   doctor at the Flats that night - a Prince Albert man 
   who had been up at the Reservation, fixing up some sick 
   Indians, and had been stormstaid at old Auguste's on 
   his way back. 
   Marie soon returned with the doctor, old Auguste, and 
   Tannis. Carey was carried in and laid on Mrs. Esquint's 
   bed. The doctor made a brief examination, while Mrs. 
   Joe sat on the floor and howled at the top of her 
   lungs. Then he shook his head. 
   "Shot in the back," he said briefly. 
   "How long?" asked Carey, understanding. 
   "Perhaps till morning," answered the doctor. Mrs. Joe 
   gave a louder howl than ever at this, and Tannis came 
   and stood by the bed. The doctor, knowing that he could 
   do nothing for Carey, hurried into the kitchen to 
   attend to Paul, who had a badly shattered arm, and 
   Marie went with him. 
   Carey looked stupidly at Tannis. 
   "Send for her," he said. 
   Tannis smiled cruelly. 
   "There is no way. The wires are down, and there is no 
   man at the Flats who will go to town to-night," she 
   answered. 
   "My God, I must see her before I die," burst out Carey 
   pleadingly. "Where is Father Gabriel? He will go." 
   "The priest went to town last night and has not come