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 1 
 
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 6 
 
^^^^m 
 
 ■/L 
 
 klUinni, 
 
 
 < '•' 
 
 PRICE SIXPENCE. 
 
 
wtm^i^mt 
 
 l«B«^ 
 
 ^i^^^ 
 
 ■^a^PliF 
 
 823.89 
 
 * fc 
 
 NOBLE EXAMPLES SET BY THE GREAT AND 
 
 GOOD DO NOT DIE 1 1 1 
 
 ''The First Test of a truly Great Man Is his Humility."- Rubkin. 
 
 " It ii TeiT charaoteriitio of the late Prince Coneort— 
 a man kinuti/o/thi purest mUii, vho powtrfvUg impruHd 
 end influtnc'd olhtrs by ihetr force of hie oven hentvoUnt 
 nature— when drnwinf; up the cunilitioni of the annual 
 prize to be f^ren bjr Her Miijcaty at Wellington CollPKe, 
 to determine that it Hhnuld be awarded Not to the 
 Cleverest Boy, nor the most Bookish Boy. 
 nor to the most Precise, Diliarent, and 
 Prudent Boy, but to the Noblest Boy, to 
 the Boy who should show the most promise 
 of beoominff a I<argre-Hearted, Hivh- 
 Votived Man."-<$m»e>. 
 
 As Time roUt hi* oeaseleM eonrie, Ohriitmai after 
 Ohrittmas eemes reund, and we And our joya and aorrowa 
 left behind ; ao we build up the beinf that we are. 
 
 WHAT MAKES A HAPPV CHRISTMAS P 
 
 HEALTH) AM THE THINGS WE LOVE, AND THOSE 
 
 WHO LOVE US. 
 
 What hlslier aim eaa man attain than 
 
 eeaaoMt erer human pain r 
 
 EVERT TBAVELUHO TSUHK AND HOUSE- 
 HOLD OVOHT TO COHTAIN A BOTTLE OV 
 
 EMO'S "FRUIT SALT." 
 
 " It ia not too much to say that its merits have 
 
 been published, tested and approved literally from 
 
 pole to polo, and that its cosmopolitan popularity 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS CAROL. to-day presente one of tho most signal illuBtra- 
 
 " Tht dffthta MP n afwfffe Tear hat more ofhonmt fame tions of commercial enterpris*! to bo found in our 
 
 than Shetldlna Seaa of Gore." trading recorda." — European Moil. 
 
 IBIFORTANT to all Leaving Home for a Change.— Don't go without a bottle of ENO'S 
 " VRXTIT SALT." It prevents any over-acid state of tho blood. It should be kept in every bedroom in 
 readiness for any emergency. Be careful to avoid ra>-h acidulated Salines, and use ENO'S " FAuIT SALT " 
 to prevent the bile becoming too thick and (impure), producing a gummy, viscous, clammy stickiiieiis or adhesive- 
 ness in the mucous membrane of the intestinal ainiil, frequently the pivot of diairhd'a and disease. ENO'S 
 " FRUIT SALT " prevents and removes diarrhtra in the early etages. Without such a simple precaution the 
 jeopardy of life is immensely increased. There is no doubt that where it has been taken in the earhobt stages of a 
 disease it has in many instances prevented what would otherwise have been a severe illness. 
 
 THE SECRET 07 SUCCESS.-STERLINO HONESTY OF PURPOSE. WITHOUT IT LIFE IS A SHAH! "A 
 
 new invention is brought l>efore the public niul coiiim:ind8 Hurce>B. A raore of ahominnhk iiniiaiirmi are immediately introduced by the 
 nnMnipulous, who, in copying the original closely enough to deceive the public, and yet not ao exactly oh to infringe upon legal 
 rights, exercise an ingenuity thiit, employed in an original clianncl, could not fail to secure reputation and pro&V—jidamt. 
 
 CAVTXOlt.— Examine each bottle, and see that the Capsule ia marked END'S " FRUIT SALT." Withota it tou have been 
 impottd on by a umrihleee imitation. 
 
 Prepared only at Eno's "M Salt" Works, Hatcbam, London, S.E., by J. G. Eno. 
 
 c £ s 
 
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 Dot.,,' 
 
 ..^>^'^M«% 
 
 
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 AMAZON VELVET SKIRT FACING. 
 
 TnriT, AND Y«U WIMi NKVKi 
 ' IIKK ANT OTIIKK. 
 
 V 
 
 'f^'*-!- 
 
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 •c ■*> 
 
 s** 
 
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 m 
 
 ec: 1 
 
 lid 
 
 
 tSl- 
 
 icte- 
 
 ^■c fi 
 
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 I 1 = .V £ 
 
 
 
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 FroHtUpiici.i 
 
 ' Kissed her (Ull on the lips." 
 
 Ps(l»l», 
 
 :^ 
 
 
 
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 CIIEKH 1803 
 
 .D MACLEOD D.D. KDITOK 
 
 tlw ktto, PUrr* t 
 bi wlMM *oek 
 
 ("13. b1 
 
 ? 2 2 56'V 
 
 lEF FACTOR 
 
 
 o«db»f«Sft' PS " CHRISTMAS STORY 
 
 ,i„^ ill with tli«oh«nnol 
 St^tlM of ooul-trMedy. I 
 
 .;:«si':KSbERT PARKER 
 
 ?<^ 
 
 /TVT// FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS DY ALFRED PEARSB 
 
 
 
 LONDON 
 ISDISTER AND COMPANY 
 
 LIMIlt:!) 
 
 15 & 16, TAVISTOCK STREKT. COVENT GARDEN 
 
 1S92 
 

 
 • • > « 
 
 • • • • 
 • « , • • • 
 
 • • . • • 
 
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 I liyhtl 
 i most 
 
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 " llrcaking the UcuJ at a giinicki'i'inT.' 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOID. 
 
 By (JILBERT PAKKER. 
 
 CHAITEU I.— A COrUT OF AI'l'KAL. 
 
 SHK was an nncf)innion .i;iil, and one man, 
 at least, tlionyht her i)oantifnl. He 
 dwelt on the varying colour of her warm 
 golden face, and the way iier l>roMti hair 
 lifted with every lireath. Ih; knew the 
 difference oetwecn her walk and that of the 
 other lasses of liraithen- how free and 
 swaying was her step, how lissom her hody. 
 He had watched her now and tiien as she 
 sat at ihe loom in old Cowrie Castle, and 
 the pictiirc of her deft Hngeis, the ahsorhed 
 intelligence of her face, the slow, rhythmical 
 , motions of her arms, and the sight and sound 
 
 J of the flying shuttle, was indelilile and de- 
 lightful. Since he was a lad with tlie sheep 
 upon the hills she had seemed to him the 
 most wonderful thing in the world. When 
 he grew to he six feet, or nearly so, and his 
 shouhleis became M'ide and his body power- 
 ful, he still thought so — ^and ho had learnctl 
 a deal since the shepherding days. His 
 admiration for her, if not generally known, 
 wa.s at least suspected, and by none more 
 strongly than his ukl schoolmaster, who had 
 
 for manj' years called him, Andrew Venlaw 
 his most promising pnjiil ; as, indeed, the one 
 lad of whom he had unusual occasion to be 
 proud. The venerable l)omi:u"e, little inclined 
 to women as he was, acknowledged in his 
 own mind that there were some points of 
 value in Jean Fordie ; but it woidd not do lo 
 let Andrew know this. Ho had as great 
 and)ition8 for Andrew as Andrew lunl for 
 himself. The lad had not fought his \v;iy 
 through pagesof barliaroiis Latin, d ilu>ive 
 (Jreek, bargained with sines and cosines, 
 ind)ilteil history as a desert ilocs Avater, and 
 spent midnight hours with arclui-o.ogy, for 
 nothing, lie was only a builder of lioiiscs 
 now, un<!er a master, but he hoped to bo a 
 great architect one <lay. To tliat end he 
 bad Kdinburgh in view; in K<linl)Uigli, iuird 
 work, then success ; then, .lean Fordie, if .-he 
 Motdd come. And, surely, if he pioved liini- 
 self very much a man, that might coiuit for 
 something with her. He thought no one 
 was good enough for her, b'lt he also thought 
 that none wo'Ud .so worshi;) and care for her 
 as ho — that is not an luicoinmon thing in the 
 lovo of a staunch and wholesome man. And 
 
 70'iiyi 
 
TIIK CHIKF FACTOU. 
 
 I 
 
 such nionftlso think thut :i woman U to thcni 
 an ins|)iration ami an ania/in^ hi>l|>. The 
 Dominie diil not. To him woman wuh u 
 <hin^fr, a tlistmlior of the peace, the tlaw in 
 a yoini}^ man's hiain, and more particuhiily 
 in tliat of Amhew Venhiw. Oecasi(»nally he 
 counted it necessary to lecture Aiuhcw on 
 this. It was noticeuhlu that while his Kn<{- 
 lish was excellent on most occasions, and 
 generally so when he hej^an his admonitions, 
 it hecamo provincial as his earnestness in- 
 creased. Sometimes ho hc'lionj^ht himself 
 and reverted to Shakespeare's vorhal nurity, 
 Imt he always lapsed aj^ain. Once, when he 
 had partially lapsed, thus : 
 
 " I'll no say ye've yer eo on ony, Andrew, 
 but ye hae an uneo love for the roa<l that a 
 certain lassie traivels. And I'll aj^rec there's 
 a bonny jjiow in her cheek and a licht in her 
 ec, but they're for scein', no for haein' — no 
 for haein'. Ye ken you maun ganj; a lang 
 gate in the warld, Andrew Vcidaw, and yere 
 no euro o' yer footin' for mony a day yet. 
 So whei'e wad ye bo wi' a woman and Ijairns 
 draggin' ye doun ? " 
 
 How deep tliesc cautions went into An- 
 drew's heart may bo .iudjicil from the fact 
 that, when it was possible, he went straiyht- 
 wa}- where he couhl get a glimpse of .lean. 
 Foi- ho knew her habits and when she was 
 likely to be seen on the road between 
 Braitheii and the Castle. 
 
 Sometimes he walked with her, and talked 
 in his blunt but not iuielo(juent fashion, dis- 
 cussing now the salmon, now the French 
 prisoners of war quartered in the town, or, 
 more frequently, the ballads and tales of the 
 boi'der-side, in which he was well versei\ 
 On this last theme ho had a keen, almost 
 cultured, and delighted listener ; for if there 
 was one thing Jean knew, it was the tradi- 
 tions of the Ijorder — from the date of the 
 first siege of Cowrie Castle and the time 
 when Daniley and Mary quarrelled in the 
 shade of its yews, to the days when Cromwell 
 sent his grim Puritans to it, and cut away a 
 shoulder or so of its masoiny, or the gay 
 followers of the Pretender foraged beside it 
 as they marched southward, .lean's know- 
 ledge had not come by reading only, but 
 through the oldest and most fascinating 
 channel of — but that will come later ! 
 
 Andrew had never talked of love to her, 
 however much in his large honest way ho 
 had looked it. He know, indeed, that she 
 did not love him, for he never saw her eye 
 flash warmly in his presence until lie touched 
 upon something that interested her ; and 
 then the colour would go romping back and 
 
 forth in lor cheek, and she caught iu's 
 thoughts almost before he had spoken them. 
 Shi! wotdd turn a glowing eye to his, but it 
 was for the story, not for him. He did not 
 despair, for he had wonderfid persistence; 
 he knew that her father, .lohn Fordie, likeil 
 him, if not encouraged him ; ho and she weie 
 good friends, ami, in a vague way, ho be- 
 lieved that it pleased aw(mian tube loved, so 
 long as the love was not intrusive ; and tin re 
 might come a time ! Her brother Itruce and 
 he, however, were not close comrades ; and 
 that was unfortunate. Their haliits weie 
 ditl'erent, and, what was more than all else, 
 i Uruco was the close friend of Ihian Kingley, 
 the young Irishman who had come t<» live 
 ! with his mother's brother, the Laii'd of 
 I Threep. Ik'twoen these kinsmen — for one was 
 ' a jHjor manager and the other a wild, extra- 
 vagant lad — they contrived to ruin Thr«'ep 
 j before tho elder man died ; so that when 
 ; Brian camo back from tho funeral he found 
 the bailiff's in possession, and he was almost 
 penniless upon tho world. I'ut while the 
 I pennies lasted and credit could l)o had Hrian 
 ; was not dismaj'od. And because the gentiy 
 became shy of him and he had no taste for 
 tiadespaople, he flung himself into tiie com- 
 , panj' of the pooi farmer and the artisan, 
 among whom ho had many ailmirers. The 
 I most notable of these was Ihucc Fordie, 
 i nuicli to the disgust of his father, win, hail 
 i very stern ideas of lie, emphasised, perhaps, 
 by tho fact that ho was chief gamokeepiy on 
 tho Cowrie estate, and had charge of the 
 i Castle, living there alone with Ihucc and 
 Jean, and gathering, unlike them, severity 
 from its strong, unpicturesque solidity. 
 j Ihiicc was a carpenter, but he had only im- 
 ! perfectly followed his trade, preferring idle 
 hours with the French prisoners, and oven 
 in defying tho game laws, which were as the 
 ! very Scriptures to his father. Tho blame of 
 this was placed on Biian's shoulders by John 
 I Fordie, though, truth to say, Brian had, in 
 his off-hand fashion, urged Bruce to steady 
 himself by day whatever he did by night. 
 
 " For look you here, me boy," said Brian, 
 dropping into his country's brogue, as ho 
 always did when with men of tho humble 
 sort, "you come of a race that's made for 
 work and not for blether and foolin'; and 
 when you've not done a long turn 'twixt 
 dawn and dusk, you're too full o' blood and 
 old Nick ; and bang you'll go with your head 
 at a bailie, or bang '11 go your gun at a hare 
 or a pheasant, when the time isn't right ; and 
 your own father '11 trundle you of!' to gaol, 
 or give you a wipe from behind a hedge." 
 
 i 
 
 di 
 
 m 
 m 
 w 
 w 
 m 
 W 
 
 i 
 
 -'«i^.. 
 
 ■^-—A.. 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 sho caii^lit Ills 
 iitl spiikfii tlieni. 
 yo to his, liiit it 
 ill). Ho <liil no; 
 ifiil iicrhistfiice ; 
 thii Foi'ilio, lik«'(l 
 lio ami kIio Wfic 
 ;ue way, lio lic- 
 
 llll to 1)0 loVOll, so 
 
 iisivo ; and tin iti 
 
 •otlior Jtnifo ami 
 
 I coinrados ; and 
 
 leir lialiits moic 
 
 ro than all «lse, 
 
 f JJiiaii Kinj^lov, 
 
 id conic t(* live 
 
 , tho liaird of 
 
 ion — for one Mas 
 
 lor a wild, cxtia- 
 
 to mill Throop 
 
 ; so that whon 
 
 funeral he found 
 
 il ho was almost 
 
 lint while the 
 
 lid he had nHiin 
 
 lanso tho tjentry 
 
 hail no taste for 
 
 2U into the com- 
 
 and the artisan, 
 
 ailmircrs. Tho 
 
 s Urucc Fordio, 
 
 father, win. had 
 
 liasised, jierhaps, 
 
 ganickoeptU' on 
 
 1 charge of tho 
 
 rt'ith liruco and 
 
 ! tlicni, severity 
 
 rcsquc solidity. 
 
 10 iiad only ini- 
 
 prcferring idle 
 
 oners, and even 
 
 lich were as the 
 
 The blame of 
 
 oulders by .lolin 
 
 , Brian had, in 
 
 irueo to steady 
 
 id by night. 
 
 oy," said Urian, 
 
 brogue, as he 
 
 of the humble 
 
 hat's made for 
 
 id foolin' ; and 
 
 )ng turn 'twixt 
 
 111! o' blood and 
 
 with your head 
 
 r gun at a liaro 
 
 isn't right ; and 
 
 on oft" to gaol, 
 
 id a hedge.'' 
 
 i 
 
 " liook at yourself ! " said Bruce to this. 
 
 " l)on't I know that 1 IJut wo Irish arc 
 ditVerent altogether, by race and by breeiling, 
 mo boy. Whether wo work or play we're in 
 mischief, and it makes but little matter ; 
 we re gab and shilleiahs mostly anyhow ; 
 with lieklencss in our eyes for man and 
 maid, and a thirsty throat all the way. 
 We're just the actors and the vagabonds of 
 the world : the luxury of time. We do 
 what we do, and leave undone what we leave 
 umloiie, as natiiially as stealin' a deer or 
 killin' a tyrant. But you Scots, when you 
 play gentlemen of leisure, run aniock like any 
 Malay ; anil that's the truth o' Heaven for 
 you, to take or to lave .... and I>ruce, me 
 gossoon, there's one more sup, and to I ed 
 you go, and jump to your work in the 
 moMiin' ! " 
 
 I»ut it was of little use. Bruco was bound 
 to fiillil the apprehcnsivo predictions of the 
 liishnian. On tho eve of lielfano Fair, in 
 IHIO, he was wanted by tho authorities for 
 poaching, and for breaking the hea<l of a 
 gamekeeper, who had somewlnt '";diciously 
 laid a trap for him and assaulted nim unneces- 
 sarily. The man was ^- "7 badly hurt, and if 
 ho died it would go fatally hard with liruce. 
 tTolin Fordie, upright man as ho was, openly 
 declared that tho boy was now no son of 
 his ; and he would, himself, have handed 
 him over to the law, if ho could have laid 
 hands on him. Stiaiigo to say, the syni- 
 j)atl!y of the pcoj)le was more with the son 
 than the father, for the lad had a way with 
 him at a fair or a wedding, and as plea- 
 sant a voice for I'lowirs the Forest or 
 7'he Hush uboon TnK/iiair as any south of 
 Edinb'ro town. Uesides, there was not in 
 those days as great strictness and religious 
 austerity in the Valley of the Sliicl as a 
 hundred years before. 
 
 Jean herself, sorrowful and fearful as she 
 was at the news, was not .so bowed down in 
 appearance as might have been expected ; 
 for, while just eighteen years old, she had a 
 wise head, and sho know well that people 
 like you best and respect you most wlicii 
 you arc brave, and not limp of manner nor 
 timid of face. Besides, it was her nature to 
 endure and bo courageous; and hard enough 
 sho fought her father upon his attitude to- 
 wards her brother, though respectful in 
 manner and tone always. Sho had no fear 
 when aflection and justice spoke. She urged 
 that ho might talk of duty and law as ho 
 would, but ho had a duty to his son — tho 
 duty of protection, which should not be de- 
 nied, even if the lad did kill a beggarly hare 
 
 and wound a fighting gamekeeper. The 
 
 law, sho said, was not justice, and littlo 
 
 I pause she'd niako between the two in a case 
 
 j like this ; for law was made by sellish man, 
 
 and justice liy the will of (Jod. That is, as 
 
 1 she tried further to explain, tho lail would 
 
 bo punished, if caught, intinitoly beyond his 
 
 deserts, 
 
 "The will o'Ood!" retorted her father 
 when she spoke thus, on tho e\e of Biltano 
 Fair ; " the will o' (iod teaches that ye shall 
 keep the law o' the land. And l)luiie and 
 bane as he is o' nie, I'd gio him oucr to tho 
 bailitrtlio morn, if he cam within thac wa's; 
 for he has brocht disgrace on nic! and you, 
 though yell no sect. Vo are tae him as if 
 ho was a saint oot o' a book, and no' a com- 
 mon wastrel and law-breaker — and murileier 
 too, foriiye." 
 
 The girl shiuiik away from those li ' word* 
 as though they buHctcd her in the I'lce, but 
 she had iron in her blood. Sli'".;atlificd her- 
 self together, deteiiiiined, a woman will, 
 to shield tho wrong-doer when the ti le runs 
 counter. 
 
 " Von dinna understand." she .id. " (Jan 
 yon no' .see, faither, that it's llesli and bludo 
 tae staun by ver ain Mcsh and liiuilc whan 
 it's wicked and hunted, mair than wliaii it's 
 glide and in safety 1 If B;uco is catchod 
 noo he'll be ruined for life. If he escapes 
 there'll be little against him— unless the man 
 decs — for there's iiae shame in escaiiiiig tho 
 law in the waild's eon ; the shame is in the 
 ither. No' that I'd defend him in the wrong 
 he's dune, and he'll sufl'er fort mair ways 
 than aiie frae noo till the day ho dec^s ; but I 
 canna bear to see ano o' my name and his 
 ain faither turn on him, and be willin' to 
 hand him ower to shame and the gallows, 
 maybe." Sho paused, then sho continued, 
 solemnly : " And if I hao tae choose betwixt 
 the sinner and him that'd jjunish the sinner, 
 I ken what I'll dao, though it break my 
 heart tae dac't." 
 
 The girl had been sitting at tho loom, in tho 
 flickering light of the fire that burned in tho 
 huge chimney. For though it was May the 
 air was still slightly chilly, especially in tho 
 damp old Castlo whose walls were eight feet in 
 thickness ; and, besides, tho kettle had been 
 hung for John For;' io's supper. Tho room 
 had Imt one window, which, of very late years, 
 had been hewn out of the wall. In the sup- 
 pressed excitement of her last speech, Jean 
 walkeil over to it and looked down into the 
 shadows of the old courtyard, which wcw 
 deeper at tho gate and where tho ruined 
 chapel was fallen to decay above the singing 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 '\ 
 
 river. The groat gateway was open ami 
 tlie gates were gone. Under the hanging 
 ivy and heavy verdure, gathered on the walls 
 an 1 around the old relics of the bartisan 
 tower, might still be seen the crest of the 
 ancient family that had owned it long before 
 tlu; ancestors of the jjiesent Karl of Hartfell 
 came into possession ; and to right ami left of 
 this were small fractures made by the cannon- 
 balls of the Koundheads. Somehow, at this 
 niuiiient, the i)lacc seemed desolate to Jean ; 
 very hard, stern, and homeless. Indeed, the 
 old castle looked grim enough at night. It 
 stood upright, austere, and strong ; sur- 
 roinidcd, as it was, bj' ruins, and flanked by 
 sulcmn forests. It rose invincible, hoary, 
 mid almost sardonic in its uiiornamented 
 steadfastness, with its one shoulder gone, 
 like some old jjcnsioner of grisl}- war, alone 
 among dead comrades and an alien world. 
 The soft winds from Margaret's Brae canv.! 
 cofiuetting with it in summer, the birds made 
 continuous overtures to ii ii'iidship, the Shiel 
 liummed its variable song to its stones, and 
 tJi'j tierce winds of winter ran bouncing down 
 Ul)im it : but it was silent, grey, persistent, 
 and cynical with time. If ever its mouldy 
 coMmcss was warmed, till some reflection of 
 its old-time memories wakened, it was when 
 Jean's voice had lung in the vaulted cham- 
 bers — hers and IJruce's, and that of lier 
 mother before her. Then, maybe, a king of 
 Scotland walked again in the lofty guest- 
 cliamber, and out on the terraces beautiful 
 higliborn lasses wandered — gentle, pensive 
 guots, who had here seen bright hours shuttle 
 in aiid out of life. 
 
 Tiic terraces Averc plcasanter to think of 
 than tlic dungeons. Often Jean had gone 
 below to look at them, not from any morbid 
 feeling, l)Ut because she knew the history of 
 many l)ravc, and some Jmes scandalous, men 
 who had lain in the,vO windowless, noisome 
 jilaces. She had lifted up the trap-door of 
 the grer.t draw-well, woniiering if it had ever 
 a tragedy also — had been the grave of some 
 adventurous and ludticky visitor. This idea 
 had also possessed Bruce in his younger days, 
 and he — for the Avell was narrow — had jHit 
 ;-. candle in his hat, and. with a slight rope 
 attached to his body, had climbed down, as 
 far as he coidd .go, and j)robed the water 
 ■with a lung stick, while Jean waited over- 
 lioad. And once, too, when a boy, his 
 father had put him in a dungeon for punish- 
 ment, and ho had (to frighten them when 
 they should come to look for him) actually 
 clinibeil cautiously down the sides of the 
 McU without rope or support of any kind ; 
 
 and when his father, after searching fruit- 
 lessly in great fear, had ascended from the 
 dungeons, he climbed up again and made a 
 great noise. Then they came rushing down, 
 but he was found sitting in the dungeon 
 singing ; and he never told them where he 
 had been. After a time they concluded that 
 he had discovered the great subterranean 
 passage M'hich was said to exist ; and though 
 he had not done so he was grateful for tho 
 idea, and did not rest until he had discovered 
 it ; and, fortimately, ho kept it secret, for, 
 after many years, it was to be of service to 
 him. He was a mailca|) lad, quick with his 
 hands and wits too, and Jean to-night, as she 
 stood looking down into the ilusk, remem- 
 bered the many happy days they had had 
 among the hills ; and though he was in great 
 danger and she was very sad, some wild 
 jmuik of his flashing across her mind caused 
 her to laugh outright. Her teeth showed 
 white and brilliant at lier red lips, and her 
 eyes were full of a finc-spiui Are, so that they 
 glowed flnely. 
 
 " Aye, aye, ye can lauch," grindy said 
 her father behind her, " but there'll be na 
 lauchin' for him ahint prison doors ; and I 
 gie ye my word as a man, if he comes here, 
 I'll hand him owcr. Little ho thocht o' 
 me, gamekeeper for the Karl, and livin' in 
 his castle, when he went scouring Cowrie 
 lands wi' liis gun ; for it nn"ght hae been mo 
 lyin' down in the town wi' a broken head 
 instead o' the ither. . . . But he'll no come 
 here. For I'm telt he's either got awa' across 
 tho hill, or is hidin' whaur that wastrel Brian 
 Kingley kens best : twa vagabonds that 'd 
 shame ony place that wasna passed ower to 
 tho shame o' Baljylon." 
 
 And the old man flercely puffed his pipe, 
 and Drought his hand down on the tidjle 
 beside him angrily. Jean wheeled at tho 
 window, and very slowly and indignantly 
 said : 
 
 " You speak words harsh and wicked too, 
 faither. Brian Kingley and Bruce Fordie are 
 no saints, as we a' ken, but no yin has ever 
 said that they ever did wilfu' malice tac man 
 or woman, or shamed ony but theirsels. 
 Doesn't cveryane ken, diinia ye ken, that the 
 keeper brocht on the fightin' wi' Bruce whan 
 there was nae need 1 An' whatna else is 
 there against him or Brian Kingley, that 
 isna foolish mair than wicked 1 " 
 
 " Oh, I ken weel eneuch," the old man 
 replied, lapsing, like tho Dominie, still fur- 
 ther into the provincialism of his shire ; 
 though, in general, his education was above 
 men of his class. He had been well schooled, 
 
 M*».'«_JV.St-i-k, 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 I- searching fruit- 
 sceiided from tho 
 igain and made a 
 nic rushing down, 
 in the dungeon 
 il them wliere he 
 cy conchided that 
 i-eat subterranean 
 exist ; and though 
 3 grateful for tho 
 he liad discovered 
 ej)L it secret, for, 
 ) bo of service to 
 id, quick with liis 
 an to-night, as she 
 the chisk, remem- 
 lys they had had 
 ^h lie was in great 
 ■ sail, some wild 
 s her mind caused 
 ler teeth showed 
 red lips, and her 
 II tire, so that they 
 
 ich," grimly said 
 
 )Ut there'll be na 
 
 son doors ; and I 
 
 if he comes here, 
 
 ttle he thocht o' 
 
 virl, and liviu' in 
 
 scouring Cowrie 
 
 light hao been mo 
 
 fi' a broken head 
 
 i3ut he'll no come 
 
 er got awa' across 
 
 lat wastrel Brian 
 
 ^abonds that 'd 
 
 passed ower to 
 
 la 
 
 puffed liis pipe, 
 
 in on the tid>le 
 
 Avlieeled at the 
 
 and indignantly 
 
 and wicked too, 
 
 15rucc Fordio arc 
 
 no yin has ever 
 
 u' malice tac man 
 
 ly but theirscls. 
 
 1/e ken, that the 
 ' wi' Bruce whan 
 
 whatna else is 
 n Kinglej-, that 
 
 1?" 
 
 the old man 
 ominic, still fur- 
 of his shire ; 
 ation was above 
 icn well schooled, 
 
 H 
 
 n 
 
 and in the first days of his married life 
 had lived in Edinburgh, where he had 
 married his wife, bringing her with Bruce 
 and Jean to Braithen again. " I ken weel 
 eneucli," he repeated ; " the Irish hae smooth 
 tongues, and this yin has juist talkit his fool- 
 taik i' yer lug, so that ye fa' doon and war- 
 ship him. But a wastrel he is and a wastrel 
 he'll be ; and ye'U ken o' that some day. Aye, 
 but ye needna look up so shairp at me ! Ye 
 hae the stifT-neckedness and temper o' ane 
 that went afore you." 
 
 " Ye 're speakin' o' my mither ! " answered 
 the girl, still keeping her place at the 
 window, her voice determined and more 
 than a little indignant. " Then, if that's sae, 
 though she was yer wife, you maun speak nae 
 more o' her tae me in that fashion. What my 
 mither was to me is mair than she could hae 
 been tae you, faither ! I ken ye wadna say 
 ill o' her, but, when ye're angry, as noo, you 
 hae a way o' sneerin'. There's no ane in the 
 glen o' the Shiel but speaks o' her as a gude 
 wife an' a fond mither, and if she tlidna 
 bend to yer will, faither, maybe it wasna 
 as ye v/ad hae't, but it wasna a sin, and it's 
 nac sin in me. For I'll think and act for 
 mysel' when I believe I'm richt." 
 
 John Fordie at heart liked this better than 
 unconditional submission, but he was not 
 going to acknowledge it immediately. He 
 blew a great cloud of smoke and replied 
 gruffly, but only with a half-pretended sin- 
 cerity : " Aye, that's the way ! There's nae 
 scriptures in the minds o' the young in Ihae 
 degenerate days. They dinna ken nor care 
 that the Bible says, ' Children, obey your 
 parents ; ' an' auld age is a thing to bo 
 heckled, and lads and lasses at eighteen ken 
 mair than their fathers at saxty." 
 
 "No, there ye're only half recht, faither," 
 the girl calmly rejilied ; " for, if the Bible 
 says, ' Children, obey your parents,' it says 
 as weel, ' Parents, provoke not your children 
 to wrath.' Can auM age claim mair respect 
 for itsel' than is due just to auld age ? Years 
 dinna aye make folks wise, else old Da\e 
 Howden wad ken mair than you, for he is 
 ninetj-, but he's like a feckless laddie." 
 
 " Oh, aye," the other retorted, with a grim 
 chuckle. " However, ye've yer mither's gift 
 o' the gab, and a bit reasonin' too, nane mair. 
 . . . And come hero, ma lass,' he added 
 with a rude kindness, "for ye're brave 
 eneuch to Hee in the face o' Black Fordie, as 
 they ca' him, and I'll no say but uccordin' to 
 your lichts ye're richt eneuch, but that's no 
 accordin' to my lichts. There's nae lass sae 
 clever this side o' Forth, and if you wadna 
 
 fash ycrsel' aboot yer raff o' a brither and 
 that Irishman, I'd think thcre'd be nane yer 
 ekal in a' Scotland : " and again ho brought 
 his fist down with a bang. 
 
 Jean slowly retreated from the window, 
 came over, and stood in front of her father. 
 But she did no more. 
 
 " Weel, hae you nocht to say 1 " he asked. 
 
 Besides the strange fact that she never had 
 a spontaneous affection for her father, — for 
 which there may be 8ho\vn good and sutH- 
 cient reasons, — she knew that he had not 
 yet softened towards Bruce. She stood 
 motionless, a little apart, and replied : " I've 
 naethin' mair to say than this, that there's 
 trouble upon us, and ye'd mak' that trouble 
 waur wi' yer hardness, faither. Weel, I'm 
 his sister, an' I canna show a' the love I wad 
 to you, gin ye'd do him scaith." 
 
 Her eyes swam with tears, but her lips 
 Avere firm. The old man suddenly rose, his 
 eyes flashing darkly, and his head shaking 
 back his shaggy black hair. He stretched 
 out his arm, and, gi-asping her shoulder, was 
 about to speak in a loud and angry voice, but 
 she looked him fearlessly in the eye with 
 such afl'ection, sorrow, and indignation 
 mingled, that his anger broke down, and he 
 laughed loudly. " Here's a lass that dares 
 Black Fordie tae his face, and cares nae mair 
 for the grip o' his haun than the Shiel for the 
 clip o' a salmon's tail. Had it been a hunner 
 years ago ye w\ad hae stude at the market 
 cross, afore a' the folk, for flytin' at yer ain 
 faither ; and you wad hao been ta'en ower the 
 coals at the kirk, and I'll no say but ye wad 
 hae deserved it a'." Here he laughed again 
 and looked haid at her. " She's no feard of 
 Black Fordie, .she's no feard of the kirk, and 
 she's no feard o' the Bible. . . . And that 
 comes o' the bulks she's read, and the com- 
 jiany she's kcepit, and o' foreigners wha 
 teach her the folly o' mad kintras, forbye." 
 
 "You mean Benoni, of course, faither," 
 the girl said gravely, yet with a new look in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Aye, auld Benoni. Ye listen tae him 
 and his tales. A vaugront, wi' rings in his 
 eai>, and a tousseled heed, an' a raree show ; 
 that if it wasna for his flute, and the jokes 
 he cracks, wouldna be worth his bite and sup 
 in ony cottage i' tho land, far less Cowrie 
 Castle. . . A puir feckless body," he added, 
 l)ecriiig at the girl as if to read exactly what 
 she thought. 
 
 " I ken ye dinna mean thao things ye say 
 about Benoni," she replied smiling. "And 
 ye'U no say them to his face, for, whan he 
 comes, ye sit and listen tac him and his Hute 
 
8 
 
 % 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 as glaid as mo and glaitlder. . . . An' why 
 shoulilna I listen tae him and like him ? 
 Ever since I was a wee lassie I've kent him 
 in and oot o' this place, as I wad 
 ken ane o' my am, showman 
 or no showman." 
 
 As if the old man 
 had quite forgotten 
 
 " Oroiigbt his hand down on the tabic beside him nngrily." 
 
 what he had previously .said, he adilcd, less 
 gruffly and a little abstractedly : " Ve'll 
 uiaybo see him the nicht, for the morn is 
 Beltiine." 
 
 Fordie suddenly calmed ami sat ; the girl 
 nodded in reply, and went over to the loom 
 anil began weaving. 
 
 For a long time nothing was heard save 
 the Hight of the shuttle and the creak of the 
 pedals ; and the figures of father and 
 daughter had large shadowy outlines in the 
 imperfect light. The room looked imprcg- 
 nably solitary. The very solidity of the 
 masonrj-, the absence of breaks of any kind 
 in *he wall, and the vaulted floors, gave it a 
 lonely and prison like a.spect, in which the 
 loom looked almost like an instrument of 
 
 torture, and the girl before it its beautiful 
 victim. 
 
 The btiilding, as we have said, had made 
 its impress on the man. He liad grown 
 granite-likj and sombre ; the girl it had made 
 more imaginative, independent, anu grave, 
 than her years, though her nature was 
 sanely cheerful. 
 
 Now and again as she worked she turned 
 to look at her father smoking in heavy 
 silence, or listened towards the window as if 
 —an impossible thing with those walls — to 
 catch a step from the courtyard. 
 
 The time was moving on to midnight. 
 Thoy were evidently waiting for someone. 
 The girl was weary, and the man was dozing 
 towards the fire, when there suddenly came 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 S( 
 
 fi 
 h 
 h 
 

 
 '*vl, 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 a faint roll of rat-tat-tats on the outer door 
 of the Castle, echoing and multiplying its 
 they palpitated up the vaulted staircase. 
 
 The girl sprang to her feet ; the man 
 graspetl the Imck of a chair beside him, and 
 listened before he rose. She jHcked up a 
 candle and ran towards the door of the room. 
 '■ Hark ye, Jean Fordie," .said the father 
 ilaikly, " if it be him that's broclit shame 
 upon us, tell him if he comes withiu thae 
 WIS or in my sicht, I'll gie him up.' 
 
 '• If it be my brither,' she leplied firmly 
 yet res])cctfully, " yell no gie him up. And 
 tlier'll be hidin' for him forbye, and a bit 
 fine the bread, and frae M'hat mair may be." 
 
 " If it be your brither ! " he cried aui^rily. 
 "///■/ hci/oiirh-ifhcr," he repeated in a.-trange 
 t(jne, " why, I'll P"t a word in your ear." 
 He paused, as if no had been about to say 
 ,'^omething which had been checked in time. 
 " Well, but gac yo>u- ain way, and reruL-niber, 
 whato'er conies, that I gae you warning." 
 
 " Do not rail, and say what you'll repent. 
 Its mair like to be Benoni tliau my bri- 
 ther." 
 
 Again the sounds blundered up the stairs, 
 and the girl mu thiough into the darkness, 
 and down to the outer door. She did not 
 ask who was there, but shot back the clang- 
 ing bolts, dropt the chain, and swung the 
 massive panel open. She was about to lift 
 the candle above her head to see who it was, 
 but a figiue swiftly entered, and taking the 
 oak from her hand jtushed it to with a 
 jovial force, the sounds boisterously repeat- 
 ing themselves above and l)elow , and then a 
 brusipie but most pleasant voice said : 
 
 " Well, Jeanie, the old man comes, you 
 seo, against Beltane on the morrow. But 'tis 
 a grim welcome you give with a dazetl face 
 and never a word from your lips, my dear." 
 
 " It's you, Benoni," she responded, " it's 
 you ! " 
 
 "Yes: whom did you expect T' His 
 
 Wv 
 
 it its beautiful 
 
 e 
 
 aiu, had mado 
 had grown 
 irl it had made 
 nt, anil grave, 
 r nature was 
 
 vcd she turned 
 ing in heavy 
 e window as if 
 lose walls — to 
 d. 
 
 to midnight. 
 
 for someone, 
 lan was dozing 
 suddenly came 
 
 r 
 
 
 "Good-Uny to you, sir— Adventurer.' 
 
 accent was little like either a foreigner or , 
 a showman. It was not the vocj of a ; 
 gentleman, yet it had the ring of sclf-pos- 
 session, knowledge, and a certain natural 
 finene-s, through which merest traces of a 
 luunljle origin showed. . . . He dropt his 
 hand ever so gentlj' on her shoulder, and his I 
 
 voice took a softer key, yt not too serious, 
 as he contiimed : " IVrhaps you expected 
 the lad that's been playing too hard and too 
 long these days, and is giving the law a 
 cha^)?" 
 
 " IIoo did you ken, Benoni 1 " she asked. 
 
 " How did I know 1 You must go to tra- 
 
10 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOPu 
 
 : t 
 
 vcllers for news, Jcanio. I know that and a 
 deal more, lass," 
 
 " Oh, tell me, hac ye seen him 1 " she cried 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I know where he is," was the reply, "and 
 he's safe enough for the moment, and out of 
 the country he'll be soon, I hope. For t!io 
 lad's but a mad callant, with no real harm in 
 him, and he that got his head broke brought 
 it on himself." 
 
 By this time they were ascending the 
 staircase. " Oh," the girl said anxiously, " I 
 wish you could make my father think that." 
 
 The man wheeled upon her gently, a sin- 
 gular look in his face. " He — does — think 
 it," was the slow reply. 
 
 " Na, na," she urged, " he's bitter an' hard 
 an' wad gie him up." 
 
 "John Fordie would give him up," re- 
 joined the old man, " but he shall not, 
 and he shall change his tune this night, 
 maybe." They were now at the top of the 
 staircase. The oltl man tapped her hand 
 gently with his fingers, delicate as a woman's, 
 as delicate as hers almost, and not unlike 
 them in sliape, — which the girl herself had 
 once noted — and said : " Your heart's in the 
 right place, lassie. It's right, always right. 
 And don't be afraid, for there's many a way 
 out of the woods, if the axe be free in the 
 hand, and the heart and will are strong." 
 
 She looked great thankfulness at him. " I 
 ken you will and can dae something for 
 Bruce," she whispered. "Ye're wonderfu', 
 wonderf u' ! " 
 
 Then thcj' entered the room. Fordie 
 stood M-here Jean had left him, his pipe still 
 poised, his brow glowering, his face set and 
 hard. When he saw who it was he said 
 bluffly : " It's you, is it, Benoni 1 It's you 
 that comes like a gliaist i' the nicht — " 
 
 " With a rarce show on my back and an 
 empty stomach, and ready to bandy a word 
 with you, Black Fordie ; for it's six months 
 since I crossed the doorstonc of Cowrie, or 
 clapped a hand in greeting, and there's ni}' 
 fist as fair to you and yours as it's been these 
 many years." 
 
 The gamekeeper towered over the little 
 man heavily, but the lattoi' straightened him- 
 self, never a bit daunted by his timid height. 
 Then Fordie said : " I kenned ye'd come ; 
 foi- whaur the carcases o' Beltane are the 
 Italian eagle hac his hour But 'tis a bad 
 hour for the lass and me, as you may ken." 
 
 Benoni's eyes followed Jean about the 
 room, as she prepared him some supper. 
 After a slight pause he replied : " I do not 
 know that times are so bad that you need 
 
 glower like that. Black Fordie. For it's 
 Bruce you're tliinking on, I suppose. Bo 
 not so fierce nor downcast, for the lad 
 has friends, and the M-oilil is wide, — mighty 
 wide I can tell you, I that's travelled it 
 round and round, now here, now there, with 
 a bullet in my leg at Aboukir, a sabre across 
 the arms at Saratoga in the land where the 
 red niggers are, a dig in the ribs in the 
 South Seas from the J:ris of a Malay, and a 
 nasty bruise in Egypt. I toll you. Black 
 Fordie, you're dour over the lad's mishap ; 
 for it's more mishap than mischief. The 
 world has millions not so good as he, as he'll 
 prove to a trick some daj'." 
 
 Tiie little man stretched his legs before 
 the fire, and shook his head in emj)hasis, so 
 that the gold rings in his ears clinked, and 
 his brown hair tossed on his bronzed fore- 
 head. Fordie sat down by the table, and 
 looked hard at the other, but answered never 
 a word : which seeing, Benoni continued : 
 " Mighty wide, as I said, is the world ; and 
 there's chances for him, if he gets clear of 
 the harriers— thousands of chances beyond, 
 better than half-starving here or getting a 
 iiasty wind broadside, as ho swings towards 
 the trough of misfortune. . . . Didn't I see 
 at Halzie, a few days gone, one from London 
 town, carryiii , with him a pleasant invitation 
 to a handful of brave adventurous Scot lads, 
 from a great company that owns land in 
 British America, given them by Charles 
 Stuart ? And that man's to be here in 
 Braithen, by my invitation. And what 
 he ofTers is Avhat I'd take myself, with a 
 merry heart, if I was forty years younger. 
 For, oflT there, if it's fighting you want, you 
 can get thousands of Indians glad of the 
 chance, and there's millions of boasts and 
 birds free to your gun and your pot, and 
 fish without number. Then, if it's company, 
 there are the gay lads bj' river and forest, — 
 /fts" bons roya<jeu,:<, they call them, with their 
 pipes and their song; and Papists though 
 they be, as fine a lot of comrades as ever ran 
 water or land ; — well, there's the country for 
 the M'ild lads and the idle lads that their 
 fathers deny and the lasses love. ' 
 
 The old man paused and began to hum 
 the chorus of one of the oldest and best- 
 loved songs of the twjar/ciir.'^, picked up by 
 him when in Quebec years before : — 
 
 " Siir la fcuillo ron-Jon-ilon-Juii, 
 Sur la juli' joli' Icuille rondo." 
 
