BBBHBBgHaBHaHBBBBBBBBBj|M 
 
 The Call of the 
 North 
 
 The Dramatized 
 Version of* 
 
 Conjurors 
 Hottse" 
 
 ui 
 T 
 
 Stewart 
 
 Edward 
 White 
 
BANCROFT 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 o- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
a 
 
THE CALL OF THE NORTH 
 
'Beyond the butternut, beyond the maple, 
 beyond the white pine and the red, beyond 
 the oak, the cedar, and the beech, beyond 
 even the white and yellow birches lies a 
 Land, and in that Land the shadows fall 
 crimson across the snow. 
 
THE 
 CALL OF THE NORTH 
 
 Being a Dramatized Version of 
 
 CONJUROR'S HOUSE 
 
 A Romance of the Free Forest 
 
 BY 
 
 Stetoart CDtrmrD 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE WESTERNERS, 
 
 THE BLAZED TRAIL* 
 
 ETC. 
 
 GROSSET 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 DUNLAP 
 NEW YOBK 
 
COFYBIOHT, 1903, BY 
 
 STEWART EDWARD WHITE 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY CURTIS PUBLISHING Cota&tv 
 AS *' CONJUROR'S HOUSB" 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES 
 
 AT 
 THE COONTY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY. K. Y. 
 
^7^72 b t 
 
 UEFAFY 
 
 THE CALL OF THE NORTH 
 

 
Chapter One 
 
 The girl stood on a bank above a river 
 flowing north. At her back crouched a 
 dozen clean whitewashed buildings. Before 
 her in interminable journey, day after day, 
 league on league into remoteness, stretched 
 the stern Northern wilderness, untrodden 
 save by the trappers, the Indians, and the 
 beasts. Close about the little settlement 
 crept the balsams and spruce, the birch and 
 poplar, behind which lurked vast dreary 
 muskegs, a chaos of bowlder-splits, the for- 
 est. The girl had known nothing different 
 for many years. Once a summer the sail- 
 ing ship from England felt its frozen way 
 [1] 
 
The Call of the North 
 through the Hudson Straits, down the 
 Hudson Bay, to drop anchor in the mighty 
 River of the Moose. Once a summer a six- 
 fathom canoe manned by a dozen paddles 
 struggled down the waters of the broken 
 Abitibi. Once a year a little band of red- 
 sashed voyageurs forced their exhausted 
 sledge-dogs across the ice from some unseen 
 wilderness trail. That was all. 
 
 Before her eyes the seasons changed, all 
 grim, but one by the very pathos of brevity 
 sad. In the brief luxuriant summer came 
 the Indians to trade their pelts, came the 
 keepers of the winter posts to rest, came 
 the ship from England bringing the articles 
 of use or ornament she had ordered a full 
 year before. Within a short time all were 
 gone, into the wilderness, into the great 
 unknown world. The snow fell; the river 
 find the bay froze. Strange men from the 
 
 ] 
 
Chapter One 
 
 North glided silently to the Factor's door, 
 bearing the meat and pelts of the seaL 
 Bitter iron cold shackled the northland, the 
 abode of desolation. Armies of caribou 
 drifted by, ghostly under the aurora % 
 moose, lordly and scornful, stalked ma- 
 jestically along the shore ; wolves howled 
 invisible, or trotted dog-like in organized 
 packs along the river banks. Day and 
 night the ice artillery thundered. Night 
 and day the fireplaces roared defiance to 
 a frost they could not subdue, while the 
 people of desolation crouched beneath the 
 tyranny of winter. 
 
 Then the upheaval of spring with the ice- 
 jams and terrors, the Moose roaring by un- 
 tamable, the torrents rising, rising foot by 
 foot to the very dooryard of her father's 
 house. Strange spirits were abroad at 
 night, howling, shrieking, cracking and 
 [3] 
 
The Call of the North 
 groaning in voices of ice and flood. Her 
 Indian nurse told her of them all of Ma- 
 unabosho, the good; of Nenaubosho the 
 evil in her lisping Ojibway dialect that 
 sounded like the softer voices of the forest. 
 
 At last the sudden subsidence of the 
 waters; the splendid eager blossoming of 
 the land into new leaves, lush grasses, an 
 abandon of sweetbrier and hepatica. The 
 air blew soft, a thousand singing birds 
 sprang from the soil, the wild goose cried in 
 triumph. Overhead shone the hot sun of 
 the Northern summer. 
 
 From the wilderness came the brigades 
 bearing their pelts, the hardy traders ot the 
 winter posts, striking hot the imagination 
 through the mysterious and lonely allure- 
 ment of their callings. For a brief season, 
 transient as the flash of a loon's wing on 
 the shadow of a lake, the post was bright 
 [4] 
 
Chapter One 
 
 with the thronging of many people. The 
 Indians pitched their wigwams on the broad 
 meadows below the bend ; the half-breeds 
 sauntered about, flashing bright teeth and 
 wicked dark eyes at whom it might con- 
 cern ; the traders gazed stolidily over their 
 little black pipes, and uttered brief sen- 
 tences through their thick black beards. 
 Everywhere was gay sound the fiddle, 
 the laugh, the song ; everywhere was gay 
 color the red sashes of the voyageurs, 
 the beaded moccasins and leggings of the 
 Metis, the capotes of the brigade, the varie- 
 gated costumes of the Crees and Ojibways. 
 Like the wild roses around the edge of the 
 muskegs, this brief flowering of the year 
 passed. Again the nights were long, again 
 the frost crept down from the, eternal snow, 
 again the wolves howled across barren 
 wastes. 
 
 [5] 
 
The Call of the North 
 Just now the girl stood ankle- deep in 
 green grasses, a bath of sunlight falling 
 about her, a tingle of salt wind humming 
 up the riv r er from the bay's offing. She 
 was clad in gray wool, and wore no hat. 
 Her soft hair, the color of ripe wheat, 
 blew about her temples, shadowing eyes of 
 fathomless black. The wind had brought 
 to the light and delicate brown of her com- 
 plexion a trace of color to match her lips 
 whose scarlet did not fade after the ordinar** 
 
 w- 
 
 and imperceptible manner into the tinge 
 of her skin, but continued vivid to the very 
 edge ; her eyes were wide and unseeing. 
 One hand rested idly on the breech of an 
 ornamented bronze field-gun. 
 
 McDonald, the chief trader, passed from 
 the house to the store where his bartering 
 with the Indians was daily carried on ; the 
 other Scotchman in the Post, Galen Albret, 
 
Chapter One 
 
 her father, and the head Factor of all this 
 region, paced back and forth across the ve- 
 randa of the factory, caressing his white 
 beard; up by the stockade, young Achille 
 Picard tuned his whistle to the note of 
 the curlew; across the meadow from the 
 church wandered Crane, the little Church 
 of England missionary, peering from short- 
 sighted pale blue eyes; beyond the coulee, 
 Sarnier and his Indians chock-chock-chocked 
 away at the seams of the long coast-trading 
 bateau. The girl saw nothing, heard noth- 
 ing. She was dreaming, she was trying to 
 remember. 
 
 In the lines of her slight figure, in its pose 
 there by the old gun over the old, old river, 
 was the grace of gentle blood, the pride 
 of caste. Of all this region her father was 
 the absolute lord, feared, loved, obeyed by 
 U its human creatures. When he went 
 [7] 
 
V 
 
 The Call of the North 
 abroad, he travelled in a state almost 
 mediaeval in its magnificence ; when he 
 stopped at home, men came to him from 
 the Albany, the Ken6gami, the Missinaibe, 
 the Mattdgami, the Abitibi from all the 
 rivers of the North to receive his com- 
 mands. Way was made for him, his light- 
 est word was attended. In his house dwelt 
 ceremony, and of his house she was the 
 princess. Unconsciously she had taken 
 the gracious habit of command. She had 
 come to value her smile, her wordT t 
 Value herself. The lady of a realm 
 greater than the countries of Europe, she 
 moved serene, pure, lofty amid depend- 
 ants. 
 
