The brute instinct, inherent in primitive man, though acceptably absent for ages, will occasionally come into evidence in the life of the world. Such a character is Rolfe, the trapper, a product of the Canadian wilds, who as the story opens, is terrorizing his pretty wife, a fit of anger to which, notwithstanding its frequency, she is not yet accustomed. She cries out in fear, and Pierre, the sheriff, who happens by on a ride, dashes in. He is enraged at the scene which confronts him, and after stopping the wife-beater at pistol's point, handcuffs him securely. But the eternal feminine will assert itself, and the miserable young woman begs for his release. Pierre yields. A subsequent scene shows us that the sheriff loves her, but she dare not (nor does she) encourage him. In the barroom he comes upon the sheriff playing a little friendly game, and sneaking up behind him makes a cowardly attempt to assassinate him. Luckily, bystanders interfere. Then, out of his rage, he invites Pierre to throw dice for the first shot in a pistol duel. Pierre quietly accepts, and throws two fives, Rolfe follows and beats it, two sixes. Without further ado, Pierre stands up against the bar prepared to die; Rolfe raises his pistol to aim very slowly, a fiendish smile on his face. This desire to torture his victim reacts against him, however, for just as he is about to fire, a disheveled figure dashes in and throws itself before his pistol. It is his wife, who has followed him, and she explains that she did not tell Pierre she was married. In the face of all this, all that Rolfe can do is to withdraw. Justice is slow but sure; a long time elapses, and one day Rolfe, while setting a trap, falls on his bowie knife. As if it were fate, Pierre finds him and carries him back to the cabin, where, before he breathes his last, Rolfe appoints him the helpmate of the widow.