 He had tidked much, but not out of sheer 
 garrulousnoss. He did not wish to give 
 Fordie immediate chances for reply, and he 
 also wished to convey to Jean's mind some 
 
 --«.jp>. „ 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 11 
 
 arJio. For it's 
 I suppose. Bo 
 St, for the lad 
 3 Avido, — mighty 
 at's travelled it 
 now there, with 
 r, a sabre across 
 ! land where the 
 the ribs in the 
 a ^lalaj', and a 
 tell you, Black 
 e lad's mishap ; 
 mischief. The 
 )d as he, as he'll 
 
 his legs before 
 . in emphasis, so 
 ars clinked, and 
 is bronzed fore- 
 • the table, and 
 . answered never 
 loni continued : 
 the world ; and 
 le gets clear of 
 chances beyond, 
 re or getting a 
 swings towards 
 . . Didn't I see 
 lie from London 
 3asant invitation 
 urous Scot lads, 
 t 
 
 owns land in 
 
 ;m by Charles 
 
 to be here in 
 
 And what 
 
 mj'self, witli a 
 
 years younger. 
 
 you want, j-ou 
 
 ns glad of the 
 
 of beasts and 
 
 ycur pot, and 
 
 if it's companj', 
 
 !r and forest, — 
 
 lem, with their 
 
 Papists though 
 
 dcs as ever lan 
 
 the country for 
 
 ads that their 
 
 vc." 
 
 logan to hum 
 est and best- 
 picked up by 
 ore : — 
 
 ot out of sheer 
 wish to give 
 reply, and ho 
 's mind some 
 
 fresh comfort and assurance that her brother 
 had friend on the watch to serve him. 
 She liad cauglit at his purpose, and as she 
 made his supper ready she threw a glance or 
 two of exceeding gratitude to him. With 
 him there she seemed a different being ; the 
 painful but beautiful energy of her will 
 seemed relaxed; she was a young girl again; 
 and an amber light, pensively cheerful, floated 
 from her eyes. Benoni, quite unacknow- 
 ledged to herself, took a place almost higher 
 in her affections than her father — Benoni, 
 the common showman, the flute-player, the 
 vagrom man. 
 
 Fordie had remained passive but yet stern. 
 At last he said: "Ye put a fair face on a bad 
 deed, man. I'll nae talk o' the matter the 
 noo, for my mind is made up, and it'll hae 
 no change, whate'er you ken or say. A man 
 that poaches, and bludgeons a gamekeeper's 
 heid is nae son o' mine. I've passed my 
 word, and I'll no leave it." 
 
 "And you'll no leave it," remarked the 
 other musingly. Then he flashed an in- 
 scrutable look at the other and continued : 
 " You'll leave it some day. Black Fordie, as 
 I've seen many another do, that had as liaLe- 
 ful a pride and strong a will. But we'll not 
 quarrel about it now, for there's supper that 
 the best lass in the world has made the 
 sweetest in the land." And ho rose. 
 
 "Aj'," responded the other less grimly, 
 " draw near. The liquor stands waiting, and 
 I'm ready to crack a gossip wi' je." 
 
 Presently, by Benoni's tact, the two men 
 grew warm over talk and tale of the country- 
 side, and of places that Benoni had visited 
 during the past six months ; and then again 
 merged into memories of distant years, par- 
 ticipated in by Fordie a little sombrely, by 
 Benoni very cheerfully. From which it may 
 be gathered that Benoni was not an Italian 
 at all. He was indeed of English birth, but 
 had spent his early year^ "i Scotland. What 
 these early years were i..vO no one in the 
 Shicl Valley except John Fordie knew ; and 
 they were never spoken of auy.vhere save 
 in Cowrie Castle. There was, as may be 
 guessed, a secret between these two men ; 
 but what it was may, perhaps, be told in its 
 bareness later. It was suflicient, however, 
 to make the men friends ; and though 
 Fordie spoke disrespectfully and petulantly 
 of Benoni to Jean occasionally, the girl knew 
 he did not mean it. But it had appeared to 
 an acute observer that Fordie fretted a little 
 under some clause in the pact of their 
 friendship. 
 
 No one south of the Forth knew absolutely 
 
 that Benoni was not what he represented 
 himself. He had been successfully merged 
 into Benoni the Italian showman and flute- 
 player. Ho could speak Italian, and it was 
 not strange that, after a great n.any years in 
 Britain, he should speak English. But these 
 are a few facts of his history :^After a cer- 
 t'iin trouble had come suddenly upon him, 
 ho had gone to London and had sunk into 
 great poverty. There he met one Benoni, a 
 raree showman, and was befriended b}' him. 
 Afterwards he befriended the other, and 
 nursed him in his death sickness. When 
 Benoni died, for immediate means of liveli- 
 hood he possessed himself of the Italian's 
 show, and to make it more convincing dressed 
 himself in the dead man's clothes, put rings 
 in his ears, and because thov were of the 
 same height and somewhat alike in feature, 
 he was able to carry on the harmless impos- 
 ture. It grew to be a reality ; Benoni was, 
 as it were, re-incarnated ; it was Solnics the 
 Englishman that was dead, Benoni the Italian 
 lived. 
 
 He had an abundant humour, a warm heart 
 and a bronzed skin ; ho was generous to the 
 poor and to the young ; his show was the 
 best that ever came north over the Border, 
 and ho played the flute with an astonishing 
 skill. Next to his presence at Beltane Fair, 
 his flute was most desired and admired ; 
 especially when his services were asked by 
 people (who dreaded not the wrath of the 
 minister) for a dance on the green, or in the 
 Rob Roy inn, — the latter, a most notable 
 function in the history of Braithen. 
 
 If there was one thing Black Fordie 
 admired more than another it was Benoni's 
 flute ; for, well as the i)iper of Braithen 
 played, he was as nothing beside this pseudo- 
 Italian who had sucked up the airs of many 
 lands, and loved to turn them out with his 
 own variations, threading them with the 
 hearty honest vein of a Briton's heart. 
 Benoni's words sometimes struck Fordie 
 with a raw plainness ; he was even afraid 
 of the tongue that had got its game of ex- 
 pression from being tempered on many 
 anvils ; but his flute never gave out any but 
 the most delightful music. It could be as 
 strong as the bagpipes and not as strident, 
 and as soft as the harp Avith a hundred times 
 its softness. 
 
 Sometimes Benoni must be urged to play, 
 for ho was subject to impulses ; but to-night 
 he needed no solicitation. 
 
 As the men talked Jean had listened long, 
 but at last got up, and went over again 
 to the window, and looked down into the 
 
13 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 / 
 
 : ( 
 
 courtyard ; for, try as she would, she kept 
 thinking abotit Briico and his danger ; and 
 siu! woukl not have boon surprised to sec 
 him or feel him looking up at her from the 
 stones below. She looked down. She could 
 see nothing ; yet she felt something, she 
 knew not what, it was so vague. It was 
 Andrew Venlaw. She had looked down 
 into his eyes, not seeing them. 
 
 Venlaw, knowing of Jlruce's peril, and, for 
 her sake, troubling himself about it, had in 
 a purjjosclcss kind of way come out to the 
 Castle, as though in some undefined fashion he 
 might be able to help her or her brother; and, 
 periiaps, get a glimpse of her. He had ]»een 
 over in the hills or he would have come before. 
 He could not call to-night, it was so late ; but 
 to be near where she lived was a comfort to 
 him. His lover-like sincerity, though some 
 might call it foolishness, was rewarded. As 
 he stood in the open entrance-gate, one hand 
 resting on the ancient masonry and his face 
 upturned to the lighted window, Jean ap- 
 peareil before it and looked straight doAvn 
 into the dusk where he stood. It was strange 
 to feel the light of her eyes piercing the dark, 
 piercing him, making his heart tremble for 
 joy. Her figure was darkly outlined against 
 the imperfect light behind her ; it seemed to 
 have an atmosphere of its own, stich as so 
 beautifully surror.nds a planet. Only, with 
 her, the atmosphere was lighter than herself 
 — a kind of golden haze which seemed to jtass 
 from her person and softly fade into the dim 
 air around hor. 
 
 She stood there for a few minutes, and he 
 never stirred save to take off his cap with a 
 grave gallantry, as if he were in her absolute 
 presence. 
 
 At last he said to her, though scarcely 
 above a whisper, which of course she could not 
 hear, — " For such as you, as the writer says, 
 the world were well lost, for it'd bring some- 
 thing l)etter. And as for death, it woiddn't 
 be so hard to sufi'er for one that's like the 
 Howcrs I gathered for you when you were a 
 lassie. Even the wicked can die well where 
 they love well, I'm thinking." 
 
 It was at this moment that Benoni lifted 
 his flute and, putting it together, drew from 
 it a sound as true and soft as the note of a 
 divine singer, a full persuasive tone that 
 crept into one's soul, and went swimming 
 gentl}', royall}', through it. At this Jean 
 turned quickly and sat down by the firc- 
 
 ()lace, and so left Andrew in the ilark. But 
 le, catching the music faintly, crept over to 
 the hard walls, until he stood beneath the 
 window, through which it came, though dis- 
 
 tantly. The air was familiar and yet all was 
 unfamiliar and uncommon. 
 
 Fordic sat blowing clouds of smoko about 
 his sombre face, but not stirring hand or 
 foot ; a statue brooding and passive if not 
 complacent. Jean's face was rapt. Benoni 
 j)layed as if ho were Amphion causing the 
 stones of Thebes to rear and cement them- 
 selves together upon massive walls; as though, 
 indeed, he could bid these walls of Cowrie, 
 in their immense thickness, to crumble and 
 scatter upon the earth. 
 
 The candle burned to its socket and ho 
 played on. 
 
 The fire at last sank to glowing ashes, and 
 the faces of the three were in gloom ; but 
 still they sat there, and still the music 
 throbbed about them. It was dark every- 
 where ; but the melody pierced the night, and 
 it had seemed that in tiiat Castle and in all 
 Scotland there was nothing but joy. Yet, 
 not very far away, two men sat together iu 
 a hut which they had crept to in the dark, 
 and one said to the other : " Bruce, me boy, 
 out of this you'll have to cut somewhere to- 
 morrow. The break must bo made. For 
 I'm certain when yon and I and Benoni were 
 talking to day beyond, some one heard us. 
 The flyin' footstej) was there as sure as guns, 
 nnd, bedad ! I thought I caught, too, the 
 flicker of a woman's petticoat, ))ad 'cess to it ! 
 Anyhow they're after you hot-foot, and 
 hiding-places are few. Ynu nmst make a 
 run for the coast, me boy. ' 
 
 The other laughed a little sardonically and 
 replied : " Brian, lad, I tell you I'll hide at 
 the Castle ; for as I said l)cfore I ken a way 
 there, kenned by nane else : tlie old subter- 
 ranean passage ; and once inside the place 
 I'll be safe eneuch for a day or so, or longer 
 if need lie." 
 
 " Why not make a bold break straight for 
 the Castle, now, and never mind the pas- 
 sage ?" 
 
 "You forget that father wouldn't let me 
 in, and besides I warrant the place is watched 
 close eneuch." 
 
 "Bight you arc, me darliu', the place is 
 watched I doubt not. Well, if it's the pas- 
 sage under ground, luck be with you ! And, 
 as I said, I'll join you at Cowrie, goin' myself 
 by the open road. If you once get clear and 
 your foot over the wall of the soa, you'll be 
 right enough again, and Heaven send that, 
 say I." 
 
 Ih'uco's suspicions were right, for, as An- 
 drew Venlaw stood by the wall, he heard a 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 13 
 
 ind }ct all was 
 
 f smoko aboufe 
 irrinf; hand or 
 passive if not 
 rapt. Benoni 
 311 causing the 
 I cement them- 
 alls; as though, 
 ^lls of Cowrie, 
 crumble and 
 
 socket and ho 
 
 iving ashes, and 
 in gloom ; but 
 till the music 
 iis (lark every- 
 il the night, and 
 astlo and in all 
 
 but joy. Yet, 
 Silt together iu 
 to in the dark, 
 IJruce, me boy, 
 t somewhere to- 
 ba made. For 
 U(l Benoni were 
 
 one heard us. 
 
 as sure as guns, 
 
 aught, too, the 
 
 , l)ii(l 'cess to it ! 
 
 Iiot-foot, and 
 
 must make a 
 
 irdonically and 
 ou I'll hide at 
 ire I ken a way 
 tiie olil subter- 
 iside the place 
 or so, or longer 
 
 eak straight for 
 mind the pas- 
 
 V 
 
 nuMn't let me 
 ace is watched 
 
 the place is 
 if it's the pas- 
 ith you ! And, 
 ic, goin' myself 
 ?c get clear and 
 e sea, you'll be 
 vcn send that, 
 
 ;ht, for, as An- 
 al!, he heard a 
 
 step creeping near, and swinging round he 
 faced an offi.et, who had suspected him to 
 be Bruce. 
 
 In the Castle the old man was still play- 
 ing ; but the notes were faint, and delicately 
 distant. 
 
 CHAPTER II. — AT BELTANE FAIR. 
 
 As the Dominie, flirting a pinch of snuff 
 at his nose, said — it was a handsome ilay. 
 From the ancient fort or. Margaret's Brae it 
 lilted down upon Braithen ; it blew gaily 
 to the Shiel from Glaishen Water ; it idled 
 out from the glen of the Weddiners noi)e; it 
 spun blithely about High Street in the royal 
 burgh ; and it bounded proudly on the fair 
 ground, where the countryside was gathered 
 — hinds and shejdierds, craftsmen and far- 
 mers, bonnet-lairtls, and lasses, from every 
 hamlet in the valley and beyond. A bailie 
 showed his portly form here, and the provost, 
 as became him, loomed, mightily patronising, 
 among the merrymakers. Even a few gentry 
 were present, riding through the manneily 
 crowd, answering salutes respectful but not 
 obsequious, chatting with each other, and 
 complacently regarding the scene. From all 
 directions clacking carts were arriving, and 
 a heavy coach or two from Edinb'ro way 
 brought visitors. There was plenty of colour, 
 and an amazing heartiness in all. Booths 
 and showmen and i)ipcrs were there aplenty, 
 and also all sorts of athletes — wrestlers, put- 
 ters of the stone, runners, and champions of 
 short-swords, end fantastic gentlemen who 
 played harlequin ; but the greatest share of 
 interest was centred at a point where Benoni, 
 in his Italian costume, conducting his raree- 
 show, threw bits of gingerbread among the 
 lads scrambling about him. It was not a 
 stately figure, but it had an air of confidence, 
 of singularity, and character ; and was, on the 
 whole, impressive. The velvet of his jacket 
 was old, but it was beautifully clean : his 
 cape, neatly hung upon the frame\vork of the 
 show itself, was well-made, and he boasted a 
 very respectable pair of stockings upon a pair 
 of calves which a younger and a taller man 
 might have been proud to possess. And as 
 for his show, every ring, and bit of metal, 
 and the wood itself, was beautifully polished. 
 
 Benoni looked shrewdly but kindly out 
 ui)on the lads and the crowd at large; a look, 
 indeed, which signified measurement, mas- 
 tery, and, maybe, a genial sort of contempt : 
 as who does not feel it that has travelled, 
 seen, gathered, and known how like sheep 
 human beings mostly are ? Yet there was in 
 
 him that perfect humour, which is God's salt 
 to nature, lest man shouUl take himself or his 
 little world too seriously. So hero and there 
 he dropt a ])hraso of comment upon men and 
 things about him, now in French, now Spanish, 
 now Polynesian, and very frequently in broad 
 Scotch ; the last for his listeners, the others for 
 his own pleasure — for he had a trick of talking 
 to himself. He enjoyed the mystification of 
 those who speculated regarding him, not so 
 many now as formerly. Though he chatted 
 to the idlers about him, and lightly diil his 
 professional duties, an acute oltserver wouhl 
 liave noticed that he was watching the out- 
 skirts of the crowd and the new arrivals, as 
 if expecting some one. His mind was pre- 
 occupied, though he never failed in the point 
 of his immediate remarks. 
 
 Presently a fresh horseman appeared on 
 the ground. He had apparently ridden hard. 
 He sat for some time looking at the crowd 
 indolently. His glances rested chiefly on the 
 young men, and not on the young women, as 
 might be expected of one yet to travel the 
 downward incline of years. He presently fixed 
 hisej'es upon a stalwartdark-feat\ire<l young 
 man, standing not far from him. This young 
 man, Andrew Venlaw, wao himself scanning 
 the crowd as if searching for somebody. All 
 at once the rider saw Benoni, and said aloud, 
 though to none but himself, — "Ah, my friend 
 of the many languages — the wonderful pan- 
 taloon ! So he has kejjt his word, and I've 
 kept mine with him. A marvellous partner- 
 sli' truly, Mr. Ashley Moore; but I owe 
 him something, and he can help me here too." 
 So ruminating he pushed through the people 
 slowly to the showman, raising his hat to 
 those he discommoded. He came within 
 arm's length of Benoni. " Well, signor," he 
 said, " we meet again. Salutations to you ! " 
 The voice had a ring of heartiness. 
 
 "Good-day to you, sir — Adventurer," said 
 Benoni softly and humorously, casting up 
 his eyes and taking the outstretched hand 
 of the other ; " either I've walked hard, or 
 you've dawdled by the way.' 
 
 "You've mastered our speech fairly, signor; 
 — ilainlU'd is an unusual word in a foreigner's 
 mouth. Still I tlawdled, as you say. But 
 I'll not keep you from your fortune-making ; 
 this is your golden hive. Your — how should 
 I say it in classic term ?" 
 
 " Would ariston mctron help you 1" said the 
 other slyly. 
 
 The rider raised his liands in astonish- 
 ment, not all mockery. " Greek too, signor t 
 Indeed, we're getting on." 
 
 " If you've a word for my ear as I have 
 

 A 
 
 14 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOK. 
 
 ^1 
 
 ri 
 
 for yours," said Uenoiii, lowering hig voice ; 
 " there's no reason why wo shouM not set 
 the line spinning now, ami reel it in at a 
 more •convenient hour, I know what you 
 want — a small handful of men of courage 
 and endurance, to complete the list of tho.so 
 going with yf>u to the business (»f the great 
 Company of Adveriturers in the New World." 
 
 " You have it i>at, sigiior. 'Tis not 
 every man I want will come, nor every man 
 that'll come I want. Thi.s enterprise we are 
 piishing now needs men of girth and suh- 
 stancc — body and will ; — for the mind, 
 that's not so great a matter. Now. see that 
 strapping yo\ith over there ; he looks likely 
 enough ; ho has a reach of arm, an invin- 
 cible kind of body, and a massive chin that 
 holds itself well : that's the kind of man for 
 me, and for the Company too, who call for 
 good Scotsmen before all others. For, once 
 out in the wilds, on the neck of the earth as 
 the Hudson Bay country is, whoever go can- 
 not turn back ; and either become good sol- 
 diers, and trappers, and clerks, and factors, 
 or are our curses, alienating tho tribes, trad- 
 ing stealthily for themselves, and flying the 
 brave flag of the H. B. C. on a dirty Avind. 
 And there's the truth for you, signor. Now, 
 what about yonder buck ?" 
 
 " He is what you want and a deal more, 
 sir, but I doubt that you get Andrew Venlaw 
 to go with you. He's a very skilful and 
 learned and ambitious lad, and looks for 
 better — and deserves better — work to his 
 hand than the Arctic regions give.'* 
 
 " Oh, is he then so skilful and learned and 
 ambitious ? Then look out, Signor Showman ! 
 for such men come into unusual trouble with 
 themselves. I doubt not this same paragon 
 of yours would be glad enough one day, in 
 the sourness and disappointment of his heart, 
 to join our ranks ; but then it will be too 
 late. However, I like his looks uncommon 
 well — so well he should be advanced quickly 
 if he'd come — and I'll have m}'^ say with him 
 whether or no. For you never can guess 
 what's behind a big serious face like that. 
 There arc still Avomcn in the woild, and 
 where women are masters men are fools." 
 And the rider tossed his horse's mane lightly' 
 M'ith his hand. 
 
 " One would think you were the old Domi- 
 nic, speaking so about women ; but I'll still 
 be of the oi)inion that men are the better 
 when women are masters, and know how to 
 rule." 
 
 The showman paused. He looked hard at 
 Venlaw, and his mind was full of the scheme 
 tho lad cherished regarding Jean — a scheme 
 
 of which he himself thought well. Presently 
 he continued, — 
 
 "Just wait a minute till I clinch the eyes 
 of these lads on my show and take their baw- 
 bees. I've one word more for you to think 
 (in Ix'fore we meet again (I hope) this even- 
 ing. And, while I think of it, I beg you not 
 to go to the Kob Koy inn. It will l)e over- 
 crowdiid. But you'll find good fare at the 
 little Salmon's Head there just at the nose 
 of the bridge. 1 have told them you were 
 like to come. And now this : I can put you 
 on the track of one and maybe two proper 
 fellows, as I hinteil days ago : but I caution 
 you they're not quite of those whom the Kirk 
 blesses, iKjr on whom it thrives. One is ii 
 gentleman come to nought through extra- 
 vagance and wildncss, but a man of heart 
 and courage ; tho other, Avith too great a 
 taste for adventure in a country of h'mited 
 freedom, swung his gun shoulderwards at 
 forbidden game, and then cracked the head 
 of a gamekeeper. But he's a lad worth all 
 sorts of trouble, and has sound things in him, 
 I know." 
 
 The rider thought a minute, and then re- 
 sponded, — 
 
 "You glozo tho matter, I see, but what 
 has happened to these men, if they are of tho 
 right sort, I promise you shall not influence 
 me against them. For I believe in no man, 
 good or evil, until I have levelled an eye on 
 him, and measured him myself, according to 
 the measure of the H. B. C. And, indeed, 
 I owe you something for a week ago, for I 
 should have been sleeping coldly in that bog 
 at this minute Avero it not for you. I'll do what 
 I can for these men as f i eely as you toss your 
 gingerbread among tho lads there, if I can." 
 
 In a Avord or two they arranged to meet in 
 the OA'oning at the Salmon's Head, and then 
 the rider, or Mr. Ashley Moore, as he had 
 called himself, nodding pleasantly, moved 
 aAvay through the croAv-d. 
 
 Tliis conversation had been carried on 
 under considerable diflicnltics, for the show- 
 man had all the time attended to his duties, 
 calling out also to the croAvd noAV and then 
 in the interstices of their talk, Avhich Avas 
 carried on in French, Avlien there appeared to 
 bo inquisitive listeners. Now Benoni said, 
 somcAvhat gravely and sadly to himself as tho 
 other left him, — " He wondered about the 
 Greek ! Tho little bits left from that year— 
 that year ! " And straightway he Avent on 
 Avith his shoAvman's Avork, but keeping an 
 eye to the rider, and still Avatching for some 
 one else expecteil. 
 
 The rider came up to VenlaAV, and said 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 15 
 
 ill. Prcacntly 
 
 inch tho eyes 
 ^kc tlicir biiw- 
 you to tliink 
 |)c) this cvcn- 
 I Ik'u' you not. 
 will be ovfi- 
 (1 faro at the 
 it at the noso 
 icin you were 
 I can put jou 
 >e two proper 
 but I caution 
 horn the Kii k 
 Bs. One is a 
 irough extra- 
 man of heart 
 too great a 
 try of limited 
 ilderwards at 
 eked the head 
 lad worth all 
 things in him, 
 
 , and then re- 
 see, but what 
 ;hey are of tho 
 1 not influence 
 ve in no man, 
 led an eye on 
 , according to 
 And, indeed, 
 ek ago, for I 
 y in that bog 
 I'll do what 
 you toss your 
 re, if I can." 
 ed to meet in 
 ad, and then 
 c, as he had 
 ntly, moved 
 
 carried on 
 r the show- 
 to his duties, 
 low and then 
 , which was 
 appeared to 
 iBciioiii said, 
 iiniself as tho 
 Id about tho 
 that year — 
 he went on 
 keeping an 
 ling for some 
 
 Lw, and said 
 
 1 
 
 fdeasantly, — "Good-day to you, Mr. Ven- 
 aw." 
 
 Andrew looked up slowly, for he had been 
 thinking hard, and responded, scrutinising 
 resiMjctfulIy tho other's face, — " Good-day to 
 you, sir, but I don't remember your face." 
 
 "That is probible, but there's no reason 
 why you should not know it and me too in 
 the future ; for I hope we may become better 
 acquainted." 
 
 "As to that," said Andrew, drawing him- 
 self up a little, " I cannot say, for I do not 
 know what you have in your mind on which 
 to build an acquaintance." 
 
 "None other than our mutual benefit ; for, 
 listen, Andrew Vcnlaw, I know tho stuH' 
 that's in you, — if you will pardon nic for .say- 
 ing so — and I know your reputation. Men 
 speak well of you, and, as I judge, rightly 
 so. I have come uj) here from London look- 
 ing for staunch, able, — ambitious, — Scotsmen 
 to do men's work in God's country. "Well, my 
 friend, Signor Benoni, gave me your name 
 and more besides to your credit. And .so, 
 Mr. Venlaw, if you've a mind open to receive 
 good things, I'll pour thcni into it with a 
 will." 
 
 Andrew again looked tho other up and 
 down respectfully, and, as if satisfied with 
 his inquisition, glanced over towards Benoni, 
 then back again to his interlocutor, and 
 graveJy responded : " I doubt not you are act- 
 ing for the Hudson's Bay Company of which 
 I have read, and you want men to become 
 their servants and " 
 
 "And their officers and to rule," inter- 
 posed tho other oracularly. "To trade like 
 honest adventurers ; to gain money for them- 
 selves and the company ; to fight if need 
 be ; to live a life of activity, courage, and in- 
 dustry ; to make a country — the ploasantest, 
 noblest privilege of man." 
 
 "You put it bravely, sir," said Andrew, 
 his eyes lighting at the vigour and art of the 
 other's words, " but I fear you and I can do 
 no business; for I must stay in Scotland, 
 which is quite large enough for me — and 
 God's country too, as I think. And I thank 
 you kindly, but we can get nothing by t ilk 
 with each other, and I beg you, sir, excuse 
 me." And raising his cap, he turned away 
 briskly. The last words were spoken hur- 
 riedly. The other's eyes followeil him until 
 he joined Jean Fofvlie, whom he had seen 
 near them just towanls the close of the con- 
 versation. 
 
 At this, Mr. Mooro, nodding to himself, 
 said, satirically : " So, there's the spring of his 
 loyitlty to Scotland. Well, for such as she 
 
 appears I can blame him little ; though I 
 iloubt, with a terrible doultt, f ,om the way 
 she meets him, that there's joy on the wing 
 for him there. Better for him if ho made 
 success his mistress, instead. For if there's 
 a thing that's like unequal war in the teeth 
 of a man, it is a woman that's got no heart 
 for him, while he's full of love to the eyes 
 for her ; or one that oughtn't to care for him, 
 and does ; or, wor.se than all, one that's 
 wicked — the millstone rouiul the neck of :i 
 mortal. Well, well, we shall sec what we 
 shall see ! " 
 
 And so saying, ho rode away out of tho fair 
 groiuid, up into High Street, and down past 
 the market-cross to the Salmon's Head, where 
 he gave his horse to an ostler, and ordered 
 breakfast ; for, late in the day as it was, ho 
 had not yet eaten. 
 
 Benoni watched closely tho meeting of 
 Andrew and Jean, and commented upon it to 
 himself ; while, at the same time, he amused 
 the people about him by his chaff" and playful 
 satire. " Xo, Andrew, ' he said beneath his 
 breath, " I fear there's no luck for you there 
 — and that's a wonderful pity, for I'll give 
 my right hand to see it. You're a tine hand- 
 some fellow and she'll travel far in the worUl 
 ere she does better ; but you can no more 
 match human beings than you can the birds 
 or tho fishes ; tho human heart is a kittle 
 thiiig,and women are kittle cattle . . . kittle 
 cattle," and he shook his head very gravely 
 at an astonished lad who was ofiicring him a 
 farthing for gingerbread. " She has an eye 
 — and that's not a business I like — for that 
 mad gentleman, Brian Kingley ; and the end 
 is not easy to see. But he'll be off, I hope, to 
 America soon, and she'll forget him. He 
 cares nothing for her, I'm bound, and that's 
 better for her, tlcar lass." 
 
 Jean's eyes were not for Andrew this morn- 
 ing ; but he did not see that clearly, for 
 women — even the best — do not show their 
 minds with absolute plainness at all times. 
 She had come to the fair, chiefly at Benoni's 
 request ; for he had urged u})on her father 
 and herself the wisdom of the action ; so 
 giving colour to a growing supl>o^^ition that 
 Bruce had escai)ed to the coast. It was upon 
 tho same basis that Benoni had asked Brian 
 to come ; for tho opinion was also abroad, 
 that he knew accurately the whereabouts of 
 the hunted youth. The general feeling was, 
 perhaps, in favour of Brnce's escajjc, especi- 
 ally since it was now believed the gamekeeper 
 woidd live ; but, nevertheless, there was no 
 diminution in the vigilance and activity of 
 tho officers of the law, who were aided in the 
 
16 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 Ml 
 
 search by a company of solditM-s, {^arrisonod 
 in the place at tlio time, and commi.ssione(l to 
 assist the civil authority on such interesting 
 occasions. 
 
 To Jean, Andrew's cm|ihatic attention this 
 morning was almo-st iriitatin;;, though siiu 
 was angry with herself because she felt s(». 
 While ho somewhat stuniblingly talked to 
 her, her eyes wandered over the cidwd 
 intent yet ahstracted. She was the object 
 of much remark, but she scorned to be un- 
 conscious of that. She had a proud nature, 
 and mtich as Ihiice's misdning and danger 
 fretted her, she still could look feailcssly in 
 the eyes of the world ; for, youtig as she was, 
 she had arrived at the knowledge that its 
 condemmition or momentary execration could 
 not affect u life in the long run. This had 
 been somewhat due to the teaclung of Benoni, 
 who, shoAvnian as ho was, had piobcd the 
 heart of the big masquerade, which is only 
 reality by the family hearthstone and in tlio 
 closet. Jean possessed uncommon cotu'age, 
 as the after-events of her life sliowcd ; and 
 she was so little self-conscious that siie did 
 not realise how much an object of interest 
 fihe was, until her father, heavy-browed, and 
 massive as usual, stalked throiigli the crowd 
 towards her. Then she appeared to sue the 
 equivocal looks cast U[)on them both, and 
 heard women — of less beauty than herself — 
 jeer at her ; while one clo.se beiiind lior said 
 to another : *' ."^ee, Elsie, she's set oot like a 
 peacock's feather, and struttin' i' pride, and 
 ner ain brither's a poacher, and a' but a mur- 
 derer, whiles. She'll no wark i' the mills wi' 
 the ither lasses, weavin' like yoursel', Elsie ; 
 but just has her ain loom i' the Castle as 
 'twere the harp o' a lady o' blood, forl)ye, the 
 
 mmx 
 
 I" 
 
 Venlaw heard these words, and he winced 
 under them, then grew indignant, his face 
 flushing hotly. But Jean, who had also 
 heard, said to him quietly: "She doesna 
 mean it, Amlrew ; it's ouly that she likes 
 sayin' bitter things." 
 
 Black Fordie approached them, his face 
 iighting up as he saw Andrew, and he clapped 
 his hand on the young man's shoulder, with 
 the words: "Good-day to you, lad. I'm 
 prood to see that ye dinna turn yer back on 
 an auld frien' like some I ken," — and he 
 glanced about him — "like some worthies — 
 and fools, I ken," he added ; " and at Cowrie 
 Castle, whaur ye're fain to come, I ken, we'll 
 be aye glad to gie ye bit welcome, though 
 we're less by ane than when you cam last ; 
 and we'll be aye less by that ane, Avhatever!" 
 
 Venlaw grasped the other's hand and saitl 
 
 a manly word or two ; but what they wore 
 lie could nut tell, for his mind was fidlof the 
 general significance of the event. 1'liis em- 
 phatic greeting while he was with Jean in 
 puldie, the almost ostentatious clasp of pos- 
 session in the tild man's hand on his shoulder, 
 his words of decisive invitation, started in 
 liim a throbbing sense of delight. The inci- 
 ilent had been watched by many, and know- 
 ing, as they <lid, that Andrew had never 
 shown prefert'iK-e for anyone in the valley 
 but Jean, and tlmt Black Fordie had admitted 
 no one as a suitor heretofore, it was almost 
 like an ackn.wledgnient of Andrew's accept- 
 ance as a son in-law. Jean felt the position 
 too, and shrank almost jierceptibly from it ; 
 and her eye wandered over tlio throng again 
 with a hint of present trouble in it. But 
 she stood very still and talked to Andrew, as 
 impassively as she could. Andrew saw licr 
 wandering look, and, with the acuteness of 
 the lover, guessed Avhom she was seeking. 
 He knew, though he had seen Brian and the 
 girl veiy little together, that Jean was not 
 unimpiessionable where the Irishman was 
 concerned, lie had regarded it as the fas- 
 cination which a man of gentle birth and 
 graces of manner has for a girl, lowly born, 
 but with instincts and capacities above her 
 rank ; and he had always assured himself 
 that it was a mere passing fancy ; for Brian, 
 himself, seemed never to i)ay her more atten- 
 tion than any other woman. Had Andrew 
 known that this was all the more likely to 
 raise the llame in Jean's heart, ho would have 
 been more apprehensive. 
 
 But there was one whose concern regard- 
 ing that incident with Black Fordie was more 
 notalde than that of either Andrew or Jean. 
 Elsie (larvan, to whom the scandalised critic 
 hail just been calling Jean a minx, had an 
 angrj- and disturbed heart this morning. In 
 so far as Venlaw liked Jean Fordie, she dis- 
 liked Ikt ; and a disai)pointed and bitter 
 woman is not of pleasant or profitable com- 
 pany in the world. Of a strong, hearty, but 
 bold kinil of beauty, Elsie had a strain of 
 hardness in her ; and it would give her nerve 
 to do a cruel thing, if tempted gieatly. Ever 
 since a child slie had cared for Andrew Ven- 
 law; and now she would give half hei' life- 
 time to have him look at her as he was 
 looking at Jean. Many a Sunday she had 
 (at first, hesitatingly, shyly,) placed herself 
 in his way as he came from church ; and 
 again on week-ilays, as he went to and from 
 his work ; but she never had got from him 
 more than the simple greetings and com- 
 panionable interchanges of friendly acquain- 
 
at thoy were 
 WHS full of tlio 
 ut. Tliis em- 
 with •leait in 
 clasp of |io.s- 
 [1 his shoulder, 
 1111, started in 
 lit. The inci- 
 ly, ajid know- 
 c\v had never 
 in the valley 
 ! had adniitteil 
 it was almost 
 idrcw's accept- 
 t tho position 
 til)ly from it ; 
 B thronj^ again 
 >le in it. But 
 to Andrew, as 
 drew saw her 
 le acutcness of 
 3 was seeking. 
 Brian and tho 
 Jean was not 
 Irishman was 
 il it as the fas- 
 litlc liirth and 
 ill, lowly born, 
 ities above her 
 ^surcd himself 
 icy ; for lirian, 
 (ler more atten- 
 
 Had Andrew 
 more likely to 
 
 le would have 
 
 onccrn regard- 
 Ditlie was more 
 idiew or Jean, 
 indalised critic 
 minx, had an 
 morning. In 
 fordie, she dis- 
 :ed and bitter 
 )rofitable com- 
 iig, hearty, but 
 lid a strain of 
 ij;ivc her nerve 
 liieatly. Ever 
 Andrew Yen- 
 half her life- 
 licr as he was 
 |nday she had 
 i)laccd herself 
 church ; and 
 It to and from 
 got from him 
 igs and com- 
 Indly acquain- 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 If 
 
 ? 
 
 ^«rr:*v 
 
 Ay, v,c iiro bnith fulcs, Pete." 
 
 tances. She was a girl of many resources, 
 urid she persisted ; for, to hei-, love was a 
 game, and she played it crudely, but heartily 
 uud hungrily. She saw no harm in doing her 
 utmost to win the man she loved ; and many 
 ■another lass of higher degree has thought and 
 acted the same up to this point in her career. 
 It may be that the well-born lady has oven 
 gone as far as Klsio soon would go. For 
 this girl had a weapon in her lumd, given her 
 yesterday by the irony of chance. Brian had 
 hinted about this weapon to liruce last night 
 in the conversation we reported, but he did 
 not know who lieM it ; — and that was a })ity, 
 for Brian was a man of as uiany resources 
 as Elsie, and he coidd use them in more 
 Hlclicato fashion, when need be. 
 
 Elsie, as she watched Jean and Venlaw, 
 shook back her loose dark hair with an im- 
 patient gestiu'e ; her teeth caught in a cruel 
 emphasis, and she suddcnlj- turned away. 
 Hhe threaded the crowd silentl}', passing out 
 of the fair-ground, and making towards the 
 riverside, where she walked uj) and down, 
 <lcbating with herself upon a (picstion that 
 troubled her mind. She knew of Brucc's 
 
 hiding-place. It was her .skirts which had 
 been seen on the margin of the old quarry. 
 She had the Scotswoman's sense of compas- 
 sion for the hunted ; the strain of Bordei" 
 kintlncss was as strong and valiant in her as 
 .sanctuarj' is in the veins of the Corsican : but 
 she loved ; and to some, love, on occasion, is 
 madness. She had the hateful faculty for 
 jealousy — that most iiotent criminal. The 
 struggle went on in lier for a long time ; and 
 when she returned to the fair-ground she had 
 not made up her mind ; for she was not so 
 sure — and this was the lowest and coarsest of 
 her hesitations — that Brucc's capture would 
 weigh with Andrew ; and she was not yet so 
 malicious that she could do this hard thing 
 I to Jean out of mere hatred. 
 
 To the fair-going people the day had been 
 most propitious ; and Brucc's afiairs and 
 I the presence of his sister and father had 
 I given a spice of piquancy to the general 
 event. Benoni, ever watchful, woiked in 
 I Brucc's interest b}- dropping a hint here and 
 ! there that the lad had doubled on his 
 ! hunters and escaped. In course of time 
 j Black Fordie disappeared from the ground 
 
18 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 ! I 
 
 r' 
 
 i f 
 
 i I 
 
 V, 
 
 k ■' 
 
 to go to sotno part of tho Cowrie ostutc ; 
 front which ho did not expect to return 
 for a couple of days; but Itononi was to 
 live at the Castle, so that the girl would 
 not bo entirely alone. lu early after- 
 noon, Ih'iiin appeared. Ho was in high 
 spirits ; — for ho had been drinking a little — 
 dropping a word of humour to the meanest, 
 and apparently oblivious that he was 
 eyed ankanco by tho staid worthies of the 
 conununity, regarded coldly by tho few 
 gentry wiio still watched the proceedings 
 good-naturedly, and follov;ed somewhat sus- 
 piciously by officers of the law, who could 
 not yet crc<lit tho news that Hiuco had es- 
 caped, while they were certain Brian had 
 knowledge of the youth's whereabouts. 
 
 They had gone too far afield. Bruce was 
 at their very doors. Tho hut over tho quarry 
 communicated with a hiding-place used by 
 fugitives hundreds of years before — tho un- 
 derground cell of an old monastery. While 
 not far from this again was the traditional 
 subterranean passage to tho Castle, necessary 
 in past days when there was more war than 
 peace ; and a not uncommon thing in modem 
 times, for Princo Josejjh Bonaparte had ono 
 of considerable length at his place of exile 
 at Bordentown, New Jersey. 
 
 Presently Brian drew near Bononi, and 
 after a few casual remarks, said almost 
 beneath his breath : " Well, have you seen 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes," was the quick reply, "j'ou're to 
 meet him at the Salmon's llead, at eight 
 o'clock ; and he'll arrange with vou about 
 Bruce." 
 
 " Sure, you've the root of the matter in 
 you, Benoni," responded Brian, admiringly 
 
 "Pd think more of you if you'd 
 shyer of the liquor, at a time like this," re 
 joined the old man. 
 
 Brian snapped his fingers lightly, and 
 replied : "Bedad, I don't live by your think- 
 in', Benoni ; but you're a sound old rascal, 
 and we'll not quarrel." 
 
 " Can you manage about the horses ? " the 
 other anxiously asked. 
 
 " I can that. I've got him relays over the 
 hills, and once he's on the way he can go 
 like the wind to Dunbar — if that's the place 
 from Avhere he ships." 
 
 Moore, the officer of the Hud.^on Bay Com- 
 pany, had returned to the fair-ground, and 
 Avhen he saw Brian in conversation with 
 Benoni, said to himself: "That's tho wild 
 Irishman, I suppose. He has the look of a 
 man ; and I've known a few skirmishes with 
 Indians and a season of arctic frost take the 
 
 fight 
 
 dovilnit-nt out of tho wildest. We coiiM tamo 
 oven him, I think. lie's a handsume lad, in 
 spite of the liipior that's in him." 
 
 An hour later Beltane was at its apogee. 
 The booths were doing an immense business, 
 dancing was going on, and through tiie mn 
 and tho innocent if lH)isterouH niiitli, tho 
 Shiel sang its slow but tuneful song, ( romi- 
 ing unchangingly through the eiijoynieiif. 
 The very hill-sides above, aglow witii goiso 
 and heather, spread with u carj>ct of gold and 
 purple, seemed alivo with enjoyment. 
 
 Uroiips were presently seen moving to- 
 wards Benoni. Some ono had at last per- 
 suaded him to bring forth his tlute. Ho 
 stood with his back to tho show, a clear space 
 about him, — for he would not play utdess, — 
 and eager callants were clearing a still larger 
 circle for a danco to Benoni's llute, always 
 tho choicest feature of Beltane Fair. This 
 accomplished, each set about getting his 
 partner. Vonlaw stood near Jean. Not with 
 a disposition regarding gaiety difTercnt from 
 girls of her age, Joan was, also, tho best 
 dancer in tho Shiel valley, — a matter to bo 
 understood by any that once saw her. She 
 was all natural grace and lightness. To- 
 day, however, if she danced, it would be 
 because she had promised Benoni to do tl 
 same as sho had done in tho past : beside 
 her father wislied it also. As to her partner, 
 her father, before leaving, had said she must 
 danco with Andrew. There were only two 
 men sho cared to dance with at all ; ono 
 clasping her would give her joy ; the other, — 
 well, it was only Andrew Veidaw, her old 
 friend, and it was difl'erent from dancing 
 with any respectable lad simply because ho 
 asked her. If Brian only would ask her! 
 She did not let herself think of it ; and yet 
 she wanted to question him about Bruce; 
 that seemed a justification for her wishing 
 it. Andrew was little of a dancer, but he 
 wanted to danco with Jean to-day before 
 them all ; firstly, to clinch his show of 
 sympathy and friendship with her ; and 
 secondly, to feel for a moment that clasp of 
 possession which ho would have given Avorlds 
 to make permanent. But this last thouglit 
 held hini back for a moment. Ho blushed 
 at it. Yet ho was determined, though he 
 hesitated for an instant. His hesitation was, 
 jierhaps, the cause of all the after trouble. 
 At tho very moment that he turned to ask 
 Jean, Brian Kingley appeared on the outside 
 of the little throng about them. He had 
 had more drink, still ho was not wholly 
 intoxicated. Obeying a sudden and over- 
 mastering impulse, impossible to account for, 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOK. 
 
 19 
 
 Wc couM tiiino 
 aiiiliiuniu luil, in 
 ini." 
 