 And as the lady of this realm she did 
 
 honor to her father's guests sitting stately 
 
 behind the beautiful silver service, below 
 
 the portrait of the Company's greatest 
 
 [8] 
 
Chapter One 
 
 explorer, Sir George Simpson, dispensing 
 crude fare in gracious manner, listening 
 silently to the conversation, finally with- 
 drawing at the last with a sweeping cour- 
 tesy to play soft, melancholy, and world-for- 
 gotten airs on the old piano, brought over 
 years before by the Lady Head, while the 
 guests made merry with the mellow port 
 and ripe Manila cigars which the Company 
 supplied its servants. Then coffee, still 
 with her natural Old World charm of the 
 grande dame. Such guests were not many, 
 nor came often. There was McJTavish of 
 Rupert's House, a three days' journey to 
 the northeast; Rand of Fort Albany, a 
 week's travel to the northwest; Mault of 
 Fort George, ten days beyond either, all 
 grizzled in the Company's service. With 
 them came their clerks, mostly English and 
 Scotch younger sons, with a vast respect 
 [9] 
 
The Call of the North 
 for the Company, and a vaster for their 
 Factor's daughter. Once in two or three 
 years appeared the inspectors from Winni- 
 peg, true lords of the North, with their six- 
 fathom canoes, their luxurious furs, their 
 red banners trailing like gonfalons in the 
 water. Then this post of Conjuror's 
 House feasted and danced, undertook gay 
 excursions, discussed in public or private 
 conclave weighty matters, grave arid rev- 
 erend advices, cautions, and commands. 
 They went. Desolation again crept in. 
 
 The girl dreamed. She was trying to 
 remember. Far-off, half-forgotten visions 
 of brave, courtly men, of gracious, beautiful 
 women, peopled the clouds of her imagin- 
 ings. She heard them again, as voices be- 
 neath the roar of rapids, like far-away bells 
 tinkling faintly through a wind, pitying her, 
 exclaiming over her; she saw them dim and 
 [10] 
 
Chapter One 
 
 changing, as wraiths of a fog, as shadow 
 pictures in a mist beneath the moon, 
 leaning to her with bright, shining eyes 
 full of compassion for the little girl who was 
 to go so far away into an unknown land ; 
 she felt them, as the touch of a breeze 
 when the night is still, fondling her, clasp- 
 ing her, tossing her aloft in farewell. One 
 she felt plainly a gallant youth who held 
 her up for all to see. One she saw clearly 
 a dewy-eyed, lovely woman who mur- 
 mured loving, broken words. One she 
 heard distinctly a gentle voice that said, 
 " God's love be with you, little one, for you 
 have far to go, and many days to pass 
 before you see Quebec again." And the 
 girls eyes suddenly swam bright, for the 
 northland was very dreary. She threw her 
 palms out in a gesture of weariness. 
 Then her arms dropped, her eyes widened, 
 
The CaU of, the North 
 her head bent forward in the attitude of 
 listening. 
 
 " Aehille ! " she called, AchiUe ! Come 
 here!" 
 
 The young fellow approached respectfully. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ? ** he asked. 
 
 " Don't you hear ? " she said. 
 
 Faint, between intermittent silences, came 
 the singing of men's voices from the south. 
 
 " Grace a Dieu ! " cried Aehille. " Eet is 
 so. Eet is dat brigade ! " 
 
 He ran shouting toward the factory. 
 
Chapter T>*o 
 
 Men, women, dogs, children sprang into 
 sight from nowhere, and ran pell-mell to 
 the two cannon. Galen Albret, reappear- 
 ing from the factory, began to issue orders. 
 Two men set about hoisting on the tall 
 flag-staff the blood-red banner of the Com- 
 pany. Speculation, excited and earnest, 
 arose among the men as to which of the 
 branches of the Moose this brigade had 
 hunted the Abitibi, the Mattagami, or the 
 Missindibie. The half-breed women shaded 
 their eyes. Mrs. Cockburn, the doctor's 
 wife, and the only other white woman in 
 the settlement, came and stood by Virginia 
 18] 
 
The Catt of the North 
 Albret's side. Wishkobun, the Ojibway 
 woman from the south country, and Vir- 
 ginia's devoted familiar, took her half-jeal- 
 ous stand on the other. 
 
 " It is the same every year. We always 
 like to see them come," said Mrs. Cockburn, 
 in her monotonous low voice of resigna- 
 tion. 
 
 "Yes," replied Virginia, moving a little 
 impatiently, for she anticipated eagerly the 
 picturesque coming of these men of the Si- 
 lent Places, and wished to savor the pleas- 
 ure undistracted. 
 
 " Mi-di-mo-yay ka'-win-ni-shi-shin," said 
 Wishkobun, quietly. 
 
 " Ae," replied Virginia, with a little laugh, 
 patting the woman's brown hand. 
 
 A shout arose. Around the bend shot a 
 canoe. At once every paddle in it was 
 raised to a perpendicular salute, then all to- 
 
Chapter Two 
 
 gether dashed into the water with the foD 
 strength of the voyageurs wielding them. 
 The canoe fairly leaped through the cloud 
 of spray. Another rounded the bend, an- 
 other double row of paddles flashed in the 
 sunlight, another crew broke into a tumult 
 of rapid exertion as they raced the last 
 quarter mile of the long journey. A third 
 burst into view, a fourth, a fifth. The si- 
 lent river was alive with motion, glittering 
 with color. The canoes swept onward, like 
 race-horses straining against the rider. Now 
 the spectators could make out plainly the 
 boatmen. It could be seen that they had 
 decked themselves out for the occasion. 
 Their heads were bound with bright-col- 
 ored fillets, their necks with gay scarves. 
 The paddles were adorned with gaudy 
 woollen streamers. New leggings, of hol- 
 iday pattern, were intermittently visible 
 
The Call of the North 
 <m the bowsmen and steersmen as they 
 half rose to give added force to their 
 efforts. 
 
 At first the men sang their canoe songs, 
 but as the swift rush of the birch-barks 
 brought them almost to their journey's end, 
 they burst into wild shrieks and whoops of 
 delight. 
 
 All at once they were close to hand. The 
 steersman rose to throw his entire weight 
 on the paddle. The canoe swung abruptly 
 for the shore. Those in it did not relax 
 their exertions, but continued their vigorous 
 strokes until within a few yards of apparent 
 destruction. 
 
 " Hold I hola ! * they cried, thrusting their 
 paddles straight down into the water with 
 a strong backward twist. The stout wood 
 bent and cracked. The canoe stopped short 
 and the voyageurs leaped ashore to be swal- 
 [16] 
 
Chapter Two 
 
 lowed up in the crowd that swarmed down 
 upon them. 
 
