wounded West. Her happy thoughts went running out to him gratefully.

Not the least cause of her gratitude was that there had not been the
remotest hint in his manner that there was any difference between her
and any white girl he might meet.




CHAPTER XI

C.N. MORSE TURNS OVER A LEAF


The North-West Mounted Police had authority not only to arrest, but
to try and to sentence prisoners. The soldierly inspector who sat in
judgment on Morse at Fort Macleod heard the evidence and stroked an
iron-gray mustache reflectively. As he understood it, his business was
to stop whiskey-running rather than to send men to jail. Beresford's
report on this young man was in his favor. The inspector adventured
into psychology.

"Studied the Indians any--the effect of alcohol on them?" he asked
Morse.

"Some," the prisoner answered.

"Don't you think it bad for them?"

"Yes, sir."