 3 at its a])op;po. 
 inu'iiso Imsiiiosa, 
 thr()ii|;li tlic mm 
 rolls iiiirtli, tlio 
 fill song, crooii- 
 tlu! fiijoynu'iit. 
 ;1()W witli goist^ 
 irpct of j^old aiitl 
 joyiiu'iit. 
 ceil moving to- 
 had at last pcr- 
 his lliitc. lie 
 ow, a clear spaco 
 )t play unless, — 
 •iiig a still larger 
 li's llntc, always 
 ano Fair. This 
 out getting his 
 Jean. Not with 
 ty (lifTercnt from 
 , also, the best 
 -a matter to ho 
 saw her. She 
 lightness. To- 
 ed, it would he 
 3enoni to do tl 
 10 past : beside 
 .s to her partner, 
 [id said she nui^t 
 ! were only two 
 ith at all ; ono 
 ly; the other, — 
 Venlaw, her old 
 t from dancing 
 nply because he 
 would ask her! 
 of it ; and yet 
 II about Uruce; 
 or her wishing 
 dancer, but he 
 to-day before 
 his show of 
 kith her ; and 
 [nt that clasp of 
 ,vc given Avorlds 
 lis last thought 
 lie blushed 
 icd, though ho 
 hesitation was, 
 after trouble, 
 turned to ask 
 on the outside 
 em. He had 
 is not wholly 
 klen and over- 
 to account for, 
 
 j 
 
 save by an underground Hpirit uf jealousy, 
 which, as yet, hu Imd no right to exercise, 
 ho pushtHl in towards the two. Ho caught 
 .fean'rt cyo just as she gave her hand to An- 
 drew. A young bonnet- laird, standing lu'side 
 Hiian, said to him with pointed hiiiiiour, — 
 " There 8 metal for you, man ; take her away 
 from the gowk. Look : iier eye is on voii." 
 
 This was the undelincd thought in iSrian's 
 mind. Without a word h(i strode furward 
 (|iiickly, caught the han<l lightly away from 
 Venlaw, swung Joan gently to him, and 
 carried her off in the trail of the music, 
 which had instantly changed with this action 
 to a swifter measure, on a weird intonation. 
 Any watching Bcnoni at that moment wouhl 
 have seen that his lips twitched over the in- 
 strument and that his eyes gave out a strange 
 red light ; but ho played on. 
 
 The Hudson's Bay officer, standing not far, 
 started, and murmured to himself : " There's 
 more in this than swells to the eye ; I'm not 
 sure yet that I've lost you, master Venlaw." 
 
 Venlaw stood for a moment dazed ; but 
 his hands clinched when ho saw Brian's 
 mocking face turned on him as the two 
 whirled by him. He went white, then red, 
 and took a step forward. Jean's face was 
 pale, and a strange glow lan on it. She was 
 very grave, her nostrils nuivercd slightly, 
 and her eyes shone dark Suddenly Mr. 
 Moore, who M'as watching lor face remarked 
 to himself the strange likeness hero was 
 at this moment between the girl and old 
 Benoni. Ho pronounced it dn 11, but cer- 
 tainly there was something in it. 
 
 The dancing of the two lasted for a minute 
 or so only, but while it was on Brian 
 whispered swiftly to Jean concerning her 
 brother, and then, stopping the dance, lightly 
 let her go. But, as if on second thought, 
 and with a mad impulse, he reached out, 
 caught her in his arms, and kissed her full on 
 the lips, and then stept back. Under this 
 action tlxe girl held herself together firmlj', 
 yet in a most troubled fashion too. Her face 
 was full of a pained sweetness, though she 
 made no resistance whatever. But wher it 
 was over she shuddered slightly. 
 
 " And so, faith, Jean Fordie,' said Brian 
 aloud, evidently referring to his services for 
 Bruce, " do we levy on our debtors in Ire- 
 land, and give them absolution thereby;" and 
 he lifted his hat to her, looked at Venlaw 
 with a malicious playfulness, and was about 
 to turn away, amid the astonished exclama- 
 tions of the crowd. 
 
 But Venlaw stepped forward and caught 
 him by the shoulder. " You coward ! you 
 
 coward ! " he said in low wrath. " is it the 
 fasliiiin in (ruland to insult the sister as well 
 as ruin the brotlier ? " 
 
 Brian IkhI swung himself away from tlio 
 savage restraint of the hand, and stood 
 tliislied, but yet cool enough, a foot or two 
 away. 
 
 Bcnoni, his eyes steadily rogrnling tlio 
 group fixedly, played on without pause but 
 shrilly and weirdly. The Irishman tus.sed 
 his head slightly, and retorted : " V'ouio a 
 bit free with your hand, young V<'nlaw, and 
 a trille too glib with your tongue. Now, 
 I'll tell you what we don't do in Ireland, wo 
 don't answer cjuestions to every rati" that 
 asks them, nor reckon to every jealous man. 
 when we've proved him to be of little! ac- 
 count. . . . And so good-day to vou, Ven- 
 law ! " 
 
 " No, sir ; but it is not good day," said 
 Andrew, stepping in front of him. " You 
 have insulted the daughter of my friend, and 
 the sister of yours " 
 
 "For which III answer to your friend ami 
 my friend, but not to you, my lad," inter- 
 rupted Brian coolly. 
 
 " You'll answer to me first for a coward's 
 trick " 
 
 " In taking Miss Jean Fordie out of your 
 arms ! But all's fair in — war such as this, 
 my shepherd lad. Besides, what says tiie 
 lady herself ? Does she ask you to stand to 
 her cause with arms all twitching so ? " 
 
 Venlaw turned now, amazed and full of 
 doubt, to Jean, who stood looking at them 
 as if she were in a dream ; but she said 
 nothing. 
 
 " You see, you've proved yourself but a 
 meddling youngster, after all, Venlaw," said 
 the other with a slight sneer, — " a meddler 
 and a fool.' 
 
 At this Andrew, white to the lips, and 
 maddened by the circumstance and by the 
 remarks of some bystanders, raised his arm 
 to strike, but Jean caught it with a cry of 
 pain. " No, no ! for tiod's sake, no ! " sho 
 exclaimed. 
 
 Venlaw paused as if himself struck, and 
 turned and looked her straight in the eyes. 
 Hers did not drop before his, but she flushed 
 deeply. After an instant she cried : "Would 
 you disgrace mo by fighting ? Go, both of 
 you, go, and forget it all— all ! " 
 
 Had Brian not been somewhat in liquor it 
 is hard to tell what impulse for reparation 
 might then have come to him, for he was 
 more wild than wicked. But he knew that 
 Venlaw hated him, he had no love for Ven- 
 law, and he enjoyed the other's discomfiture. 
 
1 
 
 20 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOK. 
 
 ,v -- 
 
 Besides, in his excited condition, he did not 
 count the thing as serious, since he had 
 kissed more than one girl publicly in his 
 time, though never one quite like Jean 
 Eordic, as he acknowledged afterwards with 
 regret. 
 
 He raised his hat now and said : " It 
 would look ill to fight before a lady, but if 
 you'll meet me some other day, Venlaw — 
 eh?" 
 
 " When 1 Where ? " replied the ether 
 viciously. 
 
 Brian at that moment caught Mr. Moore's 
 eye, and with a sudden insjjiration, and in 
 mocking cadence, said : " Faith, let it be at 
 the North Pole or thereabouts. You'll fight 
 better where it's cool, my firebrand ! " 
 
 And swinging on his heel he strode away. 
 The music as suddenly stopped, and Bcnoni 
 thrust his flute into his pocket, and silently 
 fumbled with his show, keeping his eyes 
 steadied, however, on Andrew and Jean. 
 With the stopping of the music there was 
 motion and much talking. The scene sud- 
 denly became changed ; the feeling of the 
 incident was rendered inclement ; to Jean 
 unbearable. She m ent to Benoni and said : 
 " I am going to the Castle. You are coming 
 to-night 1 " 
 
 He did not speak. He nodded assent 
 kindly, and looked at her earnestly, en- 
 , couragingly, from under his shaggy brows. 
 . She turned away, and an instant after 
 Benoni, still watching her, was, however, 
 laughing and joking with the crowd, doing 
 his best to dispel the scene from their minds. 
 Indeed, on second thought, he took out his 
 flute and began to play, and soon the crowd 
 were danc<^g again with all their might. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. — "FOR LOCHABER NO MORE." 
 
 Andrew had started to follow Jean, but 
 he suddenly turned away, elbowed himself 
 through the crowd, moved across the green 
 and up High Street towards Dominie Dry- 
 ihope's cottage. Someone followed him. Pre- 
 sently, as ho wheeled into a side street, 
 that someone came closer to him. It was 
 Elsie Garvan. She had seen, with a harsh 
 delight, the incident on the fair ground. The 
 
 f;ame seemed to have been given over into 
 ler hands. What now came to her mind 
 shocked her at first, it was so cruel, so un- 
 true ; but she had not been brought iip under 
 a mother's care, and she was tolerably bitter 
 against life all round. She had an idiot 
 brother, Pete, whom she had to care for and 
 support alone ; she had no other relatives. If 
 
 love had been given her happily it might have 
 transformed lier. It was given her unhappily, 
 and she became capable of a wicked thing. 
 Her nature was heailstrong ; her lieart was a 
 placeof conflicting, almost aboriginal, passions. 
 All that she saw now was an opportunity to 
 visit punishment on her rival. If it suc- 
 ceeded, as she intended, it meant that 
 Andrew should be estranged from Jean, and 
 might, therefore, turn to her who had loved 
 him ever since he had fished her, nearly 
 drowned, out of the Sliiel, when they were 
 children. 
 
 She knew that Bruce Fordie would try to 
 go to the Castle this night by the subterra- 
 nean passage. She knew that Brian also 
 would go there, and that Black Fordie would 
 be absent. The first two of these facts she 
 had learned — (really by accident, for, passing 
 the old quarry, she had caught a glimpse of 
 Brian and Benoni, and followed them more 
 out of curiosity than anything else)— from 
 Brian, Benoni, and Bruce themselves ; the 
 last she had heard Jean's father declaie oji 
 the fair-ground. As may be seen, the oppor- 
 tunity might have been grasped by a mind 
 less acute than Elsie's. 
 
 Before Andrew reached the Dominie's 
 cottage she hurried on to him, and touched 
 his arm. "Andrew Venlaw," she said, "I 
 hae a word for ye." 
 
 He turned abruptly to her, his face angry 
 and hard. 
 
 "We used to be frien's, Andrew," she 
 continued, " and are yet, I'm thinkin'. And 
 because we were and are, I'd tell ye, as a 
 fricn', o' a thing that concerns ye." She 
 paused. 
 
 " Go on, Elsie," he said, not very heartily. 
 
 "Promise me, that whatever I say ye'll no 
 be fierce wi' me." 
 
 " No man is fierce wi' a woman," he replied 
 gravely. 
 
 " I ken," she continued, " and a' Braithen 
 kens what you hae thocht o' Jean Fordie 
 this lang time. And a man hae a richt tae 
 think o' what woman he Avills " 
 
 " What's this to you, Elsie ? " ho quickly 
 interrupted ; " or to ony i' Braithen 1 " 
 
 " It's naething to me," she retorted with 
 sudden anger ; " but I'm yer fricn', and hae 
 been lang syno. And this I'll tell you" — 
 here she set the whole desperate game upon 
 one throw — " that ye saw ae thing the daj-, 
 and I'll show ye anither the nicht, if ye hae 
 a mind " 
 
 " What do you mean, Elsie Garvan, by ' / 
 saw ae thing the day, and ye'll show me anilher 
 tlie nicht i ' In God's name, speak I " 
 
 : 
 
 I 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 21 
 
 ppil y it might have 
 
 ven her unhappily, 
 
 af a wicked thing. 
 
 g ; hei' heart was a 
 
 iboriginal, passions. 
 
 an opportunity to 
 
 rival. If it suc- 
 
 1, it meant that 
 
 ;ed from Jean, and 
 
 her who had loved 
 
 fished her, nearly 
 
 }1, when they were 
 
 'ordie would try to 
 it by the subterra- 
 w that Brian also 
 Black Fordie would 
 ) of these facts she 
 jcident, for, pa.ssing 
 caught a glimpse of 
 )llowed them more 
 lything else) — from 
 ;e themselves; the 
 s father declaic on 
 bo seen, the oppor- 
 grusped by a mind 
 
 led the Dominie's 
 o him, and touched 
 daw," she said, "I 
 
 her, his face angry 
 
 m's, Andrew," she 
 I'm thinkin'. And 
 I, I'd tell ye, as a 
 jonccrns ye." She 
 
 not very heartily, 
 tever I say ye'll no 
 
 woman," he replied 
 
 " and a' Braithen 
 iht o' Jean Fordie 
 an hae a richt tac 
 
 'ills " 
 
 llsift ? " lio quickly 
 
 Braithen '? " 
 
 she retorted with 
 yer fricn', and hae 
 is I'll tell you"— 
 isperate game upon 
 
 ae thing the day, 
 ho nicht, if ye hae 
 
 llsie Garvan, by * / 
 ell show me anither 
 e, speak ! " 
 
 She spoke with elow, cold emphasis, as 
 though her heart had suddenly congealed, 
 and she was now merely the pitiless surgeon 
 to his misfortune. " He kissed her on the 
 lips, and she made nae shame o't, but when 
 ye'd hae him fecht caught yer airm .jst ye 
 sliould strike him — you are the he.avlor man. 
 D'ye think she wad hae caught Ids arm waur 
 he gau'en to strike you ? " 
 
 Vcniaw's face was not pleasant to see. A 
 hundred little ^ mgs flashed thro\igh his 
 mind — little unsubstantial things ; trifles fast 
 becoming confirmation strong as Holy Writ. 
 He spoke no word, but nodded savagely. 
 
 She went on. " Well, d'ye think ony girl 
 would let that kind o' thing on the open 
 fair-ground, frae ^5ic a man, — frae a gentle- 
 man, and we ken what kind o'a gentleman — 
 if — if he hadna don' 't afore, whaur it wasna 
 sne open, whiles " 
 
 She paused again. She had the native 
 instinct of the artist in cruelty, of the sur- 
 geon who loved the work for its own sake. 
 
 " Go on," he said, huskily. 
 
 She continued : " Of course Bruce Fordie 
 Mas his frien' ; and, of course, that was his 
 way to ken Joan better. And noo that her 
 brither is disgraced, and her faither no there, 
 he shames her afore them a' ; for that de'il is 
 in him that looks upon a woman's heart as a 
 matter for idle days." 
 
 He spoke now with a strange, hard calm- 
 ness : " Elsie, you hae a bitter and a dread- 
 ful tongue — you said ' the nicht ;' that there 
 was something concerning the nicht ! " 
 
 " You always were impatient, Andrew,'' 
 she responded, with a voice tuned to a pre- 
 tended compassion, " and stubborn, too. else 
 ye'd hae sech what ithers saw, and " 
 
 His face was very pale. " If you don't 
 stop torturing mo, and tell me what you 
 mean by 'the «/c/(/,' there'll be some words 
 that je'll no care to hear, nor I to s[)cak." 
 
 She saw that she had gone as far .is she 
 <l;ircd. "Well, then," she said, "meet me 
 the nicht in the last clump o' yews afore ye 
 conic to the Castle yett, and I'll show ye 
 what I mean." 
 
 " No, but j'ou .shall tell mc noo," he sternly 
 urged, as she made now to leave him ; " for 
 I ken there arc mair evil things hanifing on 
 Vdur tongue. So, say them and ha'e done 
 \vi't ! " 
 
 " 'Deed, then, I'll no be bulh'ed into 
 sayin't," she retorted, " until it please mo, 
 Andrew Venlaw. But I tell ye, that if you 
 meet me the nicht, ye shall see the meaning 
 o' what ha[)pened the day. Jean M'ill be 
 alane at the Castle for hours. Durin' that 
 
 time somcane '11 cam to her. Andrew, lad, 
 I hae sorrow eneuch for you, but you maunna 
 tak' it tat heart, for there's them in the warl' 
 that's true, for a' there's them that's fause." 
 
 " Why do you talk," ho responded, with 
 a despairing bitterness, " as if Jean Fordie 
 were breakin' faith wi' me ? She hasna jiro- 
 miscd to me ; she's free to wha slie wills.' 
 
 " Ay, Andrew, and she wills fieely," said 
 the other, with a cynical laugh. 
 
 " If you were a man," he rej ined, gr'nily, 
 "I'd hae chokeil t!iat lauch back ir yer 
 throat. But yere a woman, Elsie Garvan, 
 and you were n I'ricn' o' mine, and I dinna 
 doubt ye mean nao harm." 
 
 " I mean to be your frien', and I speak to 
 you as ane, Andrew ; Tl • little do we, who 
 think weel o' you, like to see yo throv/ yer 
 heart awa whaur it isna deserved." 
 
 "Maybe that speech woi id come fitter 
 frae a man," he remarked ^^ith iron}-. 
 
 "Ay, if ony man kei.ned what I ken," 
 was the smooth reply. " Is it your will to 
 meet me or no 1 " 
 
 "I'll meet you," he replied, "at tlie time 
 you say." 
 
 He was about to turn abrujitly from her, 
 but paused, held out his hand, and said : " I 
 ken you've meant to be a frien' to mc, Elsie, 
 but it's bitter kindness you serve mc." 
 
 " iJetter that you should have it frae a 
 frien' than an eneni}', Andrew," she replied 
 in a low, insinuating voice, her big hot eyes 
 swimming with his. 
 
 He left her, and instead of going to the 
 Dominie's place wheeled, and went to his own 
 lonely cottage. 
 
 She sauntered slowly o'er the brae towards 
 her cottage and her idiot brother, .ind, as 
 ^lie crossed the threshuld, a shuddci' went 
 through her, for she felt for the first time how 
 diflVirent even the meanest, most wretched 
 home appears, when one has done a M'icketl 
 thing. It rises up— all its associations rise 
 up — as if in piteous shame, to wave us l)ack. 
 When that feeling ceases wholly in the heart, 
 and the home can bj eiitere<l without re- 
 morsofnl ditfidence liy the erring, that man 
 or woman is lost. Elsie had had little Inight- 
 ness in the world, yet this idiot boy, lolling 
 on the hearthstone l)esidc the old crone who 
 cared for him when his sister was absent, she 
 had loved in a hungering sort of fashion. She 
 had talked to him as to a faithful animal, 
 getting no sanerf^ply, — only a sympathy, not 
 higher than Caliban's, not lower than that of 
 a liound. She sat down beside him now. 
 Ho caught at her hand and rulibed his fat 
 burning cheek against it, and said : " O little 
 
22 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR 
 
 ^11 
 
 M 
 
 iS 
 
 » 
 
 11 1. 
 j-ii',- 
 
 J! 
 
 I i 
 
 It' 
 
 Btie— O puir Pete— her eyes a' fire — O, 0, 
 
 fuir Else, puir Else — rat in a hole the day — 
 'ete ride a >?hito horse — O, Else — puir Pete's 
 pretty fule — O, O, amen — flee awa' to God ! " 
 She shivered, caught the idiot's head to 
 her knee. * Hush, hush, Pete ! " she whis- 
 pered. Then, after a moment : " Ay, we 
 are baith lules, Pete." 
 
 At eight o'clock, as arranged, Brian was 
 sitting in the Salmon's Head waiting for 
 Moore to come. Ho was in no buoyant 
 mood now. " A beggarly tricli it was," he 
 said aloud. "The ilevil was in me. But 
 when I saw him with his Scotch conceit, as 
 sure of her aa if they were hand in glove at 
 the altar, I couldn't resist it. Bedad, though, 
 I wish it had been any other than Bruce's 
 sister. Still, 'twas only a kiss after all ; and 
 I'll make it up to him one way or another. 
 But how 1 By words as easy to the Irish 
 tongue as wind to the hills 1 Anyhow, I'm 
 doing him a turn with the last of my money, 
 and I'll get him awaj' if I can. Well, M'ell, 
 but I'm a bit of a scamp ! — and what's to 
 become of me is a riddle for heaven to solve." 
 He dropped into silence ; then, after a mo- 
 ment, he sprang to his feet, and marching 
 up and down the room, said excitedly : " I'll 
 do it, as it flashed into my mind on the fair- 
 ground ; I'll go to the North Pole, or wher- 
 ever that Hudson's Bay country is, and live 
 Avith the bears or die fighting the Indians, and 
 there you are, Brian Kingley, gentleman !" 
 
 " I don't see the necessity fcr either," 
 coolly said a voice behind him. 
 
 Brian turned and saw Mr. Moore. 
 
 " As I said, I don't see the need for either. 
 Come to the Hudson's Bay country, then, 
 by all means ; for though you've been a bit 
 rash with your own money, there's no reason 
 why you should be so with other peojilo's ; 
 and though you're something hasty with the 
 lassos, age and fighting and the H. B. C. will 
 mend that. And if you'll give your word 
 and come, I'll take the risk with you, though 
 it's no light matter." 
 
 " Faith, you're mighty kind, and something 
 forward antl lofty, too," responded Brian with 
 •lignity, but not without liumour. " A man 
 may lift a tumbler, and kiss a lass, and ssquan- 
 dcr a fortune, but ho may know without toll- 
 ing, and keep without assurance, the fashion 
 and character of a gentleman." He drummed 
 his lingers lightly on the table before him, 
 and looked the other steadily in the eyes. 
 
 " Why, now," replied Moore, " I beg your 
 pardon. Maybe it'd be impertinent for me 
 to say that I like you better for that speech. 
 
 but I do. And because I'm as well born as 
 yourself, and have squandered money and 
 had my wild days with the lassies, — more wild 
 than bad, I hope — though you see my h lir is 
 wintry now at the temples, hero is my hand 
 if you'll take it, and, in the name of the 
 H. B. C, I ofler you a place also." 
 
 They shook hands. Brian motioned the 
 other to a chair, and they sat down. Mr. 
 Moore continued : 
 
 " I know you want help for a friend of 
 yours and Benoni, who'd bo well out of this 
 
 tight little 
 
 island ; and though it's a risk I 
 
 shouldn't care to take every da}'^, still I'm 
 ready for it. For, Benoni did me a good 
 turn, and I funcy fa'^our for favour." 
 
 Explanations then ensued, and arrange- 
 ments were completed, by which Bruce, if 
 possible, should join Mr. Moore at Dunbar, 
 whence a vessel sailed to London, there to 
 board one of two vessels intended to proceed 
 to Hudson's Bay within a few weeks of each 
 other. 
 
 As they sat there Benoni entered quietly. 
 He was greeted warmly by both men, but ho 
 answerotl them in subdued fashion. The 
 shrewd humour seemed to have Hod sud- 
 denly from his tongue. Ho looked kindly 
 enough at Mr. Moore, however, and at once 
 entered into the question of Bnice's escape 
 and his subsequent destination. At last he 
 turned to Brian and said : "You did a hatc- 
 fxd trick to-day, Mr. Kingley, — one that 
 should cause you sorrow to your grave." 
 
 " Faith, sorry enough I am at this minute, 
 Benoni, but — " here he reached over to take 
 the old man's arm in good-natm"c ; at which 
 the other drew back — "but t was only a 
 mad and idle prank." 
 
 "'Tis mad and idle pra'.ks that ruin the 
 world. You were born a gentleman, sir; you 
 should have remained one, and done better 
 by the sister of your friend." 
 
 Brian kept down his temper, tliough he 
 thought Iknoni was tal:!.ig the matter far 
 too seriously. " I should have been anything 
 but Brian Kinglej^ to-day," he rejoined with 
 a laugh. " Snie, though, you're something 
 of an old meddloi', Benoni. You have too 
 fatherly a care of the ladies. I doubt not 
 but when you were young yourself you cast an 
 arm about a lass like .lean Fordie, and " 
 
 "Like Jean Fordie," and a singidar light 
 come into the showman's eyes as ho caught 
 his cloak and threw it a little grandly over 
 his shoulders, drawing himself uj) at the 
 same time, — "as likelier as you like your 
 shadow, man : but tlio twist of my arm was 
 honest, and her honour was my honour." 
 
 •i 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR 
 
 23 
 
 as well born as 
 red money and 
 3ies, — more wild 
 u see my h lir is 
 lere is my hand 
 
 name of the 
 ilso." 
 
 1 motioned the 
 sat down. Mr. 
 
 for a friend of 
 well out of this 
 igh it's a risk I 
 y day, still I'm 
 [lid me a good 
 favour." 
 
 ], and arrange- 
 which Bruce, if 
 )ore at Dunbar, 
 lOndon, there to 
 nded to proceed 
 \v weeks of each 
 
 entered quietly, 
 oth men, but ho 
 [ fashion. The 
 
 have fled sud- 
 3 looked kindly 
 vor, and at once 
 
 Eruce's escape 
 on. At last he 
 [You did a hate- 
 
 'cy, — one that 
 
 our grave." 
 
 at this minute, 
 led o\'cr to take 
 
 tiu-e ; at which 
 t was only a 
 
 s that ruin the 
 ;leman, sir; you 
 nd done better 
 
 )er, though he 
 
 10 matter far 
 been anything 
 
 rejoined with 
 u'rc something 
 You have too 
 I doubt not 
 self you cast an 
 rdie, and " 
 
 singular light 
 s as he caught 
 
 grandly over 
 elf up at the 
 you like your 
 f my arm was 
 
 my honour." 
 
 
 Here he caiue close to Brian. " If a man 
 did that to her that you did to Jean Fordic 
 to-day, and I'd cared for her as Vcnlaw does 
 for the lass, tne deed would be paid for in 
 good round coin, young gentleman." 
 
 Brian was a little irritated now. He thought 
 too much was being made of the occurrence. 
 " Well, then, this shall be paid for in good 
 round coin, Signor Benoni, chief of go- 
 betweens ! " 
 
 "More than you think for— much more. 
 You are not dead yet. I've lived long and 
 travelled far " 
 
 " From the figs and pipes of Palermo to 
 the flags and flutes of Braithen," interposed 
 the other nonchalantly, and with an attempt 
 at wit. 
 
 " — And travelled far, as I said, and I never 
 saw a man who did an idle or ill turn to a 
 woman who didn't face it again, a thousand 
 times, to his confusion." 
 
 "Faith, it's very fine English you use, for 
 a poor Italian, the keeper of a raree show." 
 And now the Irishman said M'hat he did not 
 mean, because, in his dare-devil spirit, he 
 saw a fighting light in Benoni's eye. " But 
 women ? I'm thinking you set them a ladder 
 too high ; and for such a young hill-bird as 
 Jean Fordie, with a lilt to lier eye and a toss 
 to her skirts " 
 
 He got no further, for the showman sprang 
 forward and caught him by the throat with 
 his strenuous, delicate hands, and shook him 
 savagely. Tlien suddenly letting him go, he 
 fell back to the wall glowering, in an atti- 
 tude of defence, fury still in his fingers. 
 
 Brian was so taken aback that he had 
 scarcely raised his arms in attempt to snatch 
 the assaulting hands away, and now he stood 
 looking with more surprise than anger at 
 Benoni. Ho put his hand to his throat, and 
 then stretched up his neck. 
 
 " Indeed," said he, " you're the first that 
 ever had his hands there, my man ; and an 
 hour ago, I'd have said ho that did it should 
 toss in a nasty cradle." Then, with a sudden 
 rusli of rage, — "and bj' Heaven " 
 
 Here Mr. Mooro interposed: "No, no, jVIr. 
 Kiuglcj', the man's old, and you were foolish 
 in what you said. You spoke slightingly of 
 women, and he's done no more than many 
 would have done ; though I'll admit, and I 
 liojio ho will, that he provoked you uuconi- 
 niuuly." 
 
 " But what, in the name of St. Patrick, are 
 fill women to him ? and wherein does Jean 
 I'onlio concern him so closely V cried Brian, 
 still chafing. 
 
 The old man came forward. " I had no 
 
 right to catch you by the throat, Brian King- 
 Icy," he said. " I only remembered that I 
 had eaten at Black Fordic's table, and been 
 cared for by his daughter when I had a sick- 
 ness and " 
 
 "And here's my hand, Benoni, if you'll 
 take it. For I was all Avrong and you were 
 all right. And I swear to you that I meant 
 no harm in what I said nor in what I did 
 to-day. For Bruce Fordie is my friend, as 
 you know so well, and I'm a rapscallion that 
 needs " 
 
 "That needs to tread the neck of the 
 world, to rule the north, for the brave com- 
 pany of Adventurers trading in Hudson's 
 Bay," said Mr. Moore, completing the sen- 
 tence. 
 
 Then with a manly apology Brian shook 
 hands '.vith Benoni, and they proceeded with 
 their conference concerning Bruce. 
 
 Braithen was making merry by night as it 
 had been gay by day. At the liob Roy inn 
 jocund feet were responding to the scrape of 
 an iudifl'erent fiddle in one room, to the pipes 
 in another, and to Benoni's flute in a third. 
 In Cowrie Castle one window was alight. 
 We have seen both the light and the window 
 before. Within the sombre but comfortable 
 room Jean sits in the corner weaving. She 
 had tried to read, but she could not fix her 
 mind upon the words. She went to the win- 
 dow and looked out man}' times until it grew 
 altogether dusk, then she dropped the blind 
 and lit the candles. The fact that she dropped 
 the blind was unusual. But Brian had -whis- 
 pered in her car that day the possibility 
 of Bruce coming, and there must be no ex- 
 jjosed windows. Brian had said also that he 
 was coming to see Bruce, but at this moment 
 she had no pleasure in that. It gave her, 
 rather, infinite pain. She could hear even 
 more i)lainly with her v/eaving than without, 
 as those may know who have lived by the 
 monotonous Avasli of a sea, or near the low 
 ruml)le of machinery. Extraneous sounds 
 pierced the rhythmical vibrations of the loom 
 with a singular distinctness. At last, to the 
 swaying of the weft before her, she sang an 
 old song softly to herself, the sounds echoing 
 softly and plaintively through the room : — 
 
 " It wa ;im that yc loe'd mo, O my di'iiiie, — 
 Your ecu looVit never s.io tiic me j 
 Hut I loo ye an' my heart's aye weary, 
 Syiio tho hour that ye RuriK frac me— 
 O my dearie, come back tae mo ! " 
 
 She sang two or three verses, then she thrcTT 
 her head forward on her arms. "Oh ! oh I" 
 she murmured, "why did he do't? Why did 
 

 24 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOll. 
 
 H 
 
 
 ho do't ? There'll be trouble come f rae't 
 
 How I wish I could hate him !" Presently 
 
 she started up, as though she heard a sound. 
 She run to the door, opened it and listened. 
 There was nothing. She went back and sat 
 down. It was eleven o'clock. Not long after 
 she heard a pebble rattle on the window, then 
 a knocking, not loud. She took up the 
 candle and hurried down-stairs. She asked 
 who was there. Brian answered. For an a- 
 stant she hesitated, then opened the door. 
 Urian stepped inside. 
 
 " Is he here yet 1 " he asked. 
 
 "You mean I3ruce?" she said breathlessly. 
 
 "Yes. I tried to make you understand 
 when we were dancing. You know of the 
 old subterranean passage from the quarry to 
 the Castle 1 " 
 
 " Yes, yes : Bruce and I explored a part of 
 it when we were children." 
 
 " Well, we knew it wasn't safe for Bruce 
 to stay any longer where he was. So he de- 
 termined to try the passage. It comes oit 
 in the dungeons somewhere." 
 
 "Oil,"' she rejoined, "how long ago did he 
 start 1 " 
 
 " It nnist have been three hours or more." 
 
 "When we explored it years ago there 
 were pools, tlie air was bad, and some of the 
 M'uU was falling. Oh, let us go below at 
 once. Hark ! did you not hear something V 
 
 They both listened attentively, and pre- 
 sently they heard the sound again as of a 
 dull scraping or knocking. They went (piickly 
 below to the dungeons without a word. They 
 traced the sound to a corner which Jean 
 knew well. With Brian's help she removed a 
 stone in the wall, making a hole large enough 
 for a man's body to pass. But beyond, the 
 earth and rock had caved in. 
 
 "Quick, a spade or axe," said BriaJi, for a 
 noise was coming from behind the pile of 
 ddiris. 
 
 Jean darted away. Brian called : " Are 
 you there, Bruce ?"' 
 
 Tiie rei)ly came faintly, " Yes, yes ; for 
 God's sake, cpiick ! I'm stifled ! " 
 
 Brian laboured at the earth and stones 
 with his hands. Presentl}^ Jean ariived with 
 a pick, and an opening was achieved. Bruces 
 form appeared. He was almost thi'ough 
 when he plunged forward insensible. The}' 
 l)ullcd him out, and, as he did not re- 
 vive at once, they carried him up to the 
 living room. Here he recovered and rose to 
 his feet. For a moment he could not (piito 
 tell where ho was, but Avhen he did he era- 
 braced Jean and kissed her. She dropt her 
 bead on his shoulder and burst into tears. 
 
 They were placed between the lamp and the 
 window in such a fashion that ti\eir shadows 
 were thrown upon the blind. A man and 
 woman, standing outside in the yews, saw 
 this, ami the woman said: "This is what we've 
 come for, Andrew ^'ordaw. You Siiw Brian 
 Kiiigley enter ; you see that — though it's 
 little thanks I'll get for showin' it you ! " 
 
 The man caught his breath with a great 
 sob, then he ])ut out his hand towards the 
 woman. ** Hush ! In the name of God 
 let me be ! " Then, with a cutting breath, 
 " The villain ! the villain ! I'll have his 
 
 Vlfo" 
 
 " You'll hae his life, Andrew 1 And what 
 right hae you to tak' his life 1 She's got her 
 father and britlier, and she Avasna vowed to 
 you. You'll do nue hurt to the man, for 
 that wad mak' matters waur for her." (Elsie 
 at this moment shrank from the consequences 
 of her deceit). "Confess yersel'afule, Andrew j 
 and be thankfu' ye've escaped ; for the tricks 
 o' beauty like hers arena for men like you." 
 
 His eyes were fixed upon the window, but 
 he stretched out his arm again impatiently. 
 " Will ye no cease ? Are you a deevil ? " 
 Then, relenting, " Forgie me, lass ; it has 
 made me wild — but gang hame, gang hame, 
 Elsie!" 
 
 The beginning of Elsie's punishment had 
 begun. She had to watch the man grieving 
 for this girl, rather than hating her. 
 
 "I'll no gang hame wi'out you," she an- 
 swered. " For yell stay here tdl he comes 
 oot, and there'll he fechtin'. Get you hame 
 and sleep on 't, Andrew, and in the morning 
 yc'U say, as I do, that it's weel to let the 
 thing l)ide." 
 
 He stood for a moment very still, then, 
 without a woul, he turned and went through 
 the trees towards the town, she accompany- 
 ing him. They did not speak until they had 
 neared the still -peopled streets; then she 
 said to him : " We il part here, Andrew, for 
 it s no weel that we should be seen thegither 
 at this hour — howe'er careless it hers may 
 be." _ _ ^ 
 
 The innuendo was plain, but he appeared 
 not to notice it. lie turned and grasped her 
 hand. "I believe, Elsie, that ye've tried to 
 bo a fricn' to me, in this ; and I'll hope never 
 to forget it, though you could hae done mony 
 a service that'd please mo better. I'll re- 
 meml)cr you beyond, lass. Good-l)ye ! " 
 
 And he turned abruptly and left her. 
 
 She stood still looking after him. " ' Be- 
 yond — beyond ! ' " she repeated ; " ' I'll re- 
 member you beyond ; ' thac were his words. 
 Is he going — awa' ? " 
 
e kmp and the 
 t tiieir shadows 
 1. A man and 
 
 the yews, saw 
 lis is Avhat we've 
 You saw Brian 
 vt — though it's 
 in' it you ! " 
 th with a great 
 nd towards the 
 
 name of God 
 
 cutting breath, 
 
 I'll have his 
 
 w ? And what 
 { She's got her 
 vasna vowed to 
 ) the man, for 
 or her." (Elsie 
 le consequences 
 'a fule, Andrew; 
 I ; for the tricks 
 men like you." 
 he window, but 
 lin impatiently, 
 ^ou a decvil ? " 
 e, lass ; it has 
 me, gang hamo, 
 
 )unishmcnt had 
 
 ic man 
 
 ig her. 
 
 t you," she an- 
 c till he comes 
 Get you hame 
 
 in the morning 
 
 ivecl to let the 
 
 |ery still, then, 
 
 1 ^^ cut through 
 
 ;hc aecompany- 
 
 until they had 
 
 lets ; thetx she 
 
 '., Andrew, for 
 
 seen tliegither 
 
 iss it hers may 
 
 he appeared 
 bd grasi)ed her 
 ye've tried to 
 [I'll hope never 
 jiae done mony 
 letter. I'll ro- 
 )od-l)ye ! " 
 
 left her. 
 
 him. "'Bo- 
 Bd; "Til re- 
 Jerc his words. 
 
 • lie riiiMil the stone aiiJ let it fall into Uw ilnrkno-s." 
 
26 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 ii 
 
 i 
 
 h: 
 
 \l 
 
 s t 
 
 She darted forward as if to s[)eak to hitn, 
 but he was out of siglit. 
 
 "Then — then," she said in a low, bitter 
 tone, " he shall have one more blow : " and 
 hurrying, as if determined to give herself no 
 time to change her mind, she went to the 
 Rob Roy inn. She entered the room where 
 Benoni was playing for the dancers. There 
 were several soldiers present, and also two 
 or three officers of the laAV. She went to one 
 of the soldiers whom she knew, and whis- 
 pered to him. 
 
 " I thought the scamp hadn't gone," he 
 replied. " The subterranean passage is a good 
 dodge, but we'll ham-string hira directly." 
 So saying he nodded to Elsie, and went to 
 one of the law-officers jiresent. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the Castle, Bruce had ex- 
 plained his plans of escape to Jean. He did 
 not know )'et that he was to have company to 
 the Hudson's Bay countr3\ Brian intended 
 that as a surprise for him later. They dis- 
 cussed the probability of the Castle being 
 searched again, for they knew that it was 
 watched. For this Bruce had a plan readj' ; 
 and if he had immunity from capture for a 
 few days, vigilance would be relaxed, and 
 then he could make his escape more easily to 
 the coast — that is, to Dunlar. His scheme 
 of hiding under the very nose o. the law had 
 so far been daring, but, perhaps, tlic best 
 that could have been adopted. The policy 
 should be pursued to the bitter or successful 
 end. 
 
 Jean had spoken little during the discus- 
 .«ion. She did not avoid Brian, but slie could 
 not be to him as she had been before, though 
 she tried to prevent Bruce seeing any differ- 
 ence in her manner. As for Brian, he wished 
 to humble himself before her, and would have 
 done so at a certain moment, when Bfuce's 
 aifairs were arranged in so far as was possible. 
 But she guessed his intention, and warned him 
 with her eyes ; and the pleading, suffering, 
 and absolute womanliness of that look fol- 
 lowed him for many a year. That chance lost, 
 the opportunity was gone, niayl)e, for ever. 
 So, with a hasty good-bye, less trying to Jean 
 than it would hd\'e been had she known that 
 ho also was going over the seas if Bruce 
 escaped, he again gave Bruce the point in the 
 hills wh^ro they should meet when he ven- 
 tured h< '<i the Castle, and was gone — out of 
 the git i life. 
 
 Bria / I not been gone long when there 
 came a kin oking at the door. Jean looked 
 out of the window and saw some dark forms 
 on the Castle steps below. She warned her 
 brother, and they hastily and noiselessly de- 
 
 scended to the dungeons. Jean did not ques- 
 tion Brucc's plans. She had strong faith in 
 his resources. He quickly told her that he 
 was going to hide in the draw-well. He 
 explained that there was a hole in the side 
 of the well, into Avliich a man could crawl, 
 evidently designed for fugitives like himself. 
 Then he urged he, away. 
 
 She hastily mounted the stairs, and pro- 
 ceeded to open the outer door. The bars 
 clanked down, the panel creaked open, and 
 four men stejiped into the light of the caiuUe. 
 Her face showed no excitement, though her 
 eyes were unusually bright. 
 
 " What is it you're wantin', men, at this 
 hour ? " she asked. " My faither's no at 
 hame." ^ 
 
 " Ay, ay, but we didna come to see your 
 faither, lassie, but your brither wha bides wi' 
 ye the nicht, whatever," answered a tall officer. 
 
 " Ye'll please to remember that my name 
 is Jean Fordie," the giil responded proudly ; 
 " and also ye'll mind that you cam like 
 thieves in the nicht ; so be thankfu' that I 
 didna fire on ye, afore asking ye to explain 
 your troublin' the peace of a lonely girl." 
 
 "You're vera high and michty, Mist- ss 
 Jean Fordie, and ye carry your Avits wi' you. 
 But I ken that yc'rc no bidin' alane the nicht. 
 There's places empty at the Rob Roj^ that 
 should be filled wi' the lilt o' the shoes of 
 Jean Fordie and Bruce Fordie and Brian 
 Kingley, Avhiles. Oh, ay, there's thochts that 
 '11 be thocht the nicht, whether we wull or no. 
 And so ye'll be just standin' aside. Mistress 
 Jean Fordie, and if yer brither's no here, 
 we'll be findin' wha is here, forbyc. ' 
 
 One of the officers had bolted the panel, 
 and stood guard by it. The leader again 
 addressed Jean, since she made no motion for- 
 ward. " Shall we be takin' the licht frae ye, 
 Jean Fordie, or wull ye gang wi' us and save 
 us trou])le ? " 
 
 Without a word now she preceded them 
 w ith the light up-stairs ; and then every room 
 was searched down to the dungeons. As they 
 were going below the officer said to her : 
 " He'll no have got awa' by ony door sync 
 we've been in, and there's mair o' time lads 
 outside." He pointed to his companions, and 
 chuckled to himself. The officer, after close 
 search, failed to discover the subterranean 
 passage ; for Brian and Bruce had placed tlui 
 stones again in their proper position, and had 
 tilled the interstices with improvised mortar. 
 The officer was baffled. Again they searched 
 the Castle thoroughly, sounding the walls for 
 movable panels, exploring the roofs and the 
 chimneys, and at last coming as before to the 
 
 siii 
 
san did not que9» 
 1 strong faith in 
 told her that he 
 draw-well. He 
 hole in the side 
 iian could crawl, 
 ives like himself. 
 
 stairs, and pro- 
 door. The hars 
 3aked open, and 
 ;lit of the candle. 
 
 lent, 
 
 though 
 
 her 
 
 in', men, at this 
 faither's no at 
 
 come to see your 
 bor Avha bides wi' 
 crcd a tall officer, 
 r that my name 
 ponded proudly ; 
 b you cam like 
 thankfu' that I 
 g yc to explain 
 I lonel}' girl." 
 michty, Mist- ss 
 our wits wi' you. 
 i' alane the nicht. 
 e Rob Koy that 
 o' the shoes of 
 'ordie and Brian 
 ire's thochts that 
 cr we Willi or no. 
 .' aside, Mistress 
 I'ither's no here, 
 rbyt. ' 
 
 ted the panel, 
 he leader again 
 e no motion for- 
 le licht frae ye, 
 wi' us and save 
 
 preceded them 
 
 len every room 
 
 igeons. As they 
 
 r said to her : 
 
 vuy door syne 
 
 air o' thae lads 
 
 onipanions, and 
 
 icer, after close 
 
 subterranean 
 
 had placed tlx; 
 
 3sition, and had 
 
 oviscd mortar. 
 
 I they searched 
 
 g the walls for 
 
 roofs and the 
 
 ■is before to the 
 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOE. 
 
 27 
 
 dungeons. Suddenly the leader paused at 
 the draw-well. He stooped and lifted the 
 trajvdoor, and taking the candle from Jean, 
 held it down as far as he could. But it did 
 not light below itself. It is not probable that 
 the man expected to find anything there ; he 
 did the thing mechanically. Then he handed 
 the candle back to Jean, turned aside, and 
 picked up a large stone lying loose on the 
 ground. He raised the stone, looking at her. 
 She hold her countenance unmoved, but her 
 heart throbbed so violently that she turned 
 sick. He raised the stone and let it drop into 
 the darkness. Jean turned deathly white. 
 As if by accident, she dropped the candle, 
 and it went out. In the gloom they licard 
 the stone boom once, twice, thrice, against 
 the sides of the well ; then there was silence, 
 and again a hollow echoing thud as it struck 
 the water. 
 
