Evening star., 1935-09-08

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and bent with her ponys movements as
willow bends in wind She had blue eyes
beneath black lashes, skin too white for any
woman of the North Woods, and hair the
color of sunshine on ripe wheat.
As she rode north with the warm weather
she would have had a string of men behind
her - rivermen. woodsmen and trappers
that she passed on lonely streams, had she
not carried an excellent rife easy to her hand
and told them not to follow. For all her
amazing beauty, she was not like woman
when she looked straight into their eyes and
told them that in her low voice, but rather
like some hard man. tempered by experience.
So she went in peace to find her place of
destiny.
This turned out TO be the trading post OF
old Peter MCPHERSON. on Deep River.
1t was none so big. being but the store
itself with the usual living quarters at the
rear tiny wharf running out from the edge
of the stream. and some five or six cabins set
in circle around.
The woman rode up along the pebbly
stretch beside the river in flaming sunset.
and there was deep smile of satisfaction on
her face.
This" she said to the soul within her, is
Worlds End for me-
II took her three DAYS to talk Mcpherson
into selling to her. for more money than he
had ever dreamed of seeing in his life. 1t was
shrewd price for his holdings, however,
neither over nor radically under their worth.
and it fascinated the old Scot She paid him in
American money, not Canadian. taking the
crisp green backs from fiat packs in her saddle
bags.
So the world of McPhersons learned,
slowly. that there was new trader at the
post, woman so astonishingly beautiful
that she was worth ten days trip to see.
They came to see her. this man and that,
from distant stream and fiat and pot hole
country. and traded with her diffidently
that they might prove these high tales.
They proved them, every one, for she
exuded beauty from every smile and glance
of her dark blue eyes, every movement of her
body slow moving but cat-quick under its
slowness.
She did not change the name of the post.
Then the SHOWS came and Pierre Dorien and
France LeFaver. who had gone down the river
by canoe to sell her bales of furs, bore tfe
papers of the transaction with her name upon
them. It was as lovely as herself, Sandra
Llewellan.
With the cold of winter the great stove in
the big room of the post was always glowing
with heavy fire, the windows were trimmed
with frost. Many men came in with loads of
furs from this far stream and that, and
ma 'amselle" Sandra learned the proper price
to pay for prime pelts, we'll cured, for those
taken too early. and the difference in tanning.
Dorien and LeFaver were her stand-bys as
they had been McPherson's They both lived
the year round at the post. each in his cabin
with his family. Dorien' wife was French, but
LeFaver had married an Indian girl and
loved her with all his heart.
His children were dusky shy-eyed things,
who watched the woman of the sunshiny
hair with round black eyes, fingers in mouths.
Ma a'amselle smiled at them for they intrigued
her vastly with their cross of blood, their un
certain destiny.
Marie Dorien did not like Ma amselle, and
showed it at every turn. She was afraid of her,
not physically, but because of her blazing
beauty. her uncommon charm Pierre was