 The races were about equally divided, and 
 each acted after its instincts the Indian 
 greeting his people quietly, and stalking 
 away to the privacy of his wigwam; the 
 more volatile white catching his wife or his 
 sweetheart or his child to his arms. A 
 swarm of Indian women and half-grown 
 children set about unloading the canoes. 4 ( 
 
 Virginia's eyes ran over the crews of the 
 various craft She recognized them all, of 
 course, to the last Indian packer, for in so 
 small a community the personality and do- 
 ings of even the humblest members are well 
 known to everyone. Long since she had 
 identified the brigade. It was of the Mis- 
 sinaibie, the great river whose head- waters 
 rise a scant hundred feet from those that 
 flow as many miles south into Lake Supe- 
 [17] 
 
The Call of the North 
 rior. It drains a wild and rugged country 
 whose forests cling to bowlder hills, whose 
 streams issue from deep-riven gorges, where 
 for many years the big gray wolves had 
 gathered in unusual abundance. She knew 
 by heart the winter posts, although she had 
 never seen them. She could imagine the 
 isolation of such a place, and the intense 
 loneliness of the solitary man condemned to 
 live through the dark Northern winters, see- 
 ing no one but the rare Indians who might 
 come in to trade with him for their pelts. 
 She could appreciate the wild joy of a re- 
 turn for a brief season to the company of 
 fellow-men. 
 
 When her glance fell upon the last of the 
 canoes, it rested with a flash of surprise. 
 The craft was still floating idly, its bow 
 barely caught against the bank. The crew 
 had deserted, but amidships, among the 
 [18] 
 
Chapter Two 
 
 packages of pelts and duffel, sat a stranger. 
 The canoe was that of the post at Kettle 
 Portage. 
 
 She saw the stranger to be a young man 
 with a clean-cut face, a trim athletic figure 
 dressed in the complete costume of the voy- 
 ageurs, and thin brown and muscular hands. 
 When the canoe touched the bank he had 
 taken no part in the scramble to shore, and 
 so had sat forgotten and unnoticed save by 
 the girl, his figure erect with something 
 of the Indian's stoical indifference. Then 
 when, for a moment, he imagined himself 
 free from observation, his expression abrupt- 
 ly changed. His hands clenched tense be- 
 tween his buckskin knees, his eyes glanced 
 here and there restlessly, and an indefinable 
 shadow of something which Virginia felt 
 herself obtuse in labelling desperation, and 
 yet to which she discovered it impossible to 
 [19] 
 
The Call of the North 
 fit a name, descended on his features, dart 
 ening them. Twice he glanced away to the 
 south. Twice he ran his eye over the vo- 
 ciferating crowd on the narrow beach. 
 
 Absorbed in the silent drama of a man's 
 unguarded expression, Virginia leaned for- 
 ward eagerly. In some vague manner it 
 was borne in on her that once before she 
 had experienced the same emotion, had 
 *5OEue into contact with someone, something, 
 that had affected her emotionally just as 
 this man did now. But she could not place 
 it. Over and over again she forced her 
 mind to the very point of recollection, but 
 always it slipped back again from the verge 
 of attainment. Then a little movement, 
 some thrust forward of the head, some ner- 
 vous, rapid shifting of the hands or feet, some 
 unconscious poise of the shoulders, brought 
 the s?ene flashing before her the white 
 [20] 
 
Chapter Two 
 
 snow, the still forest, the little square pen- 
 trap, the wolverine, desperate but cool, 
 thrusting its blunt nose quickly here and 
 there in baffled hope of an orifice of escape- 
 Somehow the man reminded her of the 
 animal, the fierce little woods marauder, 
 trapped and hopeless, but scorning to 
 cower as would the gentler creatures of the 
 forest 
 
 Abruptly his expression changed again, 
 His figure stiffened, the muscles of his face 
 turned iron. Virginia saw that someone on 
 the beach had pointed toward him. His 
 mask was on. 
 
 The first burst of greeting was over. 
 Here and there one or another of the 
 brigade members jerked their heads in the 
 stranger's direction, explaining low-voiced 
 to their companions. Soon all eyes turned 
 curiously toward the canoe. A hum of 
 [21] 
 
The Call of ike VoriK 
 low-voiced comment took the place of 
 louder delight. 
 
 The stranger, finding himself generally ob 
 served, rose slowly to his feet, picked his 
 way with a certain exaggerated deliberation 
 of movement over the duffel lying in the 
 bottom of the canoe, until he reached the 
 bow, where he paused, one foot lifted to 
 the gunwale just above the emblem of the 
 painted star. Immediately a dead silence 
 fell. Groups shifted, drew apart, and 
 together again, like the slow agglomeration 
 of sawdust on the surface of water, until at 
 last they formed in a semicircle of staring, 
 whose centre was the bow of the canoe and 
 the stranger from Kettle Portage- The 
 men scowled, the women regarded him 
 with a half- fearful curiosity. 
 
 Virginia Albret shivered in the shock of 
 this sudden electric polarity* The inau 
 
Chapter Two 
 
 seemed alone against a sullen, unexplained! 
 hostility. The desperation she had thought 
 to read but a moment before had vanished 
 utterly, leaving in its place a scornful in* 
 difference and perhaps more than a trace of 
 recklessness. He was ripe for an outbreak. 
 She did not in the least understand, but she 
 knew it from the depths of her woman's 
 instinct, and unconsciously her sympathies 
 flowed out to this man, alone without a 
 greeting where all others came to their own. 
 For perhaps a full sixty seconds the new- 
 comer stood uncertain what he should do, 
 or perhaps waiting for some word or act 
 to tip the balance of his decision. One 
 after another those on shore felt the inso 
 lence of his stare, and shifted uneasily. 
 Then his deliberate scrutiny rose to the 
 group by the cannon. Virginia caught her 
 breath sharply. In spite of herself she 
 
The Call of the North 
 could not turn away. The stranger's eye 
 crossed her own. She saw the hard look 
 fade into pleased surprise. Instantly his 
 hat swept the gunwale of the canoe. He 
 stepped magnificently ashore. The crisis 
 was over. Not a word had been spoken. 
 
 [M] 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 TJalen Albret sat in his rough-hewn arm- 
 chair at the head of the table, receiving the 
 reports of his captains. The long, narrow 
 room opened before him, heavy raftered, 
 massive, white, with a cavernous fireplace 
 at either end. Above him frowned Sir 
 George's portrait, at his right hand and his 
 left stretched the row of home-made heavy 
 chairs, finished smooth and dull by two 
 centuries of use. 
 
 His arms were laid along the arms of his 
 seat ; his shaggy head was sunk forward 
 until his beard swept the curve of his big 
 chest; the heavy tufts of hair above his 
 
The Call of the North 
 eyes were drawn steadily together in a 
 frown of attention. One after another the 
 men arose and spoke. He made no move- 
 ment, gave no sign, his short, powerful form 
 blotted against the lighter silhouette of his 
 chair, only his eyes and the white of his 
 beard gleaming out of the dusk. 
 
 Kern of Old Brunswick House, Achard 
 of New ; Ki-wa-nee, the Indian of Fly- 
 ing Post these and others told briefly oi 
 many things, each in his own language. 
 To all Galen Albret listened in silence. 
 Finally Louis Placide from the post at 
 Kettle Portage got to his feet. He too 
 reported of the trade, so many " beaver " 
 of tobacco, of powder, of lead, of pork, of 
 flour, of tea, given in exchange ; so many 
 mink, otter, beaver, ermine, marten, and 
 fisher pelts taken in return. Then he 
 paused and went on at greater length ID 
 [26] 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 regard to the stranger, speaking evenly but 
 with emphasis. When he had finished, 
 Galen Albret struck a bell at his elbow. 
 Me-en-gan, the bowsman of the factor's 
 canoe, entered, followed closely by the 
 young man who had that afternoon arrived. 
 
 He was dressed still in his costume of the 
 voyageur the loose blouse shirt, the buck- 
 skin leggings and moccasins, the long tas- 
 selled red sash. His head was as high and 
 his glance as free, but now the steel blue of 
 his eye had become steady and wary, and 
 two faint lines had traced themselves be- 
 tween his brows. At his entrance a hush 
 of expectation fell. Galen Albret did not 
 stir, but the others hitched nearer the long, 
 narrow table, and two or three leaned both 
 elbows on it the better to catch what 
 should ensue. 
 