 Then Jean spoke, and her voice seemed, 
 to herself, an infinite distance aM'ay. " You 
 see, there's naethiu'." 
 
 All her life long she thanked God that in 
 that sickening moment she had remembered 
 the hole in tin side of the well, else the hor- 
 rible suspense would have made her shriek 
 out, or restrain the officer's hand. 
 
 She heard the trap-door drop. She drew 
 a great breath of thankfulness, and said : 
 " Ye '11 hae to find yer way up again as best 
 vou can ; or stop here till I get the candle 
 iichted." 
 
 They essayed to follow her, however, and 
 groped their way to the staircase and ascended. 
 She hurried up-stairs, lighted r.nother candle, 
 and brought it down to them as they stood 
 at the door ready to go. 
 
 " Is there ony ither place you wad care to 
 search 1 " she said with some sarcasm. 
 
 " Ye've a verra canny held. Mistress Jean 
 Fordie (since ye'U be haein' the name wi' a' 
 its handles) ; and ye've helpit him weel awa', 
 I ken. But ye'll no carry that heid heigh in 
 Braithen in days to come, I'll be thinki.i'. 
 And that's my blessin' tae ye ; which I'd no 
 hae gied ye, war j'er tongue no sae sour, Mis- 
 tress Jean Fordie." 
 
 " It's easy for a woman to say bitter things, 
 but it oughtna to be sac easy for a nuui 
 to iuiswei- them bitterly," replied she very 
 giavcly, and with a strange sadness in her 
 lone. " And if you had a brither that was 
 liuntod like a dog inside his sister's door, 
 yc'd ijc bitter too, maybe ; but yc'd tak' it 
 ill o'onyane sayiii'lianl things o' thae sister." 
 
 There were no tears in her eyes, but they 
 swam tlirough her r.ords. Sijc foresaAV all 
 too clearly what the man had prophcsicid. 
 
 though she could not know how far she would 
 be humbled by scandal and falsehood, which 
 was God's tempering of the wind to what she 
 was able to bear. The full strain of her trouble 
 came with her increasing power to endure it. 
 
 The officer was taken back by this now 
 attitude. He had been angry at being baffied 
 by a girl ; but he knew that his spite was 
 unworthy of a man. He did the manly thing. 
 Ho said to her : " I'll no say but ye're richt, 
 and I'll be askin' ye to forget what I said tae 
 ye the noo. I ni but a rough carle, ye ken, 
 and yo hae sic an edge tae your words when 
 ye wull. Sae good-nicht tae ye, lassie, good- 
 nicht tae ye kindly." 
 
 The door opened, and they were gone. 
 
 Meanwhile Andrew Venlaw was sitting 
 alone in his room, his hands clasped between 
 his knees, his eyes fixed painfully upon the 
 floor. Suddenly ho raised himself, shook his 
 shoulders as if to free himself of some load, 
 left the house, and went to the Salmon's 
 Head. There he inquired for the Hudson's 
 Bay officer, whom finding he remained with 
 for an hour. When he left again, the other 
 laid a hand upon his shoulder, and said: 
 " Not to Dunbar then, ^Ir. Venlaw, l)ut 
 London. There straight to me at the address 
 you have, and afterwards — an honest adven- 
 turer of the North ! " 
 
 To this Venlaw nodded an assent, and 
 then strode away into the night, thinking 
 upon his intended exile, but not knowing 
 that those two others were to be exiles to the 
 same regions; and they remained ignorant o£ 
 his pilgrimage also. 
 
 Looking after him, Moore said : "He'll be 
 the very chief of chief factors off there, or I 
 know nothing of the H. B. C. All — all be- 
 cause of a woman. 'Well, the ( 'ompaiiy owes 
 mucli to women. They are the makers of 
 exiles." 
 
 Andrew Venlaw twice turned to go to his 
 liome, and twice changed bis mind. At last 
 he decided, and moved up tiie river again to 
 Cowrie Castle. Wlicn he reached it he stood 
 long in the shadows of the yews. Once or 
 twice 11 Avoman's form cast a shadow on the 
 blind ; and once a man's shadow was there 
 also. At this, something sconicd U) disturb 
 him greatly. He shudderetl violently. I're- 
 sently ho threw his arms against a tree, and 
 leancil his head on thorn. If one looked for 
 such a thing of a big man, one had said that 
 he sol)bed. But any that had known him 
 years later would have declared this impos- 
 sible. When he looked up again he said in 
 a shaking voice : " lassie, lassie, I thocht 
 
M 
 
 h\ 
 
 28 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 ye like the sna' — cauld, but as pure ; and a' 
 the time his kisses were biiniin' on ycr lips. 
 If I stopped hero I maun fecht him, I maun 
 kill him. But I'm going awa', and I'll forget 
 ye by-and-by, maybe. I'll never seek to ken 
 Avhat's cam to ye ; for the best maun be waur 
 than this. I'll bo gain' frao ye, lassie," he 
 continued, in the homely dialect in which ho 
 had been bred, "and nae mair will I look 
 upo' your fiice again. Yo hae cursed me wi' 
 a curse which I'll bear wi* mo a' the days o' 
 my life. For ye hae shaken my faith i' the 
 Avarld — it's true, ay, but it's true — ' the 
 human heart is deceitful abune a' things and 
 desperately wicked.' Good-bye, Jean Fordie, 
 and God forgie ye ! " 
 
 He went slowly back towards tho town. 
 On his way he saw a reveller of tho fair 
 coming. The man was singing a plaintive 
 ditty in a fashion grotesquely blithe. Andrew 
 Venlaw recalled it many a time afterwards. 
 Now it was like blows in the face to him. 
 
 " Nne innir at Logan Kirk will lio 
 Atwocn the prcacliins moot wi' me ; 
 Mtet wi' me ami wlien 'tis mirk, 
 Cunvoy mo hamo frao Logau Kirk." 
 
 CHAPTEU IV. 
 
 -"THE ICE FIELDS AND 
 THE MAIN." 
 
 Two sister ships are breasting a nasty 
 Atlantic sea, a hundred miles apart. They 
 arc running, shoulders shivering, against the 
 
 wild burglars of the north — the inflexible, 
 implacable winds. They subtend a great 
 angle of riot. Above, there is the spiteful 
 whipping of icy shrouds, the shrieking Avrench 
 of the mast ; below, is the dull booming of 
 dislodged cargo, tho rustling milange of dis- 
 order. Upon tho deck of one of these un- 
 abashed invaders stands a, man remarkable, 
 even in this buffeting of tho elements, for 
 tho strong defiance of a stalwart bodj' and an 
 indomitabb mind ; for an austere firmness 
 of countenance and stern composure. All 
 this distinction of character Avould have ap- 
 peared possible to one who had rounded tho 
 compass of an adventurous career, but it 
 seemed hardly fitting to so young a man as 
 this spectator of a pretty combat Ijetwccn a 
 little warrior hanging to life by rivets, and 
 weaponod by cotton, with these tireless co- 
 hurts, ranging the world, waylaying, rattling 
 tho bones of disaster down tho corridors of 
 foam, or again, mercifully breathing now 
 leases of years into the nostrils of man ; — the 
 irresistible crusaders of tho sea. But age 
 and character are matters of constitution and 
 circumstance, and this man had granite in 
 muscle and mind, drawn, maybe, from a race 
 
 of hardy ancestors and the j "igged hills of 
 his native land, as from a sudden collision 
 of events, whereof we know. 
 
 Ho preferred being lashed to a mast or 
 capstan to going below. No lurch of the 
 rowdyish little craft, no racketing of bul- 
 warks, or snapping of spars, or huge onslaught 
 of the waves dismayed him. He Avas inter- 
 ested ; that was all. Until he sailed from 
 London town ho had never seen the ocean 
 nor boarded a big vessel. He 'vas learning 
 of lands beyond Pentland and seas be- 
 yond Forth. He had had as his dream of 
 the business of life tho very pleasant arfc 
 of architecture. He had been suddenly 
 burked of that by a handful of disasters. 
 Now he was studying tho wide architec- 
 ture of the world along the sluices of the 
 sea, seizing upon the Hying radii of tho 
 elements, more ambitious to oxperience lifo 
 itself than to accomplish, merely that he 
 might say his lo Triumphe : which is tho be- 
 ginning of wisdom. He is going to a self- 
 created exile, but he looks to turn it into 
 a most brave adventure. It suits him to 
 grapple with the unexplored and uncom- 
 
 panionable north. 
 The other ship, 
 time out on the 
 
 which had 
 voyage. 
 
 was 
 
 been a longer 
 taking her 
 punishment with a stolid resistance. She 
 shook off tho waves with the big assurance of 
 old custom, and drove straight along the 
 trail of her enemies, invincible but creaking 
 in evo'j'' joint. She was wounded in a limb 
 hero and there, her bidwarks were splintered 
 and her sides were clattering, but she ran 
 her figure-head straight at the bellowing 
 troops of shipwreck, and held her way. Her 
 inhabitants, barracked in her well-wedged 
 ribs, sweltered in the sickening air of her 
 exhausted lungs, too dull to count hours, 
 many too timid to leave their tossing beds. 
 But even hero were two men who took the 
 fortunes of tho sea as if they were boon com- 
 panions of the ship herself, quite as substan- 
 tially and a deal more gaily. For one had 
 come out of Avorse danger than the romp of 
 the ocean, and the other had left behind a 
 squandered fortune and a mischievous exist- 
 ence, glad to bo rid of harassing conse- 
 quences, as ho Avas trying to be free of 
 reproachful memories. 
 
 " Listen to that ! " said he to his comrade. 
 " There's the swing of the universe, and the 
 rebellion of the Polos. Bedad, we're helpless 
 bits when tho elements play tennis with us. 
 But it's wonderful all the same, tossing about 
 with the four winds of tho world. It makes 
 a man think. And, my word for it, if I was 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 90 
 
 'iggcd hills of 
 idden collision 
 
 to a mast or 
 ) lurch of the 
 kcting of hul- 
 liuge onslauKlifc 
 He was inter- 
 10 sailed fioni 
 seen the ocean 
 3 "vas learning 
 and seas be- 
 
 his dream of 
 f pleasant art 
 oen suddenly 
 [ of disasters, 
 wide architec- 
 sluices of the 
 ; radii of the 
 experience life 
 icrely that he 
 liich is the be- 
 sing to a self- 
 
 turn it into 
 suits him to 
 
 1 and uncom- 
 
 been a longer 
 
 IS taking her 
 
 sistance. She 
 
 ig assurance of 
 
 ;ht along the 
 
 ! but creaking 
 
 ded in a limb 
 
 ^ere splintered 
 
 , but she ran 
 
 ;he bellowing 
 
 ler way. Her 
 
 well-wedged 
 
 air of her 
 
 count hours, 
 
 tossing beds. 
 
 ho took the 
 
 ere boon com- 
 
 e as substan- 
 
 *'or one had 
 
 the romp of 
 
 eft behind a 
 
 lievous exist- 
 
 ig 
 
 issmg conse- 
 be free of 
 
 his comrade, 
 erse, and the 
 re'ro helpless 
 nis with us. 
 ossing about 
 1. It makes 
 r it, if I was 
 
 a sailor, I'd come to think more about the 
 Thing behind the storm than the storm itself. 
 For rll whisper it to you, my valiant Scot, 
 the winds and the sea are for the making of 
 men out of spalpeens, who tread the solid 
 ground as though there was never lightning 
 to withernor water to drown. . . . Are you 
 listening to the sermon, me boy ? " 
 
 The speaker laughed softly, but with the 
 slightest accent of timidity, as if ho were not 
 sure how his remarks would be regarded. 
 But the other nodded up at him gravely and 
 companionably, and he went on. 
 
 " What's the cause of this, you're askin' 
 out of your canny eye, Scotsman ? . . Well, 
 lying last night with sleep playing hide-and- 
 seek round me, I got to thinking of the days 
 when I was a lad, not so high as the breast 
 that gave bone to my body, and I thought 
 of as lovely a woman as ever gave the 
 world a man, and a day at Malahide where 
 the sea comes striding in with the pride of 
 an army, and she saying to me, — " Brian, me 
 lad, there's nothing on earth so mighty as 
 the sea and the sun." And she read to me 
 out of a book like none other — though little 
 you and I regard it — and made mo learn by 
 heart what she read. And the words came 
 to me last night, and went swimming back 
 and forth through my mind. Well, here they 
 are: 
 
 ' ' ' The Lord Lath his way in the whirlwind and in 
 the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet. 
 
 " ' He rebuketh the sea, and niaketh it dry, and 
 drieth up the rivers ; Babylon languishcth, and Car- 
 mel, and the flower of Lebanon languisheth.' 
 
 " That was the fashion of the thing, and — 
 Here, take this match for your pipe, and 
 make never a grin on your face when I say 
 to you that the word which the good woman 
 speaks to the child once swung at her 
 breasts, when she's just stepping cut of the 
 world, is worth keeping better than I've kept 
 it. . . . But, maybe, my lad of Braithen, 
 there's a time for remembering everything, 
 and this is one of them ; for, hero we are 
 with a mad record behind us and a walloping 
 sea beneath us, the wind playing ninepins 
 with the masts and spars, and a long white 
 land ahead all snow and wild meat, where 
 we'll be carrying our lives in the palms of 
 
 our hands ; and Bruce, me boy What's 
 
 that? ..." 
 
 There was a sudden heaving turmoil be- 
 neath them, a harsh horrible shock and grat- 
 ing, and a big palaver of wind and breakage 
 above, through which ran the wild cry of a 
 human voice : 
 
 " An iceberg 1 . . . We're lost I . . . " 
 
 They were not lost, but a battered, 
 
 abused vessel went tumbling on into the 
 spawn of the elements. 
 
 In the room of a gloomy old castle in Scot- 
 land, a girl sat at this moment weaving. A 
 sombre man, brooding at a tireless hearth- 
 stone, raised his head now and then as if to 
 listen to the wind shrieking up from the 
 courtyard and the ruined chapel to the 
 quivering window. Several times ho took 
 his pipe from his mouth as if to speak. But 
 he waited. At last, looking with a sidelong 
 glance at the grave industrious figure by the 
 loom, ho said : " It'll bo bad eneuch for ony 
 that's travelling the hills the nicht." 
 
 " It'll be waur for ony that travels by sea 
 the nicht," she replied in a far-away, yet 
 kindly tone. 
 
 The old man stirred fretfully in his chair. 
 " Isna the land eneuch but 3'ou must be 
 fashin' aboot the sea ? . . . "What's put the 
 sea into yer head ? " he added, something 
 not quite so gruffly, however. 
 
 " Maybe it was God — and my mither," she 
 responded solemnlj\ 
 
 The old man stared, shook his head as iu 
 protest, and was silent again. 
 
 In a cottage on the braeside, at the same 
 moment, an idiot sat drawing grotesque 
 figures on the hearthstone with a cinder. 
 Suddenly he paused, as the rain and wind 
 spluttered down the chimney upon the fire, 
 and said with a prodigious leer : " O, 0, 
 whustle, whustle ! Puir Else ! Puir Pete 1 
 Flee awa,' ! flee awa' ! O woe rats drown ! 
 O, 0, Puir Jess ! Puir Pete i " 
 
 "O, hush, for God's sake, Pete," said a 
 petulant voice behind him. 
 
 CHAPTER v.— THE SLANT OF THE YEARS. 
 
 Eight years is a considerable measure in 
 the range of youth. Less time than that has 
 turned hair grey, brought wrinkles to the face, 
 dimmed the eyes, robbed a face of blushes or 
 the power for blushes, and chilled the blood 
 in the veins. Cowrie Castle looks the same. 
 Eighty times eight years could make little 
 difference in it. It stands up grey and tall, 
 a sentinel among the hills, monumental of 
 those who had travelled the slant of the 
 years to where all paths end. 
 
 AVithintho Castle little of itself is changed, 
 though if you had gone below to the dungeons 
 you would have seen that the old draw-well 
 was fastened permanently down, so that none 
 could raise it. This was one manifestation 
 
30 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 of a father's anger when ho learned that his 
 son had escaped from the law by its means ; 
 perhaps, however, not so much uiigry at the 
 escape, as at the thing being achieved suc- 
 cessfully under his very eye. Ho had cast 
 the lad out of his heart and homo ; for ho 
 <leclared he had forfeited the right to one 
 and had dishonoured the other. Yet this 
 lad in his youth had been more to his father 
 than the girl. Hut that is the way of men : 
 they are often cruolcst to those they have 
 loved most. 
 
 Black Fordie never inquired after his son. 
 Btit once every year there came a letter from 
 him to Jean ; and she read parts of it aloud 
 as she sat by the fire in her father's presence ; 
 but as if she wore reading to lierself. She 
 know that he listened, but she never hinted 
 at that. In all else Foniic was kind enough, 
 kinder even than in years past. He was 
 unhappy if she were away for a day. Ho 
 was moved too by a pity which made liim 
 almost tender to her at times. For, since 
 that momentous day of Beltane Fair, Brai- 
 then had not boon a place of happiness. And 
 Fordie, with impotent anger at the man who 
 had caused her sufl'ering, knew this, as he 
 also knew that she was innocent and good as 
 when she came into the world. Therefore, 
 among the people ho was more stern and 
 saturnine than ever. It had been said of 
 Jean that she had loved unwisely a gentleman 
 who left her ; and though the tale of Brian's 
 midnight visit to the Cagtle was explained by 
 those few who were indignant at tho injustice 
 they believed was being done to a girl who, 
 maybe, had been indiscreet but not wicked, 
 tho matter was persistently kept alive through 
 a source not difficult to trace ; and the girl 
 found it hard to live detraction down. Yet 
 she had not lost her beauty. Her face, 
 though less rounded, had the grave sweetness 
 and settled dignity which comes sometimes 
 to the suffering young. 
 
 The seventh, tho eighth, year saw no letter 
 from Bruce at the usual time. When it was 
 apparent that none would come she visibly 
 suffered. There was no pining look, but her 
 cheek became more «lelicate, and more sensi- 
 tive, so that the colour came and went upon 
 it hastily. There was one pleasant thing at 
 the bottom of her Pandora's box. It came 
 year after year, and sometimes twice and 
 thrice a year, in the person of Benoni. She 
 used to Avonder why it was she had such a 
 feeling of comradeship for this old man so far 
 below even her social scale. But her father, 
 as if to free her from occasional interroga- 
 tions, told her once that Benoni was a distant 
 
 relative, but that she must not question him 
 about it, for there was a story and he wished 
 it to bo unknown. Since her trouble had 
 come upon her Benoni had been kind and 
 companionable to her after a new fashion. 
 Ho came oftener and staj'od longer than for- 
 merly. He sent her books, most carefully 
 and intelligently chosen ; biography, history, 
 romance, old plays, and poets of tho time. 
 These had devclopetl her amazingly. Her 
 father wished her to cease weaving, but she 
 would never do so ; she would even have 
 gone to the woollen mill, lately established 
 at Glaishen Water, but to this ho would not 
 consent at all ; for ho said, as was true, she 
 had no need to earn her living. 
 
 Still, she went to the mill occasionally, 
 because she liked to see the activity of it and 
 to hear and watch tho rumbling machinery. 
 Besides, she had a friend there ; a pretty 
 girl of merry heart and daring tongue, and 
 who never ceased to sing Jean's praises whero 
 most they needed singing ; and while tho 
 Dominie, her imcle, lived, she constantly 
 and viciously fought him upon the matter of 
 Jean, as upon his attitude towards all women. 
 But Katie Dryhope had one opponent as 
 stealthy as Katie was brave, so that when Jean 
 visited the mill she was received, if not with 
 actual slight, at least with furtive glances, 
 and by no means enthusiastic greeting: 
 due also in some slight degree to the fact that 
 she was superior to them all, both by educa- 
 tion and the advantages of breeding got from 
 her mother. But she could and did endure 
 it in a very womanly and proud fashion. 
 She knew her enemy too, for Elsie did not 
 hide the light of her antipathy under a bushel, 
 and always did more than nod significantly 
 when Jean entered tho mill. 
 
 One summer day, at the point of time 
 when this chapter opens, Jean visited the 
 mill. It was about live o'clock of the after- 
 noon, and the last half-hour of work was on. 
 There Avas to be a merry-making the folloAving 
 day in honour of an enlargement to the mill, 
 and all the girls were in good humour. The 
 flight of the shuttle was accompanied by a 
 low clatter of conversation. The greeting to 
 Jean was heartier than usual. She turned 
 half unconsciously to the loom where Elsie 
 ustlally worked, and saw that her place was 
 empty. She was welcomed heartily by Katie, 
 and they chatted pleasantly ; but Jean's eyes 
 kept wandering to the deserted loom. Katie 
 saw the wandering glance, and at last said : 
 " She's gane, and for guid ; and serve her 
 richt ! " 
 
 " What serves her richt 1 " Jean asked. 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 81 
 
 [iicstion him 
 1(1 ho Avishetl 
 trouble had 
 n kind and 
 lew fashion. 
 ;er than for- 
 »8t carefully 
 )hy, history, 
 )f the time, 
 ingly. Her 
 iiig, but she 
 I even have 
 ' established 
 10 would not 
 'as true, she 
 
 jccasionally, 
 ity of it and 
 ; machinery, 
 e ; a pretty 
 tongue, and 
 raises whero 
 i while the 
 s constantly 
 he matter of 
 Is all women, 
 jpponent as 
 it when Jean 
 I, if not with 
 tive glances, 
 c greeting : 
 the fact that 
 ,h by educa- 
 ing got from 
 
 did endure 
 »ud fashion. 
 Uie did not 
 r a bushel, 
 
 ignificantly 
 
 int of time 
 visited the 
 
 the after- 
 ork was on. 
 le following 
 to the mill, 
 nour. The 
 janied by a 
 ) greeting to 
 She turned 
 vhere Elsie 
 
 place was 
 y by Katie, 
 Jean's eyes 
 )om. Katie 
 
 last said : 
 
 serve her 
 
 asked. 
 
 "That she liad to gutig, and that she'll no 
 come back. This moniing she quarrelied 
 wi' the lassie working the next loom tao 
 her, and she reachit owcr and ran a knife 
 clean through the weft. The foreman haj)- 
 pencd to bo goin' by. He sce'd it, and awa' 
 she had to gang. He says she'll no get back 
 again, for she was aye making trouble." 
 
 " She was a good worker," remarked 
 Jean. 
 
 " Of course she was, but that disna 
 matter, and the mill can get alang wi'out 
 her, whiles." 
 
 " But can she get alang wi'out the mill, 
 Katie ? She has her idiot brother to care 
 for," Jean asked gravely. 
 
 "Let her hao a .sup o' the misery she's 
 fain to gie ither bodies. It ill do her guid," 
 snappishly replied the other. 
 
 " Don't bo so hard-hearted, Katie." 
 
 " You mak mo fair angry, Jean," was the 
 impatient rejoinder. " She doesna — love 
 you ! " 
 
 "But that's no reason for me no bein' 
 Borry for her," Jean urged. 
 
 " Oh, you lass ! — body, but I could shake 
 ye ! " responded the other, her eyes flicking 
 with indignation. She thought that Jean 
 should rejoice at her detractor's downfall. 
 She did actually squeeze Jean's arm till she 
 made her wince with pain. She turned to 
 the loom and muttered detached words of 
 anger for a moment. Then she spoke again 
 to Jean. " Ye'ro as meek's a moose, and I 
 could sing wi' joy at her goin', forbye." 
 
 "I can't forget about the idiot brither, 
 Katie." 
 
 " Weel, why doesna she mind that she's 
 gotten an awfu' idiot in the famil}-, and 
 leave ither folk alane, that are saints to her 
 sinner, whiles ? Body ! I could just break 
 a' the commandments to spite her. — I'll no 
 hear ye speak ; I'll no hear ye speak. Ony 
 way ye speak too guid English for me, siccan 
 an education you hae got. There ! " And the 
 little warrior laid her hand on Jean's mouth 
 impulsively. 
 
 After a little the clacking wheels and 
 pulleys stopped : the soft buzz of the bobbins, 
 the click of the loom, the rattling flight of 
 the shuttles, the thud of weights on the cloth, 
 the swish of the broom over the web, the 
 snip of scissors, — even the smell of the dyeing 
 seemed suddenly to be dissipated, — and the 
 mill emptied into the street. 
 
 Jean and Katie passed with the others 
 into the warm air of evening. Never, per- 
 haps, had Braithen appeared more beautiful. 
 Everything glowed. A slight breeze swayed 
 
 the ancient sign-boards of the burgh, lifted 
 the ivy gently on ruined walls, and swung a 
 stray wisp of hair across the face of a sonsy 
 lass, as she traversed the narrow col)ble 
 streets. As Jean and Katie passed down a 
 brae among crying fishwives, lounging sol- 
 diers, and some idle revellers, they came 
 suddenly at a turn of the street upon a small 
 crowd gathered round some object upon the 
 ground. AVhatcver it was it caused the 
 crowd notable amusement, for the girls heard 
 loud laughing -as they drew near. They 
 were about to pass the group hurriedly, but 
 Jean, catching sight of the cause of I ho 
 blockade, suddenly stepped forward among 
 the men, and said with indignation : " Shame 
 on ye, to lauch at what God has deformed ! " 
 
 Upon the ground sat Pete the idiot, his 
 immense head wagging, tearing to bits raw 
 fish, given him by the coarse humorists 
 about him, and eating it while ho laughed 
 horribly. Some drunken fellow had thrown 
 a handful of flour on his head, and another, 
 still more drunken, was ofiering him a mug 
 of liquor. Jean pushed this aside, and stoop- 
 ing, caught the idiot gently by the arm. 
 " Come wi' me, Pete," she said, " and I'll gio 
 ye better than this to eat, laddie." 
 
 The idiot would not stir, but spluttered 
 over his sickening repast. The bright colours 
 of her kerchief caught his eye. Ho reached 
 out his hand for it. She flushed. 
 
 "Come wi' me, laddie," she urged, and 
 she quickly drew the kerchief from her neck 
 and bosom and held it up to him. " I'll gie 
 you this if yo'll come, laddie," she persisted. 
 " Come ! do come ! " 
 
 The idiot tottered to his feet, holding out 
 his hand for the kerchief. She gave it to 
 him and taking his arm led him shuflling 
 from the crowd. Katie had stood a silent 
 spectator of this scene ; but when she saw 
 some of the men passing remarks on Jean's 
 j)alpitating neck and slightly-bared bosom, 
 she turned upon them fiercely. 
 
 " Oh, yo raffs and cowards ! " she cried. 
 " Ye'ro grinning at what is a shamefu' thing. 
 For that's Jean Fordie, the best lass i' the 
 borderside and oot o' Heaven itsel' ; and as 
 for the fule waddlin', ye'rc nao better your- 
 sels, when ye'ro just slobberin' wi' drink. 
 He's what God made him, and ye'ro the 
 deil's own wark, an' that '11 awa wi' ye 
 some day tao a place waur ye'll wish ye 
 had been fules like this to bo i' Abram's 
 bosom ! " 
 
 At that a fishwife strode into the crowd 
 and vigorously finished the sermon that 
 Katie so successfully began ; and the two 
 
rr 
 
 i 
 
 
 Si 
 
 82 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR 
 
 " Whotlior sIio likes yo or iin ! " was 
 
 the reply, iiccoiiipunicd by a virions little 
 
 toss of the head. " She likes ye as weel 
 
 as [ like her, and that's as a cat likes a 
 
 )ird. " 
 
 Jiut .lean only snid : " YeV(! harder 
 than you need l)p, Katie." 
 
 They walked on in silence tlirouj,'h 
 Hijjh Street, and ciossed the hridge, 
 causinji some remark as they passed — it 
 was not an ci-rand outwardly heconiinj,' ; 
 hut they were liravc. At last they entered 
 the street on the l»rae where Elsie lived. 
 Aa thej' did so they saw old .Fessie potter- 
 ing from house to house, protestin;^ with 
 upraised hands that it was not throuj^h 
 lier fault tho laddie had escaped ; and 
 that the stroke Elsie gave her on tho 
 lireast must he repented 
 of in sackcloth and a.shes 
 — or .something akin to 
 it. "Elsie," she said, 
 " had an awfn' tongue 
 and an unco' sperrit ; 
 and nac mair wad she 
 care for the woltbling 
 l)ody, waur nor ony eliihl 
 or ony drunken wali.ster 
 day in day out wi' his 
 feckless ways. . . . And 
 Elsie," she continued, 
 "was scaurin' the burgh 
 wi' a bit tire on her 
 tongue that micht v eel 
 burn Shadrach, Aleshach, 
 ""d Abodncgo i' ony 
 "" i' Babylon." 
 She njiJ arrived at this 
 point in her narration, 
 when she noticed Jean 
 girl? passed down the brae and into High and Katie with the truant ; while the3% in 
 Street with their imbecile companion. turn, saw Elsie runidng up the brae behind 
 
 "Whaur'll you tak' him, Jean?" said them. Her black )iaii streamed behind her, 
 Katie. lier eyes were fia.^iiii>g ' ith anger. AVithout 
 
 " I'll take him hame. He has wannered a word she ran uj>on them, caught the idiot 
 frae auld Je? ie that cares for him, and Elsie by the shoulder-, xn i pushing him in before 
 'Jl be in great trouble when she finds he's her to her cottage door, thrust him inside, 
 
 '01(1 Jessie, protesling with upraised h.injs 
 
 ,awa . 
 
 and entering. 
 
 slammed the door after her. 
 
 Katie shrugged her delightfully-plump The only words spoken came from the idiot 
 shoulders. " I'll hae left him to eat rotten himself, who cried as he went, — " Puir 
 fish till he was awa' in guid earnest. But Else ! Oh, oh, the wey flce's drooned — puir 
 if y'ill hae your Avay, I'll gang wi' ye tae Pete ! " 
 
 Elsie's hou.se, just to see that she doesna scart I The two girls walked away across the 
 yer face for bringin' him back. For she i river in silence. 
 
 After a time Jean said 
 
 doesna want him, or I'm a fuil mysel'." 
 
 "Then you convict yourself, Katie, for 
 she's like a mitlier to the poor carl, and I'll 
 <lae what I think is richt, whether she likes 
 me or no." 
 
 Katie, do ye 
 think they wad tak her back at the mill ? 
 It's tireadfu' for her." 
 
 "She's like a wasp i' the place ; besides — 
 oh, I canna bear that you should speak r,ne 
 
THE CHIEF rACTOK. 
 
 33 
 
 no I was 
 
 iiioiis littlo 
 
 ye as wocl 
 
 cut likes a 
 
 ere liardcr 
 
 ;c thio\ij,'h 
 .lie luitlgc, 
 passtMl — it 
 • beconiinj; ; 
 hey enteretl 
 Elsie lived, 
 essie potter- 
 testiiiji with . 
 lot throuj,'h 
 caped ; and 
 her on the 
 ho repented 
 h and ashes 
 ing akin to 
 ' she said, 
 wfii' tongue 
 co' speirit ; 
 lir wad she 
 le Avoltl)ling 
 lor ony child 
 ken waltster 
 out wi' his 
 s. . . . And 
 k continued, 
 the burgh 
 on licr 
 icht vcel 
 ch, Meshach, 
 go i' ony 
 )ylon/' 
 ■ived at this 
 narration, 
 oticcd Jean 
 Ic they, in 
 brae behind 
 behind her, 
 Without 
 it the idiot 
 ini in before 
 him inside, 
 after her. 
 nn the idiot 
 It, — " Puir 
 oned— puir 
 
 across the 
 
 atio, do ye 
 t the mill 1 
 
 besides — 
 I speak f.ne 
 
 ■c 
 mi 
 
 word for her, Jean ; for she's leed and lecd 
 uboot yuii " 
 
 dean putlicranu through that of the other. 
 " Katie, don't I ken a' al)i)ot that f liut the 
 worst o't is ower for me, ami a' will come 
 liclit some day. Ini no in sic a hurry abxtt 
 it noo. .nil' gets p;itient after awhile." Her 
 eves siiddeiiiv swam with tears, but slie went 
 on steadily : '' 1 ken, Katie, that the foreman 
 gangs to see your sister Maggie " 
 
 " Oh. Meg leads him sic a dance ! " uiter- 
 rnpted the lutle made. lit. 
 
 •Ay, 1 ken. Nou, I want ye t(» mak' 
 .Maggie no tae lead him a dance, on condition 
 that he taks Klsie back." 
 
 Katie sprang a step ahead of .lean, faced 
 her, caught her by the shoulders and shook 
 her. 
 
 **()h, oh, I could shake you till there's no 
 a sliake i' yer body, if ycr big een didna look 
 like the picture o' angel's in faither's IJibie. 
 Hut 1 11 sliake ye as laiig as I can, whiles, and 
 then " 
 
 Apparently angry, >iie did .shake Jean till 
 &he had exhausted herself ; then, assudd>t ly, 
 danced to her side again, and, taking her arm, 
 said : "I'll jii.st do as I please, and that'll be 
 out o' nae love for Elsie Garvan ! " 
 
 And Jean knew that slie had prevailed, 
 
 atid she linked h-r arm in Katie's, and ki.'?sed 
 her oil tlie check. 
 
 That night Jean had a visiter. She did 
 not expect her father hmne till late ; and 
 while waiting for whoever was expected, she 
 lirou.nlit out all the letters that JJruce had 
 written her since he li.id been gone tiiey 
 were <»nly five — and road them over and over, 
 siiiocithiiig them out on lier knees afterwards, 
 and thinking about each oiie betore .die jiassed 
 to another, it was scarcely necessary, in one 
 sense, to read them, for she knew them by 
 lie.irt ; Imt the sight of the words seemed to 
 give tlicni new life and character. The last 
 letter had been written from Fort .Angel, not 
 very far fi'om the .\ictic Circle : and it fold of 
 trouljie with the Indians, and lierce cold, and 
 hazardous but fascinating hours with wild 
 beasts ; and all vibrating with vigour, man- 
 liness, and contentment. 
 
 After the first two letters Bruce had nicn- 
 tioncil Ihian only briefly. Tluir .separation, 
 by aiipointmcnt to ditlerent fort.s, was the 
 cause of this. And men might be for a life- 
 time in these wilils at the beginning of the 
 century, and not see or hear from each other, 
 so uncertain and roiindaliout were the mails. 
 In the third letter he said that Urian had left 
 the Hudson's Ea v Company's service, and had 
 
 "A harsh. hornl)lc' slincl;.' 
 
34 
 
 TFIE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 entered tliat of its great rival, the Xortli West 
 Company. He assigned no reason for this 
 change. After that Jiis knowledge of Brian's 
 Avhercabonts appeared to cta^e, though he 
 said he missed his old comradi; continually. 
 Bruce had never kncnvn of lu' unhappy event, 
 with its malicious circumstaTict's, which had 
 nearly ruined dean's life. Jlii in had never 
 had the coinage to tell it; and he did not 
 know what injury he had done. 
 
 So far as she knew, no one in the Shiel 
 Valley guessed what had hecoiue of Andrew 
 Venlaw. IJrian and Jhuce were not aware of 
 his presence in the Hudson's IJay Company 
 — for that was part of his compact with ]\Ir. 
 Moore. Oulj* one man in )Scotland was cer- 
 tain of his whereabouts, and that was old 
 Dominie Dryhope. For five years Jean was 
 also ignorant on this point, and she thought 
 of Andrew regretfullj, l)ecause, as time went 
 on, she was sure that he had gone because 
 ho had believed ill of her and Brian. At 
 times, too, she thought of this indignantl}', 
 but that Avas while the fresh force of her trial 
 was upon her. 
 
 At last the Dominic was taken ill, and Jean 
 went with Katie to see him. At first he 
 would not speak to her, but lay on his couch 
 glowering at her — for had not she ruined his 
 one ])romising pupil ? But as days went on, 
 and lier presence atiected him, in spite of 
 himself, pleasantly, he unbent to her : and 
 at last he let her and none other tend on him, 
 though he rated her not ungently still. 
 
 One daj^ when she came, he .appeared 
 desperately exhausted, and presently he told 
 lier that he had been finishing a letter to 
 Andrew, begun weeks before. "Ay, lass," 
 saici be, " but my Ijonnie laddie '11 no come 
 back ; and sic a hcid, sic a heid, he had ! 
 An' ye'ii no be Avritiu' for him, for ye'U no 
 clap een on him this side o' Domesday ; for 
 you've broke the ladilie's heart, and a heart 
 can be broke but ance." 
 
 For the first time in his presence her 
 bravery forsook her. She sat down beside 
 him, her face pale and drawn with pain. 
 He relented, and pointing to Anilrc«'s pic- 
 ture on the wall, said that she should have 
 it soon, together with the letters written from 
 that far countiy. 
 
 "He Avad hae bin a great man, Andy, 
 Avasna it that, wasna it that, ye ken ! " ho 
 Raid, forgetting, as he came to the end of the 
 long travel, Shakesp(>are's English, of Avhieh 
 he had been so proud. 
 
 " I'll no set een on him again ; for it's far 
 to yon coiintry, and I'm awa', I'm awa', the 
 noo. It isna cauldcr there than here the 
 
 day. Ay, but it's awfu' eauld, it's aAvfu' 
 caiild i' Braithen. Lass, it's dreedfu' cauld." 
 
 Yet it Avas a summer night, and by that 
 she knew that the end Avas near. But he de- 
 manded again tiie letter he had Avritten to 
 Andrew, and quill and iid< ; and with icy 
 fingers he Avrote something more upon it, 
 then sealed it, an;! gave it to Jean, sending 
 her off to the post Avit h it at once. He Avatched 
 shivering till she i eturned ; and as she entered 
 the door he turned his head to her, and hi.'; 
 dim eyes looked out on her from an immea- 
 surable distance. He was seeing her through 
 the infinite glass that Ktrctches between This 
 and That. "Ay, lassie,'" he said at last, "that's 
 a, gran' man. . . . Its awfu' cauld. . . . 
 AVe're aAva; — to the richi.' 
 
 And she had taken the portrait and the 
 letters, and had carried them to the Castle. 
 And she read the letters through and through, 
 but she found that her name Avas never 
 mentioned, nor yet Bruce's, nor Brian's. He 
 seemed to have cut himself oil' from them 
 utterly. Xor did Bruce come to knov.- thr<jugh 
 Jean of the Dominie's death, and of AndreAA^'s 
 Avhereabouts ; for her letter telling of these 
 things never reached Bruce; and Brian, of 
 course, Avas less likely to know than Bruce. 
 Only a chance meeting Avoidd give Brian 
 knoAvledgc legarding Andrew. 
 
 As Jean sat Avith all these letters before 
 her, musing, her thoughts first and last were 
 Avitli Brian. Though through him had como 
 much of her misery and tin; harm to her good 
 name, she could not hate him. It Avas only 
 Avhen the scene on the fair-groiuid came be- 
 fore her, and she felt again his arm round 
 her, and his lips touch hers — lips wet Avith 
 Avine I — that she shuddered, and shrank away 
 from memory of him. It was a little drama 
 that had Iteen enacted many times these eight 
 years; an<l it ahvays ended as it did now, by 
 the letters being reverently kissed, and put 
 away behind a secret ]»anel in the room. 
 
 Presently she heard a knock, and the ono 
 evidently that she expected. She hurried 
 down to the great door and admitted Benoni, 
 Avho took her hands as the moonlight ranged 
 through upon them, and said : " What, lass 
 Jean, glad to see ohl IkMioni again ? " 
 
 " I never forget/' she replied, closing the 
 door and turning to goup-stairs with him. 
 
 "I'm not sure that remembrance is always 
 a virtue," he rejoined meaningly, shaking 
 back his hair, A'ery grey imw. 
 
 When once inside the room, the showman 
 drew the gu'l forward to the light. "I mu.st 
 have a good look at you," he said ; " to see 
 what the last si.K months have done to you.' 
 
lid, it's awfii' 
 •cedfu' caukl.' 
 , and l>y that 
 r. But he de- 
 ad wiitteu to 
 and with icy 
 iioro upon it, 
 Joan, fsondin.L^ 
 e. He watched 
 as she eiitereil 
 -) her, and hifj 
 oni an iminea- 
 ig lier tlirongh 
 ; between This 
 at hist, "that's 
 i' cauhl. . . . 
 
 itrait and the 
 to the Castle, 
 h and through, 
 nc \vas never 
 )i' Brian s. He 
 3li" iVom them 
 ) know thnjugh 
 nd of Andrew's 
 jlling of these 
 and Brian, of 
 w than ISrnce. 
 lid give Brian 
 
 ! letters hcforo 
 
 and last were 
 
 him had come 
 
 rm to her good 
 
 It was only 
 
 )und came bc- 
 
 arm round 
 
 ips wet with 
 
 shiank away 
 
 little drama 
 
 nes these eight 
 
 t did now, by 
 
 sod, and put 
 
 le room. 
 
 and the one 
 
 She hurrieil 
 
 nittod IJenoni, 
 
 iidight ranged 
 
 "Wiiat, iass 
 
 ;aui : 
 
 id, clo<ing the 
 s with him. 
 inco is alw ays 
 igly, shaking 
 
 tlu! showman 
 it. "I nuist 
 aid ; " to sco 
 lone to you.' 
 
 Tin-: CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 3j 
 
 
 
 He scrutini/:cil Iter playfully, and yet with 
 a kind of wistfulness too, and then shook 
 l)oth her hands heartily, and, laughing, asked 
 her if her scones were as fresh as her cheeks. 
 
 She bustled about to get him some supper. 
 He watched her silent, ailmiring ; with a 
 look, too, of debate, kindliness, yearning. If 
 ever fathcrlincss looked out of a man's eyes 
 it did from his. 
 
 "Lassie,"' he said, "what nakes you so 
 kind to a vagrom old showman like me ?" 
 
 " I'm afraid I never thocht o' that. Wc 
 dinna reason much why avo like or dislike. 
 I suppose it 13 queer your only being a show- 
 man, b".t I think " — here she paused, and 
 gravelj' looked at him — " I ken that ye maun 
 iiae had a diH'erent position ance. Just as I 
 always was certain, even afore father told 
 me " 
 
 " What did John Fordie tell you 1 " inter- 
 rupted the showman a little sharply, and his 
 face Hushing slightly. 
 
 " That you were no an Italian, and that 
 vou wore a verra distant relation o' oors — 
 that's a' ! " 
 
 " That's all," repeated Bcnoni mui'ingly ; 
 "ay, that's all!" 
 
 " But I can't help thinking " 
 
 "Jean Fordie," interposed the other very 
 gently and solemnl}', " I know you think 
 more than you say ; but don't ask me any 
 ipiestions now, and I'll tell you one day, 
 l)erhaps, who Benoni is, what he is, and wh}' 
 he is." 
 
 "I want to say, Bcnoni," the girl rejoined, 
 her fingers falling lightly on his sleeve, " that 
 even as a showman you, who could do so 
 many great things weel, mak' numy people 
 hai)p3'^ by j'our goodness." 
 
 "As for m.aking people happy, or trying 
 to do so, God gives the poor sometimes, Avhen 
 he grants nought else, two other things — 
 lumiour and a contented heart ; and I think 
 I have both now, dean, save in one thing," 
 
 "And what is that ae thing ?" 
 
 "The thing that troubles yon," and the 
 old mans voice was cadenccd to a wondcrfid 
 gentleness. 
 
 " Am I trouliled ? " wus her timid ie[)iy. 
 
 "You have a brother in a '->untry far 
 away ; and two . ler — friend 
 
 "Two other friends ! U'hat do you mean, 
 Benoni ?" She was struggling for composure. 
 
