El-Soo had been a Mission girl. Her mother had diedwhen she was very small， and Sister Alberta had pluckedEl-Soo as a brand from the burning， one summer day， andcarried her away to Holy Cross Mission and dedicatedher to God. El-Soo was a full-blooded Indian， yet sheexceeded all the half-breed and quarter-breed girls. Neverhad the good sisters dealt with a girl so adaptable and atthe same time so spirited.
El-Soo was quick， and deft， and intelligent； but above allshe was fire， the living flame of life， a blaze of personalitythat was compounded of will， sweetness， and daring.
Her father was a chief， and his blood ran in her veins.
Obedience， on the part of El-Soo， was a matter of termsand arrangement. She had a passion for equity， and perhapsit was because of this that she excelled in mathematics.
But she excelled in other things. She learned to read andwrite English as no girl had ever learned in the Mission.
She led the girls in singing， and into song she carriedher sense of equity. She was an artist， and the fire of herflowed toward creation. Had she from birth enjoyeda more favourable environment， she would have madeliterature or music.
Instead， she was El-Soo， daughter of Klakee-Nah， achief， and she lived in the Holy Cross Mission wherewere no artists， but only pure-souled Sisters who wereinterested in cleanliness and righteousness and the welfareof the spirit in the land of immortality that lay beyond theskies.
The years passed. She was eight years old when sheentered the Mission； she was sixteen， and the Sisterswere corresponding with their superiors in the Orderconcerning the sending of El-Soo to the United Statesto complete her education， when a man of her owntribe arrived at Holy Cross and had talk with her. El-Soo was somewhat appalled by him. He was dirty. Hewas a Caliban-like creature， primitively ugly， with a mopof hair that had never been combed. He looked at herdisapprovingly and refused to sit down.
“Thy brother is dead，” he said shortly.
El-Soo was not particularly shocked. She rememberedlittle of her brother. “Thy father is an old man， and alone，”
the messenger went on. “His house is large and empty， andhe would hear thy voice and look upon thee.”
Him she remembered—Klakee-Nah， the headman ofthe village， the friend of the missionaries and the traders，a large man thewed like a giant， with kindly eyes andmasterful ways， and striding with a consciousness of cruderoyalty in his carriage.
“Tell him that I will come，” was El-Soo’s answer.
Much to the despair of the Sisters， the brand pluckedfrom the burning went back to the burning. All pleadingwith El-Soo was vain. There was much argument，expostulation， and weeping. Sister Alberta even revealedto her the project of sending her to the United States. El-Soo stared wide-eyed into the golden vista thus opened upto her， and shook her head. In her eyes persisted anothervista. It was the mighty curve of the Yukon at Tana-nawStation. With the St. George Mission on one side， and thetrading post on the other， and midway between the Indianvillage and a certain large log house where lived an oldman tended upon by slaves.
All dwellers on the Yukon bank for twice a thousandmiles knew the large log house， the old man and thetending slaves； and well did the Sisters know the house，its unending revelry， its feasting and its fun. So there wasweeping at Holy Cross when El-Soo departed.
There was a great cleaning up in the large house whenEl-Soo arrived. Klakee-Nah， himself masterful， protestedat this masterful conduct of his young daughter； but in theend， dreaming barbarically of magnificence， he went forthand borrowed a thousand dollars from old Porportuk，than whom there was no richer Indian on the Yukon.
Also， Klakee-Nah ran up a heavy bill at the trading post.
El-Soo re-created the large house. She invested it withnew splendour， while Klakee-Nah maintained its ancienttraditions of hospitality and revelry.
All this was unusual for a Yukon Indian， but Klakee-Nah was an unusual Indian. Not alone did he like torender inordinate hospitality， but， what of being a chiefand of acquiring much money， he was able to do it. Inthe primitive trading days he had been a power over hispeople， and he had dealt profitably with the white tradingcompanies. Later on， with Porportuk， he had made a goldstrikeon the Koyokuk River. Klakee-Nah was by trainingand nature an aristocrat. Porportuk was bourgeois， andPorportuk bought him out of the gold-mine. Porportukwas content to plod and accumulate. Klakee-Nah wentback to his large house and proceeded to spend. Porportukwas known as the richest Indian in Alaska. Klakee-Nah was known as the whitest. Porportuk was a moneylenderand a usurer. Klakee-Nah was an anachronism—amediaeval ruin， a fighter and a feaster， happy with wineand song.
El-Soo adapted herself to the large house and its ways asreadily as she had adapted herself to Holy Cross Missionand its ways. She did not try to reform her father anddirect his footsteps toward God. It is true， she reprovedhim when he drank overmuch and profoundly， but thatwas for the sake of his health and the direction of hisfootsteps on solid earth.
The latchstring to the large house was always out.
What with the coming and the going， it was never still.
The rafters of the great living-room shook with the roarof wassail and of song. At table sat men from all theworld and chiefs from distant tribes—Englishmen andColonials， lean Yankee traders and rotund officials ofthe great companies， cowboys from the Western ranges，sailors from the sea， hunters and dog-mushers of a score ofnationalities.