 Me-en-gan stopped by the door, but the 
 
The Call of the North 
 stranger walked steadily the length of the 
 room until he faced the Factor. Then he 
 paused and waited collectedly for the other 
 to speak. 
 
 This the Factor did not at once begin to 
 do, but sat impassive apparently without 
 thought while the heavy breathing of the 
 men in the room marked off the seconds 
 of time. Finally abruptly Galen Albrets 
 cavernous voice boomed forth. Something 
 there was strangely mysterious, cryptic, in 
 the virile tones issuing from a bulk so mas- 
 sive and inert. Galen Albret did not move, 
 did not even raise the heavy-lidded, dull 
 stare of his eyes to the young man who 
 stood before him ; hardly did his broad arched 
 chest seem to rise and fall with the respira- 
 tion of speech ; and yet each separate word 
 leaped forth alive, instinct with authority. 
 
 "Once at Leftfoot Lake, two Indians 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 caught you asleep,** he pronounced 
 "They took your pelts and arms, and 
 escorted you to Sudbury. They were my 
 Indians. Once on the upper Abftibi you 
 v;ere stopped by a man named Herbert, 
 who warned you from the country, after 
 relieving you of your entire outfit. He 
 told you on parting what you might expect 
 if you should repeat the attempt severe 
 measures, the severest. Herbert was my 
 man. Now Louis Placide surprises you in 
 a rapids near Kettle Portage and brings 
 you here.** 
 
 During the slow delivering of these accu- 
 rately spaced words, the attitude of the men 
 about the long, narrow table gradually 
 changed. Their curiosity had been great 
 before, but now their intellectual interest 
 was awakened, for these were facts of which 
 Louis Placide's statement had given no 
 [29] 
 
The Call of the North 
 inkling. Before them, for the dealing, was 
 a problem of the sort whose solution had 
 earned for Galen Albret a reputation in the 
 north country. They glanced at one an- 
 other to obtain the sympathy of attention, 
 then back toward their chief in anxious 
 expectation of his next words. The 
 stranger, however, remained unmoved. A 
 faint smile had sketched the outline of his 
 lips when first the Factor began to speak. 
 This smile he maintained to the end. As 
 the older man paused, he shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 ** A 11 of that is quite true," he admitted. 
 
 Even the unimaginative men of the Silent 
 Places started at these simple words, and 
 vouchsafed to their speaker a more sympa- 
 thetic attention. For the tones in which 
 they were delivered possessed that deep, 
 rich throat timbre which so often means 
 [$0j 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 power personal magnetism deep, from 
 the chest, with vibrant throat tones sug- 
 gesting a volume of sound which may in 
 fact be only hinted by the loudness the 
 man at the moment sees fit to employ. 
 Such a voice is a responsive instrument on 
 which emotion and mood play wonderfully 
 seductive strains. 
 
 "All of that is quite true," he repeated 
 after a second's pause ; " but what has it to 
 do with me ? Why am I stopped and sent 
 out from the free forest ? I am really curi- 
 ous to know your excuse/ 
 
 "This/ replied Galen Albret, weightily, 
 " is my domain. I tolerate no rivalry here." 
 
 ** Your right ? n demanded the young man, 
 briefly. 
 
 " I have made the trade, and I intend to 
 keep it." 
 
 "In other words, the strength of your 
 [SI] 
 
The Call of the North 
 good right arm," supplemented the stranger, 
 with the faintest hint of a sneer. 
 
 "That is neither here nor there," rejoined 
 Galen Albret, "the point is that 1 intend 
 to keep it. I've had you sent out, but you 
 have been too stupid or too obstinate to take 
 the hint. Now I have to warn you in per- 
 son. I shall send you out once more, but 
 this time you must promise me not to med- 
 dle with the trade again." 
 
 He paused for a response. The young 
 man's smile merely became accentuated. 
 
 " I have means of making my wishes felt/ 
 warned the Factor. 
 
 "Quite so," replied the young man, de 
 liberately, " La Longue Traverse*" 
 
 At this unexpected pronouncement of that 
 
 dread name two of the men swore violently? 
 
 the others thrust back their chairs and sat, 
 
 their arms rigidly braced against the table'? 
 
 [32] 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 edge, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed 
 at the speaker. Only Galen Albret re- 
 mained unmoved. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " he asked, 
 calmly. 
 
 " It amuses you to be ignorant," replied 
 the stranger, with some contempt. " Don't 
 you think this farce is about played out ? I 
 do. If you think you're deceiving me any 
 with this show of formality, you're mightily 
 mistaken. Don't you suppose I knew what 
 I was about when I came into this country? 
 Don't you suppose I had weighed the risks 
 and had made up my mind to take my 
 medicine if I should be caught? Your 
 methods are not quite so secret as you im- 
 agine. I know perfectly well what happens 
 to Free Traders in Rupert's Land." 
 
 " You seem very certain of your informa- 
 tion.' 7 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 * Your men seem equally so," pointed out 
 the stranger. 
 
 Galen Albret, at the beginning of the 
 young man's longer speech, had sunk al- 
 most immediately into his passive calm 
 the calm of great elemental bodies, the calm 
 of a force so vast as to rest motionless by 
 the very static power of its mass. When 
 he spoke again, it was in the tentative man- 
 ner of his earlier interrogatory, committing 
 himself not at all, seeking to plumb his op- 
 ponent's knowledge. 
 
 " Why, if you have realized the gravity 
 of your situation have you persisted after 
 having been twice warned ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Because you're not the boss of creation," 
 replied the young man, bluntly. 
 
 Galen Albret merely raised his eyebrows. 
 
 ** I've got as much business in this country 
 as you have," continued the young man, his 
 [34] 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 tone becoming more incisive. " You don't 
 seem to realize that your charter of monop- 
 oly has expired. If the government was 
 Worth a damn it would see to you fellows. 
 You have no more right to order me out of 
 here than I would have to order you out. 
 Suppose some old Husky up on Whale 
 River should send you word that you 
 weren't to trap in the Whale River dis- 
 trict next winter. I'll bet you'd be there. 
 You Hudson Bay men tried the same 
 game out west* It didn't work. You ask 
 your western men if they ever heard of 
 Ned Trent." 
 
 "Your success does not seem to have 
 followed you here," suggested the Factor, 
 ironically. 
 
 The young man smiled. 
 
 ** This Longue Traverse? went on Albret, 
 * what is your idea there ? I have heard 
 [35] 
 
The Catt of the North 
 something of it. What is your informa- 
 tion i 
 
 Ned Trent laughed outright. " You don't 
 imagine there is any secret about that ! " he 
 marvelled. " Why, every child north of 
 the Line knows that. You will send me 
 away without arms, and with but a handful 
 of provisions. If the wilderness and starva- 
 tion fail, your runners will not. I shall 
 never reach the Temiscamingues alive." 
 
 " The same old legend," commented Galen 
 Albret in apparent amusement, " I heard it 
 when I first came to this country. You'll 
 find a dozen such in every Indian camp. M 
 
 "Jo Bagneau, Morris Proctor, John May, 
 William Jarvis," checked off the young man 
 on his fingers. 
 
 "Personal enmity," replied the Factor. 
 
 He glanced up to meet the young man* 
 steady,, sceptical smile. 
 
 [36] 
 
Chapter Three 
 
 " You do not believe me ? 
 