 "T»vo others, as I said. Vou never told 
 me where Andrew's l^-Kters to the Dominie 
 came from ; but I know now where Ven!a v is. 
 I have seen the Hudson's Bay otKcer aj.a n — 
 the man who helped your brother away." 
 
 " Bencui," she urged now a little piteously, 
 
 "d'ye kon onytliing o' tliem ? I hacna hoard 
 frae Bruce for twa years, as you know.' 
 
 "I know nothing at all of them, save that 
 the three went there, and they shoidd be 
 here." 
 
 "Are the three of them needed? " rejoined 
 the girl a little <lryly. 
 
 "Two at least should be here, and the 
 brotlier, if it were safe.'' 
 
 " I do not understand you." Tliis almost 
 in a whisper. 
 
 T'.io old man did not ininiediatoly reply. 
 He sat down to the supper that had bcjii 
 |)reoared for him, and began eating, botore 
 he said: "When two men wrong a woman, 
 and go awa}', they should both come back 
 an<l right the woman, if it cost them their 
 lives and fortunes. ' 
 
 Jciiu looked at the showman steadily for 
 a moment ; then she glided over to him, and 
 with almost a weird pathos to her tones, 
 said : " Benoni, dae ye think they will ever 
 come — oiiy o' them 1 " 
 
 There was a long pause. Benoni ceased 
 eating. He turned upon her till her eyes ran 
 direct with his. " If they arc alive," he re- 
 plied, "they shidl come back." 
 
 " They shall come back?" she questioned 
 musingly, her eyes now apparently engaged 
 with the faded velvet of his coat. 
 
 " They shall come back," res[)ondcd the 
 other mcjre lightly now, and as if a deter- 
 mination had gone into histoiy, " for there's 
 many a worse place tiian S(!otland ; ami 
 there's not a better lass in all (iod's earth 
 than one I know at Cowrie Castle." 
 
 A long breath passeil fnnu the girl s lips, 
 as though the \rd\n of years had found a 
 mom-mt's ease, and had gone out from her 
 into a comforting world. Then both lie- 
 came silent. When he li.-.l fiiiished eaiing, 
 the .showman rose, diew his tlute from his 
 pocket, took his accustomed seat at the 
 hearthstone, and began to l)lay. Joan had 
 no\or heard him ])lay as ho did that night: 
 for he a|)poaro(l to have caughta melody fron> 
 some Titania and Oberon of a new Miil- 
 sininiirr yiitlit's Dream. The gayest fanta-;ies 
 shook throngli the melody. The dark walls 
 of Cowrie ('astle stretthod awa\' to intermin- 
 ablo, delightful woods, and bright "oeings of 
 joy danced on the greensward. Tlion through 
 the ex(|uisite riot she hoard a long low note 
 nui ami rise and rise till it boiMine high and 
 sweet and cold like a bugle call, and go 
 swimming away into the distanoo, (Lll the 
 shadows of the music ran back ami forth in 
 the -iky like the Aiu-oraBorealis. Wliilo they 
 rtickerc I there Bcnoni paused, and said witjj 
 
3G 
 
 THE CHIEF l^ACTOR. 
 
 i i 
 
 ) V 
 
 t> 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 
 ;i peculiar smile, " I was calling them hack, 
 my iloar, I'lom the high slidiildors of the 
 woikl." 
 
 'i'lieii he j)oiire(l out another iutrepitl and 
 poMctiating melody, so personal, so imme- 
 diate, that the girl leaned licr head in iier 
 arms at the tahlc and sobbed gently. As if 
 the old man Avas determined tliat she should 
 have her hour of emotion out, the notes 
 floated into the homely sweetness of IjKjan 
 Woli'r ; then runii'ng into tiiat joyful call 
 again, he seuf it far away till it became a 
 mere iilni of sound, and so passed away. 
 
 He rose and stood beside the girl. "They 
 sliall hear those very notes one dav, my 
 lass." 
 
 She sliook her head with smiling sadncs.s. 
 "How shall that be T' she a.sked. 
 
 " I am going to fetch them." The show- 
 man drew himself up. 
 
 " You— are going — to fetch them ? " She 
 was incredulous. " Yc'rc auld, Benoni ; and 
 nnich money Avould be needed. Oh, no ; 
 yc're no serious." 
 
 "But I am quite serious. I am young at 
 heart, and,"^ — here he smiled in a singular, 
 playful fasiiion — " and I have money." 
 
 At that the girl believed him, and she 
 caught his hand, and kissed it impulsively. 
 Then the}- sat down and talked long and 
 oai'iiestIytogether,butwerc roused by another 
 knocking at the castle door. Jean knew it 
 Avas not her father's knock. Benoni vent 
 below and ailmitted — Elsie ! 
 
 " Where is Jean Fordie % " she asked in 
 low excitement. 
 
 Benoni guessed that this visit had some 
 unusual significance. He motioned her up 
 tlie staircase. A\'hen Benoni showed her into 
 the room, he would have turned awa}' and 
 left tiiem alone ; but Elsie stoppeil him. 
 "Stay here," she said; "what's to speak is 
 best afore you, for to-morrow I may be richt 
 sorry 1 tell't it, an<l ye shall be witness." 
 
 Then she turned to Jean. "I'm goin' 
 back tae the mill," she said. " The foreman 
 sends me word that it's through you, it's diuie. 
 Ye hae bin guid tae me ami mine, an' I hae 
 bin ill to you anil }ours. You cared for the 
 puir daftie ; an' lang syne I made nuickle 
 troul)le to you." 
 
 Then she told her part in that drama of 
 Beltane Fair, 1810, not sparing hei-self in 
 any particular. 
 
 During tiie recital Jean stood motionless, 
 with flashing eyes. Her face was set and 
 angry. When Elsie had finished, she sai«l : 
 "What made you do it ? ... I r vcr did 
 you ony harm 'i " 
 
 "You had a'; I had nocht,' replied the 
 other, morosely, for the look in Jeans laco 
 did not reward her confession with gentleness. 
 " I hated you. Weel 1 " 
 
 Still Jean looked as if she could not under- 
 stand. " Oh, sic a blind thing ye are ! " cried 
 Elsie. " You had Andrew f rac me ! " 
 
 Then Jean understood fully. She drew 
 back from Elsie, a little further as though to 
 ,sce the situation more clearly. At last she 
 said, with amazetl and troul>led eyes : " You 
 were dreedfu', ilreedfu', Elsie ! ' 
 
 Elsie had now to do the hardesL thing 
 possible to her nature. She took a step for- 
 ward anil said in a low tone, her bold beauty 
 all humbled before the wronged girl before 
 hei', — "Sac sorry am I, Je.in Fordie, an' yo 
 hae liin sic a saint ! " 
 
 Still Jean did not speak. The whole eight 
 years of her suffering went by her in grave 
 procession. She seemed to herself vciy old : 
 as if she had passed out of the meridian of 
 youth anil joy, — though, heaven know.s, her 
 face was young and comely still — and the 
 cause of it all was before hei'. " Oh, Elsie," 
 she said, with a weary kind of indignation, 
 " ye were wicked — wicked ! " 
 
 " I always wanted A ndrcw Venlaw ... I 
 was born with a deevil. That's .sae ! " 
 
 She sat down in a chair, folded her arms 
 before her, and sat Hushed and sulky now. 
 
 Jean turned and caught Benoni's eye. It 
 suggested nothing : but it turned with a 
 look of compassion on Elsie. Jean went 
 over and laid her hand on Elsie's shoulder. 
 "Elsie," she said; "I hae naething against 
 you. That's over. We will be frcens . . . 
 Things canna be altered noo." 
 
 Elsie did not stir ; she did not loolc up. 
 But she said slowly : " I wadna hae gano 
 back tae the mill, an t wasna for Pete . . . 
 an ye were sae kind tae him ! . . . I hae no 
 sperrit, now. Ye can dae wi' me what yo 
 wull." 
 
 Benoni drew away, and occui)ied himself 
 with his rtuto. The two talked in a low 
 voice, fiist, hesitatingly, then freely. At last 
 the showman heard Elsie say : " Jiut they'll 
 no come back ; it isnaou} use." 
 
 At this, Benoni rose and came over to the 
 girls. " To-morrow's the merry-making," he 
 .said. "After that I'm going to Hiidsoh'a 
 Bay — to bring them biftck." 
 
 CHAPTER Vr. COUNCILS OF WAR. 
 
 A FLOTILLA of 'toats M'as proceeding up 
 Red Biver to the n>^ .ncin lakes which, in 
 turn, coiuioct with Hudson's Bay. Its desti- 
 
 iif » i im.»» I . -atr 
 
 
replied the 
 Jciiii s lilCO 
 gentleness. 
 
 I not under- 
 aro 
 
 cnot 
 
 le 
 
 She drew 
 is tiiougli to 
 At last she 
 
 yes 
 
 You 
 
 irde&t thing 
 c a f^tep for- 
 hold heauty 
 girl before 
 rilie, an' yc 
 
 whole eight 
 er in grave 
 df very old : 
 meridian of 
 
 knows, her 
 11 — and the 
 'Oh, Elsie," 
 indignation, 
 
 nlaw ... I 
 5ac ! " 
 
 ,ed her arms 
 iilky now. 
 lis eye. It 
 ned with a 
 
 Jean went 
 shoulder. 
 ling against 
 
 freens . . . 
 
 ot look up. 
 I hac gano 
 r Pete ". . . 
 I liac no 
 ne what j'o 
 
 lied himself 
 
 in a low 
 
 lly. At last 
 
 iUit they'll 
 
 lover to the 
 laking, ' he 
 Iludsou's 
 
 I WAR. 
 
 peeding up 
 wliich, in 
 Its desti- 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 37 
 
 nation was Fort Gabriel, lying at a north-west 
 angle from Fort Saviour which was governed 
 by Chief Factor Venlaw. The voyarjcurs and 
 coweurs-dc's-hois in these boato were well 
 armed. This seemed necesi-ary, because of 
 peril from Indian tribes. It had, however, 
 another reason. The Xorth West Compan}-, 
 the newand great rival of the most honourable 
 and redoubtai)le Hudson's Bay Company, was 
 sending this comi)any of men to take and hold 
 Fort Gabriel, a disused but retained post of 
 the Hudson's Eay Compan3\ The object 
 was purely aggressive — a protest against 
 the claims of the Hudson's Bay Company 
 to all the land stretching from the (Jreat 
 Lakes to the Xorth Pole. It was as though 
 China sent a battalion to garrison a fort in 
 Siberia, and held it as disacknowlodgment 
 of Russia's claims to the country. The en- 
 terprise was not without its dangers, and 
 certainly not with: )i't its hardships. It was 
 late summ r n- iid they must arrive at 
 FortGabr'o' i '. •■ .iter, with the possibi- 
 litj' of being ■,i.:i 'rmarched and intercepted 
 by the Hudson's Bay Company, if the object 
 of the expedition should be discovered. But 
 the Xorth West Company had done more. 
 It had sent couriers to certain tribes of 
 Indians in the north and west, promising 
 much, and inciting them to war with the 
 Hudson's |}ay Company. It was thought, if 
 the capture of the fort and the uprising of 
 the Indians succeeded, that a crippling blow 
 would be struck at the great Company ; so 
 that even if, as had been rumoured, a regi- 
 ment was sent out from England to sustain 
 the original adventurers and traders, much 
 would be done beforehand to 'c['r<:ciate their 
 inflrcnce and claims. 
 
 As this flotilla proccP'^.i-.l nf^-l .iwards, it 
 could be seen that the un nii>. i-. 'U' the expe- 
 dition were not taking th ; u'.iUi.T wUh des- 
 perate seriousness. They WBiC 'lardA men, 
 if not of great stature, chiefly i'. -wch half- 
 breeds, swarthy, fancifully dressed, with rings 
 in their ears, like gipsies, and singing much 
 as thej' journeye(i. Time after time these 
 choruses couM bo hoard echoing through the 
 lofty undcspoilcd woods, startling the elk 
 and the bear from their iesting-i)laces, and 
 inviting the Avild i/avp of wolves in the 
 moonlight. Among nr y this was most 
 frequeut : — 
 
 " 11 y a lunu;teiniisii'n ,■ '.ii'.e, 
 Jiimiiis ju no t'oiiUici.i - ' 
 
 Once, in the early morning, as they rowed 
 pi'ly aviiv to the lilt of the blackbird's song, 
 Uiems'h' -I singing the famous— 
 
 " Sur la fouillo ron— <lon— don — Jon, 
 Sur 111 juli' joli' fcuilk' ionJ<'," 
 
 the rearmost roi/in/eurs were astonished to 
 hear the refrain caught up ilistantly by some 
 one playing an instrument in the thick woods 
 upon the bank. They were, however, going 
 swiftly, there were reasons why they shoiilil 
 not unnecessarily encounter (possibly) a de- 
 tachment of Hudson's Bay Conipaii}' men, 
 and they left the music rapidly behind iheni. 
 The leader of this expedition had, however, 
 caught the faint echo of this music, and for 
 an instant a strange, suggestive smile i)layed 
 upon his face ; then it changed to incredulous 
 amusement, and he shook his head at himself. 
 " Faith, it was uncommon like the old show- 
 man's Hute. A trick of the fancy though ; 
 and, bedad, flutes are more or less alike, for 
 that matter ! " 
 
 It was Brian Kingley, late of the Hudson's 
 Bay Company ; at present, of the Xorth 
 West Company. Brian's record with the 
 company under whom he first adventured had 
 been creditable up to a certain point. Then 
 separation from Bruce came, then loneliness 
 of a sombre kind to an impressionable viva- 
 cious nature like his. He was beginning to 
 live with a memor\', and that is a most 
 wholesome thing w'hcn it concerns a good 
 woman. But the solitariness of one winter 
 overcame him, so that he fell a victim to the 
 rum stored in the fort. His case came to 
 the Governor. Before it was deeid(;d he 
 resigned. He made a journey to see Bruce, 
 but the latter had been ordeied to another 
 post, and lie missed him. Then he went 
 south, made his way slowly, soberly, to Mon- 
 treal, and became an ofHccr of the Xorth 
 AVest Company, rising out of all precedent, 
 and now chosen for this hazardous and im- 
 portant task. He conquered his weakness ; 
 lie started anew ; ho was proving himself 
 worthy of a worthy memory. He had the 
 faculty for getting the utmost out of liis 
 men, with the least expenditiiie of ell'ort and 
 command. True, he had ]>een known to 
 knock down a recalcitrant half-ln'eed, but 
 that was neither injurious to his reputation 
 nor his intlucnce. They had no hardships 
 which he did not share; his food — siinple 
 enough in most cases — was their food ; and 
 he had been known to give the last cubic 
 inch of his pcmmican to a starving Indian. 
 His heart was not entirely in this enterpiise ; 
 still, he believed, as becainean oHieer on duty, 
 ti it the Hudson's Bay Company chiimed too 
 much, and that the Xorth West Company, or 
 any other compaii}', should lie free to tiado 
 iu all tiic lands of the north. He did not 
 
r 
 
 : 
 
 ■ £i I 
 
 '^n 
 
 f 
 
 38 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 relish the enterprise, because he liad once 
 heen iiu olHcer — .a not nniniiM'aelKiltle officer 
 — of the lliitlson's Bay ConiiKUiy. But the 
 strain of adventurous blood was strong in 
 his veins, antl he enjoyed the excitement 
 and ii;i/.ard of tiie alliiir. So he ke})t ins men 
 encouraged and nerved to the expedition bj' 
 liis own activity and cheerfuhiess, and they 
 travelled un. 
 
 Anotiier expedition from ^Montreal had 
 pii'ceded his. Its leader was a greydiaired 
 man v.itli a foreign name, who, however, 
 spoke English fluently, and from the chief 
 agent of tlie Hudson's Bay Company in Mon- 
 ti'cal had got accurate informaiion regarding 
 two officers of the company — a third, he 
 learned, had joined the rival company, but 
 his whereabouts he could not discover. He 
 travelled westward with a sinidl company of 
 vojiiujcu.'!' of the Hudson's Ba}' Com|>an}', but 
 left them at a certain point on the Bed Kiver, 
 and, thencefcjrward, travelled with a half- 
 breeil and an Indian whom he paid to accom- 
 ])any him. The flotilla commanded by Brian 
 Kingley passed him one morning, as he lay 
 helpless in his tent from an injured leg, and 
 as Ijoth the Indian and the half breed were 
 away hunting at the time, he could give 
 a sign of his existence only by the call 
 from his flute. But, as we know, the Hotilla 
 ])nssed on . . . and so is fate ironical some- 
 times. 
 
 As we have hinted elsewhere, Bruce and 
 Brian did not know of Andrew's jiresence 
 in the country ; and if the name of the chief 
 factor at Fort Saviour — known by the Indians 
 and lialf-1)reeds as Ironheart — reached them 
 in later jears, they did not associate it with 
 tlie ambitious youth of Braithcn. But it 
 was he. Yenlaw had risen by stages extra- 
 ord'nary to the position of chief factor, partly 
 by reason of his unusual influence upon the 
 Indians, because he had impressed himself 
 Uj)nn the ttovernor, on a visit the latter had 
 paid to the most northern posts and forts, 
 and lastly, because ho was a substantial suc- 
 cess in everything that he attempted. Fortune 
 seemed always to be with him. His enemies 
 ns his friends were given over into his hands. 
 That is, where his friends — or (,v»H//r/w, rather, 
 for he had no friends, strictly speaking — 
 missed good-luck, it came beseechingly to his 
 hands. The furs he sent from Fort Saviour 
 ■were double those sent from any other trad- 
 ing-post in the north. He feared nothing ; 
 ho bent to nothing ; ho challenged every- 
 thing, but without bravado. If he was not 
 absolutelj' loved, he was entirelj* respected, 
 and always and in everything obeycil. His 
 
 advice had great influence with the Council 
 of the Company. The only time it went for 
 nothing was when he suggested the retention 
 of Brian Kingley in the service. (He knew 
 of Kingley 's presence in tlie North : but 
 Kingley knew nothing of him.) This tho 
 Council could not understand, for Vcnlaw was, 
 generally sj)eaking, a rigid disciplinarian. 
 However, on the emi)hatic protest of Mr. 
 Ashley jMoore, their trusted agent, who ar- 
 rived subsequent to the occurrence, they 
 oflered to reinstate Briiin; but this Brian 
 refused. 
 
 It was Ironheart who, when a certain tribo 
 were threatening, used all instant means to 
 conciliation, making, at tho same time, pre- 
 parations for a struggle, and, failing placable 
 negotiations, administered a prompt and 
 
 cn'SuUig 
 ha: :i^' 
 broL,.' 
 him wt 
 
 punishment. 
 
 himself 
 
 leading 
 
 his 
 men excellently armed. He 
 k the chief to the fort, treated 
 firml\, secured terms of peace 
 
 on behalf of his tiibe, and gained their alli- 
 ance and powerful advocacj- in dealing with 
 other tribes. The Indians (jf the Sun Bock, 
 with their chief, Eagle Cr\', he had also 
 placated, and these had made their village 
 not far from Fort Saviotir. 
 
 Brucc's promotion, A'enlaw had from a 
 distance secretl)' and not unsuccessfully 
 urged on occasion. BriaJi he watched; that 
 Ava.s all. Jt was declared in the Hudson's 
 Bay coinitry that this chief factor was a 
 good waiter, and there is a saying in the 
 land to-day, which was current in his time, 
 concerning his masterful perseverance, his 
 sober "staying" po*ver, and his strength. 
 It runs : " As the clinch o' Yenlaw." He 
 was absolute in his determination that every 
 man should do his duty ; he av;is tireless 
 himself. Unlike many of the factors he 
 had not taken a wife from among the Indian 
 women, nor had he, as others had done, sent 
 to England for a wife, and receivcil her, in- 
 voiced, maybe, like any other careful cargo. 
 He was very stern also with his subordinates 
 regarding their relations -with the heathen 
 women. Yet, while in most matters perspicu- 
 ous, he failed to see what every one else at 
 tlie fort saw, that Sunnncr Hair, the daughter 
 of Eagle Cry, regarded him with an admiring 
 eye. Had he been told of the fact he woukl 
 probably have been ineredrdous, for he was 
 not a vain man. Besides, it would have 
 caused him some anxiety, for the matter 
 would have its difficulties. 
 
 The Chief Factor would have been sur- 
 prised had ho been told that he nourished 
 
 vengeance ; 
 
 he would have called it justice. 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 39 
 
 h the Council 
 lie it went, for 
 the retention 
 e. (He knew 
 ! North : but 
 1.) This the 
 irVeiilaw was, 
 lisciplinariun. 
 fotcst of Mr. 
 gcut, wlio ar- 
 iiiToiicc, they 
 at this Brian 
 
 % certain tribe 
 ant means to 
 me time, pre- 
 liling phicable 
 
 prom[)t and 
 [ leading liis 
 
 armed. He 
 ! fort, treated 
 }rms of peace 
 led tlieir alli- 
 1 dealing with 
 ■lie Sun Rock, 
 
 he had also 
 I their village 
 
 had from a 
 
 unsuccessfully 
 
 A'atched; that 
 
 the Hudson's 
 
 factor was a 
 
 saying in the 
 
 t in his time, 
 
 everancc, his 
 
 his strength. 
 
 enlaw." He 
 
 on that c\ery 
 
 was tireless 
 
 factors he 
 
 ig the Indian 
 
 ad done, sent 
 
 ived her, iu- 
 
 areful cargo. 
 
 subordinates 
 
 the heathen 
 
 tors perspicii- 
 
 y one else at 
 
 the daughter 
 
 an admiring 
 
 act he wouKl 
 
 5, for he was 
 
 would li.a\o 
 
 the matter 
 
 e 
 
 .0 been sur- 
 le nourished 
 d it justice. 
 
 To most of the world his disposition v/as 
 kind, but to two people he had a constant 
 liardoiiiiig (if lu-art. One of tliom was Brian 
 Kingley, the other was. Elsie Garvan. We 
 are inclined to cherish dislike, not only 
 against the criminal who wrongs us, but 
 against the informer also. He had actually 
 tried to do Piiian a good turn, but the exact 
 motives would be hard to trace. Perhaps he 
 hoped to get him into his power if he re- 
 mained witii the Company, and some day 
 might be able to strike him a terrible blow. 
 As it was, he Avas sure that Heaven would 
 give the man into his hands. And he would 
 punish, as was granted to him, firmly, unim- 
 pulsiveh', tlioroughh'. His A'iew of life was 
 justice — unquenchable, unchangeable, un- 
 yielding ; he loved justice, maybe, more than 
 mercy. Ho was ])rcpared to endure what- 
 ever came to him through his own fault, he 
 was sure that others slioukl do the same. He 
 dill not give himself credit for any genial 
 softness of nature ; ho thought himself more 
 intlexiblo than he reallj' Avas. 
 
 After nine years of waiting, he knew that 
 the beginning of his reckoning with the past 
 had come. For, one daj-, there came across 
 the countiy from the Saskatchewan valley to 
 Fort Saviour a man avIio bore messages con- 
 corning an uprising among the Indians — the 
 uprising projected by the North West Com- 
 jiany, Aviio had not acted as secretly as thej' 
 had lioj)ed to do. This man came to the fort 
 with only a handful of his followers, having 
 made a perilous journey through cold and 
 ambush. M'hen ho and his men arrived he 
 Avas ushered into the fort r;''oatly exhausted, 
 and subsequently Avas brought to the Chief 
 Factor, for Avliom he carried messages. When 
 he ontoreil the room the Factor Avas giving 
 some instructions to his clerk, and did not 
 look up at once. I'resently the ncAV-comer, 
 Avitii a start and exclamation, took a step 
 forward. Then the Factor turned and saAV 
 the astonished face of Bruce Fordio I 
 
 The Factor Avas not so surprised as his 
 visitor, thougli he had not suspected Avho it 
 Avas. Although Bruce bore coninmnications 
 to Chief Factor VonlaAv, ho had no thought 
 that it might be Andrew, for the name Avas 
 not an unfamiliar one among Scotsmen, and 
 the Hudson's 15ay Company Avas honoured by 
 the presence of many of that nationality. 
 
 " AndrcAV VeiilaAv ! " said Bruce, Avlien 
 lie could speak free from amazement. The 
 Chief Factor motioned his clerk from the 
 room. 
 
 " I dill not expect to see you, Bruce Fordie, 
 though I knew that Ave should meet one 
 
 day," he said. His eyes ranged steadily to 
 those of his visitor, and iKjt Avithout a stui'ily 
 cordiulit}-, for did ho not look into eyes liko 
 that of the one Avoman 1 though ! 
 
 "What brought you here, AndrcAV ?" 
 
 YeiilaAV laid his hand on the other's 
 shoulder. "There are two kinds of exiles, 
 Fordie : those avIio do Avroiig and those Avho 
 are Avrongod : both are here." 
 
 They sat down. 
 
 " Who Avronged you, Yenla<v ? " This, 
 in itself, Avas a somewhat direct compli- 
 ment, though it Avas Fordie's spontaneous 
 thought. 
 
 " I'll bring you face to face Avith him one 
 day, Fordie. . . . But noAV there's business 
 to do first. What brings you here 1 " He 
 drew himself together as though he luid 
 shaken off, for a moment, some unpleasant 
 thought. 
 
 " is'cws for the Chief Factor." 
 
 " Well ? . . . Let me have it." 
 
 Bruce had almost forgotten tliat the Chief 
 J\ictor Avas 1)eforo him ; he had onl}' been 
 talking to AiidroAv VenlaAV, his old fellow- 
 citizen. But the otlicer in him reasserted 
 itself immediately, and he gave to Venlaw 
 his letters and sucli verbal information re- 
 garding the ujirising as Avas not in them. 
 His most ini])ortant verbal information Avas 
 got en route through a deserter from Brian 
 Kingloy'.s detachment, Avho had been punished 
 for insuljordination, and had, on the first 
 ojiportunity, thrown in his lot Avitli a straying 
 band of Indians. It related to the capture 
 and garrisoning of Fort Gabriel. 
 
 " And jou'll be surprised and sorry 
 enough, I knoAv," said Bruce, "Avhen I toll 
 you tliat the leader of this expedition is our 
 old comrade, Brian Kinglej-." 
 
 VenlaAV started to his feet. A singular 
 look came over his face, a smile at onco 
 meaning and bitter. " It is Brian Kingley, 
 is it 1 " ho said. Then, looking Bruce in the 
 e^'os Avitli a Hash of irony, he continued : "You 
 and I will lie glad of this, Fordio ! " 
 
 " Indeed. I don't see that, A'enlaAv — far 
 from it. For Kingley Avas the best friend 
 ever I had, ami helped me at a time Avlieu 
 the luck Avas black against me." 
 
 " Indeed ! Hut <lo you know, man, tho 
 price you paid for that friendship 1 You got 
 your life ami freedom, but there arc things 
 more than life and freedom." He Avas gloomy 
 and stern now. 
 
 " 1 knoAv the price I paid, though, maybe, 
 by your looks, not the p'ice that's in 30ur 
 mind. I know that Avlien he left tho H.B.C 
 the heart Avent out of me." 
 
40 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOli. 
 
 C./' ■ 
 
 ^ife 
 
 n( 
 
 1)C 
 
 fo 
 lui 
 
 bci 
 bii 
 
 " Wo will bo frccns." 
 
 " Ho was a drunliartl, iiiul worse," icjoinctl | 
 the otlior sharply. j 
 
 " Voii needn't speak so liitter of my frieml, 
 Vcnlaw," replied J^)nice, nettled, and nnhecil- , 
 ing that lie had a superior officer in front of 
 him. " You always had a particularly fine 
 record with the dominie and the kirk, we all i 
 know, and was a hit jealous ami overheaiiiig [ 
 too. ]■!. i ' ":in Kingley never did j'ou any I 
 harm, so wnj- should you speak so of one 
 that came from the same hurgli, Ii'ishman i 
 though he is ? •' ; 
 
 Venlaw's words were like cold steel now. 
 " Xcverthcless, I shall be glad (if the chance j 
 to fight him, and so shall you, Fordie.'' 
 
 '• .So shall I never be. I'd cut off my hand ' 
 first. I'd no more march against Fort 
 Gabriel than against the uravc of mv mo- 
 ther." ' ' : 
 
 " In fJod's name, hush, you fool ! " cried ! 
 the other, the veins starting o>it on his fore- ^ 
 lioad. " What you think of mo. I care not, , 
 for I know you thought little of me at any j 
 time ; but, by heaven ! you shall not mention 
 /(///( and your mother in the same breath of j 
 kindness.'' i 
 
 " You talk about the pric(> I paid for j 
 Brian's help in getting out of Scotlaml, and j 
 now you stop me again when I say my 
 
 mind," replied Biucc " Well, speak out 
 like a man, ^'cnlaw, and not hint through 
 the dark. And, before you do, I'll say again 
 in your face as man to man and not as a 
 junior to senior officer, that I'd leave the 
 Company "ere I yov., before I'd draw swonl 
 u[)on one that slept between the same hills, 
 and had days of j'outh to the sound of 
 the same river. And as for me, I'd fight 
 with him before I'd fight against him. And 
 there's my say, if it isn't pleasant to you nor 
 to me, meeting after a run of years." 
 
 ^■enlaw was very hard and deliberate now. 
 His mood was inexorable. He had his mind 
 cioai'. He was right he knew ; justice was 
 right ; revenge was right ; retribution was 
 right. He said calndy : " Fordie, I've much 
 to tell you about this, and al)out this man. 
 But your coming was sudden, and I am 
 not ready on the instant to say all that 
 is necessary. You've had nothing to eat 
 since you came. Go and eat, my friend, 
 then come back to me here, and we shall 
 talk together like men. If, when I've had 
 my say, you still retain your opinion for hini 
 and against me, then, I swear to you, neither 
 I nor my men shall fight him- You shall 
 judge between us, and I shall judge between 
 you : " 
 
 jiS^KkUkaJtl 
 
speak out 
 nt through 
 11 say again 
 tl not as a 
 I leave the 
 \n\\v swoid 
 
 same hills, 
 ) siound of 
 id fight 
 
 lua. And 
 
 to j-oii nor 
 
 I'S." 
 
 )cratc now. 
 1 his mind 
 usticc Mas 
 iition was 
 I've much 
 thin man. 
 and I am 
 all that 
 to oat 
 ly friend, 
 we shall 
 1 I've had 
 )n for hiiu 
 )U, r.either 
 ^ ou shall 
 between 
 
 THE CHIEF facto::. 
 
 41 
 
 He called his clerk, and, with a nod, Fordic, 
 not yet soothed, turned to go. liwt ho jKiusctl 
 before he went, and sai(i : "I'm soi-ry to 
 t|uarrcl with you at all, Andrew, for I caiuia 
 forget that we hae both ben lads in a bjiuiic 
 land lang syne." 
 
 Andrew, in reply, only said in the same 
 homely dialect : " You needna forget it, 
 Fordie, and you'll know soon the diHerence 
 between the hand o' a brither Scot and 
 brithcr townsman, and that of an alien." 
 
 Bruce shook his head gloomily and left 
 the room. 
 
 When he ha<l gone Vcniaw sat down at 
 his desk, and took out a packet of letters. 
 He laid them on the desk before him and 
 looked long at them. At last he took one 
 up and opened it. It was from old Dominic 
 Dryhope, as were they dl. This one was 
 the last that the Dominie had written t3 him. 
 And the body of it ran : — 
 
 "Ay, laddie, Scotland is a cold country. 
 But it's colder now you're gone. There are 
 many men and women in the world, but you'll 
 find as you get more in years that there are 
 few who put life in old bones, or flourish 
 the warmth in young ones. And I'll war- 
 rant you wish I was with you now, old 
 as I am, for Ave were good comrades one 
 time, and there is nothing selfish or jealous 
 in the love of an old man who is done with 
 vanities. 
 
 " All that you have written of grand days 
 in that north country, with bullets for buffalo, 
 and bear, and deer, and some sharp play 
 with the arrows and tomahawks of copper- 
 skins, I've read over and over again ; for 
 that's what will bo puttin' mair iron intil 
 your bludc, laddie. Aye, you ken, I fly ofl' 
 from my English now and then and just take 
 to the bonnie Scotch, though Shakespeare 
 was a gran' man, forbyo ! An' the huntin' 
 and the fightin' are better than takin' the 
 fause bosom o' a woman to yours, laddie. . . 
 I canna blamo you for goin' awa" syne she 
 wreckit your life, so thot ye fliiigit ambition 
 i' the dust — an sic a gran' ambition was it ! 
 . . . But it hasiui ben the same i' Braithcn, 
 M'hiles. 
 
 " An' as for the lass hersel, the,y speak ill 
 encuch of her the noo, thot turned a willin' 
 ear to the tongue of tliat Irish wabster, wha 
 jilayed fause a' round, l.>aitin' the brither to 
 spoil the sister. . . Aye, man, but thot waur 
 liic deil's trap. 
 
 " They'll be forgettin' you here, Andy, for 
 thot's the way o' the warld ; all l)Ut the old 
 Dominie, that's graspin' the skirt o' life wi' a , 
 
 shakin' hand, and that'll never see you again 
 i' the warUl- never mair 1 
 
 " I've no given to ony body where A'ou are, 
 laddio, as you Itegged, and for thot I'll doubt 
 if you'll know to the day when I'm awa'. 
 But this'll 1)0 the last letter 111 be writin' to 
 you. For the auld body goes (piakin' by its 
 grave the noo. But you'll come back, Andy, 
 and see that my wee house i' the kirkyard isna 
 level wi' the groun'. And, ye ken, if they 
 havna put a line abune the etine, you'll be 
 puttin' there i' the corner — ^ Fur Jlis mercy 
 endnrcth for erer.' . . . And what is mine o' 
 house and land, little though it be, is yours 
 wi' my blessin'. For I'll leave naething to 
 the hit lasses thot ca' thcirsels by my name i' 
 the toon, ilka ane </ them as fause as a' tho 
 kin o' woman !" 
 
 To this letter a])peared a postscript, writ- 
 ten weeks later, the occasion of which wo 
 know. This is the fashion of it : — 
 
 " That lass o' Fordie's has ben hero, Andy, 
 ilay in day out, as 1 keep crumblin' to the 
 dust ; and though I spoke bit harsh to her, 
 I coiddni feel but kindly, for she hae the 
 way o' gentleness wi' her ; an' sic beauty has 
 she still ! An', maybe, she didna go sac far 
 wrang as was tellt o' lior, for that Elsie's a 
 jade, Andy ! . , . And you'll no deal wi' the 
 man till you're sure. But if you are suie, 
 deal wi' him as the Lord wi' the children o' 
 Midian. 
 
 " The breath o' me gaes waly, but it isna 
 sae bad. . . . Ay, but it's coniin' like sleep . . , 
 blessed be God . . . ! " 
 
 The Factor sat thinking long. Upon tho 
 small window of the room snow Avas beating. 
 Ho stood up and looked out. Nothing could 
 be seen except the Avail of the fort, and an 
 occasional figure, Avreathed in snow like a 
 ghost, passing and repassing betAveen. Then, 
 the snow deepened further, and there Avas 
 nothing but a Avhite curtain hung between 
 him and the Avorld. There came to his 
 mind a ilay far back, Avhen he had started 
 to bring Jean fioni his father's house in the 
 glen to the Castle ; aii<l a storm fell suddenly, 
 groAving till it became almost a blinding 
 sheet, and they Avere near to dying, for they 
 lost the Avay. But he held his arm about 
 her, and kept her as Avarm as he could, urging 
 her passionately and successfully to kce]> 
 aAvake, and not give up. And he had often 
 said to himself, in thinking upon this, that 
 had she been less brave and strong of Avill 
 than slio Avas, she had been seen no more 
 alive in ISraithen. ButsheAvas of uncommon 
 
42 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 .■ ' 
 
 quality, and together they stumbled into 
 Braithcr- horribly munb and sick, but wore 
 brouglit ack to life and coiiit'uit again. 
 
 He shuddered to thiidc Iidw diH'erent it 
 stood in his memory now. Once it was part 
 of her ; now she was only part of it. Ho 
 Avould give the best of his life to think 
 of her without pain, as he uslmI to do. . . . 
 Tinough his mind, at times, there ran the 
 jiossibility of thcie having been some mistake, 
 some bitter mistake. But tlion, that scene 
 on the fair-ground, when she did not rebuke 
 Brian by so much as a look even ! No, the 
 thing was all too shamefully clear. Yet he 
 had no anger against her ; he had oidy inex- 
 tinguishable i)ain, and hatred of the man who 
 had Avronged her. Perhaps it had been nobler 
 had he stayed in Scotland ; but then he did 
 not know that Brian was coming to the New 
 AVorld, and he merely tied from misery, and 
 from shame and fighting, and to forget .... 
 Still, there was the old Dominie's letter even 
 saying a good word for her, and this was the 
 last convert he could liave expected, so hard 
 had he always been against her. . . . But 
 no ; ho or Bruce, or both, should dig the 
 truth out of Brian's body soon. He wo\dd 
 not hesitate to make the Irishman cat the 
 bread of retribution and the sword. 
 
 Presently Bruce entered. His face was 
 troid)led. The Factor's words had rankled. 
 He thought they might have a deeper mean- 
 ing than at first ajjpeared to him. 
 
 " And now, Andrew Venlaw, I'm ready to 
 hear all you have to speak," he said, sitting 
 <lown beside the table, and folding liis arms 
 on it. 
 
 " As I said," slowly sjjoke the Factor ; 
 " Brian Kingley is your enemy and mine. 
 "When he was helping you from Scotland he 
 was doing you (and me) harm — in another 
 way." 
 
 Bruce made a gesture of impatience. " I 
 want the heart of the thing," be interposed. 
 
 VenkiAV drew the letter from his pocket. 
 " You'll know the man Avho wrote this, 
 Bruce — the Dominie. He's dead now. He 
 was a good friend to me. Read the letter 
 through before you sjieak to me." And he 
 handed it over. 
 
 Bruce read the letter at first slowly. Then, 
 suddenly, a great flush sprang to his face, and 
 he devoured the remainder of the writing 
 Avith staring eyes and distressful features. 
 He came fiercely to his feet, and the letter 
 (Iropped from his fingers upon the table. His 
 Jiand clenched the hunter's knife in his belt. 
 
 " Venlaw," he said, with a great hardness 
 in ills tone, " tell me all you have to say of 
 
 my sister and yourself, ami of that man. . . . 
 And speak no word but what you Avould bo 
 willing to say at ( Jod's juilgmcnt ; for there 
 are big accounts to settle, and stern things 
 to do." 
 
 Both standing, scarcely moving, the Factor 
 told Bruce the st(jry of the fair-ground. 
 
 "He did thtit— drunk— biifore them all ! " 
 intcrrupteil Bruce. " I shall rake return for 
 it Avith a knife-point." Then, after a mo- 
 ment, shuddering, " You know of more, your- 
 self '(" 
 
 Ycnlaw bowed his head. 
 
 *' What you have seen with your own 
 eyes 1 " bitterly asked the bruised and venge- 
 ful man. 
 
 "Yes, God help me ! with my own eyes," 
 answered the Factor, thiid<ing of that night 
 when he saw Brian enter the castle, and the 
 embracing figures subsequently upon the 
 blind. He sat down and dropped his fore- 
 head on his clenched fists. 
 
 " Don't speak it then, Venlaw ; don't speak 
 
 it. For I know you loved her, and what 
 
 you say is wrung from you. It would be 
 
 I knives in my heart to hear more." 
 
 I It would have savci' 'hem both much sufier- 
 
 I ing, and events wouhi have marshalled to a 
 
 prompter, happier conclusion, if the Factor 
 
 had spoken ; for Bruce had then instantly 
 
 swept away that evidence against Jean. 
 
 From such slight circumstances have the 
 
 darkest tragedies of the world been spun. 
 
 In this case, however, light, not darkness, 
 
 should ultimately sui)erveno. 
 
 " Venlaw," continued Bruce, "this man's 
 life is mine and yours ; but nune first. I'll 
 go with you to Foi't Gabriel." 
 
 The Factor shook his head. " No, j'ou 
 cannot do that. Your orders Avere to return to 
 Fort Mar}', bearing my instructions and sug- 
 gestions on the campaign. Duty must be 
 done. Fort Gabriel must be recaptured, if 
 it has been taken, and the Indians of the 
 White Hand must be defeated by means of 
 a conjunction of our forces — but the Fort 
 before that ! " 
 
 Bruce paced the floor excitedly. "It is 
 my duty as an ofiicer to go back to Fort 
 Mary, but there's the duty of a man to do." 
 
 " No, Fordic, you must go back ; for there 
 are lives at stake. AfterAvanls you can settle 
 private debts like these. There Avill come a 
 time ! " 
 
 Suddenly Bruce Avheelcd, and Avith hands 
 resting on the tabic before him, and eyes 
 steadying to the other's, said : " VenlaAV, the 
 man must die. I Awould give him no chance of 
 escape at all. For, as much as a man once Ava8 
 
lat man, . . . 
 :)U Avould bo 
 t; for thcro 
 stem things 
 
 ;, the Factor 
 ;ronntl. 
 i them all ! " 
 cc return for 
 after a mo- 
 : more, your- 
 
 1 j'onr own 
 I and vengo- 
 
 V own cjCR," 
 if that night 
 stle, and the 
 y npon the 
 led his fore- 
 
 ; don't speak 
 r, and what 
 It would bo 
 
 much suffer- 
 rshalled to a 
 f the Factor 
 ten instantly 
 ;ainst Jean. 
 ;s have the 
 
 been spun. 
 ot darkness, 
 
 this man's 
 le first. I'll 
 
 " No, you 
 to return to 
 JUS and sug- 
 Lty must be 
 captured, if 
 ians of the 
 by means of 
 Lit the Fort 
 
 liy. "It is 
 ick to Fort 
 lan to do." 
 { ; for there 
 u can settle 
 will come a 
 
 with hands 
 and eyes 
 k'^enlaAV, the 
 10 chance of 
 in once was 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 43 
 
 your friend, and alniscd that friendship, so 
 much must you be liis enemy and punish." 
 
 The Factor nodded. 
 
 " Well, you will meet him at Fortdabiiel. 
 If you make him pi'isoner, or he gets away, 
 ho may escape for ever. Heavens ! my blood 
 boils when I tliiiik how I made a comrade of 
 the traitor— and that wickedness in him all j 
 the time ! Then this, Andrew Veniaw :— I 
 laj^ it upon you, as solemn as the words of a 
 <lyiiig comrade — that you fight him man to 
 man when you find him, and kill him . . . 
 kill him ! " 
 
 Veniaw rose, reached out his hand to the 
 other, and with a harsh smile and an ii Hex- 
 iblo determination, said : "I will kill him!" 
 
 CIIAITER Vir. — A COURIER OF SAFETY. 
 
 The Factor and Bruce Fordic had ar- 
 ranged for the settlement of a private wrong, 
 but there were public wnjiigs to circumvent. 
 To these the Factor bent his mind. Soon 
 ufter his notable interview with Bruce, he 
 set forth upon a solitary mission to Eagle 
 Cry and his Indians. It was necessaiyj in 
 any trouble with the Indians of the White 
 Hand, that these should be with him in 
 friendly compact, if not as actual fighting 
 allies. Yet he had a shrewd suspicion that 
 they would be receiving emissaries from the 
 hostile tribes or the North West Company, 
 nnd his inthience must immediately be thrown 
 into the scale. It was his way to grajiple 
 with dilliciiUies alone. That was what made 
 his counsel of value to the company so often : 
 why the Factor of Fort Mary sent to him 
 now, requesting him to arrange the plan of 
 action, Avhilo he and his people would follow 
 and coincide to the best of their abilit}'. | 
 
 These difficulties always nerved Veniaw. 
 His brain Avas not swift, but when it was 
 roused it was massive, and worked massively. , 
 The influeiico of the north had developed ail j 
 the latent power in him ; he himself never i 
 .saw anything inappropriate in his alternative : 
 name, Ironheart. Ho smiled at it a little 
 g;rimly; that was all. Then he thought as 
 few men placed in his position in these cold 
 regions did. The north had not dulled his 
 mental acUvity, but enlarged it, made it 
 tenacious. It is awesome to a mind of any 
 <leptli, to live alone much where Nature is 
 immense and terrible. It takes on greatly 
 of her grim force as of her huge joy. A man 
 in the stupendous North either becomes a 
 pigmy or a worm unregardable, a giant or com- 
 panion of the great giant, or a mere track upon 
 the snows, to be covered immediately by 
 
 another snow. A man should bulk according 
 to the greatness of the lover which he grasps. 
 
