When she had gone he spoke without moving.
"She'll never marry Poleon Doret." "Why ?" inquired Alluna.
"He ain't her kind." "Poleon is a good man." "None better.

But she'll marry some--some white man." "Poleon is white," the squaw declared.
"He is and he ain't.

I mean she'll marry an 'outside' man.

He ain't good enough, and--well, he ain't her kind." Alluna's grunt of indignation was a sufficient answer to this, but he resumed, jerking his head in the direction of the barracks.

"She's been talking a lot with this--this soldier." "Him good man, too, I guess," said the wife.
"The hell he is!" cried the trader, fiercely.