 44 Oh, if it amuses you,' conceded the 
 stranger 
 
 44 The thing is not even worth discussion/ 
 
 " Remarkable sensation among our friends 
 here for so idle a tale." 
 
 Galen Albret considered. 
 
 * You will remember that throughout you 
 have forced this interview," he pointed out. 
 44 Now I must ask your definite promise to 
 get out of this country and to stay out." 
 
 44 No," replied Ned Trent. 
 
 44 Then a means shall be found to make 
 you I " threatened the Factor, his anger 
 blazing at last 
 
 44 Ah,'' said the stranger softly. 
 
 Galen Albret raised his hand and let it 
 fall The bronzed and gaudily bedecked 
 men filed out. 
 
 [37] 
 
Chapter Four 
 
 In the open air the men separated in quest 
 of their various families or friends. The 
 stranger lingered undecided for a moment 
 on the top step of the veranda, and then 
 wandered down the little street, if street it 
 could be called where horses there were 
 none. On the left ranged the square white- 
 washed houses with their dooryards, the old 
 church, the workshop. To the right was a 
 broad grass-plot, and then the Moose, slip- 
 ping by to the distant offing. Over a little 
 bridge the stranger idled, looking curiously 
 about him. The great trading-house at- 
 tracted his attention, with its narrow picket 
 
Chapter Four 
 
 lane leading to the door ; the storehouse sur- 
 rounded by a protective log fence; the fort 
 itself, a medley of heavy-timbered stockades 
 and square block-houses. After a moment 
 he resumed his strolling. Everywhere he 
 went the people looked at him, ceasing their 
 varied occupations. No one spoke to him, 
 no one hindered him. To all intents and 
 purposes he was as free as the air. But all 
 about the island flowed the barrier of the 
 Moose, and beyond frowned the wilderness 
 strong as iron bars to an unarmed man. 
 
 Brooding on his imprisonment the Free 
 Trader forgot his surroundings. The post, 
 the river, the forest, the distant bay faded 
 from his sight, and he fell into deep reflec- 
 tion. There remained nothing of physical 
 consciousness but a sense of the grateful 
 spring warmth from the declining sun. At 
 length he became vaguely aware of some- 
 [39] 
 
The Call of the North 
 thing else. He glanced up. Right by him 
 he saw a handsome French half-breed 
 sprawled out in the sun against a building, 
 looking him straight in the face and flashing 
 up at him a friendly smile. 
 
 "Hullo,'' said Achille Picard, "you mus' 
 been 'sleep. I call you two free tarn." 
 
 The prisoner seemed to find something 
 grateful in the greeting even from the 
 enemy's camp. Perhaps it merely happened 
 upon the psychological moment for a re- 
 sponse. 
 
 "Hullo,** he returned, and seated himself 
 by the man's side, lazily stretching himseU 
 in enjoyment of the reflected heat. 
 
 ** You is come off Kettle Portage, eh," said 
 Achille, "I fink so. You is come trade 
 dose fur ? Eet is bad beez-ness, dis Conjur* 
 House. Ole* man he no lak' dat you trade 
 dose fiir. He's very hard, dat ole man.* 
 [40] 
 
Chapter Four 
 
 " Yes,' replied the stranger, " he has got 
 to be, I suppose. This is the country of 
 la Longue Traverse" 
 
 " I beleef you/* responded Achille, cheer* 
 fully ; ' ' w'at you call heem your nam' ? " 
 
 "Ned Trent." 
 
 "Me Achille Achille Heard. I capi- 
 taine of dose dogs on dat winter brigade*' 
 
 " It is a hard post. The winter travel is 
 pretty tough." 
 
 " I beleef you." 
 
 "Better to take la Longue Traverse hi 
 summer, eh ? " 
 
 " La Longue Traverse hees not mattaire 
 w'en yo tak heem." 
 
 " Right you are. Have there been men 
 sent out since you came here ? " 
 
 "Ba oui. Wan, two, free. I don* re- 
 member. I t'ink Jo Bagneau. Nobodee 
 he don" know, but dat ole man an f hees 
 
The Call of the North 
 coureurs du bois. He ees wan ver f great 
 man. Nobodee is know w'at he will do.*' 
 
 " I'm due to hit that trail myself, I sup- 
 pose," said Ned Trent. 
 
 " I have t'ink so," acknowledged Achille, 
 still with a tone of most engaging cheerful 
 ness. 
 
 "Shall I be sent out at once, do you 
 think?" 
 
 "I don* know. Sometam' dat ole man 
 ver* queek. Sometam' he ver' slow. One 
 day Injun mak' heem ver mad ; he let 
 heem go, and shot dat Injun right off 
 Noder tain he get mad on one voyageur, 
 but he don' keel heem queek ; he bring 
 heem here, mak' heem stay in dose warm 
 room, feed heem dose plaintee grub. Purty 
 soon dose voyageur is get fat, is go sof ; he 
 no good for dose trail. Ole man he mak' 
 heem go ver' far off, mos' to Whale Reever< 
 
Chapter Four 
 
 Eet is plaintee cole. Dat voyage^r, hr 
 freeze to hees inside. Dey tell me hr feex 
 heem like dat." 
 
 ** Achille, you haven't anything against me 
 do you want me to die ? " 
 
 The half-breed flashed his white teeth. 
 
 " Bd non? he replied, carelessly. " For 
 w'at I want dat you die ? I t'ink you bus' 
 up bad ; vous avez la mauvaise fortune" 
 
 "Listen. I have nothing with me; but 
 out at the front I am very rich. I will 
 give you a hundred dollars, if you will help 
 me to get away." 
 
 " I can' do eet," smiled Picard. 
 
 " Why not?" 
 
 *'Ole man he fin* dat out. He is wan 
 devil, dat ole man. I lak firs'-rate help 
 you ; I lak' dat hundred dollar. On Ojib- 
 way countree dey make hees nam' Wagosh 
 dat mean fox. He know everything." 
 43] 
 
The CaU of the North 
 
 ** I'll make it two hundred three hundred 
 five hundred." 
 
 "Wat you wan 7 me do?" hesitated 
 Achille Picard at the last figure. 
 
 " Get me a rifle and some cartridges.** 
 
 The half-breed rolled a cigarette, lighted 
 it, and inhaled a deep breath. 
 
 " I can' do eet," he declared. " I can" do 
 eet for t'ousand dollar ten thousand. I 
 don't t'ink you fin' any wan on dis settle- 
 ment w'at can dare do eet. He k win 
 devil. He's count all de carabine on dis 
 pos', an' w'en he is mees wan, he fin* out 
 purty queek who is tak' heem*** 
 
 " Steal one from someone else," suggested 
 Trent. 
 
 " He fin* out jess sam'," objected the half- 
 breed, obstinately. " You don* know heem. 
 He mak" you geev yourself away, when he 
 Uk' do dat" The smile had left the man's 
 [44] 
 
Chapter Four 
 
 face. This was evidently too serious a mat- 
 ter to be taken lightly. 
 
 " Well, come with me, then," urged Ned 
 Trent, with some impatience. "A thou- 
 sand dollars I'll give you. With that you 
 can be rich somewhere else." 
 
 But the man was becoming more and 
 more uneasy, glancing furtively from left to 
 right and back again, in an evident panic 
 lest the conversation be overheard, although 
 the nearest dwelling-house was a score of 
 yards distant. 
 