 Veniaw was as much a part of the Arctic 
 regions as if he had been born with them 
 and grown with them since they rose out of 
 tiro and chaos. His God was the God of the 
 wanderers in the desert of Sin ; magnificent, 
 personal, intlexilily just. Veniaw had been 
 slow to anger. He had licen in no hurry for 
 vengeance. It is in hot lands where passion 
 is violent — and grotesque. 
 
 As he walked away across the plains, on 
 which snow was still falling slightly, his 
 mind, after thinking hard upon the event 
 wisheil for at Fort Gabriel, gave itself up 
 solel}' to the question of Eagle Cry and his 
 intended interview. Ho scarcely knew what 
 was going on around him ; he kept his way 
 mechanically. He came to the outskirts of 
 pine woods. This interrupted his thoughts. 
 He looked up. The sun Wius now shining 
 brightly. He leaned against a tree and glance(l 
 back along the way he had come. Far on 
 the edge of th(! plain was the Fort, a solemn 
 spot in the horizon. He was roused by the 
 light pad of snow-shoes behind him. Ho 
 turned and saw a pair of large brown eyes 
 looking into his, out of a tawny face which 
 glowed also with the most delicate nnder-huo 
 of red. They belonged to an Indian girl, 
 not beautiful as white women reckon beauty, 
 but with amazing grace an<l lissomness, and 
 very comely altogether. She wore a long 
 dress of buckskin beautifully ornamented, u 
 coat and capole of the same, and her small 
 feet, cased in pretty moccasins, carried snow- 
 shoes as a nymph might. She drew off a 
 mitten, and frankly reaching out her hand 
 to the Factor, said : " The storm is gone and 
 you come with the sun, Ironheart." 
 
 He smiled gravely. " Summer-IIair," he 
 said, " how do you come here 1 " 
 
 She looked demurely down at her snow- 
 shoes, then up into his eyes, and waved her 
 arm playfully through the air. " The birds 
 ily, the wild goose swims on the Aviiid, and 
 Summer-Hair riiles as they ride." Ibn-e her 
 look became mischi«vous. " They tiiink I 
 walk on these," she added, looking at her 
 snow-shoes, " but I don't ; 1 walk as the 
 clouds Avalk." 
 
 " I almost believe you do," was his reply. 
 " For you come out of nowhere, and when 
 one least expects you." 
 
 Her young face grew for an instant grave, 
 then she looked at him shyly. " That is the 
 way with me. I know when you are coming, 
 and where you are." Then her .shyness ran 
 into j)]ayfulness again. "For, you see, I am 
 
p^ 
 
 44 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR 
 
 fl 
 
 u'l 
 
 »:-'■ 
 
 f 
 
 ill 
 
 RO mucli with tho clouils, and can look down." 
 Her fingers tossed fantiistically upwards. 
 •' Yes, and I know whether you will ho dark 
 like thunder or as the still water that shines 
 in the sun. . . . You are like the thunder 
 now, and I am hero. ... I am not Summer- 
 Hair. I am a spirit." She clapped her 
 hands gently before her, then spread them 
 out in the sun with a gesture of delight : an 
 Ariel of the north, yet an Ariel with a wist- 
 fulness too. 
 
 To any other man this would have been 
 bewitching to a degree, for, wiien Summer- 
 Hair's face lighted up, as dark faces can ligiit, 
 eloquently, when there ran into it the pulse 
 of the brilliant short-lived siunmer of the 
 north, whoso brightness she seemed to have 
 stolen, she was charming. White men at 
 Fort Saviour had tried to win her for a 
 wife, but she had put them oft", nor had she 
 been wooed successfully by one of her own 
 race. Most of tho young men of the tribe 
 had, in fact, como to look upon her as impos- 
 sible to them, though Eagle Cry had in time 
 commanded and beseeched, and tho young 
 braves had entreated. Once a brave from a 
 neighbouring tribe had her father's consent, 
 and came, determined to carry her off bodil}', 
 but gently as a lover should. She had, how- 
 ever, shown a sudden and complete resist- 
 ance, as inclement as it was formidable, for 
 her arrows were well pointed, and the knife 
 in her belt was of good metal. So the Indian 
 went back to his people, discomfited. But 
 another Indian of her own tribe, by name 
 Red Fire, had appeared of late, from the 
 ranks of the rejected, and he was playing 
 his game of love with an astonishing per- 
 tinacity. With the Chief Factor Summer- 
 Hair was, as we have seen, very companion- 
 able. 
 
 "You are going to sec my father," she 
 abruptly said. She asked no question ; she 
 made a statement. 
 
 " Yes. Is he at his lodge 1 " 
 
 " He is at the council-house with the 
 braves," she replied. " There is a big talk. 
 Eunners have come from the far west — from 
 the White Hands. There is much trouble, 
 and the young braves are excited." 
 
 Venlaw nodded. "Ah, I expected that. 
 The ^lerchant Company and their allies arc 
 playing a deep game. But we shall see. . . . 
 Your father— what of him 1 " 
 
 "He is old, and the young men talk 
 loudly. He, as I, was sure that you would 
 come." 
 
 " I will go on to him now," said the Factor ; 
 and he stepped out 
 
 " Wait," she said. " Arc j-ou not afraid ? " 
 Again mischief looked out of her eyes. 
 
 "Afraid," he replied, his voice ringing a 
 little, " of Jlagle Cry and his braves 1 They 
 are my friends. . . . Besides . . . ! " 
 
 "But wait," she urged, as she saw him 
 again turn to go. A singular smile played 
 upon her lips. "Do not go by the old post- 
 house, for the young men of the White Hands 
 are there. They are drunk with rum, and 
 drunken men strike from behind." 
 
 lie raised his eyebrows at her, then said 
 coolly : " I will not go by the old post-house, 
 then." 
 
 Once again he made as if to leave her, and 
 still again she said, " AVait." Her face was 
 now a little cold ; there was no demurcness 
 in her eyes. One foot tapped the ground 
 viciously. "You have not thanked me. Iron- 
 heart ? " 
 
 He turned now and looked at her steadily. 
 His great face flushed to the brim of his fur 
 cap. His hand fell upon his beard with an 
 tmliarrassed gesture. " Summer-Hair," he 
 said, his voice telling with honesty, " I am 
 an awkward fellow, and very selfish, and I 
 think more always than I speak. I ought to 
 have spoken here. That was unmannerly. 
 But I have so long counted you a friend and 
 ally of the Company that I did not consider 
 you are a woman too." 
 
 "I am your friend and ally, Ironheart," 
 she rejoined, "but I am a woman too, and — " 
 here she looked up at him with a swift but 
 prettyirony— "a woman needs to be thanked." 
 
 "Will you forgive me, Summer-Hair ?" he 
 said bluntly, and with a manner as would be 
 natural towards a child. 
 
 She caught the tone, and it drew her up, 
 looking anger at him, but instantly that 
 changed, and the better reasoning prevailed, 
 that even the great Ironh iart was only a stupid 
 man, and could not and did not understand 
 even an Indian Avoman. Then, too, she re- 
 called to herself that she did not quite wish 
 to be understood, and she said, with an 
 assumed indifference, which had not been 
 discreditable to a gifted sister-woman of 
 another sphere and hemisphere, — " There's 
 nothing to forgive, Ironheart. I was teasing 
 you. ... I am only a child," she added, 
 with the faintest sarcasm. Then she grew 
 grave immediately, and said, with warning 
 in her voice : " Let Ironheart be careful how 
 he talks with Red Fire. The Indian has, 
 sometimes, a forked tongue." 
 
 " Summer-Hair," he responded with enthu- 
 siasm, "you're the best friend to " 
 
 " I'm tho best friend in the world," she 
 
lot afraid?" 
 
 eyes. 
 
 I 
 
 ves 1 Tlicy 
 . !" 
 
 10 saw him 
 rnilo played 
 ho ohl post- 
 i'hitc Hands 
 h rum, and 
 
 r, then said 
 post-house, 
 
 avo her, and 
 Icr face was 
 (lemurcncss 
 the ground 
 cd me, Iron- 
 
 lier steadily. 
 Ti of his fur 
 ard with an 
 3r-Hair," he 
 Bsty, " I am 
 ilfisit, and I 
 I ought to 
 mmannerly. 
 1 friend and 
 lot consider 
 
 Ironhcart," 
 too, and — " 
 a swift but 
 le thanked." 
 Hair? "he 
 IS would be 
 
 rew her up, 
 tantly that 
 
 prevailed, 
 nly a stupid 
 understand 
 00, she re- 
 quite wish 
 with an 
 
 not been 
 woman of 
 -" There's 
 vas teasing 
 
 ic added, 
 
 she grew 
 warning 
 ireful how 
 idian lias, 
 
 itli entliu- 
 J) 
 
 orld," she 
 
 THE CIHEF FACTOR. 
 
 4» 
 
 interjected, with aiclinoss of voice ami man- 
 ner, and Avaving her hand to him she sped 
 away, an agile swaying figure, into the worxls*. 
 
 He stooil and thought a moment, then 
 walked slowly on, once or twice shaking his 
 head doul)tfiilly, and looking Imek towards 
 the spoL M-here ho had last seen her. She 
 had done the same with a diHerencc. She 
 arrived at tlio Indian village long before lie 
 did, for she had travollod with iiiuch swift- 
 ness, and had taken a shorter way. She 
 found the braves still gatheivd in thc'council- 
 home. The great room of the tent was j)ai- 
 titione<l liy a curtain, and behind this s)'-j 
 placed herself that she might hear all that 
 was said. She foaied that some untoward 
 <lecisiou should bo arrived at before Iron- 
 heart came. Sumo had spoken bitterly of 
 the palefaces in general, and had declared 
 for union witli the tribes of the west, and a 
 war against the great comj)anies ; others 
 liad proposed simjily the spoiling of Fort 
 Saviour and Fort Mary ; but the old men 
 had counselled peace antl amity. Of these 
 was the chief, Kaglo Cry. The young men 
 M-ere led by Ked Fire. The latter, witirbiting 
 arguments, opi)osed their chief. Theoretically 
 the opposition of the Indians to the white in- 
 vaders was unassailable. The Hudson's Bay 
 Oom[/iny and the Xorth West Company were 
 conquerors and spoilei-s. 
 
 The secret of iJed Fire's strong antagonism 
 could be traced in the insinuating remarks 
 made to Eagle Cry concerning Summer- 
 Haii'. At last he boldly declared that his 
 chief's counsels for peace were influenced 
 by the fact that he wished to make his 
 daughter the wife of the white sagamore, 
 Ironheart. At this Eagle Cry rose, as if in 
 final speech for the lejily. He said : " Bro- 
 thers and warriors, I have been a chief of the 
 Sun liocks for forty years. I took no wife, 
 I had no children till I had begun to see tlie 
 shadows fall towards the east. My heait 
 was big with war, and we fought many tribes, 
 conquering, and some here are of the con- 
 quered, now one with us. Then came a 
 time of peace. In those days my wigwam 
 was lonely, and I took a wife from the 
 daughters of the Flying Clouds, the sacred 
 lace. There was joy among the Sun liocks, 
 many fires were lighted, and there was long 
 feasting. We prospered. As we had been 
 victorious in war, we were perfect in peace, 
 und the land was filled with plenty. The 
 snows fell not so heavily and the north winds 
 had mercy. My marriage pleased the High 
 Spirit. So we continued. We became allies 
 of the Great Company. And we have re- 
 
 mained so. I'ut, for the child : She grew up 
 among you. She loved you all as brothers 
 and fatiiers. She was kind to the sick, and 
 cared for those whose kinsmen fell in the 
 forest through sickness, (ir death by wild 
 beasts. Her motiicr died one day mIioii 
 she was yet a little child. Hci' tribe was her 
 mother. She has been tlio pride nf her tribe 
 and of her father's lodge to this hour." 
 
 Hero the old man paused, and stood 
 stately and thoughtful. There were long mur- 
 murs of approbation from the older men, and 
 the young men were silent, but' they had now 
 no ani'er in their faces. 
 
 " Then came the time when she sh( iild 
 take a husband. The young men preseiiteil 
 tlieinselves. She loved them as brothers. 
 She was kind to them ; but she had no lovo 
 as the wife loves, and she would not go with 
 them. There was one brave whom I wished 
 for her. I said to him " Come," and he came. 
 But he was quick of tenqjer and ini])atient, 
 and she sent him away lonely. Well, his 
 heart is angry because of this — this man 
 whom I desired. He is angry with me and 
 with the Great Company." 
 
 Again he paused, and there was absolute 
 sileiice, save where the breath of Ked Fire 
 came weightily. 
 
 Eagle Cry continued : " It was the Great 
 Company that saved us when the terrible 
 sickness fell, and our pcjplc faded like the 
 leaves before the October wind. Ironheart 
 has been our friend. Ho has taught us many 
 things ; he has traded fairly with us ; he has 
 kept his word ; he has sat in our lodges and 
 has been a comrade with us. . . . He is a 
 brother, but no lover of Summer-Hair. I do 
 not want him for a son ; he does not want 
 me for a father. Let us be at peace. My 
 heart is friendly towards Ked Fire, but ho 
 speaks wildly.' 
 
 Here the old chief drew himself up to his 
 full height, and folded his arms across his 
 breast. " Eagle Ciy wishes to be as a bro- 
 ther to lied Fire, but there must be no 
 crooked sj)eaking, for though your chii.'f is 
 old, he is chief; he has wisdom, and he is 
 without fear.' 
 
 He sat down amid a murmur of approba- 
 tion. 
 
 Kod Fire looked round, and scanned the 
 faces of the braves. He saw that his counsel 
 for war had been overborne, and that the 
 chief's speech had lost him much. He was 
 vain and passionate. He grew very angry 
 and rose to his feet. Ho was about to 
 speak, M'hen the door of the council-house 
 opened, and Ironheart came in among 
 
40 
 
 THE CIIIKF FACTOU 
 
 tlicm. llo loolu'd rotuiil caliiily. " My 
 LrotlicTrf of tlio JSiiii K'dcks," lio said, "1 
 liavo conio to tilinre yotir ciniiist'lrf. JJcil 
 Fire, wlio is f,i tlic liravost anioiij; yoii, is 
 about to sj;oak, liiit I would >^n'et liiin, l)efuro 
 I'is wo'.ds of M'sdom fjo fmtli to us ; '' and 
 he strotrlied ort liis hand. Tho two men 
 looked at each otliT steadily for a inoincnt. 
 It was a case of supcriov will and force. J{ed 
 Fire v.-as iiorce and vain, hut ho had .sf rcnuth. 
 Vanity and strength saves even an Imlian 
 from the treacherous tiling. Thcie wiis a 
 moment of suspense. Tho indomitable sin- 
 cerity and character of Ironheart con(|uercd. 
 But Kefl Fire folded his arms over his breast, 
 and said: "Wait, Ironheart, till I have 
 spoken. Then ! . . . . The words of Kaglo 
 Cry are true. He is great and wise, and has 
 spoken all his heart. Ued Fire is ready to 
 bo ruled by his chief, and to be his friend and 
 speak for peace. But listen : If this .shall bo 
 so, tho girl Sumtner-Hair shall never marry 
 a paleface. Her father shall swear by the 
 sacred Siuistono that ho will kill her rirst, 
 even as our forefathers sacrificed tho dis- 
 obedient. ... If this be so, then shall I be 
 one with the (4rcat Company and not hearken 
 to tho new Compan\', nor the voices of the 
 Indians of the White Hand, but will fight the 
 rjreat Company's battles, and in token will 
 give my hand to Ironheart, if my brothers, 
 whom I lead, arc willing." 
 
 The young braves all made a motion of 
 assent. Then Eagle Cry rose proudly, and 
 said in a low stern tone — though in his hoart 
 he was dismayed — that he granted Ked Fire's 
 demand. 
 
 Then Red Fire streV:hed out his hand to 
 tho Factor, and the}- mode ihoAv pact silentl}' 
 before tho compau}-. iiut neitiier loved the 
 other, nor ever could. The reuson why was 
 clear to Ked Fire, but not to Ironheart. 
 
 It v.-as at this point that a messenger from 
 tho White Hantls came from the old post- 
 house where they were quartered as guests, 
 heavy with drink, and asking admittance. 
 There were in all forty of the White Hands, 
 led by a young chief called Breaking Tree. 
 Ho was admitted, and Eagle Cry, rising, told 
 liim what the council had decided, and begged 
 him to convey their greeting to the far tribes 
 and the White Hands, but to say that they must 
 remain friends with the Great Company. At 
 this. Breaking Tree, who i;ad heretofore been 
 confident of the success of his mission, threw 
 a malicious look at Ironheart, and cried out 
 fiercely : "There is the white thief who steals 
 away tho minds of tho Indians. He is of 
 the big army of robbers. But wo shall sweeiJ 
 
 them away, as the grass bef(irc summer lire." 
 Suddcnly'he raised his bow, with a fanatical 
 whoop, at ii'otdieart. Soiin^ onti seized his 
 arm. The arrow .sped, but. flying free of any 
 in the council-room, it pierccil the ciu'tain 
 behind which stood Sunnucr-Hair. There 
 was a cry. The curtain was swiftly drawn 
 back, and disclosed the girl with an ariow 
 (juivering in her shoulder. A score of bows 
 were drawn, but Eagle Cry, with his arm 
 round his daughter, cried, " Let him go in 
 peace ; he is still our guest. There will come 
 a time when tho A\ bite Hands will lose a 
 niiln for every drop of blood spilt here. But 
 they shall go at once from our village, nor 
 sliall you give them food for their journey." 
 
 Breaking Trc; left the tent, now thoroughly 
 sobered. A hundred bows were diawn upon 
 him and his followers, and with these 
 menacing them, iho White Hands left tho 
 village behind. 
 
 When they liad gone another council was 
 held, at which Ironheart spoke nuich ; and 
 the pipe of peace .vas smoked. 
 
 CIIArTEll Vlir. — A SIF.fii; and rAHLEY. 
 
 BlUAX KlXGLEY had captured FortCabriel, 
 making prisoners of two trappers who had 
 been to it more caretakers than garrison. Ho 
 expected that there would be fighting, but did 
 not think that tho Hudson's Bay Company 
 would attem])t a re-capture till the spring- 
 time. Fort Saviour, as he knew, Avas tho 
 nearest fort ; but of the name of its chief 
 factor he was ignorant. He did not, as we 
 said elsewhere, relish fighting the followers 
 of the Hudsor's Bay Companj-, but ho would 
 not bo the aggressor, and that would make 
 the matte'- easier. Hohling the fort against 
 odds v.ould be pleasant enough to him. Ho 
 loved rather than avoided danger. Those 
 were fighting days. Waterloo and Trafalgar 
 were still news to the woild and present 
 topics to all British men ; the Greeks were 
 fighting for independence ; Avar was in the air. 
 
 Brian had but thirty men — rojiagems, trap- 
 pers, .soldiers. He had but a smaUficld of re- 
 sources behind him, while the Hudson's Bay 
 Company had resources practically uidimited, 
 for they had a line of forts from which rein- 
 forcements could come. It Avas a forlorn 
 Iiopo ; but tho North West Company had 
 promised him more men in the spring, and it 
 Av.as possible that the rising of the'"Indians 
 might be successful, though this Avas not a 
 matter Avhich had his .sympathy. Anything 
 Avhich roused the Indians against either com- 
 pany he considered an evil. 
 
luuincriire. 
 li II faiiiiticiil 
 (! Hcized his 
 i fri;o of iiiiy 
 
 flic curtain 
 (air. Them 
 iviftly (liawii 
 til an arrow 
 L'oro of liow.s 
 itli ills arm 
 it liiiM i^o in 
 jre will coiiio 
 
 will lust! a 
 It luMO. Eut, 
 [• village, nor 
 ir joniiicy." 
 \v thoroughly 
 
 drawn upon 
 
 witii theso 
 juls left the 
 
 r conncil was 
 ! much; ami 
 
 D rAr>LE\'. 
 
 Fort Gabriel, 
 )crs who had 
 garrison. Ho 
 hting, but did 
 lay Company 
 1 the spring- 
 icw, was tho 
 of its chief 
 not, as we 
 he followers 
 ut ho would 
 would make 
 fort against 
 ;o liini. Ho 
 gcr. Those 
 |n<l Trafalgar 
 and present 
 wrecks were 
 |as in the air. 
 lagenrK, trap- 
 " field of re- 
 iidson's Bay 
 y unlimited, 
 wliich rein- 
 is a forlorn 
 Inipany had 
 iring, and it 
 |the Indians 
 was not a 
 Anything 
 :ither com- 
 
 TIIK nilEF FACTOU. 
 
 47 
 
 Ho set himself to work to put the fort in 
 as good condition as was pos.sil)le in winter. 
 For a time he was luisy cMnnglu Then came 
 days when there was nnthing to do, He had 
 little to read. He tlmiight a good deal — 
 more steadily than he had done fur years. 
 He occupied himself much witii his past. — 
 not altogether pleasant in retrospect. With 
 Scotland more; than with Ireland. Was he 
 1)ecoming a rem gade .' When, once or twice, 
 he thought of the ilute which he; lieard dis- 
 tantly on the lied |{iver and he wished it 
 were at Fort (Jabriel, winK'ver played it— the 
 songs ho imagined lilting from it were not 
 Irish but Scotch; not Gitrri/ Owen and fi'lori/, 
 but T/ii; Jjiisk iilioDii. TnniU'tir. And when ho 
 thouglit of Scotland nnich, and of particular 
 events of a certain year, ho l)ecamo dis- 
 tiubed, and longe<l for action to take tho 
 ])laco of thoughts. This desire for activity at 
 last overcanie him. Ho had not the faculty 
 for waiting possessed by Chief Factor Vcn- 
 law. 
 
 Two or three times a few men had been 
 permitted to go out and look for moose, l)ut 
 they had been limited to certain boundaries, 
 and had not been very successful. Brian, 
 bored Ity his inactivit}', doteimined at hist to 
 go out himself with a party. Thero seemed no 
 j)r<0 'ity of any attack from tho Hudson's 
 Ba ^pimy, and, in any case, those left 
 
 bcl . the fort would be able to resist an 
 
 assault, and hold the jilaco till the return of 
 the sportsmen. There was the danger of 
 being cut ott" from the fort, but that had to 
 be risked. 
 
 One morning, very early, they issued forth. 
 They woidd probabl\^ not have stepped so 
 briskly, had tliey known that a band of the 
 Hudson's Bay Company men wore watching 
 them from a pine g'.ove not far from tho ktri. 
 Brian had more than once debated on cutting 
 down this grove, since it would afford a good 
 cover for an attacking party, but he had 
 liesitated because it sheltered tho fort from 
 the west winds. He contented himself v,-iih 
 having it watched and regularly searched. 
 He was not. however, aware that the grove 
 contained a very effective hi<ling-place, which 
 was likely to be known to the members of 
 a llTidson's Bay Company party. This very 
 moi-ning, before the hunters started, there 
 had been a search, but it Avas jierfnnctory, 
 atid tho twenty odd men led by Chief Factor 
 Yenlaw lay concealed under the very noses 
 of the searchers, who might easily have 
 been capture<I had it l)een according to Ven- 
 law's programme. Ho hoped, howevei, to 
 employ strategy ; the more so, because he 
 
 had heiiid < no of the men from the fort 
 speak of the projected hunt. 
 
 W lieu tho .-earchers returned to thi^ fort, 
 and sMon afterwards he saw IJrian and his 
 handfid of men issue forth, ho determined 
 <in his plan of action. About noon would 
 be th(! slackest time at the fort. }.Ioreover, 
 any one who might chance to pass out during 
 tile morning would be likely to return at 
 noon. His action should be governed by 
 this event, if it occuireil. If not, another 
 plan, based u|Hm another supposition, should 
 be put into play. 
 
 It was his intention to make a rush upon 
 the gates at the moment any one should be 
 entering, and so, if possible, enter the fort. 
 A half-breed left tho fort about nine o'clock, 
 and they saw him returning about noon. Tho 
 distance between the grove and tho gates was 
 aliont one hundred yards. Venlaw's men 
 wore all swift and noiseless rutmors, and were 
 likely to accomplish the distance and do tho 
 thing successfully, though one would have 
 said tho odds Avero heavy against them. 
 
 Tho half-breed came slowly on, beaiing a 
 part of an animal he had killed on tho 
 shoulder l)ctween him and tlir grove, so that 
 he could not, without removing it, or turning 
 towards the i)ines, see any one in that 
 direction. 
 
 Venlaw turned to his men. "Don't fire 
 until I give tho word ; but enter tho fort 
 guns cocked, and cover every man that 
 shows himself. Kcmembcr, captiu'o, not 
 bloodshed, is our aim. A pound of pemmi- 
 can and three plugs of tobacco to each 
 man, if we do tho thing successfully. Keep 
 close to me ; speak no word. . . Are you 
 ready 1 " 
 
 He raised his hand, holding it poised till 
 the half-Ipr^ed was almost at the gate, then 
 he gave the signal, and with great swiftness 
 they .sped upon tho fort. The half-breed 
 .did not hear them till tlio ])ad of nioccasined 
 feet was almo.st beside him, and at that 
 moment the gate was opened. Before ho 
 could cry out a hand was clapped on his 
 mouth, and he was drawn backwards to tho 
 ground, and Veidaw and his men rushed in 
 before tho gate couhl bo closed upon them. 
 The sentinel who had opened it, and another, 
 stood an instant Ijowildered, then swung their 
 guns shouldcrwards, but Venlaw and one of 
 his followers sprang upon them and seized 
 the weapons. Both went off, but, fortii- 
 natelv, without injury to any one. The men 
 were disarmed. The rest of the garrison 
 now came armed and crowding through the 
 doors of the fort to tho yard. Venlaw's 
 
48 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 • Uc sat down anil dropped liis forehead on his clenched fist^." 
 
 Oiie of the men beside the 
 .omaii sti./eil her arm — it 
 was her husl)aiRl. 
 
 Veiilaw spoke now, uut not 
 to liis assaihint. " Urouud 
 yorr arms,' ho said sternly 
 to the jiroup about the 
 Avoman ; but she slirieked 
 out, — '• Five oil thtm ! fire on 
 tliem I () you cowards; I 
 could kill you myself I" She 
 stni!,'uled in her husband's 
 arms. 
 
 Tlic captiu'cd men silently 
 laid their riHes down ; and 
 now the Factor spoke to the 
 woman, his glove stitt' with 
 the blood from the still-bleed- 
 ing wound, "Yo-.i fight 
 hanlly fair; and Fm 
 not sure but what you 
 nave von ought to get. 
 You might have waited 
 till you saw what wo 
 intended. You wei'o 
 foolish. But we will 
 not quarrel witii you, 
 if you will get us a 
 tin of tea and cook 
 fcIi.i'vTis ill. tantly levelled their' rifles at ; m some of this fresh meat," — jwinting to the 
 them. I venison which the disarmed and captured 
 
 The Factor rai.scd his hand towards the j half-breed had brought, — "for we've had little 
 besieged, " Don't fire, or attempt ysistance," enough to eat this two days past, ami wc 
 he said ; "it will be useless bloodshed, AVe have work to do yet to-day. And as for 
 arc masters. The Hudson's Hay Company I your busband, if he is here, 1 proniigo you 
 Avishes only its right?. You have done [ shall go with him, wherever he goes." 
 your duty in obeying yor.r captain, but nov,- The womiin was overcome b}' the Factor's 
 stack your arms, for I sliali coiMmand jou I coolness aiid his (juiet speaking. .She stood 
 henceforth." The nun were u:>dci cover of j for a moment as though dumbfounded, and 
 tlie rifles ; they saw that resistance must be I tiien tiuiied ami went into the fort. Like 
 made with greut los?, of life, and even then \ most women of such impulses slic was soon 
 with little clumc'^ of success, and they droj)pcd I after as earnest in making the tea and 
 the buttsof their gun 5 u[)on the ground, stil!, ! cooking the venison as she hail been in hci- 
 however, holding them. One of the mt.i — nuuiieious attack upon the Factor. Mean- 
 he who had been left in conunand — spoke. , time, the i)risoners were put in well-guarded 
 ** AVhat will you do with us, if we sur- , rooms. 
 
 render 1 " The weather grewcolder as the day went on. 
 
 "Take you over to Fort Saviour, and from Decisive ])reparations were made to receive 
 there send you south of the Hudson's i>ay I'liaii iUid his men. Towards sun-down a 
 ■country. Stack your arms 1 ' watchnu'ii gave the word that the luuitcrs 
 
 At that moment a woman avIk* had ac- j were returning. Venlaw formed his men 
 •companied the expedition a])peared behind ailvantageously, ami more or le^s out of sight, 
 the men. She suddenly raised a pistol at in the yard, vith instructions, as before, not 
 the Factor, and fired. The btUlet grazed his , to lire until he gave the word, Hrian and his 
 tenii)le, bringing blood, and tore away a piece I followers had hail a successful day, and were 
 of his fur cap. He staunched the Idood with ' in high spirits. On the fort the North 'West 
 his buck-skin ghtve, and it froze on his cheek j Company's Hag was still flying. Venlaw 
 ■as it came ; but for a moment he diil not ; was too cautious to think of lowering it yet. 
 speak, and he did no' change his position. \ AVhen within a few yards of the gates, one 
 
TiiE C'Hlh;!-' FAllOli. 
 
 49 
 
 l)csi(le the 
 ■r arm — it 
 
 o\v, but ntit 
 " Grouiul 
 3ui(l sternly 
 iibout the 
 10 shrieked 
 ifciu ! lire on 
 cuwanls ; I 
 -self!" She 
 r husluml's 
 
 men silently 
 down ; and 
 ^pokc to the 
 e stitV Avith 
 le still-bleed- 
 'Yo.i fight 
 r ; and I'la 
 ut what you 
 ju<j;ht to get. 
 : have waited 
 aw what wo 
 ^'ou were 
 But wc will 
 el witii you, 
 ill got us a 
 a and cook 
 )inting to the 
 nd caiitiu'ed 
 ti've had little 
 ast, and v\c 
 Aiid as for 
 troniiso you 
 i;oes. 
 
 the Factor's 
 She stood 
 lunded, and 
 fort. Like 
 le Mas soon 
 he tea and 
 been in hci' 
 or. ]\Ican- 
 ell-guarded 
 
 lay went on. 
 
 to receive 
 tun-down a 
 Jlie hunters 
 ll his men 
 [utof siglit, 
 
 befi.re, not 
 jiaii and his 
 |, and were 
 lorth West 
 A'enlaw 
 
 Ing it yet. 
 
 Igutcs, cue 
 
 
 of Brian's half-ln'oeds gave a shar[) ctU as a 
 
 signal for opening the gates. It was answered 
 
 from within In' one of the Factor's men. 
 
 When the nu-n wore iuuneiliately at the 
 
 gates they opened, and tlieycame in eagerly, 
 
 for they were Inuigix'. Before they giaspcd 
 
 the situation they Avcrc nearly all in, and 
 
 then Brian became aware that riHes were 
 
 threaieiiing them from the windows of the 
 
 fort, i'.nd from tiie yard. He saw that they 
 
 ■were in a trap, but he was not inclined to 
 
 yield tamely. He caught 
 
 his rltle to his shouMer 
 
 with his eye ujjou the 
 
 leader of the invaders. On 
 
 the instant he 
 
 reco<rnised this 
 
 leader as Aridrew 
 
 Venlaw. He was 
 
 dumbfoun<led. He 
 
 lowered his gun. 
 
 Behind him his 
 
 followers wt.'re still 
 
 crowding in at the 
 
 gate, coverecl by 
 
 tliij riHes. 
 
 T h e Facto r 
 ste|)ped forward. 
 'I think,' he said, 
 *' it woidd be wiser 
 to make no resist- 
 ance. \o;i have 
 lost this game. 
 fSave your life for 
 a l)ctter." 
 
 " Venlaw ! An- 
 drew Venlaw!" 
 said the otiier, 
 finding his voice. 
 
 ' Yes, that is 
 my name," was 
 the cold rei)ly. 
 " Order your men 
 to stack their 
 arms. Wo have you ab an advantage.' 
 
 Brian glanced at the carcase of the moose 
 which his men had l)rought with tliem, autl 
 with a little of his old humour answered : 
 '• Wove got oiu- venison at a price something 
 unusual." Then he glanced round, saw the 
 hopelessness of the position, and added : 
 "Pile your arms, mv men. We have lost 
 Fort (!al)riel." 
 
 His followers silently obejed. Veidaw 
 made a sign, and the pris.)no;'s were taken 
 into the fort. Brian did not move, for the 
 Factor motioned him to stay. When all weio 
 gone but they two, and a senlincl not within 
 earshot, Venlaw s]!oke : 'First, as to the 
 
 matter of the fort. The North West Com- 
 pany surprised and stole this post. You w ere 
 their chief robber." 
 
 i^i-ian made a gesture of dissent, shrugged 
 his shouhlers, and said, with that old disdain 
 renuMnbere.i by Venlaw all too well, — " In- 
 ilecd ! You were always somewhat law and 
 unmannerly, Venlaw. Don't you tJiink it 
 were fairer to give a gentleman bite ai.d sup, 
 — from his own pillaged larder, after a long 
 da^'s tramp— than to keep him freezing like 
 this, with cmptj' 'jelly and 
 choking throat, particu- 
 lai'ly when wc )ring fi-esh 
 rations with us, boiight, as 
 I said, at war- 
 famine prices. 
 That done, I coidd 
 easier gi'asp the 
 fact f)f your pre- 
 sence in this wild 
 land, and as my 
 gaoler. Master 
 Venlaw." 
 
 The Factor 
 Hushed to his 
 hair. This Iri.sh- 
 man had not 
 changed since the 
 days when he 
 had mocked the 
 young Scotsman 
 on the fair-ground 
 at Braithcn. Ho 
 answered, how- 
 ever, with some 
 sarcasm in his 
 tone, "I sujjposed 
 that good soldiers 
 and faithful ofli- 
 cers thought of 
 their duties first, 
 and their bellies 
 after'vards." 
 " Faith, then, Venlaw," retoi'tol the oth..r, 
 " I see! neither war nor duty here. B. I.id, 
 you have us by the heels, ami we nnist wing 
 at your will. And what little tlicre is to do 
 otlicially in the way of surrender, can be 
 performed, I think, in awann room, and not 
 in a freezing court-yard, and before a good 
 dish of hot meat, and not on the Hank of a 
 cold ciU'case. ' 
 
 N'onlaw M-as very an<;ry, but his temix'r 
 was well held behind his teeth. "You 
 have a gay s|)irit," he replied ; "we'll see if 
 it holds good when time of reckoning comes. 
 Mj^'anwhile," waving his hand towards tho 
 dooi', at which a halfdjreed sentinel stood, 
 
 An iiiruw (imviiiii'-' in licr ^liuuMr 
 
 I 
 
60 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 w 
 
 " this man will lead yoii wlicrc you'll find 
 Bomething to eat." 
 
 "Sure, then, my solemn and ubiquitous 
 Scotsman," was the response, " I think I 
 know the way ; and when wc meet at that 
 hour of reckoning, I beg that you'll wear a 
 face less like a hangman. 'Tis bad enough to 
 be a prisoner, but to have a surly gaoler, who 
 thinks he has the world's morals— and im- 
 morals — to guard, treble a man's punishment. 
 Fellow-townsmen, like ourselves, shouldn't 
 turn Gorgon when they meet in a foreign 
 land. But ! I remember, I gave you an 
 invitation to meet me at the ^orth Pole, or 
 thercaboi ^-1. Well, here wc are, and after 
 supper . . . after supper . . . ch, VenlaAv ? " 
 And Brian pushed on into the fort, where 
 his face suddenly grew grave. He could 
 have bitten his tongue out for that speech 
 about their meeting again. The memory was 
 a sad one to him now. But, as he said in his 
 mind, " the fellow took himself so seriously 
 and was so unbearably immaculate ! " 
 
 Venlaw Avatched him disapjiear, then stood 
 for a long time regardless of the still increas- 
 ing cold, his closed fingers pressed to his 
 mouth as thoucrh to hold the words burstin" 
 from his lips. Ho was thinking — think- 
 ing, with the result of ten j-ears' waiting in 
 his grasp. The man was in his power that 
 had made him an exile from his country, 
 robbed him of love and home, and spoiled 
 the life of her who was the angel of his boy- 
 hood, the hope of his young manhood. "It 
 shall bo done," he said, and dropped his hand 
 upon his leg with a thud. And Chief Factor 
 Yenlaw had a fashion of keeping his v,-ord. 
 
 A couple of hours later, Yenlaw sent for 
 Brian. When the latter entered, and the 
 door closed behind him, the two were face to 
 face, alone. 
 
 " Well, Chief Factor Venlaw," said Brian, 
 ■with an assumed yet eUcctive nonchalance, 
 " wiiat function do you purpose now 1 " 
 
 "Only one," was the business-like reply. 
 " First, I may tell jou that j'oiu- men will be 
 taken to Fort Saviour." He paused. 
 
 " And for myself 1 " 
 
 "And for yourself— hereafter." The Fac- 
 tpr's voire Avas still quiet, yet stern. Thou 
 ho contnuicd : " And now, Brian Kingley, we 
 have some things to settle." 
 
 "More things to settle f rejoined Brian, 
 lifting his eyebrows ironically. " What are 
 they?" 
 
 " Have you forgotten the last time avc 
 met ? or do — gentlemen — like you, remember 
 nothing that they care to forget V 
 
 A tone of seriousness now came into 
 
 Brian's voice. "Venlaw," he said, " j-ou 
 mean that day at Beltane Fair, when I swung 
 a lass out of your arms, and took a kiss for a 
 slight debt she owed me. Faith, it was 
 pretty but insolent play. I'll admit, VenlaAV, 
 that I'm sorry for it now." Brian meant 
 infinitely more apology than he cxi)ressed , 
 and he would ha\'e expressed it all, but he 
 found it hard to do it in the circumstances, 
 with this man sitting as a judge over him. 
 
 " What you did to me was nothing ; but 
 vou spoiled a girl's life. You spoiled Jean 
 Fordie's life." 
 
 Brian flushed suddenly, and his words came 
 sharp and hot. " Venlaw, you lie ! " 
 
 Venlaw got threateningly to his feet, and 
 his eye ran sharply to the other's. "" on 
 shamed and ruined the sister of your friend." 
 
 " Again, Venlaw, you lie ! " Brian's voice 
 was harsh, and his hands clenched on the 
 table before him, as he looked uji. 
 
 The Factor's face had now an iron-like 
 hardness. He had resolved upon one way, 
 and ho Avould not bo changed from it. 
 
 " It was her brother's or her father's place 
 to bring you to punishment," he persisted, 
 " else I had done it before i left Braithen. 
 You ran away from the father, and helping 
 the brother — for your own safety, maybe — 
 kept the truth from him all these years. 
 Now, I have to do the brother's will. I 
 gladly do it. If he could have met you here 
 he wouM have killed you. But he coidd not. 
 He charged me to do it, for her wrongs, his, 
 and my own ; and, by Heaven, I will ! " 
 
 Brian, amazed, had risen to his feet 
 slowl3^ Ho said in a low tone, his voice 
 roughened with l)itterness, — " It is all false, 
 Yenlaw ; false, as I'm a man 1 I did not 
 ruin her.' 
 
 " But j-ou are no man ; you arc a poltroon, 
 a coward !" The words came with very 
 scorn. 
 
 Brian stepped forward, his face full of 
 fury and his body shaking. " I'll trench 
 that lie in your blood, mj^ low-born Scotsmiin, 
 if you diire meet me, tossing swnrd i)uiiits." 
 
 "You shall not lack for opportunity," was 
 the quick re|)ly. " And to encourage you, I 
 would remind yoa that I have l)oen Mailing 
 ten years lo have my hour out with .you." 
 
 " You always were a talker, Yenlaw." 
 
 " And you a drunken idlei', there and 
 here." 
 
 "Faith, rU not plead innocence of that, 
 before so perfect a judge. I see you have 
 been reading the records of the Hudson's Bay 
 Ctimpany. You ever had a taste for scan- 
 dal," was the reply, with malicious sarcasm. 
 
I, "you 
 
 I swung 
 :iss for a 
 
 it was 
 Vcnlaw, 
 
 II meant 
 pressed , 
 1, Ijiit lie 
 nstances, 
 V liim. 
 ing ; but 
 ilcd Jean 
 
 inls canio 
 
 feet, and 
 
 5. "" OU 
 
 ir friend." 
 an's voice 
 d on the 
 
 iron-like 
 
 one way, 
 
 it. 
 icr's place 
 
 persisted, 
 
 Braitlien. 
 id lielping 
 , maybe — 
 CSC years. 
 fi will. I 
 ■j you hero 
 could not. 
 rontrs, his, 
 
 ill ! " 
 his feet 
 
 his voice 
 all false, 
 did not 
 
 poltroon, 
 lith very 
 
 |(; full of 
 111 trench 
 5cotsniiin, 
 Ipoiiits." 
 iity," was 
 rj you, I 
 ii waiting 
 
 you." 
 liw." 
 Iicro and 
 
 of that, 
 lou have 
 ton's Bay 
 Ifor scan- 
 
 xrcasm. 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR., 
 
 ^^n^^mmmmmmmmmm 
 
 51 
 
 "I read no records. I have been here ten 
 years. I saw them acted — saw you act 
 them." 
 
 "Well, we've a jn'ctty account to square, 
 and ril thank you if you'll talk less and do 
 more." 
 
 "We cannot fi,u;lit here," said Veidaw ; 
 " not Avithin the fort. Hut the plains aie 
 wide, and the moon is bri;j,ht." 
 
 Brian had now recovered his coolness; he 
 even spoke with a giim and deadly humour. 
 "When you will. Wliy not at the moose 
 yard, a :nile or so away to the sduih ' — .V 
 noblu cock-pit, where, we may have our game 
 on a smooth and solid table, ' 
 
 Venlaw thouglit a mii'.ute, looking liar.--hly 
 at the other, ami then saitl : "Yes, 1 kiiow 
 tlie place. But one of us must fall, and luiw 
 shall the other be cared for '( ' 
 
 "Calculating ever, shepherd, liut not in- 
 ventive. Why, if 1 fall, yiiu can send Vdur 
 men to bury me, or carry me, where they 
 will. If you fall — well, you'd better [U'ca ide 
 for that by leaving Mord here where they 
 may lind you. lie j)recise in that. Chief 
 Factor, for I have a [jresentiment that you 
 shall come back in carriage horizontal — • 
 while I must take the plains again, or have 
 
 " You have lost this game." 
 
 a wil<l minute with your raseally ioiiuimIcs 
 here, to l)e eaten without salt, ( , I hear 
 they stand well by you ; as is liUi , , f. n' y(,n 
 and :hey are savages, my hillsman. 
 
