This man must have come from the fort.

Perhaps he had news.
Face to face with the stranger, Ambrose was sensible that he had to deal with an uncommon character.

There was something about him, he could not decide what, that distinguished him from every other man of Indian blood that Ambrose had ever met.
He wore a well-fitting suit of blue serge and a show of starched linen, in itself a distinguishing mark up north.

"Quite a swell!" was Ambrose's inward comment.
"You are Ambrose Doane, I suppose ?" he said in English as good as Ambrose's own.

Ambrose nodded.
"I knew you had dinner with Mr.Gaviller last night," the man went on, "but as you didn't drop in on us at the store to-day I supposed you had gone back.