 "Hush," he whispered. "You mustn't 
 talk lak' dat. Dose ole man fin' you out. 
 You can* hide away from heem. Ole tarn 
 long ago, Pierre Cadotte is stole feefteen 
 skin of de otter de sea-otter and he is 
 sol' dem on Winnipeg. He is get 'bout 
 t'ousand beaver five hunder* dollar. Den 
 he is mak' dose longue voyage wes' 
 45] 
 
The Vail of the North 
 far wes' on dit Peace Reever. He is mat 
 heem dose cabane, w'ere he is leev long tarn 
 wid wan man of Mackenzie. He is call it 
 hees nam' Dick Henderson. I is meet 
 Dick Henderson on Winnipeg las' year, 
 w'en I mak' paddle on dem Factor Brigade, 
 an* dose High Commissionaire. He is toF 
 me wan night pret' late he wake up all de 
 queeck he can w'en he is hear wan noise in 
 dose cabane, an' he is see wan Injun, lak* 
 phantome 'gainst de moon to de door. 
 Dick Henderson he is 'sleep, he don' know 
 w'at he mus' do. Does Injun is step ver 
 sof an' go on bunk of Pierre Cadotte. 
 Pierre Cadotte is mak' de beeg cry. Dick 
 Henderson say he no see dose Injun no 
 more, an' he fin' de door shut. Bd Pierre 
 Cadotte, she's go dead. He is mak' wan 
 beeg hole in hees dies'. " 
 ** Some enemy, some robber frightened 
 
Chapter Four 
 
 because the Henderson man woke 
 probably," suggested Ned Trent 
 
 The half-breed laid his hand impressively 
 on the other's arm and leaned forward until 
 his bright black eyes were within a foot of 
 the other's face, 
 
 "Wen dose Injun is stan* heem in de 
 moonlight, Dick Henderson is see hees face. 
 Dick Henderson is know all dose Injun. 
 He is tole me dat Injun is not Peace 
 Reever Injun. Dick Henderson is say 
 dose Injun is Ojibway Injun Ojibway 
 Injun two t'ousand mile wes' on Peace 
 Reever ! Dat's curi's 1 " 
 
 " I was tell you nodder story " went on 
 Achille, after a moment. 
 
 " Never mind," interrupted the Trader. "I 
 believe you.** 
 
 "Maybee," said Achille cheerfully, "you 
 8tan' some show not moche eef he sen' 
 
The Call of the North 
 you out pret* queeck. Does small perdrim 
 is yonge, an* dose duck. Maybee you is 
 catch dem, maybee you is keel dem wit 1 
 bow an' arrow. Cat's not beeg chance. 
 Yo mus* geev dose coureurs de bois de 
 sleep w'en you arrive. Voila, I geev you 
 \ my knife l n 
 
 He glanced rapidly to right and left, then 
 slipped a small object into the stranger's 
 hand. 
 
 " Bd, I t'ink does ole man is know dat. I 
 t'ink he kip you here till tarn w*en dose 
 perdrix and duck is all grow up beeg* nuff 
 so he can fly/ 
 
 " I'm not watched," said the young man in 
 eager tones ; " I'll slip away to-nigh t." 
 
 "Dat no good," objected Picard. "Wat 
 
 you do ? S'pose you do dat, dose coureurs 
 
 keel you toute mite, Dey is have good 
 
 excuse, an' you is have nothing to mak* de 
 
 48] 
 
Chapter Pour 
 
 fight. You sleep away, and dose ole man 
 is sen* out plaintee Injun. Dey is fine you 
 sure. 22 a. eef he sen you out, den he sen* 
 onlee two Injun. Maybee you fight dem ; 
 I don* know. Non, man ami, eef you is 
 wan' get away w'en dose ole man he don 
 know eet, you mus have dose carabine. 
 Den you is have wan leetle chance. Bd % 
 eef you is not have heem dose carabine, you 
 mus* need dose leetle grub he geev you, and 
 aot plaintee Injun follow you, onlee two." 
 
 " And I cannot get the rifle." 
 
 " An' dose ole man is don* sen' you out till 
 eet is too late for mak' de grub on de fores', 
 Dat's w'at I t'ink. Dat ees not fonny for 
 you." 
 
 Ned Trent's eyes were almost black with 
 thought Suddenly he threw his head up. 
 
 "1*11 make him send me out now," he 
 asserted confidently. 
 
 [49J 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 * How you mak' eet him ? " 
 
 " 111 talk turkey to him till he's so mad 
 he can't see straight. Then maybe he'll 
 send me out right away," 
 
 " How you mak' eet him so mad ? in 
 quired Picard, with mild curiosity. 
 
 " Never you mind 111 do it" 
 
 " Bd oui," ruminated Picard, " He is get 
 mad pret' queeck. 1 t ink praps dat plan 
 he go all right. You was get heem mad 
 plaintee easy. Den maybee he is sen' you 
 out toute suite maybee he is shoot you." 
 
 " 111 take the chances my friend." 
 
 "Bd old," shrugged Achille Picard, "eet 
 is wan chance." 
 
 He commenced to roll another cigarette. 
 
 [501 
 
ilkaptcr 
 
 Having sat buried in thought for a full five 
 minutes after the traders of the wintei 
 posts had left him, Galen Albret thrust 
 back his chair and walked into a room, 
 long, low, and heavily raftered, strikingly 
 unlike the Council Room, Its floor was 
 overlaid with dark rugs ; a piano of ancient 
 nodel filled one corner; pictures and books 
 broke the wall ; the lamps and the windows 
 were shaded ; a woman's work-basket and a 
 tea-set occupied a large table. Only a cer* 
 tain barbaric profusion of furs, the huge 
 fireplace?, and the rough rafters of the 
 eeiling differentiated the place from the 
 [51] 
 
The Call of the North 
 drawing-room of a well-to-do family any- 
 where, 
 
 Galen Albret sank heavily into a chair and 
 struck a bell. A tall, slightly stooped Eng- 
 lish servant, with correct side whiskers and 
 incompetent, watery blue eyes, answered. 
 To him said the Factor: 
 
 * 1 wish to see Miss Albret/ 
 
 A moment later Virginia entered the room. 
 
 " Let us have some tea. O-mi-mu" re- 
 quested her father. 
 
 The girl moved gently about, preparing 
 and lighting the lamp, measuring the tea, 
 her fair head bowed gracefully over her 
 task, her dark eyes pensive and but half 
 following what she did. Finally with a 
 certain air of decision she seated herself on 
 the arm of a chair. 
 
 '* Father, said she. 
 
Cliapter Five 
 
 " A stranger came to-day with Louis Pla> 
 cide of Kettle Portage." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " He was treated strangely by our people^ 
 and he treated them strangely in return. 
 Why is that?" 
 
 "Who can tell?" 
 
 " What is his station ? Is he a common 
 trader? He does not look it." 
 
 " He is a man of intelligence and daring." 
 
 " Then why is he not our guest? " 
 
 Galen Albret did not answer. After a 
 moment's pause he asked again for his tea. 
 The girl turned away impatiently. Here 
 was a puzzle, neither the voyageurs, nor 
 Wishkobun her nurse, nor her father would 
 explain to her. The first had grinned stu- 
 pidly ; the second had drawn her shawl 
 across her face, the third asked for tea ! 
 
 She handed her father the cup, hesitated 
 [53] 
 
The Call of the North 
 tfien ventured to inquire whether she was 
 forbidden to greet the stranger should the 
 occasion arise, 
 
 " He is a gentleman," replied her father. 
 
 She sipped her tea thoughtfully, her im- 
 agination stirring. Again her recollection 
 lingered over the clear bronze lines of the 
 stranger's face. Something vaguely familiar 
 seemed to touch her consciousness with 
 ghostly lingers. She closed her eyes and 
 tried to clutch them. At once they were 
 withdrawn. And then again, when her at- 
 tention wandered, they stole back, plucking 
 appealingly at the hem of her recollections. 
 
