The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1927-07-15
CHAPTER II-Continued

Because, at present, my duty is
here, as you can see"
Then the man, whose intimate
knowledge Of the inanimate had
seemingly taught him little of men,
laughed rawly:
Your duty? Yes, I suppose when
you fur people get yourselves into a
mess Of this kind" he nodded toward
the door, you feel you have to see it
through"
Joan Quarter rose from her chair,
stunned by the stupid brutality Of
the remark-fearful OF the retribution
It deserved. Eyes black with anger,
Guthrie glared at his guest, who, SEN
sible Of his mistake, grinned sheep
lshly, then flushed to the roots of his
stiff hair. The muscles in the face Of
the factor knOtted, the veins in the
brown neck above the flannel shirt
swelled with blood in his efforts at
self-cOntrOl.
II went too far" Quarter
mumbled. Il don't mean, of course"
But he was cut off short with:
Your bed is in the trade-house!
You know the wayw
The long arm Of Guthrie pointed to
the door,
For space Quarter stared into the
cold eyes; then, stung by the outrage
10 his dignity, got to his feet in angry
protest.
What do you mean? You dare in
suit me-order me out of your house
like an inferior" But there was
that in the face of the man whose arm
still Indicated the door which wrung
the buster from the geologist as wa
ter Is wrung from rag.
You'll hear from this-this conduct
of yours. I'll report this to your SUI
periors," protested Quarter, as he
stormed out Of the room.
Guthrie turned to the girl, who was
visibly swept by shame-stirred by an
emotion which left her weak, clouGed
eyes fixed on the man who said in a
voice still thick with anger:
I'm sorry, Miss Quarrier-so sorry.
He-went-too far"
You were right-he was fmpos-
sible," she agreed in a voice raw with
disgust, with slow nod OF the dark
head. HE has always blundered-
always failed to understand"
st want to tell you about her"
She turned on him almost fiercely.
do you think 1, also, do not under
stand% she demanded.
For II space he searched her tense.
white face; then replied, graphically.
You have served with the wounded:
IT is enough"
He went to the door and whispered
TO old Anne. Then he began:
''She came here in June with some
Ojibwas, from far beyond the Elkwan
headwaters, for this Is a Cree coun-
try. They were not her own people.
/ am convinced, but one Of the men
claimed to be her father. She was
not sure, for she had grown I'D with
them-didn't even know her age, but
she can't be more than eighteen. Old
Anne found her sick in a tipi-half
fed-neglected. We took her in. and
for a time the canned milk ana the
broth worked a miracle. She was
happy-too: that helped.
when the trade was over and the
Indians started for their summer
camps. they demanded her-and she
could hardly walk hundred yards
without resting OF course, they didn't
really want her; their purpose was
TO hold me up. They asked for every
thing in the store. They always 90
when such a thing happens-an In
dian girl stays behind, at the factors
quarters.
You see they thought this was the
old situation-so did the Crees-in
spite of what Anne told them. They
couldn't understand. Well, I finally
got rio of her people-kicked them
out. For weeks she was so happy"
Guthrie tiptoed TO the sickroom
door, looked in, and returned.
an her last conversation with the
Indian who called himself her father.
I heard her repeatedly say MIN da,
min dap She was so earnest about it.
/ asked Etienne what It meant, and he
told me it was Ojibwa for L stay
here Pretty, isn't it? Min da, 1 dwell
here. She has chosen her home So
we called her Ninda. She was one Of
US.
Miss Quarter" went on the man
whose face had softened-grown boy
fish, at fairly tore my heart-the hap
piness, the gratitude Of that sick child
Those big eyes of hers followed me
like dogs. 1 had rescued her, no
doubt, from unspeakable misery.
1t was only natural, suppose.
AFTER few weeks she began TO
fail, and in August, when they called
me to Albany, I couldn't throw off
tie memory Of the despair in her eyes