 Venlaw was cpiite cool, liis face inscrut- 
 able ; his eyes had a resolute shadow and 
 a directness almost opjiressive to a lessei' 
 man than Bi'ian. But the Xorth liad given 
 them both of its intrepidity, and neither 
 blenched before the other. I Irian's nas a 
 Kne face, the more pleasiuit of tlu; two, ns his 
 form was the more j^racjfid and closely knir. 
 He stood with a hand .,;i In's liij., ..iid hi:-: 
 other aim resti.;g on a high desk n Mr, at 
 case, yet alert and forceful. The other In. iked 
 honest, sti'enuous, impregnable-- a ieadn- of 
 men. 
 
 .A snddeii silence came lietween theni. 'i'Le 
 candle llickered, and the eyes of both (ell on 
 it mechanically, stayed u moment, then met. 
 They were both, that instant, thinking or 
 Beltane Fair; Venlaw revengei'ully, liitUrly : 
 the other remorsefully, for tlu! event was 
 d(.ul'liiig on him thoroughly. He loved the 
 Woman now in memory as in present fiiet. 
 and through his fault she had evidently lucn 
 slandered. Venlaw l)elieved her ,L,uilty. 
 Weil, he should pay for that. If ho Jiii'u- 
 
mmm 
 
 wmm 
 
 IVIII 
 
 mm 
 
 52 
 
 '-ilE CHIEF FACTOII. 
 
 self fell, lie should only be getting his due. 
 And so, now for the end of it ! 
 
 Vcnluw spoke. " I will leave word as you 
 say ; also, that in case I am killed jou are 
 not to be followed. And now, wluit shall it 
 be — swords or pistols ? " 
 
 " For old acquaintance' sake, swords ! I 
 see yo>i Avear one, and mine is in the fort. 
 I should like to prove, after all these years, 
 tha" i'm still your master in war, as I did 
 once when we were youths ; and in love — as 
 I also (lid once before." Lumediately these 
 words were uttered Brian rej^ietted them, 
 for he did not mean them ; but he could not 
 help torturing this man. 
 
 The hands of the other trembleil slightly 
 as they rested on the table, but he spoke no 
 word directlj'. He tai)ped ufjon the door 
 with the sheath of his sword. One of his 
 men entered. 
 
 "Confine the prisoners for the night,'' he 
 said ; " tlicn bring me the keys of tlie gates 
 and the doors. There is no necessity for a 
 watch. ]\Ir. Kinglcy will remain in this 
 room. You will bring Inillalo skins here 
 for a bed, and some food." 
 
 Then the two men were left alone again, 
 
 "At midnight I will come again," said 
 Ycidaw, witii his hand on the door. " We 
 will go then." 
 
 " At twelve, as you say, shci)herd, — and 
 you shall travel far ! " and, turning his back, 
 Brian sought the lire. The door opened and 
 Venlaw went out. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. — THAT INFINITE EDGE. 
 
 Theue was no wind in the woods, and if 
 A ou had listened you would have heard only 
 the sighing of cedars weighted by the snow, 
 or the occasional crack of a burdened limb. 
 You might even have csught the long breath 
 of a sleeping moose, but little more. You 
 would have found it tery cold too if you 
 were not used to cold. But just when the 
 world seemed all a frosty dream, a beautiful 
 .solitary mummy, which might wake again 
 after thousands of years, and one would have 
 ijeen tempted to join in the white wonder of 
 tiiat repose, a faint, delightful sound came 
 floating out of the night. It was a low, 
 clear note, impelled by some Orpheus of the 
 fiozen Xorth, like the exquisite contralto 
 wliistle of an organ, muflled in a weft of 
 filmy cloud, as though the trees were breath- 
 ing the song through their frost. 
 
 It grew and grew, scarcely becoming louder, 
 but more distinct, more sweet and piercing. It 
 came very near, and was accompanied now by 
 
 the soft i)atter of feet. These were strango 
 things. It was as if some minstrel of the 
 dead was sauntering with his companions 
 through those ancient fastnesses. 
 
 Presently, an Indian girl and an old man 
 appeared. The girl's lips might have sent 
 forth this music, so Avarm and eloquent were 
 they — a protest against this smileless world 
 about them, eyed distantly by the presiding 
 moon. There was with her an old man 
 wintered with age, but pervading this snowy 
 arena with tliat strange music, which, but a 
 moment before, seemed almost supernatural. 
 His instrument was a flute. Soon he took it 
 from his lips, and spoke. " It's bitter cold 
 foi this, but I said before I left the old land 
 that when I got within sight of the place 
 where he was I'd play one of the tunes they 
 crooned over him when a child, and I've done 
 it — fantastic enough, maybe, and with a 
 frozen finger." He could hardlj' have played 
 thus on the open plains. In the woods it was 
 not so colli. 
 
 "You are a strange man," said the girl, 
 and she caught the white and clammy finger 
 and rubbed it well with snow. Then the 
 old man clothcil his hands, and they ran on 
 together. 
 
 " You are nearly as much an angel as he 
 is a man," said the old man to the girl, " for 
 I should never have reached him were it not 
 for you. You are wondei'ful." 
 
 " The ways of the Spirits are wonderful," 
 she replied musingly and a little sadl}', " and 
 
 cruel too See, there, again, is the fort. 
 
 Our journej'^ will soon bo over." 
 
 " But look !— look there ! What is that V 
 cried the old man suddenly. 
 
 And Avhat they saw is now to be told. 
 
 When, at midnight, Andrew A'enlaw and 
 Brian Kingley stepped out from the fort, 
 there was a marvellous silence on the plains. 
 In the woods slight sounds coulil be heard, 
 but on the plains nothing was alive; nothing, 
 indeed, in the world seemed alive, except the 
 stars and the moon, prying, speculative, un- 
 companionable. 
 
 They walked side by side. Brian turned 
 round once or twice to look at the fort. Again 
 Duce or twice he scanned the plains. Ho 
 was impressed by the austerity of the earth, 
 the cold imperturbable sky. Death were 
 l)etter here than in more friendly places; 
 the world were not so hard to leave. Ho 
 was interested in the thing itself — its 
 strangeness, its savage contradictions. He 
 cast an inquiring glance at the face of the 
 man beside him. It was, such of it as could 
 be seen, most serious and absorbed. The 
 
strango 
 •cl of the 
 mpanions 
 
 1 old man 
 have sent 
 Lient Aveie 
 less workl 
 
 presiding 
 old man 
 his snowy 
 ich, but ii 
 lernatnral. 
 he took it 
 )ittcr cold 
 3 old land 
 the place 
 :unes they 
 [ I've done 
 d with a 
 ivc played 
 )ods it was 
 
 I the gill, 
 iniy finger 
 Then the 
 ley ran on 
 
 ngel as he 
 I girl, " for 
 ivere it not 
 
 onderfnl," 
 
 lly, "and 
 
 Is the fort. 
 
 is thatr' 
 
 told, 
 tnlaw and 
 
 the fort, 
 [ho plains. 
 Ibe heaid, 
 
 ; nothing, 
 jxcept the 
 
 ative, im- 
 
 In turned 
 pt. Again 
 Lins. Ho 
 [he eartli, 
 \ih were 
 places ; 
 live. lie 
 Iclf — its 
 Ins. Ho 
 pe of the 
 las could 
 Id. The 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR 
 
 man appeared unconscious of his com- 
 panion's presence. Something in his look 
 brought a flash of grave drollery to the 
 other's eyes. Surely the owner of those eyes 
 must jest, if even grimly, upon this man to 
 the end ! 
 
 Their steps fell evenly, but made, with 
 their moccasined feet, only the softest sound 
 on the snow. Their arms almost touched as 
 they walked. AVith that droll look playing 
 on his face, Brian presently began to hum, 
 with a half-tender, half-mocking cadence, the 
 ■words of an old song: — 
 
 •• Ar.d whon will you be coming back, my bold cavnlier, 
 With the gold upon your shoulder, and my ribbou on vour 
 
 breast J 
 For I know a gallant waiting, and they whisper in my ear, 
 That, of true lovea and new loves, the last love is best." 
 
 At that they came to the edge of the moose- 
 
 {rard, and both stepped into it ; it was slightly 
 ower than the plain, tramped smooth by 
 the hoofs of the moose. Brian repeated the 
 last two lines of the verse. Veniaw's teeth 
 clinched. Perhaps, unintentionallj', Brian 
 forgot to mock, and threw some quaint 
 reflected feeling into them, an airy pathos, 
 which struck into Yenlaw's heart suddenly 
 and surprisingly. He fastened his eyes on 
 Brian's face. Unaccountably, then, there 
 came to him a sense of that ineffaceable com- 
 radeship of race ; perhaps something more. 
 Ho felt what he had never before done to 
 this man — a strange and deep sympathy. The 
 solemnity of the occasion moved him. Might 
 there have becii .- .me mistake after all 1 
 
 Brian was whipping his sword lightly on 
 the icy air, as if to get its balance. 
 
 " Now," Veiilaw said, with a burst of blun- 
 dering frankness, "own that you did wickedly. 
 For it's an ill thing to go to your Maker with 
 a falsehood on your \'\\)% Brian Kingley." 
 
 Any other kind of speech might have in- 
 fluenced ]'.rian. This could only rouse re- 
 sentment in him. Tiic Factor's tactlessness, 
 the re apttu'e of the fort, the humiliation he 
 liad tlierehy suffercil, and, more than all, the 
 false accusation agiiinst Jean, — for he was 
 now as much her chi'inpion as Vcnlaw — sent 
 a sharp reply to his li[)s. 
 
 "I knew you were a bit of a braggart, 
 shcplicrd, but I di<l not guess that you'd 
 trcnilile at honest fighting with a sword in 
 your hand. I said you lied, and you did ; 
 and I'm ready to trench the lio in your blood, 
 as I said. So here's salutation to you. Yen- 
 law,^ — and good-bye to you !" 
 
 They saluteil, then stood to position. At 
 that instant a faint, delicate sound came 
 over the snow to them distantly. They 
 
 looked round. The plains were silent, save 
 for this. Far to the north these everlasting 
 hummocks of white, reaching to the Pole ; 
 the granite integrit}' of frost al)sorbing them ; 
 the multitudinous circles of icy years around 
 them. 
 
 They drew back from each other. Their 
 faces became very pale, for the music came 
 penetratingly, sweetly to them. And it was 
 a melody to which one had been cradled, and 
 the other knew in pleasant, familiar hills ; it 
 Avas, indeed, sometimes sung to the very 
 verses that but now fell from Brian's lips. 
 They stood not moving, their swords drawn, 
 the points poised, the blades Hashing in the 
 moonlight. They seemed to listen for years. 
 Suddenly with a swift impulse the music 
 faded, and was gone. 
 
 And astonished beyond words, — though 
 they both thought the thing a trick of the 
 invagination, — but determined still, the two 
 men faced each other. Still their swords humi 
 inactive. The respite seemed a mutual wish. 
 They scarcely moved for a few minutes. 
 Presently Brian raised his sword. His 
 opponent's lifted also. The points caught 
 and wranglcil. They sawed and clashed, 
 played angrily, drew back for a last pre- 
 cipitation of energj', and caught again 
 wickedly. Suddenly there was a sound as 
 of hurrying feet, then a call, and the ai)propch 
 of two figures. But they did not stop. Im- 
 mediately a girl jumi)ed down into tlie yard 
 and ran against the swords, throwing them 
 up. 
 
 "Ironhc.art! Ironheart!" she cried. 
 
 It was Siunmer-Hair. 
 
 Then a man caught the Factor's arm. 
 " Andrew Venlaw !" said a voice dissuasive 
 and reproachful. 
 
 Venlaw dazcdl}' turned 
 said hoarsely, "Benoni !" 
 
 " So, I've just come in 
 Benoni, wheeling now towards Brian. "Of 
 all tiie years that have gone since you left 
 the old land, and oi all the days, 'tis siran.';o 
 that you should Hy at each other's throat the 
 moment I bear down upon you." 
 
 Brian looked hard at him, then drew his 
 hand swiftly across his eyes. 
 
 "Before God, 'tis strange enough 1'' he 
 said. 
 
 "And why .should you fight?" continued 
 the old man. "Aren't there Indians ;ind 
 other wild beasts to be killed without ridiling 
 the world of a white man where white men 
 ai'e few, and no need for yor.r swords going 
 rusty f Clank them l)ack into their scaliliards, 
 for I've a woid to say to you both that'll flush 
 
 upon him and 
 time,"' ivjoined 
 
msmmmmiBm 
 
 ^mmmmmmmm 
 
 Si 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 
 your faces with shame for many a day, how- 
 ever cold the wind blows." . 
 
 The two men dropiicd their swords into 
 the slicaths, not yet speaking. Summer-Hair 
 stood a little apart, looking at the Factor in- 
 (juiiingly, anxiously. At last Venlaw said : 
 " You've come — from home, Benoni. Why 1" 
 
 The rej)ly was impressive. " There were 
 two men, luavo men! and thej' went mad 
 one day. For, one did a light thing to a girl 
 in the face of the world, and the other did a 
 wrong thing when he would not trust the 
 girl. Ill was .'^))oken of her. The years went 
 on, and the two who should have been there 
 to set her right jjeforo the world, were wait- 
 ing a chance, in another land, to bury their 
 
 swords in each other But 'tis cold here 
 
 lor those that arc not fighting, and if we may 
 go on to the fort our story can be finisheil 
 there." 
 
 The Factor nodded, and now, silent, they 
 walked back to the foi t abreast, the girl be- 
 side Benoni. Once the Factor turned, and, 
 as if it had just occurred to him, held out his 
 hand to Summer-Hair. " i' oil showed Benoni 
 the way, Summer-Hair? ' he asked. 
 
 The girl nodded, but she did not speak. 
 Again there was silence. I'rescntly Brian 
 saiil : "Benoni, were you playing on your Hutc 
 just liefore you came V 
 
 '•As good a tune as ever was played out 
 of heaven." 
 
 " Well," rejoined Brian, with a laugh which 
 Avas half a sigh, "it blocked the Avay to 
 heaven to one of us. For had you not played 
 as y(ju did, and detained the wrangle of our 
 swords for a minute, you had come upon a 
 dead man in the moose-yard." 
 
 "I don't know which one was to be the 
 murderer,' said Benoin", " but I do know that 
 botli of you arc well this side of heaven till 
 you've cleared the name of an innocent girl." 
 
 They spoke no more until they came to 
 the fort. The gates creaked slowly outwards, 
 and Venlaw was the last to enter. Before he 
 did so he turned round and faced the cmjity 
 phiiiis. A desert of sand is sad and ter- 
 rible in its desolation, but there is some- 
 thing majestic in a desert of snow, even when 
 it stiikos with millions of deadly needles 
 through the heart. For, at its worst it has 
 no torture, only God-like sleep. The Factor, 
 looking liack, thought soberly, not weakly, 
 of how a waiting grave had been foiled of an 
 occu])iint. At that moment there was in him 
 the spirit of the North, which makes men 
 bra\ e, if it does not render them merciful. 
 He thought of a day, ten years before, when 
 ho bade good-bye to Scotlaml. He paused 
 
 longer than he knew. A hand touched him 
 on the arm. 
 
 "Ironheart," Summer-Hair's voice said, 
 " when one comes to my father's lodge my 
 father does hot stand in the doorway, but 
 hurries to give him welcome." 
 
 " I am forgetful," he replied, and he looked 
 kindly at the girl. They entered the fort. 
 The Factor roused some of his men, and a 
 meal was ])repared. A\'hen it was over Sum- 
 mer-Hair was led to another room, where 
 she might sleep. The tiiree men remained 
 where they were. For a time nothing was 
 said. Then Venlaw briefly explained to 
 Benoni the occurrence of the day before, and 
 the position of Brian and his followers. When 
 that was done Benoni began to speak. Quietly 
 he drew the ])icture of Jean's early life, of 
 her mother's death, her love for her brother, 
 and her devotion to her father — of her as 
 she was in the old Castle, at her household 
 duties, or at the loom ; as she ajjpeared in the 
 streets, modest, admired, discreet; as in the 
 church, reverent ; as in the dance, blithe yet 
 reserved; as always good and true. 
 
 Then, while they sat subdued, wondering 
 at the simple power of the old man's recital, 
 all Brian's assumed irony and nonchalance 
 gone, all Venlaw's sombreness modified, Ben- 
 oni spoke graveb' of Bruce's crime, and of the 
 anxious days preceding Beltane Fair; of the 
 occurrence at the fair itvelf, briefly, firmly, 
 severely. 
 
 "A man's only a man,'" he said, "and I've 
 seen the day when the brush of a lip was 
 pleasant enough to me. But the deed done 
 that day Avas more than an idle thing." 
 Here his voice became low, as if to speak 
 was a troul)le. 
 
 " You, Andrew Venkuv, listened to a 
 woman who sought to make bad blood be- 
 tween you and Jean Fordie, and you believed 
 the woman you loved — the plaything of this 
 man." 
 
 Then he told them of Elsie's confession. 
 
 During his last words strange changes 
 passed over the faces of the listeners ; both 
 became pale, and Venlaw rose from Ins seat. 
 "Is this so?" he said, Avith a despairing 
 voice. 
 
 "It is true," replied Benoni, and he drcAV 
 from his breast a letter fron? Elsie, and bade 
 Venlaw read it. The Factor took it, his hand 
 tremlding. When he had finished Brian took 
 it from his fingers. VenhvAV dropped into a 
 seat, mihaj^py and dism.iyod. When Brian 
 had finishetl reading ho leaned liis elbow on 
 the ttible and covered his face. 
 
 "She has endured this shame ten years," 
 
hed liim 
 
 ice saifl, 
 odgc iny 
 way, but 
 
 ic looked 
 tlie fort, 
 en, and a 
 ver Suiu- 
 ni, where 
 remained 
 thing was 
 hiiued to 
 eforc, and 
 fs. When 
 ;. Quietly 
 ly life, of 
 ir brother, 
 of her as 
 houseliold 
 ired in the 
 as in the 
 blithe yet 
 
 wondcrins; 
 m's recital, 
 onchalancc 
 lifted, Bcn- 
 and of the 
 iir ; of the 
 fly, firmly, 
 
 " and I've 
 
 a lip was 
 
 deed done 
 
 lie thing." 
 
 to speak 
 
 pied to a 
 
 blood be- 
 
 lu believed 
 
 ling of this 
 
 Ifession. 
 
 angcs 
 
 Icrs ; both 
 
 \i his seat. 
 
 Icspairing 
 
 he drew 
 land bade 
 
 liis hand 
 Sri an took 
 led into a 
 lien Brian 
 1 elbow on 
 
 years," 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 55 
 
 said Benoni. He paused. Still neither man 
 spoke. 
 
 "There have been two cowards in the 
 world for ten years and more," he continued. 
 
 Venlaw and Brian caught eacli other's eyes, 
 and sprang to their feet. 
 
 "What can wo do?" questioned Venlaw 
 manfidly. 
 
 " Is there any way ?" hoarsely added Brian. 
 "Before (iod," he added more loudly, "I'd buy 
 back tliese ten years with my life if I could. 
 Listen to mo, Venlaw. For the thing done 
 that morning I've had sliamo enough ever 
 since, and I'll not cry quits to whatever 
 
 punishment might come. But what's to 
 
 be done now ? There's the trouble." 
 
 Benoni came forwai'd so that he had the 
 two men, one on either side of him, and said : 
 " There is this to be done, that you shake 
 hands like men and forget your quarrel, and 
 when tiiat's over I have more to say." He 
 put a hand on the shoulder of both. 
 
 Silently the two men clasped hands. 
 
 " Now," continued the showman, "there's 
 this further to do ; for its what I've come for, 
 and what I'll not go back without : from 
 Braithen you came, leaving trouble behind 
 you ; to Braithen you must go back to right 
 that trouble so fa;' as you can. I've travelled 
 the seas and these wild lands for this, old 
 man as I am." 
 
 "And what can I do by going back," 
 said Brian, " since Elsie knows the truth 
 and Bruce knows it, and she has spoken, and 
 Bruce and I can do the same from here ?" 
 And here ho sigheil, and a bitter smile passed 
 across his face. He felt that if any went 
 back to Jean, naturally it should he Andrew. 
 He was sure the old man meant that, and, of 
 course, Jean also. And so he said : " For the 
 rest 'tis A'cnlaw should go liack. 'Tis he 
 that's needed when all's righted." 
 
 Benoni now saw how Brian was being 
 punished. He had probed the heart of the 
 man's secret. He was glad, and yet sorry 
 too. 
 
 Here the Factor, Avho had stood muHling 
 his beard at liis moutli as tliongh to blockade 
 emotion, spoke slowly : "' If there is any to 
 stay it must be I. But, as I take it, we both 
 should go. Fur I long to see the old Imd 
 once again, and there is the grave of niA old 
 friend the Dominic I'd visit, and justice to be 
 done altogether !" 
 
 Benoni's face lighted up. He tapped them 
 both on tiiC arms decisively. " You /ill 
 both came," he said. "For the last wonls 
 she spoke to me wh^n I stood on the Castle 
 steps at parting were these: 'If one comes 
 
 both shoidd, for both did wrong, and for- 
 giveness does not carry easily across the 
 
 sea.' So, will you come, or will you stay? 
 
 — both come or both stay, it must be." 
 
 " It is not easy on the instant to say that 
 it shall be done, and yet it shall," responded 
 Andrew. 
 
 " I am a prisoner," rejoined Brian, " and, 
 faith ! I've duty to do heie, as well as Ven- 
 law, when the chance comes again ; but I'll 
 go — and gladly — at the hour you say, if I 
 can ; and there's my word on it !" 
 
 Once again Benoni spoke. " The lass will 
 break her heart if Bruce does not come back 
 with you, but I fear it is not safe. For 
 though ho mightn't lose his life, he'd forfeit 
 his freedom. But I'd give much to see tho 
 lad, — I call you all lads yet, though yoir '^ro 
 men in the full wash of years — and c -iry a 
 messa''e from him to her." 
 
 The Factor assured him that he should 
 meet Bruce soon, and told him of the expe- 
 dition against the White Hands, and of tho 
 movement he was soon to make towards Fort 
 Mary. 
 
 The candle spluttered arid went out, ami 
 only the light of the tire playeil upon tho 
 faces of the men. Thej' drew about it, and 
 smoked a pijjc of peace. And the hours 
 wheeled on, and when sleep found them Brian 
 and Venlaw lay together under the same 
 blankets. 
 
 While these things were happening two 
 women sat beside a fire in Braithen, and 
 there was l)undled up on the floor besido 
 them an itliot, who nuittered to himself and 
 blew bubl)les from a basin at his side. 
 
 " Elsie," said one, " I shall always think 
 that the poor lad here has done more for us 
 than we for ourselves, for he it was that made 
 us friends and killed the wrong between us, 
 and sent Benoni across the seas." She paused. 
 
 "And sent Benoni across the seas to bring 
 Andrew back to you," shyly said the other. 
 
 "To bring Andrewand Brian back," gravely 
 addei' Jean. 
 
 And the idiot, as the fl .jcy spheres of 
 water lifted away toward^ .iie ceiling, or tied 
 shuddering into the ,^i..ne of the chimney, 
 nuittered, — "Oh, ch, pietty bird, come back 
 
 soon Oh, oh, tic white horses Hide 
 
 away Oh, pr(!tty Else .'" 
 
 CILVn KU X.— THE I3L0W AND THE REBOUND. 
 
 A WEEK Liter fouml Chief Factor Venlaw 
 and his prisoners at Fort Saviour. A stoiit 
 band of me: had been left to garrison Fort 
 
5^5Hi 
 
 wmm 
 
 66 
 
 THE CHIKF FACTOR. 
 
 Gabriel, and these \vtro spfctlily reinforced 
 by Indians from Eagle Cry s tribe. Vcnlaw 
 was determined that the reileemed post 
 should not again pasa out of the hands of the 
 Hudson's Bay Company. Tlicrc was little 
 to fear that any immediate demonstration 
 would or could he made hy the North West 
 Company, for the news of tliis defeat would 
 take long to travel to head(|uarters. A sur- 
 prise could not easily be ctt'Lcted again. 
 
 Never in the course of its history had the 
 Hudson's Bay Company been threatcncil as 
 it was at present. If they were defeated, it 
 would toll hard against the white man in the 
 country, Tho North West Company had 
 not played a noble game. As nuich from 
 vanity and jealousy as anything else it en- 
 croached upon these areas where the Hutl- 
 son's Bay Company had honourably and 
 firmly made its position. Under the name of 
 protest against a great monopoly, it actiiallj" 
 shook the general friendship of the Indians 
 for tho white man. The White Hands, if 
 they succeeded, intended, despite their i>ro- 
 testations of friendship for tho North West 
 Companj', to begin a war of race. 
 
 At Fort Saviour, Venlaw strengthened his 
 position, gathered friendly bands of Indians 
 to unite with the Sun Rocks, and sent futireitrs- 
 des-bois to other forts south, suggesting plans 
 of resistance and schemes of action if they 
 should bo necessary. Since that notable day 
 ■when Summer-Hair was wountled, her tribe 
 had been enthusiastically staunch and un- 
 divided in their loyalty to Ironheart and the 
 Great Com[)any. Red Fire ke])t bravely to his 
 compact with the Factor and Eagle Cr}-. But 
 tho old chief was not so certain that the I'c- 
 sult of that compact would be avcU for him 
 in the end. He knew now that Sunmier-Hair 
 loved Veidaw, and he himself had not been 
 indisiTOsed to seal his friendshipwith the Hud- 
 son's Bay Company by giving his daughter in 
 marriage to the Factor. But these are matters 
 above the will of red man or of white. You 
 shall more easily bind the wind than a man's 
 or maid's desire, and nothing befalls as we 
 ordain : not more now than when Euripedcs 
 told tales of his old Cheeks and their loves 
 and slaughters. And it will be so until 
 there be no more love or slaughter. 
 
 The Factor's task was a huge one. With 
 Eagle Cry and his Indians they must coincide 
 with tho forces from Fort ihny, attacking 
 the White Hands fiom both sides. The 
 village of the White Hands was in the Eong 
 Valley beyond the Big Sleep Woods. Yen- 
 law's policy was, in this case, to assume the 
 agsressive. The White Hands were not likely 
 
 luitil spring. He would, 
 upon them at onco and 
 
 to make a move 
 therefore, march 
 
 strike a decisive blow liefore the hostile forces 
 could begin their horriiile policy of waylay- 
 ing and massacring stiay travellers, oi' should 
 seriously distiub tlie trade of the year. They 
 would strike through to tho west, relieving 
 atid reinforcing e.ach garrison as they went. 
 Tlie Comi)any must now maintain its position 
 with a power and sharp demonstration, or 
 subject itself in the future to constant attack 
 and harassment. 
 
 Not the least anxious lor the expedition to 
 start was Benoni. He looked forward to 
 meetii!g Bruce. That done, his embassy was 
 over and he would return. Ho and Summer- 
 Hair wore the staunchest of friends. Sho 
 questioned him unwear\'ingly concerning the 
 world in which Jean Fordie played a part so 
 important to the lives of several people. 
 When he first came to the fort, asking for 
 Chief Factor Yeidaw, she had vaguely sus- 
 pected (what woman does not suspect every 
 possible thing as bearing on her happiness 
 when she loves ?) that this man's arrival 
 would affect her. She had never rested till she 
 had got at some clue to the truth. Then, as 
 might not have been expected in a " savage," 
 she ofl'ered to lead Benoni herself to Fort 
 Gabriel. Her father objected, but, because 
 he saw she was determined, sent an Indian 
 with her and Benoni. The rest of the tribe 
 did not know MJierc she had gone. The 
 Indian had beci ■ ill by the way and had 
 to return, so sliu went on alone with tho 
 showman. 
 
 Benoni had read her secret. He thought 
 nothing for her could come of it, and so at 
 last to turn her thoughts away from Venlaw 
 he told her of Jean, and of Andrew's lovo 
 for her, in as careful and delicate a fashion 
 as he could. Meanwhile he became popular 
 with the Indians, for, with his Hute, he took 
 their barl)arous airs and gave them melody 
 and fancy, and tilled their lodges with a new 
 wild nnisic. lie had caught the spirit of tho 
 North, this amazing old Mercmy. 
 
 Arrayeil in flaring feathers of war, with 
 their painted faces and garnished buckskins, 
 they listened to him, in a great group, the 
 night before they marched. The trees were 
 just beginning to send forth tiieir timid and 
 juic} leaves. The snow had melted and 
 slackened away along the wide sluices of the 
 plains, the birds came sojourning from the 
 south, and the gi'ass rose cleansed and eager 
 like velvet to feel for the foot of man. The air 
 and earth exuded freshness; through the pores 
 of the trees came the sweet sweat of their 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 57 
 
 [c would, 
 onco and 
 tile forces 
 f M-aylay- 
 or should 
 ■ar. They 
 lelicvi/iL; 
 licy went. 
 ,s position 
 ration, or 
 int attack 
 
 ledition to 
 )r\vur(l to 
 ibassy was 
 [ Summer- 
 nds. She 
 crning the 
 [ a part so 
 il people, 
 asking for 
 guely sus- 
 pect every 
 happiness 
 I's arrival 
 ted till she 
 
 Then, as 
 " savage," 
 ilf to Fort 
 it, because 
 an Indian 
 f the tribe 
 one. The 
 y and had 
 
 with the 
 
 [e thought 
 and so at 
 ru Venlaw 
 ew's love 
 a fashion 
 le popular 
 !, he took 
 n melody 
 jith a new 
 lirit of the 
 
 kvar, with 
 
 luckskins, 
 
 [roup, the 
 
 Irccs were 
 
 jimid and 
 
 llted and 
 
 pes of the 
 
 from the 
 
 Lnd eager 
 
 I. The air 
 
 ]the pores 
 
 of their 
 
 ' They sawcil nnd cliiahoJ." 
 
 sap ; from the bandages of that mummy 
 Winter the jocund Spring stepped forth in- 
 carnated, encouraging. And in the heart of 
 this Spring, through long tltunes of its young 
 breath, Benoni sent his tlotida of niclodios. 
 
 He tosse<l the blood in the veins of the 
 red men with the exliilaratiiig music ot 
 battle, spun down the drives of time from 
 barbarous minstrels of the hills ; he charged 
 their bodies Avith the miraculous pulse of his 
 own temperament—! punchinello, a common 
 showman, an artist I 
 
 Then he suddenly detached himself from 
 these clarion chords, ami, casting his eyes 
 on Venlaw and Briar, [jlaycil with groat 
 softness melodies funuli ir to them both. 
 They were going out to iiattlc ; and, in any 
 case, it was best that they «hotdd be steeped 
 in memories and go forth like goiitlonien 
 wearing the favours of their ladie-< on their 
 arms. For such live better and die better, 
 and fight ere they die with more valiant 
 arm. 
 
 In the morning they tried to di.s.suade 
 Benoni from going, for, as they said, he was 
 old, and the marcii would be severe. But 
 ha laughed at them, and said that he had 
 marched many a mile with better men, and 
 fought with as good, by sea and land. That 
 his hair wiis grey was nothing. The hunger 
 of travel was 0:1 him, and he had a lad to 
 meet beyond. Besitles, two of his friends 
 were going, and there was an end of it ! 
 
 Yes, ///•( were going, for Brian had said, 
 because the^' were g')ing back to Scotland 
 together if they retiu-ned from this enter- 
 jirise, and because these Indians were the 
 enemies of all white men, he would fight 
 with and for the Hudson's Bay Company in 
 this case if he Avere given ])ermission. His 
 duty had only been with Fort (labriel, not 
 with the intrigues of his masters with the 
 Indians. This Andrew gladly gave. 
 
 For many days they travelled witluKt 
 sign of anv foe. Thev reinforced two forts 
 and two posts, and at last canu3 to t'lC Big 
 Sleep Woods, bejond which were Long Val- 
 ley and the village of the White Hands. A 
 scout had broMglit them word that the White 
 Hands had had the dance of the Black Knife, 
 -the jirelude to war, -and were just ready 
 to march. He said that the\' had formed 
 theni.-elves into two groups, one evidently 
 intended to march west on Fort (iabriel, and 
 the other east towards Fort Saviour. Ven- 
 law decided to attack at once. 
 
 He pushed forward, but suddenly found 
 hinisclf attacked. His men fought sj)len- 
 did y, nnd drove the Indians slowly back 
 upon their village. Here a sharj) struggle, 
 took place. It Avas a straining tangle of 
 battle. Brescntl}' the White Hands were 
 reinforced by a band which came hurrying 
 down on the village from the north. It is 
 hard to tell how the battle woidd have gone 
 had helj) not come also to Venlaw. He had 
 
SBR 
 
 58 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 calculated his chances well. His phm of 
 campaign had succeeded. For, in the nick 
 of time, tliero came spcciling from tlic west 
 the foices fiom Fort (lahriel, under com- 
 mand of Bruce Fordie. Tiio junction had 
 been providentially achieved. The enemy 
 gave waj', and were forced to retreat. After 
 the moment of the turn of bai tie Bruce came 
 face to face with Brian. Venlaw had not 
 counted upon this. He had not foreseen 
 that a collision might oncur. In Brucc's 
 veins the fret of anger and battle ran high. 
 He drew a pistol instantly upon Brian. 
 
 *' You here, you coward ! f gti.o the thing 
 to Venlaw to do. He has failed me. I do 
 my own work now. Fight ! Fight ! or, by 
 Heaven, I will kill jou." 
 
 Brian stretched out his hand swiftly. 
 "Don't fire, Bruce; don't fire! Listen to 
 me ! "' 
 
 But at that instant a bullet from Bruce's 
 pistol caught Brian in the shoulder, and he 
 staggered back. Veidaw had seen the two 
 meet and had rushed forward, Ijut somewhat 
 too late, though he caught Brian as he fell. 
 Bruce stood with smoking pistol, tlie weft of 
 battle loosening from about them. He was 
 dazed and uncertain. 
 
 "Xo more of that, Bruce," said the Factor. 
 " You and I have been playing a mad game, 
 for the man is iiuiocent of the wor.st." 
 
 " Innocent ! Iiniocent ! Y'ou .sv.'orc him 
 guilty tivo months ago." 
 
 "Xo matter. I speak truth now. Here, 
 bear a hand. Cut down this coat to see what 
 hurt you've done him." 
 
 Brian had fainted. "When he became con- 
 ecious he found Bruce and Benoni beside him. 
 He smiled up into Bruce's face. " Faith, you 
 greet an old comrade rarely, ]\Ia.ster Bruce," 
 he said. "The bite of your kiss is a wild 
 one." Then a grave look came into his eyes. 
 " But, maybe, it'll help a little to make even 
 the debt I owe you and yours." 
 
 For leply Bruce pressed his old friend's 
 hand : but said (ho knew all now), " You ditl 
 wrong, Brian, but I believe you meant no 
 evil, and I'm sorry I've hurt you." 
 
 Brian shook his head. "Bedad, no! I 
 meant no harm, but harm has come, and I'm 
 getting a little of Mhat I deserve. And there's 
 the truth ! " 
 
 The showman's not unskilful surgery ex- 
 tracted the bullet, and he gave it as his 
 opinion that Brian would sutler no permanent 
 injury, but woukl, on the contrary, bo him- 
 eelf again in a few weeks. 
 
 Onthis side of the Atlantic they had now 
 settled all accounts. 
 
 The White Hands were completely routed. 
 Their chief was brought in a prisoner. And 
 so ended thj most notable struggle of tho 
 Indians of the Xorth against the peaceful 
 conr|ucst8of tho Hiulson's Bay Company; for 
 the pride of the hostile Indians was broken ; 
 they were subdued ; they sought peace, and 
 kept it, much to tho confusion of tho rival 
 company. And from Fort Jacques in tho 
 far west to Fort Saviour in the cast, and 
 straight across the wild wastes of Labrailor 
 to the colfl wash of the sea, the great Com- 
 pany of Adventurers resumed their strong 
 sovereignty. 
 
 CIIAPTEU XI. — THE TENT CUKTAIN OUTWARD 
 SWINGS. 
 
 The return to Fort Saviour was accom- 
 plished successfully for liriun, and without 
 new dangers for the expedition. A few score 
 of braves and a handful of half-l)reeds never 
 returned ; but for those who part this world 
 in righteous battle there is honest and 
 righteous shunber, and sods lie lightly on 
 them. There was mourning in the lodges of 
 tho Sun Kocks, but th(!re was rejoicing too ; 
 for happiest they of all the world who wel- 
 come back the warrior from the well-fought 
 field. The wives and maids were dressed in 
 soft garni.shed buckskin, and moccasins of 
 their most industrious and artistic hours. 
 Among these Summer-Hair was first and last. 
 Ked Fire had got himself renown at Long 
 Valley — he had the gift of bravery. But 
 though he strutted through the camp in his 
 comeliness and valoiu- it had no charm for 
 her. Yet Bed Fire waited ; for he had heard, 
 as had all, that the Chief Factor was going 
 back to the land of the palefaces ; and he 
 was a wise f(;llo\v among a foolish people. He 
 conceived that the present lover with present 
 gifts achieves most with woman. But Summer- 
 Hair was silent. She was not as other wo- 
 men ; there was in her veins some strain of 
 ancient jirido and sensitiveness. She knew 
 of that fair woman over seas, yet she had 
 taken Benoni to Venlaw, believing, at the 
 same time, that this was death to her 
 own hopes. She grew grave and graver ; 
 almost her only companions were Benoni 
 and the wild deer she had tamed. It is pos- 
 sible that in their ears she had poured out 
 her mind ; but then, dumb creatures are 
 likii Heaven itself — they take all confidence, 
 they give all sympathy, but they aie silent, 
 faithful. 
 
 Weeks, months, passed ; Brian's wound 
 had healed. He had been released, and had 
 
;cly routed. 
 )ncr. And 
 ;glc of the 
 le peaceful 
 iipany; for 
 
 as broken ; 
 
 peace, and 
 jt the rival 
 [Ucs in the 
 3 east, and 
 if Labrailor 
 f^roat L'om- 
 hcir strong 
 
 ?f OUTWARD 
 
 was accom- 
 ,nd ■without 
 A few score 
 )rccds never 
 t this Avorld 
 honest and 
 ! lightly on 
 he Ixlges of 
 joicing too ; 
 Id who wel- 
 weli-fought 
 c dressed in 
 [loccasins of 
 istic liours. 
 st and hist. 
 vn at Long 
 Lvcry. But 
 imp in his 
 charm for 
 had licard, 
 was going 
 5 ; and he 
 eoplc. Ho 
 ith present 
 it Summer- 
 other wo- 
 10 strain of 
 She knew 
 3t she liad 
 , at the 
 th to her 
 d graver ; 
 ne Bcnoni 
 It is pos- 
 )oured out 
 turcs are 
 onfidcnce, 
 are silent, 
 
 IS wound 
 ll, and had 
 
 V 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 59 
 
 travelled south to get leave of the North 
 West Company to go U|M)n that journey hack 
 to Scotland, or to resign his commission if 
 need be ; — and the need was very probable 
 after the part lie had taken against the White 
 Hands, lie was to sail from Montreal and 
 meet the otiicrs in London. 
 
 In the middle of summer the time came 
 for Andrew and lienoni to go. A chief trader 
 had come to take the Factor's place during 
 his absence, though it was possible, as Benoni 
 thought, that he might never return. His 
 little company of royngeurs were ready for 
 the start. The eve of his departure had 
 arrived. He had now cDinc face to face with 
 his past and his future ; he stood upon the 
 bridge between. All the struggles, the fight- 
 ing, the endurance, the manly hardships, and 
 the conquests of the last ten years were about 
 him. The Indians that he had sulxluerl were 
 his friends ; the men to whom he had been a 
 stern but just master were his firm adherents. 
 He had no comrades ; but men of his faculty 
 and ])owcr seldom have. Masterful minds 
 are .solitarj'. 
 
 He sat in his ofHce alone. Tiie last stroke 
 of the pen had been given, the last necessary' 
 command ; his ollice had been handed over 
 to another. 
 
 It Avas nightfall; in the morning he should 
 go. Every item of life about him Itceame 
 distinct. A l)hie-bird was whistling its last 
 notes in the trees without ; he heard with 
 interested comi)Iacency the tramj) of the 
 tame bear in tlic yard of tlic fort, its chain 
 rattling after it. His watch ticked on the 
 nail where it had hung, av inter and sum- 
 mer, since he hail come to Fort Saviour ; he 
 looked at it now mechanically, yet fascinated 
 by it ; its keen, strong pulsations were suited 
 to the time, for his brain was sensitively 
 active, and his heart was beating almost 
 painfully. These new sensations were strange 
 to him ; he could not define them. To a man 
 better versed in the language of imjjressions 
 it would have been known as undefined 
 regret. Regret for what 1 Even that he 
 could not tell. He was going to see again 
 the Avoman he had loved since he Avas a little 
 child, Avhatevei' it might liring to him. He 
 Avas leaving — what 'i Hero his thoughts 
 numbed ; he forgot the Avorld, himself. The 
 Avatch ticked on, and through the ticking, as 
 though it came from a great distance, he 
 heard presently the Avord, " Ironheart ! " 
 
 He (lid not stir. Then a hand touched his 
 shoulder. " Ironheart," said the voice again. 
 He looked up. Summer-Hair stood beside 
 him. 
 
 " I am come to say goodbye," she said, as 
 his eyes turned to hera. 
 
 "I Avas coming to see you in the morning 
 before I staitod, Summer-Hair," he replied. 
 " I Avent to your father's lodge, but I could 
 not find you." 
 
 " I am here," she rejoined simply. " I have 
 brought you these, for the Avhite cliieftainoss 
 over the seas. She drew forth a beautiful 
 Avamimm l)elt, hung with virgin gold and 
 bright metal, and a j)air of moccasins deftly 
 and gloriously embroidered. " Tiie l)elt is for 
 her Avaist, as the gieat girdle of Avhito in the 
 sky ; and the moccasins are for her feet, as 
 for those Avho Avalk the stirs. The Indian 
 girl sends messages to her Avho loves In^di- 
 heart." 
 
 VenlaAV took the gifts and gently said : 
 "Summer-Hair, I will take the gifts, for the 
 Avliite cliieftainess Avill love tlieiii ; but you 
 
 has not given her love to 
 
 me. 
 
 The girl drcAv back. " You are a great 
 man," she s-aid, Avith an inHectiim of doubt, 
 as though tlieie Avas no Avoman but must lovo 
 him ; '' besides, she sent for you." 
 
 He smiled, and sliook his head sadly. 
 "That is another thing." 
 
 " You Avill come back V saiil the girl. 
 
 "I do not knoAA"," Avas his rejjly. "My 
 arm Avorks best here, my life fits in." 
 
 "The deer are Avonderful upon the j)lains, 
 the rtesli of the moose is sAveet ; and the 
 lodges of the red men are Avarni Avith Avel- 
 come. You will come back," she urged. " I 
 have read the sun ui)on the Sunstono on 
 Waiting Hill, and it says so." 
 
 She smileil. He Avas in a reverie. Ho 
 turned to the Avindow facing tiie south. 
 The moon stole in on a broad ril)l)on of light. 
 The Avatch ticked loudly. I'resontly ho 
 roused himself, and looked round to speak. 
 Rut the girl Avas gone ; and he did not sec 
 her again before he loft. 
 
 The next daAvn, however, Avhen he and his 
 half-lneeds stole aAvay gaily towards the 
 south, a figure stood beside the Sunstono 
 on Waiting Hill, and Avatcheil them. Once 
 he looked 1)ack, but he did not see her ; 
 and she remained there until they Avere 
 specks upon the horizon, anil Avere swal- 
 loAved in the light of day. Then she sat 
 doAvn by the stone and Avatched the sun beat 
 on it. 
 