 The room was heavy-curtained, deep em- 
 brasured, for the house, beneath its clap- 
 boards, was of logs* Although out of doors 
 the clear spring sunshine still flooded the 
 valley of the Moose ; within, the shadows 
 bad begun with velvet fingers to extinguish 
 [54] 
 
Chapter Fvve 
 
 the brighter lights. Virginia threw her- 
 self back on a chair in the corner. 
 
 " Virginia," said Galen Albret, suddenly. 
 
 " Yes, father." 
 
 " You are no longer a child, but a woman. 
 Would you like to go to Quebec ? w 
 
 She did not answer him at once, but pon- 
 dered beneath close-knit brows. 
 
 "Do you wish me to go, father?" she 
 asked at length. 
 
 " You are eighteen. It is time you saw 
 the world, time you learned the ways of 
 other people. But the journey is hard. I 
 may not see you again for some years. 
 You go among strangers." 
 
 He fell silent again. Motionless he had 
 been, except for the mumbling of his lips 
 beneath his beard. 
 
 " It shall be just as you wish," he added 
 a moment later, 
 
 [56] 
 
The Call of the NortK 
 At once a conflict arose in the giiTs mind 
 between her restless dreams and her affec- 
 tions. But beneath all the glitter of the 
 question there was really nothing to take 
 her out. Here was her father, here were 
 the things she loved ; yonder was novelty 
 and loneliness. 
 
 Her existence at Conjuror's House was 
 perhaps a little complex, but it was familiar. 
 She knew the people, and she took a daily 
 and unwearying delight in the kindness 
 and simplicity of their bearing toward her- 
 self. Each detail of life came to her in 
 the round of habit, wearing the garment of 
 accustomed use. But of the world she 
 knew nothing except what she had been 
 able to body forth from her reading, and that 
 had merely given her imagination something 
 tangible with which to feed her self-dis- 
 trust. 
 
 [66] 
 
CJiapter Five 
 
 ** Must I decide at once ? " she asked. 
 
 ** If you go this year, it must be with the 
 Abitibi brigade. You have until then." 
 
 " Thank you, father.'* said the girl, 
 sweetly. 
 
 The shadows stole their surroundings one 
 by one, until only the bright silver of the 
 tea-service, and the glitter of polished wood, 
 and the square of the open door remained. 
 Galen Albret became an inert dark mass. 
 Virginia's gray was lost in that of the twi- 
 light. 
 
 Time passed. The clock ticked on. 
 Faintly sounds penetrated from the kitchen, 
 and still more faintly from out of doors. 
 Then the rectangle of the door- way was 
 darkened by a man peering uncertainly. 
 The man wore his hat, from which slanted a 
 slender heron's plume ; his shoulders were 
 square; his thighs slim and graceful 
 [571 
 
The Call of the North 
 Against the light, one caught the outline of 
 the sash's tassel and the fringe of his leg 
 gings. 
 
 " Are you there, Galen Albret ? " he chal- 
 lenged. 
 
 The spell of twilight mystery broke. It 
 seemed as if suddenly the air had become 
 surcharged with the vitality of opposition. 
 
 " What then ? " countered the Factor's 
 heavy, deliberate tones. 
 
 "True, I see you now," rejoined the 
 visitor carelessly, as he flung himself across 
 the arm of a chair and swung one foot 
 " I do not doubt you are convinced by this 
 time of my intention.*' 
 
 " My recollection does not tell me what 
 messenger I sent to ask this interview." 
 
 " Correct," laughed the young man a little 
 kardly. " You didn't ask it. I attended to 
 Ifaet myself. What you want doesn't con* 
 58] 
 
Chapter Five 
 
 oern me in the least. What do you sup 
 pose I care what, or what not, any of this 
 crew wants ? I'm master of nay own ideas, 
 anyway, thank God. If you don't like 
 what I do, you can always stop me." In 
 the tone of his voice was a distinct chal* 
 lenge. Galen Albret, it seemed, chose to 
 pass it by. 
 
 " True," he replied sombrely, after a barely 
 perceptible pause to mark his tacit displeas- 
 ure. " It is your hour. Say on." 
 
 " I should like to know the date at which 
 I take la Longue Traverse." 
 
 " You persist in that nonsense ? w 
 
 " Call my departure whatever you want 
 to I have the name for it. When do I 
 leave ? " 
 
 " I have not decided." 
 
 " And in the meantime ? " 
 Do as you please." 
 
 ** 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 * Ah* thanks for this generosity/' cried the 
 young man, in a tone of declamatory sar- 
 casm so artificial as fairly to scent the elo- 
 cutionary. "To do as I please here 
 now there's a blessed privilege ! I may 
 walk around where I want to, talk to such 
 as have a good word for me, punish those 
 who have not ! But do I err in concluding 
 that the state of your game law is such that 
 it would be useless to reclaim my rifle from 
 the engaging Placide ? " 
 
 "You have a fine instinct," approved the 
 Factor. 
 
 " It is one of my valued possessions/" re- 
 joined the young man, insolently, He 
 struck a match, and by its light selected a 
 cigarette. 
 
 " I do not myself use tobacco in this 
 room," suggested the older speaker. 
 
 * I am curious to learn the limits of your 
 [60] 
 
Chapter Five 
 
 forbearance," replied the younger, proceed- 
 ing to smoke. 
 
 He threw back his head and regarded his 
 opponent with an open challenge, daring 
 him to become angry. The match went 
 out. 
 
 Virginia, who had listened in growing an- 
 ger and astonishment, unable longer to re- 
 frain from defending the dignity of her usu- 
 ally autocratic father, although he seemed 
 little disposed to defend himself, now inter- 
 vened from her dark corner on the divan. 
 
 **Is the journey then so long, sir," she 
 asked composedly, "that it at once inspires 
 such anticipations and such bitterness ? '* 
 
 In an instant the man was on his feet, hat 
 in hand, and the cigarette had described a 
 fiery curve into the empty hearth. 
 
 ** I beg your pardon, sincerely/' he cried, 
 M I did not know you were here I * 
 [61] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 ** You might better apologize to ray father/ 
 replied Virginia. 
 
 The young man stepped forward and 
 without asking permission, lighted one of 
 the tall lamps. 
 
 "The lady of the guns!" he marvelled 
 softly to himself. 
 
 He moved across the room, looking down 
 on her inscrutably, while she looked up at 
 him in composed expectation of an apology 
 and Galen Albret sat motionless, in the 
 shadow of his great arm-chair. But after 
 a moment her calm attention broke down. 
 Something there was about this man that 
 stirred her emotions wnether of curiosity, 
 pity, indignation, or a slight defensive fear 
 she was not introspective enough to care 
 to inquire. And yet the sensation was not 
 altogether unpleasant, and, as at the guns 
 that afternoon, a certain portion of bet 
 [68] 
 
Chapter Five 
 
 consciousness remained in sympathy with 
 whatever it was of mysterious attraction 
 he represented to her. In him she felt the 
 dominant, as a wild creature of the woods 
 instinctively senses the master and drops 
 its eyes. Resentment did not leave her, 
 but over it spread a film of confusion that 
 robbed it of its potency. In him, in his 
 mood, in his words, in his manner, was some- 
 thing that called out in direct appeal the 
 more primitive instincts hitherto dormant 
 beneath her sense of maidenhood, so that 
 even at this vexed moment of conscious op- 
 position, her heart was ranging itself on his 
 side. Overpoweringly the feeling swept her 
 that she was not acting in accordance with 
 her sense of fitness. She knew she should 
 strike, but was unable to give due force to 
 the blow. In the confusion of such a discov- 
 ery, her eyelids fluttered and fell And he 
 [68] 
 
The Call of the North 
 *aw, and, understanding his power, dropped 
 swiftly beside her on the broad divan. 
 