 She sat till noon, not moving, but Avatch- 
 ing. Then she rose and said, retreating 
 backwards from it,- — " IS'othin 
 he 
 him." 
 
 the signs 
 
 ^ sjieaks since 
 have gone Avith 
 
60 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 CIIAl'TER Xir. — "Tin*' TWKUE 
 TIIUL'SANU MII.K." 
 
 TKN 
 
 sao 
 
 i 
 
 It is {in aitumii day in Uniitlion. The 
 Sliicl, fed by tho early niiis, j^rows to its 
 banks, and lierc and tlieic ovoiHows. Tiio 
 hill-sides arc still purple ivitli heather, and 
 tho woods ab(nit ('owrie Castlo arc a j,'rand 
 mosaic of cuhiur. The yews, the ])iiies, the 
 rowans, and the oaks, arc harmonious iu the 
 modulations of colour. Jean Fordic has 
 como to the top of tho tower, her I'.abit of 
 an evening, to see the sun ride o>it beyond 
 tho hills, and to take a good-night look at 
 the town, whose buildings ambled beside tlic 
 river in easy irregularity. I'erhaps, to her- 
 self, sho liad never absolutely admitted that 
 each morning and evening sho looked towards 
 the south, along that steep road belting the 
 hills, if haply she might see someone travel- 
 ling towards the town — some old friends 
 from another land. If hope deferred makes 
 the heart sick, expectancy makes the face 
 young ; and from the first she never doubted 
 — such was the buoyancy of her nature — 
 that thfc.70 old friends would return. What 
 should happen when they did come was not 
 so clear. But she saw justice ahead ; and 
 justice, to her, was now greater than love. 
 For sho had suffered an injustice, and sho 
 knew that it was crueller than unsatisfied 
 affection. 
 
 She leaned against tho bartisan wall, her 
 eyes upon the south, thinking ; and only see- 
 ing tho horizon lying dimly beyond. Pre- 
 sently, sho raised her head with a quick 
 gesture of interest. There were three horse- 
 men on the crest of the hill. Of course, sho 
 could not see who the}' were, but there camo 
 to her a swift instinctive conviction. The 
 colour heightcncil in her cheek, and warmed 
 her eye, and sent her fingers trembling to 
 her hair. She watched them until they dis- 
 appeared into a glen ; and then she went 
 below. It was natural, perhaps, that while 
 sho waited for somethino;, she dared not think 
 what, she should turn to the loom, Avherc 
 so many waiting hours had been passed. 
 
 Her hand was stead}' ; the shuttle shot 
 back and forth with clacking music, and 
 onco or twice she paused to move her hand 
 gently across the cloth. But, from the smile 
 upon her face, one would have said it was a 
 distant, not a near, thing, which occupied her 
 mind. 
 
 There came a gentle knocking at the door 
 of tho room. She started up, moved for- 
 ward a little, and then paused. " Conic in," 
 she said. 
 
 a 
 
 Ye look 
 the warl' gin 
 v.-er'na lookin' 
 
 Elsie Garvan entered, 
 strange," said Elsie ;— " by 
 I were a ghost ; as surely 
 for me." 
 
 Jean laughed a little nervously and said: 
 " I ilinna ken what I expected, Elsie : Imt, 
 come here," she added, " for 1 hue a thing to 
 say." Her eyes vrere biigiit. 
 
 "Is it that tho waitin's ower ?" said tho 
 other ; " is it that they've come ? " 
 
 "I am no sure," answered Jean, " but I 
 hao a feeling." 
 
 Then in a low voice they talked together. 
 . . . And three horsemen turned \ipon tho 
 town, not far away, and talked together also. 
 These paused at the top of a brae, and looked 
 down into the valley where the town reposed. 
 And one said: "Faith, I'm thinking, 'twas 
 but yesterday I roared for another pot of beer 
 at the Kob Koy, and not ten years ago." 
 
 " Many a man's gone for ever from Braithen 
 town since then," rejoined a little man at his 
 left. 
 
 "There's Cowrie Castle," said the third, 
 his big hand levelled at his brow to shade 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Ay," said tho first who had spoken, 
 " there's the Castle, Venlaw, and at its doors 
 we'll stand before we're an hour older. And 
 I'll not say but it's worth coming these five 
 thoiisand miles to do. For, bcclad, there's 
 no home like the old home." 
 
 " And there's no love like tho old love," 
 rejoined Venlaw, beneath his breath. But 
 Benoni spoke nothing further but whistled 
 gaily Iiob Jhn/'s Iliiurn. 
 
 An hour after there Avas loud knocking at 
 the outer door of Cowrie Castle ; and then, 
 not waiting, — for the door was open — 
 three visitors ascended the stone stairs. Be- 
 noni Avas leading. On the threshold of tho 
 door of the room where .Jean sat, they paused, 
 and the old man knocked, and then entered, 
 ^"'.lovrcd by the others. Two women stood 
 together by tho loom. One started forward 
 with a faint cry ; tho other hung back. 
 
 "I have brought them home, you see," said 
 Benoni. 
 
 The foremost one held out her hand to 
 him. " Yes, yes," she said, and her eyes 
 shifted slowly from one to the other, as 
 though she fotmd it hard to be sure that 
 they were there. Then she breathed hard. 
 " But— but Avhaur's my brither 1 " she added 
 — " my l)rither ! " 
 
 Benoni spoke up 
 I)ring him. He could 
 Scotland, if ho would." 
 
 " Whaur's my brither 1 " sho urged. Her 
 
 gentl\'. 
 not 
 
 " I could not 
 como back to 
 
l(M)k sao 
 villi' gin 
 lui lookin' 
 
 [inil saiil : 
 Isio : l>ut, 
 
 I thing to 
 
 said tho 
 
 n, " but I 
 
 together, 
 iipuu tho 
 jther also, 
 nd looked 
 n reposed, 
 ing, 'twas 
 pot of beer 
 ago." 
 
 II Braithcn 
 man at his 
 
 the third, 
 f to shade 
 
 d spoken, 
 it its doors 
 der. And 
 these five 
 id, there's 
 
 old love," 
 atli. But 
 whistled 
 
 locking at 
 and then, 
 
 open — 
 lurs. Be- 
 |ld of the 
 |y paused, 
 
 entered, 
 lien stood 
 |l forward 
 ick. 
 |see,"said 
 
 hand to 
 i\cv eyes 
 Jthcr, as 
 lure that 
 led hard, 
 lie added 
 
 3uld not 
 [back to 
 
 Id. Her 
 
 THE CHIKF rACTOR. 
 
 CI 
 
 eyes fell upon Brian, but not yet in greet- 
 ing. " You renienilter, Brian — Brian Kingley, 
 that you helped him awa' ; and the last time 
 that I saw yuu was in this room, when you 
 brocht my britlier tae me. Vuu went with 
 liini across the seas. Tell me, is ho lecvin' I " 
 
 Without a word Brian drew from his 
 breast a letter, and handed it over to her, 
 and his eyes were bent on her with strange 
 longing. She took the letter, looked at the 
 writing on it, iuid then thrust it into her 
 bosom. 
 
 "There have lieen sou'ow and troubles 
 since you loft here, Andrew Venlaw and 
 Brian Kingle}', — l)itter troubles. Vou hae 
 dune wrong to ane ither and tae me. I hae 
 waited until noo. . . . Tell me," she added, 
 looking at neither, yet looking at them all, 
 " were harsh things done atween ye, or atween 
 my brither an' (myane o' ye ?" 
 
 She was still solemn, and her eyes sud- 
 <lenly filled with tears, and the hjok upon 
 her face was the suii'ering and endurance of 
 years. 
 
 Andi'cw Venlaw spoke. "I wronged you, 
 Jean Fordio. I believed you — believed 
 
 you '' 
 
 She |)ieced out his sentence — " evil," she 
 said. " Do yuu thiidc I can ever forgie ye 
 for that, Andrew '.'Didaw?" 
 
 lie stood like one stunned, but strong. 
 "I dare not aok .t, he responded, "but 1 
 have come, like an honest man at least, to 
 acknowledge my wrong." 
 
 Then Brian sjioke. " You must forgive 
 him, Jean Fordie— before God, you must I 
 for he did no Milful wrong." 
 
 The woman behind Jean started forward. 
 " It was mo that leed tae him," she said, and 
 stood still, trembling. 
 
 Jean waved her back gently. 
 
 Brian continued: "The beginning of the 
 wrong was mine. I make no excuse for 
 myself. I was wild and thoughtless and 
 bad " 
 
 "And bad," Jean repeated after him. 
 
 " I didn't know how much that — that kiss 
 would cost you," he added; "and indeed I 
 didn't know how much 'twould cost me." 
 There was bitterness in his voice. 
 
 She smiled a strange smile. " What has 
 it cost you 1 " she asked. 
 
 He threw his head back as though some- 
 thing had caught him at the throat, and then 
 he smiled back at her strangely too. "Some- 
 thing that can't be reckoned by figures," he 
 replied ; " nor yet by years ; but part of the 
 account I keep by a scar on my shoulder and 
 an awkward arm." 
 
 "A scar! from whom ? " she interrupted; 
 " from whom ? " 
 
 " From your brother,' hi; answered, after 
 a moment's pause. " And had it been in tho 
 heart, and not the shoulder, I could have had 
 no quarrel with it." 
 
 She started naiiifnlly. A sudden aii.\i»^ty 
 ruled her features. Siic looked at him for a 
 moment searehingly. "Did ye feeht him," 
 she .said, "Itecause o' mo ? " 
 
 " No, I did not ti':lit," he answered. "Thero 
 was not — time." 
 
 Her eyes dropped to the iloor. " I was a 
 yoiuig girl when you went away," she said 
 at last to these silent men before her. "I'ni 
 a woman now, young eneuch to care what 
 the world says about me, auld eneuch to en- 
 dure a' it thiidis. KIsie here has done a' .she 
 eoidil tae undo her falsehood, and I hao 
 forgiven her. . . . And noo," she added, and 
 she belli out one hand frankly yet sadly to 
 Andrew, and another to Brian — " noo I'll 
 foigie baith o' you." 
 
 She looked at Andrew seiiously now; then 
 dropi)ed her gaze before the intense earnest- 
 ness of his. 
 
 "Well," said Benoni here, with a grave 
 lightness in his voice, " since we have done 
 with sorrowful things, let us bo joyfid, as 
 all home-comers should. And first, my dear, 
 the showman claims your cheek, for he thinks 
 he has earned one touch of it. He has 
 tramped across the world, a meddlesome old 
 man, with a flute under his arm, and his 
 rarec show left behind him and 
 rusty at Cowrie Castle." 
 
 Now, for the first time since they had 
 entered the room, a light spread on Jean's 
 face, and she leaned over and kissed Benoni 
 on the cheek. " Is that all the pay you 
 ask ? " she said. " It is little." 
 
 " Ma ! I.a ! " merrily laughcil the old man 
 in retort, " indeed, it's not all I'll ask, for it'.s 
 long lietween now and Beltane fair again, and 
 I've lived so much on heathen victuals, that 
 I could eat each day six Scotch meals of your 
 making ; and those six Scotch meals I'll have, 
 and more besides, with a bed under this roof 
 and a little good liquor now and then as the 
 thirst seizes me." 
 
 " Ye'll hae a' thrae," she answered ; " as 
 mony meals as it pleases ye — sic as they 
 arc — and no you alane, but Andrew Venlaw 
 and Brian Kingley if they'll stay till I've laid 
 the table, and made a hot cake in the ashes. 
 
 For Elsie and I " she looked round, and 
 
 paused. 
 
 Elsie was gone. She had stolen away 
 Avheu the change in the talk occurred. She 
 
62 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 knew what misery she hail can.:e'l, and while 
 she also knew siie had been forgiven, she 
 could n >t face the look in the eye of the man 
 whoso lovo she longed for, and had sinned 
 for, but who must alwajs be far from her, 
 till tlic end of her life and his. She Avent 
 home to lier idiot brotlior, and sat on the 
 floor l)esido him, and said nothing. She was 
 lonely with him, for iic had his realm — liis 
 wild realm — of fancies ; and she had only 
 the stern world to fight ; and lier own past 
 memories to face. The idiot fell asleep beside 
 her, his great head lolling in her lap ; and 
 the hours went by, and still she sat there 
 conjuring up that room she had left behind 
 at the Castle, and those therein. 
 
 If they whom Elsie thought on were not 
 merry, at least the insupportable constraint 
 of the first few moments was gone, and they 
 soon drifted into easy talk upon old days 
 and old friends. The}' asked for her father, 
 and here she gravel}^ and as Benoni thought, 
 apprehensivel}', said that she expected him, 
 but that he had gone far across the hills, 
 and it Avas possible he might be late. Thej' 
 sat about the table eating, but they would 
 drink no toasts, they said, until Black Fordic 
 came. 
 
 At last they heard his rough footstep on 
 the stair, and ho entered boisterously on them. 
 They all rose to their feet, as he glowered 
 in astonishment at them, though he had 
 known of Benonis mission across the sea. The 
 years had dealt hardly with him. His hair 
 was very grey, his shoulders stooped, and his 
 face wrinkled. Still the old sturdincss was 
 there too, and his eyes Hashed out sharp 
 looks at the three men. Venlaw he had 
 always liked. Brian he had never forgiven. 
 Had he met him a year ago he would have 
 killed him. Elsie cured that. Just now 
 their presence acted on him strangely. His 
 hand leaped out to Andrew's, and clutched it 
 with ii hungering eagerness, and then to 
 Benoni, and it caught him by the shoulder. 
 " You're vcrra welcome back, Andj'," he said, 
 "and I've a noggin waitin' for ye, Benoni, 
 and no siccan a. ane as the luss lias put on 
 the table for ye. But it's in a bottle which 
 naeliody kens o' but mysel'." 
 
 Ho hail net yet spoken to Brian, and still 
 not looking at him, l)ut with his eyes on 
 Andrew, he said : " Yo hiie cam frae the 
 Arctic warld ; ye hae cam frae the land o' 
 cxilis. Did ye ken if they heard there o' a 
 wastrel and villain, that carried the name o' 
 Fordic -!" 
 
 "John Fordie," replied Andrew, firmly, 
 " it's but few months since one of that name 
 
 laid hand in mine, and said : ' "NVhcn yc set 
 foot on the soil o' auld Scotland again, the 
 first step ower the Border, get aft" yer horse, 
 and gang doon on your knees, and kiss the 
 ground for me, whether it be rock or heather ; 
 for I'll never see the like o' that land. It's 
 a land that God loves, and made for men, 
 and no for vagabonds such as was I.' " 
 
 "Did he say that ?" interrupted the old 
 man with a slight huskiiiess in his voice. 
 " Did the hard-hearted scooiidrel say that 1 " 
 
 "That, John Fordic, and more. 'And 
 Avhen you get above Braithen town,' said he, 
 ' stand still, and look ilown at it, and say : 
 A man went out frae Braithen town like a 
 thief in the dark, and he took a' his sins and 
 his shame Avi' him, and the bad luck that 
 gang Avi' baith ; but he left his heart aliint 
 him, '» 
 
 " Did the rafT say tliat '{ " cried the old 
 man, interposing, and he struck his leg Avith 
 his Avliip as though disturl)eil in mind ; for 
 his Avas a stern nature, and it had liecn said 
 of him, all his life, that he never forgave — 
 and e\'en yet he did not look at Brian. 
 
 " And this more, he said," continued An- 
 drew, — " ' When you gong doon to the Sliiel- 
 side dip yer hand in the water, and Avhistle 
 that song Ave used to sing as Ave j)addled 
 alang frae CoAvric Castle to Margaret's Brae, 
 For Ilkn Man and Ilka Maid that Lives hij 
 Shidic Water ; and Avlien you see the Castle, 
 and enter it, ye'll find a man they ca' Black 
 Fordie. And he's a guid man, but he's a 
 stern man ; and ye'll say to him that there's 
 a lad at the Arctic Circle that, maybe, he'll 
 never see again, Avha Avad gie ten years o' his 
 life to say to his face, " Ye're a gran' man, 
 John Fordie, and a bad day it Avas for )'ou 
 and for him, Avhen he broclit shame on ye." 
 And tak' his hand and gie liim the grip o' 
 the clan, and Avhat mair be the Avill o' Cod.' " 
 
 The old man dropped into a chair, his 
 hands on his knees, his head lient forward, 
 his eyes upon the Hoor. " Did the lad say 
 that 1 " murmured he ; " did the laddie say 
 that 1 " 
 
 There Avas silence. Jean's face Avas turned 
 pityingly away, and Brian had drawn slightly 
 aside. Benoni seemed intent on his flute, 
 Avliich he Avas lialancing in his finders. 
 
 I'rcsently the old man rose and Avalked 
 over to Brian. " I'll no say that I loe the 
 sioht o' yer face, Brian Kinglcj', for yc'vo 
 done mair Avrang than guid tae me and mine ; 
 but I'm Avillin' to Jot bygancs be byganes, 
 and there's my hand, an' yo'll take it ! " 
 
 Brian clasped the cxtendod hand. ''You've 
 got a son, John Fordie," sa-'l he, "whose 
 
 ,.H|MW^r*5*^'' 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 'hen }'C set 
 
 again, the 
 ' yer horse, 
 11(1 kiss the 
 or licathcr ; 
 
 land. It's 
 c for men, 
 i I.' " 
 ted the old 
 
 his voice, 
 say that 1 " 
 ore. ' And 
 
 n,' said he, 
 t, and say : 
 ;own like a 
 his sins and 
 [I luck that 
 heart ahint 
 
 icd the old 
 lis leg Avith 
 mind ; for 
 id ))oen said 
 X forgave — 
 Jrian. 
 
 itinued An- 
 
 ;o the Shicl- 
 
 and whistle 
 
 we jjaddled 
 
 aret's Brae, 
 
 'fat Liirs hy 
 
 the Castle, 
 
 ca' Black 
 
 lut lie's a 
 
 lat there's 
 
 aybe, he'll 
 
 ears o' his 
 
 gran' man, 
 
 as for you 
 
 inic on ye." 
 
 the grip o' 
 
 1 o' God.';' 
 
 chair, his 
 
 t forward, 
 
 the lad say 
 
 addie say 
 
 was turned 
 rtii slightly 
 lis flute, 
 ors. 
 ud walked 
 
 I loo the 
 
 for ye've 
 and mine ; 
 
 byganes, 
 
 itV" 
 . "You've 
 ;, " whose 
 
 name stands as high in that new land as it 
 stood low in the old ; and you do well to let 
 bygones be bygones, as others have nobly 
 done before you." He glanced at Jean. 
 
 "And what's to be the end o' tliis ? O' 
 your comin' back ? " the old man continued. 
 " What hae ye come for 1 Ye hae left the 
 lad ahint ye. AA'hich o' ye has came to tak' 
 awa the lass, too. Ay, ye ncedna look, ye 
 ncedna look, as if ye hadna sic a thocht in 
 your heid ; but yc'll baith gang back to the 
 land ye cam frac, wi'oot the lass — John 
 Fordie's lass : for ye ken, Andy Venlaw, 
 when ye should hae trusted ye disbelieved ; 
 
 and 
 
 .siccan a 
 
 fule 
 
 I 
 
 as ye were ! ye ran awa. 
 An' d' ye think ye'U mend that noo 1 And 
 for you, Brian Kingley, that comes o' gentle 
 blood, ye did a thing " 
 
 The girl stepped in between. " Faither," 
 she said, " ya shall not. Thc}^ hae come back 
 — they hae come back, only to " 
 
 "Ay, I ken weel what they hae cam back 
 for ; the flame o' your cheeks is the meaning 
 o' that ; but I'll no push the matter the nicht, 
 whatever ! " 
 
 Here Bcnoni tossed at them all a shrill 
 note from his flute, and imitating Fordie's 
 voice, said gail}' : " When ye hae done pro- 
 phesyin' and prcachin', Black Fordie, and 
 when you're ready to think aboot things 
 for which you hae understanding, I'll tak' my 
 noggin o' whusky oot o' j'ou unco bottle, that 
 nano kens but yoursel'. For ye ken, that 
 when it comes to marryin' and gieiii' in mar- 
 riage o' the lass called Jean Fordie, ye're 
 no the only man thot has a voice i' the 
 matter." 
 
 At this the other wheeled, and, with a 
 startled and peculiar look, fixed his eyes on 
 the showman. But Bononi had sj)oken lightl}', 
 and his face carried no special significance at 
 the moment, and Fordie turned to his mission 
 for the liquor. 
 
 But Jean had caught the unusual note in 
 the proceeding, despite her own embarrass- 
 ment at her father's \iords. After a moment, 
 Avheii they were all gathered about the tal)le, 
 ready to drink a toast of Fordie's making, 
 she suddenly said, in a strange and meaning 
 voice,— " Faither ! " 
 
 Instantlj^ both Benoni and Black Fordie 
 turned to her. She had evidently accom- 
 plished what she desired. She changed her 
 tone, and said, looking now only at ilohn 
 Fordie,—" What is your toast, faither ? " 
 
 And he, raising his glass, said : " To every 
 frien' o' Scotland' ! " 
 
 " Wait," she lu'ged. " And to every ahscnt 
 friend o' Scotland 1 " 
 
 " To every friend, and to eveiy absent 
 friend o' Scotland ! " the old man repeated 
 after a moment ; and they drank in silence. 
 
 CIIArXER XIII. — " PEEBLES AT THE PLAY." 
 
 All Braithcu soon knew of the return of 
 the exiles, and because Venlav and Brian 
 came amicably together, and were amiably 
 received at Cowrie Castle by Black Fordie 
 as by his daughter, and Elsie had tried to 
 undo what she li.ad so illy done, the makers 
 of scandal ceased its manufacture. But old 
 women as they crooned in their doorways, 
 the eldei's of the Kirk as they sauntered in 
 the churchyard, and even the minister him- 
 self, discussed with serious eagerness the [)ro- 
 sent passage of events. What Brian had 
 done at Beltane Fair was not forgotten, nor 
 was the quarrel that followed it. If Jean 
 was innocent, it was clear she could not 
 marry the man who had insulted her. If sho 
 was guilty she could not marry Andrew Yen- 
 law ; and so jealnisly selfish is liuman nature, 
 tliat very many of them had been glad if she 
 had never marr'ed at all. And Jean herself 1 
 Never once in all these eleven years had her 
 heart faltered in its love of Brian. But yet 
 tlieie was a debt to Andrew ! He had dis- 
 trusted her, but he had had some apparent 
 cause, for she had not resented, that day 
 of Beltane, Brian's shameful cai'css. The 
 austere sincerit}-, the high honour, of this 
 man imj)rcssed her deeply. He M'as worthy 
 of her ; he had always l)een worthy of her. 
 And more : she knew that since i^ child he 
 had been her lover, had honourably followed 
 upon her footsteps, and that th'.ough her, in- 
 directly, the dreams of his life had l)een given 
 up, and he had become the companion of sava- 
 ges. He had never been tlie ideal lover, but ho 
 had been persistent in a manly way ; down- 
 right, gentle, and brav(>. Even now, as the 
 days Aveut on, she saw that ho held himself in 
 check. His manner o her was ever cheei-- 
 ful and kind, but he v.mtured on no .«.ign of 
 love. Y'^et, because .she herself loved, she 
 could read the signs in him, inconspicuous as 
 he thought they were. She reail liriaii also 
 with a pathetic kind of triuiii])li. He hud 
 left her with a drunken trifler's kiss upon her 
 lips, caring no more for her than lor the silliest 
 milk-maid in tlie hills. She knew now, be- 
 yond all doubt, that his heait was at her 
 feet ; and she would have been an angel and 
 not a woman if she had failed to appreciad- tho 
 position. And the two men bore themselves 
 towards each other Avith uncommon fairness. 
 They hud in them the soul of the |/amo. The 
 
5 \t 
 
 64 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR 
 
 oeviu' wi' savagei-', and 
 ioc')) the friistlc i' your 
 loiifs: ■' ami lie shook his 
 leiul witli a chuckle. 
 
 " I've had ji;ood days 
 
 n the world, and many 
 
 lid have I seen, and 
 
 ly a shii) have I trod, 
 
 and I've been a little of 
 
 the centlenian, and very 
 
 much of the vagahond, 
 
 soniething of the fool, and 
 
 a hit i)hilosoj)lier too, I 
 
 hope. . . . And now I'm 
 
 coming to the time when 
 
 I must lay by with my 
 
 old raree .show and tlute ; 
 
 and go out no more to 
 
 wiindei." 
 
 " And to wanner nae 
 iiKiir,"' said Fordie, ah- 
 .stractedly. 
 
 " I did not 
 think," the 
 other continued, 
 " that I should 
 ever want hack 
 f r o m }• o u r 
 liaiids what's 
 mine, hut has 
 been a.s yours 
 for many a 
 
 year, and ' 
 
 liising sud- 
 denly to his feet, 
 great North had made them too big for little Fordie hoarsely interrupted him. "David," 
 jealousies now. i he sai<l, " I kenned it was coniin'. Seven- 
 
 Brian ate his lieart out in secret, for he saw amltwenty years syne, you had sair trouble. 
 
 " The Indian sends messages to her who loves Ironliuart." 
 
 that Jean was gentler to Andrew than to him ; 
 but when he met Andrew afterwards, he was 
 alwa\s friendlier, in proportion to his private 
 uneasiness. 
 
 Black Fordie and Benoni had their hours 
 of suspense also. They also had their hours 
 of moodiness — a thing uiicfmimon to Benoni, 
 at least. One daj' they ,sat aloiio i:i the 
 Castle. Each knew that something was to l)e 
 spoken, which had long lain liiddcn from the 
 world. 
 
 '• John Fordie," said the .showman, at last, 
 "there's a thing on which we have words to 
 say to one another, after many jears." 
 
 Fordie looked straight before him through 
 the cloud of tobacco smoke, fiercely jjufl'ed 
 forth, and said ; "I know that wcel, David." 
 
 "I'll not have many years to live, John." 
 
 "Ay, ay," interjected Fordie. dryly, "ye'll 
 bo growin' grey and stoopit. Ye'll no travel 
 
 1 and your Itairn, new-born, was left mither- 
 less. At that time my wife lost a bairn at 
 its birth and she went mad for it, and we 
 took yours- -for you were far awa', a prisoner 
 o' war- -and Me put it in her airms and she 
 made it her ain, nursin' it at her ain brcest. 
 And it was laiig afore ve cam back : and yc 
 maun gang awa again—for it was time o' 
 war. And you said tae mc, for the wife 
 ne'er kenned it, that the child .should be 
 ours, for it had grown like our ain, and ye 
 might never come back. And ye had mair 
 dangers and hard fortunes ; and when ye 
 on Kngland's soil again you had na 
 kdrii 
 
 landed 
 a bawbee 
 and we to 
 Benoni 
 
 and the 
 loe her." 
 raised his 
 
 had got to loo us. 
 
 land in jirotest, as 
 
 though the rememlu'ance of these things hurt 
 him. There was a .slight jjause, and Fordie 
 ' ve became Benoni, the 
 
 th 
 ta 
 
 no 
 
 me 
 
 or 
 sai( 
 it 
 her 
 
 )ntinued : " And 
 
 across the warld, and back again, and bo [Italian showman, and when slic's a woman 
 
 .... ^:...j5s-« 
 
THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 65 
 
 lino 
 
 II g SlKl- 
 
 liis feet, 
 David.' 
 Seveu- 
 tioublc, 
 niitlici- 
 baiin iit 
 
 LUld wc 
 
 )iisoiicr 
 and she 
 
 n brees^t, 
 and JO 
 time o' 
 10 wife 
 
 lonid Ijc 
 and ye 
 id mail' 
 lien yo 
 had na 
 
 loo U!<. 
 
 test, as 
 
 j;s hint 
 
 Fordio 
 
 ni, the 
 
 Woniuii 
 
 the noo ye'd toll her a' — oh, David, and ye'd 
 tak' her frao nic, forbyc." 
 
 "Fordie," brokenly said the othei, "I did 
 not think I shoidd come to care so much, but 
 I'd give the I'o.st of my life to hear her call 
 me father once." 
 
 " I have lost a son," mournfully responded 
 the other, "and ye wad tak' frac me my 
 doehter too." 
 
 " You've boon a good father to her, Fordie, 
 stern man tiiough \'ou are." 
 
 Fonlie jtacod up and down the room twice 
 or thrice, and then pausing before the other, 
 said, as if speaking hurt hin - " If ye think 
 it wool, David, I'll gio her tao yo ; I'll gie 
 her tae ye— but think ye o' the lass hersel'." 
 
 Beiioni rose, and laid a trembling hand on 
 the other's arm. " I've been David for these 
 few minutes, Fordie, and I have been weak 
 — for I'm getting old — and I love the lass, 
 ( Jod knows ! But I am wrong. She has had 
 trouble enough. I'll not try her further. — — 
 I've been a coward for a minute, Fordie, but, 
 l)leasc Heaven, — no more !" 
 
 There was silence now. From the court- 
 yard Jean's voice floated up through the open 
 window of the room, and another voice with 
 it. Both men caught their breaths in their 
 thi'oats. 
 
 " She shall never know through mo, 
 Fordie, while you live, though I told 
 her she should bo told my story some 
 day ; but she'll be leaving us both, may- 
 be, and 'tis better as it is, I doubt not." 
 And Bononi smiled sadly out towards the 
 voices floating up to them. The two 
 men shook hands silently. | 
 
 But the}' wore both wrong concern- 
 ing .loan. She suspected the truth. And 
 in future days, when Black Fordio was in 
 his last illness, all was told, and in loaing 
 one father she found another. 
 
 But now a thing more imi)ortaiit to 
 her happiness Avas near. It per[)loxod 
 Fordie ami Bcnoni ; it made havoc with 
 .he ])oace of Vonlaw and Brian; it com- 
 pelled into action all .Joan's womanliness 
 and character. 
 
 Down in the coiutyard Andrew Yen- 
 law walked with .Joan. The weeks and 
 mouths had ])assod, and tomorrow again 
 was Beltane Fair. The time of Andrew's 
 leave was up. He must return to his 
 duties in that far-oil" region of Hudson's 
 Bay or make ui) his mind to remain 
 where ho was ; and to remain whore ho 
 was meant to marry .Joan ; and to marry 
 Jean meant that Brian nuist go. These 
 things they had not said tu ot'ch ..thor. 
 
 yet they were in the minils of all. In the 
 town of late Andrew's name had boon coupled 
 nnich with .Jean's, and this they both know, 
 and Black Fordie and Benoni knew it, and 
 ])oth of these had spoken in Jean's proscMice 
 concerning her and Andrew, as though they 
 were accepted of each other. At last, by a 
 hundred little things, Andrew came to l)e- 
 lieve that .Jean would not say No to him if 
 he asked her. It did not make liim pi-oud ; it 
 humbled him, because he read the true moan- 
 ing of her gentle acquiescence. Her alloction, 
 her respect, her sense of justice were with 
 him, but her love was with his connade. 
 
 "And now," he said to her, his mind at 
 la'^t made up after some hcavj' hours, " I iii 
 goin' back, Jean, the (hy after Beltane Fair." 
 
 " Back whaiir, Andrew 1" she said, a white- 
 ness spreading on her face. 
 
 "Back to the land they call ' Cod's Coun- 
 try,' " said he — "to the Arctic circle, or 
 thereabouts." 
 
 She drew slightly from him, but she did 
 not speak. 
 
 "Have you nothing to say to my going ?" 
 he added, with a pamful smile. 
 
 " I — I am very sorry ; but must you go 1" 
 
 " There's only one thing that would keep 
 me," he replied. 
 
 ' lii.tcil In I Imiid to liis lips." 
 
 >> 
 
t .M iJ BTr i 
 
 ■GO 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 "And what's that, An(h'o\v 1" she asked. 
 
 "The love of a woman," was his reply; 
 " of a good woman." 
 
 " Do you mean, Andrew, that if that — guid 
 woman woidd marry you, you would stay V 
 A grcyness came about her temples. It was 
 harder than she thought. 
 
 " Ay, ay, lass," he said, dropping hack into 
 the old dialect of his youth : " if she would 
 iiiairy mo." 
 
 She came slowly to him, and laid her hand 
 upon his arm. "Andrew," she said, "An- 
 drew, — the woman — will— marry you." 
 
 His breast heaved, his anns twitched at 
 his side, his massive body drew up, and he 
 looked down at her M'ith a great j'earning. 
 
 " A3', ay, lassie," he responded, the rough- 
 ness of feeling in his tone, "I ken she would 
 marry me. That is one thing, and it has 
 made mo think o' heaven ; hut would she 
 love me, does she love me, and me alone ? 
 That is anithcr thing." 
 
 His eyes searched hers, and she dropped 
 them before him. 
 
 "She wad try to loe j'o, Andrew," she 
 rejoined. 
 
 " There is another man," he said with a 
 sigh, " and ho has a good heart. He is 
 generous and brave, and the woman loves 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, hush ! " she said, and she raised her 
 fingers towards his lips, a scared look in her 
 face. "Ye maunna speak o't," she added. 
 
 They stood silent, a little awaj- from each 
 othoi', for a moment. 
 
 "Will j'ou walk with me V he asked. 
 
 Without a Avord she turned, and passed 
 Avith him into the shadow of the yews. 
 They did not speak. Presently, Andrew, 
 looking out upon the road, saw a figure 
 coming, lie wheeled upon her gently, and 
 said : " The day alter Beltane I shall go." 
 
 She did not instantly reply, but stretched 
 out her hand and raised her eyes to his, with 
 a look of solemn thaidvfulncss which he loved 
 to remember years after. But he knew the 
 immeasurable distance between friendship 
 and love. 
 
 " Wait here," he said ; " wait just here for 
 a little while, will you f 
 
 " Yes," sho I'eplied, " as laiig as ye will ; 
 but why f 
 
 Ho did not reply in words, but looked out 
 upon the road, down which Brian was com- 
 ing. She understood. Strong, deep-natured 
 as sho was, she shivered slightly with timi- 
 dity. 
 
 "Oh, no, no, not now, Andrew," she 
 urged. 
 
 But he, without a word, and with a grave 
 courtesy, lifted her hand to his lips, and, 
 with head uncovered, drew away from hei-. 
 He walked steadily on till he met Brian. He 
 paused for a moment, stretched out his hand, 
 and said : " She is waiting for you, Brian, in 
 the yews below." 
 
 " Waiting— for me — Venlaw V said Brian, 
 gi'owing pale. 
 
 " I'm going away to the Company's land 
 two days after Beltane, but you'll be staying 
 here." 
 
 " I'll — be staying — here," Brian repeated, 
 as the matter dawned upon him. He could 
 say no more ; but the two men caught hands, 
 and parted suddenly, both to begin life again. 
 
 An hour after, Andrew stood by the old 
 Dominie's grave looking down at it with a 
 gentle sadness, gentle and sad as only a strong 
 man can be. He had squared all accounts. 
 The Dominie's wishes had been fulfilled. The 
 money left him he had handed over to Katie 
 Dryhope and her sister Maggie ; he had re- 
 fused his own happiness from a high sense of 
 justice. There was nothing more to do but 
 to go away. He thought that as ho stood 
 by the grave. 
 
 And Brian Kingley walked with Jean, 
 his arm about her, in the shadows of the 
 yews. 
 
 The next morning was Beltane Fair. Brai- 
 thon was dancing upon the green. There 
 were fiddlers many, but you coidd hear 
 above the jaunty scraping of the catgut 
 the soft joyful note of a flute. It seemed 
 to have caught an exhilarating something 
 from the warm breeze, which, sweeping across 
 the braes and down the wimpling Shiel, ran 
 round the valley where Braithen lay, blithe 
 with the sunshine. Now and then it caught 
 the gay ribands of some laughing lass, or 
 lifted, always modestly, the simple folds of a 
 pretty skirt. And the loose flowing hair of 
 man and woman, it blew in warm enjoyment 
 along the undulations of the dance. About old 
 Benoni's raree show boys sat munching gin- 
 gerbread. Horsemen moved in and out, and 
 on the stroke of noon a troop of His Majcstj''s 
 cavalry swung slowly through the streets, 
 bringing with them some gay prisoners of 
 war, who were being transferred from a post 
 further south to Braithen. It seemed almost 
 the same crowd that wo saw twelve years 
 l)efore. It might, indeed, have seemed the 
 same day, save that Benoni's hair was greyer 
 and his cheek more wrinkled, though his 
 eye was just as gay. And it did not grow 
 duller because ho heard tho gossiping of 
 some dames behind him discussing the for- 
 
 ii'!u>> 
 
 i 
 
mm 
 
 ^m 
 
 ym^i 
 
 -i! 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR. 
 
 67 
 
 a grave 
 ps, and, 
 om her. 
 ian. Ho 
 lis liand, 
 Jrian, in 
 
 catgut 
 
 tunes of one very dear to him. The twinkle 
 in it, indeed, had something a little ironical. 
 But the groups went dancing on before him, 
 and everyone said that Benoni had never 
 played so well. From the way he looked 
 to right and left from time to time, it was 
 clear he was expecting somebody ; and one 
 had known when his expectations were ful- 
 filled by the very immediate impulse he gave 
 to his music. 
 
 Presently among the gossiping and staring 
 crowd there passed Jean and Brian, followed 
 by John Funlie and Andrew Venlaw. They 
 came into tlio circle of dancers. Brian led 
 Jean out gravely into the centre, and danced 
 a measure with her lightly yet sedately. 
 And when it was finished, with all eyes upon 
 them, all dancing stopped around them, he 
 kissed her full upon the mouth : and that 
 was how Biaitlien knew that Biian Kingley 
 and Jean Fordie were to marry. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV.— TIIK RETURN. 
 
 It was so still the Fort seemed sleeping. 
 The intemperate sunshine fell upon it ar- 
 dently ; its walls, its roofs, the very mortar 
 creasing its stones, were soaked in heat and 
 silence. A slumberous dog caught at an in- 
 trusive gnat, the great blue-bottles of a short- 
 lived summer boomed on the jmnes, the 
 chain of a bear rattled lazily, as Bruin turned 
 to a new position of idleness in his yard. 
 Human life seemed absent. The windows 
 and the doors of the Fort were open ; no 
 sound came from them save fiom one room, 
 and then it was only the ticking of a clock. 
 
 Yet, if one had looked into the cool dusk 
 of that window there would have been seen a 
 strange thing. A girl luilf-sat, half-knelt, 
 upon the iloor, her eyes u[)on the clock. She 
 was motionless, she was silent, save that had 
 you also knelt beside her you would have 
 heard her heart beating up against her 
 bosom like a muftlcd penduhuii. She was 
 watching, waiting; and though lii)s have 
 .sometimes a trick of silence, hearts have the 
 impertinent habit of crying out. This girl's 
 heart was calling, so loudl,y, indeed, that a 
 traveller a[)proaching the Foit from a distant 
 point in tiie horizon must easily have heard 
 it, if the voice of a heart is like that of the 
 lips. Peihaps he did hear it, but not in the 
 fashion which would go for evidence in a 
 court of law. We cannot swear to soundless 
 voices ; yet sometimes they speak,^pjilinly« 
 that one in telling what they said <hii;^ht:tl(;J 
 clare to speaking the truth, Hei^vt^n. '"^IpU'ci 
 him. * * • . V '- 
 
 The traveller paused when his eyes fell 
 upon Waiting Mountain. It was his first 
 
 welcome home. This was his home now, 
 
 and should be, to that hour when the father 
 of his biographer should bid him a staunch 
 God-speed upon the great journey man takes 
 when he goeth to his long home. The moun- 
 tain slept ; but he could see its breath rising 
 in hot palpitations, and come floating towards 
 him, a fragrant wafture on his cheek. As 
 the smell of some perfumed letter, or the 
 balm of Slime forgotten relic, floats up to 
 a man's uo!^.trils as he fumbles among old 
 tokens, and his past heaves on him like a 
 ghost, so Andrew Venlaw stands still in 
 tlia' 'lowered plain, and faces suddenly the 
 wilderness of his past, which, by the spirit 
 of an unconquerable manhood, he had made 
 into a garden : for he had learned and 
 performed according to the great charm, the 
 noble spirit of peace, which is self-sacri- 
 fice. He had come back to return no more ; 
 but here lay a vast field of endeavour, and 
 on yonder fort there flew the flag of the bold 
 adventurers of the North, the splendid free- 
 booters of the wilds : his heart swelled big. 
 He was a chief of hardy comrades, a leader 
 of men. 
 
 He had left his companions behind, and 
 had hurried on that he might reach the Fort 
 alone, not that he might brood upon matters 
 of retrospect or affection, but to face the 
 hard duties of his future, the possible soli- 
 tariness of the rest of his natural life, with 
 that iron heart credited to him by his people 
 and the heathen. 
 
 He came on. Beyond the belt of woods 
 to his right were the Indian lodges. His 
 mind hung over them for a moment. He 
 framed some new conditions of policy then 
 and there ; but first and last, and interwoven 
 
 with these thoughts, was a wholesome, 
 
 generous solicitude regarding Summer-Hair, 
 
 her father, and their people. His thoughts 
 
 dwelt upon lied Fire for a moment. Red 
 
 Fire should be his friend. Red Fii'e should 
 
 many Sunnner - TIair. No doubt he had 
 
 done so. Her. \'crdaw paused. Well, so 
 
 much the better for lied Fire and fo'' 
 
 Summer-liair inu\ for — he paused again, ami 
 
 prescntl}' pushed on, as though some thought 
 
 had disturbed him, angered him, and he was 
 
 Wiiiking over it. 
 
 In the south, where he had been detained 
 
 in consultation with some of his superior 
 
 ,*otfiecrs,|hf sent woj<T by couriers carrying 
 
 •theiyCafl^' mstils' lji.it lie would arrive at Fort 
 
 .Savjpur ijibout. tjiis, time, and again the pre- 
 
 vkm^ liitflit }«5 had urged a courier on, and 
 • •• .«. . 
 
Jt-y ■ ■ f 
 
 68 
 
 
 
 THE CHIEF FACTOR ' 
 
 " ' 'mm 
 
 w. 
 
 'W^i 
 
 whoever has followed his fortnaeB closely 
 must, know vithoat telling that the giri 
 within that roo'm at the Fort, watching the 
 day go round the clock, was Summer-Hair. 
 
 When she knew that Venlaw was coming 
 back, and, further, knew the time, the)° had 
 noticed the wine colour of her face grow 
 fainter. The spirit of suspense had entered 
 into her eyes, and devoured her cheek. 
 
 The afternoon wore on. There was a stir 
 about the fort. She heard excited voices. 
 She sprang to the window and looked out. 
 HE was coming, and her heart cried out with 
 a great joy, for he came — alone. 
 
 And she turned and sped through the yard 
 of the Fort and out across the plains, away 
 from it and him, to the lodges of her people. 
 
 But when Venlaw came to the lodge where 
 she was, to toll her how he sorrowed for her 
 father's death (which had occurred while he 
 was away), he was amazed to see in what 
 
 dignity and reserve she carried liKirself. Per- 
 haps, he said to himself, loneliness and 
 bereavomeLt had accomplished this; And 
 then, maybe, Red Fire's marriage with a 
 less notable girl than herself had helped to 
 make her graver too. 
 
 But had Venlaw been a vainer man happi- 
 ness had come to him sooner ; and so likewise 
 to Summer-Hair. It is possible, however, 
 that neither would have deserved the other 
 so much if, before a certain day of a year 
 later, Venlaw had said to her the few simple 
 words which go for the making or breaking 
 of lives. How far he was moved by love, and 
 how far by gratitude, is not to be told here ; 
 and he was ever too much the man to make 
 the measurement for himself. Still, it was 
 said of him throughout his life that he had 
 a wonderful memory. That so, and being 
 what he was, when he looked back — but 
 -1 
 
 I 
 
 no 
 
 I 
 
 TITK END. 
 
 r 
 
 ^,^ 
 
 4i