 " You must pardon me, mademoiselle," he 
 begun, his voice sinking to a depth of rich 
 music singularly caressing. "To you I 
 may seem to have small excuses, but when 
 a man is vouchsafed a glimpse of heaven 
 only to be cast out the next instant into 
 hell, he is not always particular in the choice 
 of words.** 
 
 All the time his eyes sought hers, which 
 avoided the challenge, and the strong mas- 
 culine charm of magnetism which he pos- 
 sessed in such vital abundance overwhelmed 
 her unaccustomed consciousness. Galen 
 Albret shifted uneasily, and shot a glance 
 in their direction. The stranger, perceiving 
 this, lowered his voice in register and tone, 
 and went on with almost exaggerated ear- 
 nestness. 
 
Chapter Pvoe 
 
 "Surely you can forgive me, a desperate 
 man, almost anything ? " 
 
 " I do not understand," said Virginia, with 
 a palpable effort. 
 
 Ned Trent leaned forward until his eager 
 face was almost at her shoulder. ^ J 
 
 " Perhaps not," he urged ; " I cannot ask 
 you to try. But suppose, mademoiselle, 
 you were in my case. Suppose your eyes 
 like mine have rested on nothing but a 
 howling wilderness for dear heaven knows 
 how long ; you come at last in sight of real 
 houses, real grass, real door-yard gardens just 
 ready to blossom in the spring, real food, real 
 beds, real books, real men with whom to 
 exchange the sensible word, and something 
 more, mademoiselle a woman such as one 
 dreams of in the long forest nights under 
 the stars. And you know that while others, 
 the lucky ones, may stay to enjoy it all, 
 [65] 
 
The Call of the North 
 you, the unfortunate, are condemned to 
 leave it at any moment for la Longue Tra- 
 verse. Would not you, too, be bitter, made* 
 moiselle ? Would not you too mock and 
 sneer ? Think, mademoiselle, I have not 
 even the little satisfaction of rousing men's 
 anger. I can insult them as I will, but they 
 turn aside in pity, saying one to another : 
 * Let us pleasure him in this, poor fellow, 
 for he is about to take la Longue Traverse.' 
 That is why your father accepts calmly 
 from me what he would not from another.** 
 Virginia sat bolt upright on the divan, her 
 hands clasped in her lap, her wonderful 
 black eyes looking straight out before her, 
 trying to avoid her companion's insistent 
 gaze. His attention was fixed on her mo- 
 bile and changing countenance, but he 
 marked with evident satisfaction Galen Al- 
 bret's growing uneasiness. This was evi 
 [66] 
 
Chapter Five 
 
 denced only by a shifting of the feet, a tap- 
 ping of the fingers, a turning of the shaggy 
 head in such a man slight tokens are sig- 
 nificant. The silence deepened with the 
 shadows drawing about the single lamp, 
 while Virginia attempted to maintain a 
 breathing advantage above the flood of 
 strange ernotions which the personality of 
 this man had swept down upon her. 
 
 " It does not seem " objected the girl in 
 bewilderment, " I do not know men are 
 often out in this country for years at a time. 
 Long journeys are not unknown among us. 
 We are used to undertaking them." 
 
 " But not la Longue Traverse? insisted 
 the young man, sombrely. 
 
 "jLa Longue Traverse? she repeated in 
 sweet perplexity. 
 
 " Sometimes called the Journey of Death," 
 he explained. 
 
 [67] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 She turned to look him in the eyes, a 
 vague expression of puzzled fear on her 
 face. 
 
 "She has never heard of it," said Ned 
 Trent to himself, and aloud: "Men who 
 undertake it leave comfort behind. They 
 embrace hunger and weariness, cold and 
 disease. At the last they embrace death^ 
 and are glad of his coming." 
 
 Something in his tone compelled belief; 
 something in his face told her that he was a 
 man by whom the inevitable hardships of 
 winter and summer travel, fearful as they 
 are, would be lightly endured. She shud- 
 dered. 
 
 " This dreadful thing is necessary 2 " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Alas, yes/ 
 
 " I do not understand * 
 
 "In the North few of us understand,* 
 (68] 
 
Chapter Five 
 
 agreed the young man with a hint of bit- 
 terness seeping through his voice. " The 
 mighty order, and so we obey. But that is 
 beside the point. I have not told you 
 these things to harrow you ; I have tried to 
 excuse myself for my actions. Does it 
 touch you a little ? Am I forgiven ? " 
 
 " I do not understand how such things can 
 be," she objected in some confusion, " why 
 such journeys must exist. My mind can- 
 not comprehend your explanations." 
 
 The stranger leaned forward abruptly, his 
 eyes blazing with the magnetic personality 
 of the man. 
 
 " But your heart ? " he breathed. 
 
 It was the moment. " My heart " she 
 repeated, as though bewildered by the 
 intensity of his eyes, "my heart ah 
 yes!" 
 
 Immediately the blood rushed over her 
 [69] 
 
The Call of the North 
 face and throat in a torrent. She snatched 
 her eyes away, and cowered back in the 
 corner, going red and white by turns, now 
 angry, now frightened, now bewildered, 
 until his gaze, half masterful, half pleading, 
 again conquered hers. Galen Albret had 
 ceased tapping his chair. In the dim light 
 he sat, staring straight before him, massive, 
 inert, grim. 
 
 " I believe you * she murmured hurriedly 
 at last. " I pity you ! " 
 
 She rose. Quick as light he barred her 
 passage. 
 
 "Don't! don't!" she pleaded. "I must 
 go you have shaken me I I do not 
 understand myself " 
 
 " I must see you again," he whispered 
 eagerly. " To-night by the guns." 
 
 "No, no!" 
 
 "To-night," he insisted. 
 [70] 
 
Chapter Five 
 
 She raised her eyes to his, this time naked 
 of defence, so that the man saw down 
 through their depths into her very souL 
 
 44 Oh," she begged, quivering, "let me 
 pass. Don't you see I'm going to cry 1 " 
 
Chapter Six 
 
 For a moment Ned Trent stared through 
 the darkness into which Virginia had disap- 
 peared. Then he turned a troubled face to 
 the task he had set himself, for the unex- 
 pectedly pathetic results of his fantastic at 
 tempt had shaken him. Twice he half 
 turned as though to follow her. Then 
 shaking his shoulders he bent his attention 
 to the old man in the shadow of the chair. 
 
 He was given no opportunity for further 
 speech, however, for at the sound of the 
 closing door Galen Albret's impassivity had 
 fallen from him. He sprang to his feet. 
 The whole aspect of the man suddenly be- 
 
Chapter Six 
 
 came electric, terrible. His eyes blazed ; 
 his heavy brows drew spasmodically tow- 
 ard each other ; his jaws worked, twist- 
 ing his beard into strange contortions; his 
 massive frame straightened formidably ; 
 and his voice rumbled from the arch of 
 his deep chest in a torrent of passionate 
 sound. 
 
 "By God, young man!" he thundered, 
 " you go too far ! Take heed ! I will not 
 stand this ! Do not you presume to make 
 love to my daughter before my eyes ! " 
 
 And Ned Trent, just within the dusky 
 circle of lamplight, where the bold, sneering 
 lines of his face stood out in relief against 
 the twilight of the room, threw back his 
 head and laughed. It was a clear laugh, 
 but low, and in it were all the devils of 
 triumph, and of insolence. Where the 
 studied insult of words had failed, this 
 .[73] 
 
The Call of the North 
 single cachinnation succeeded. The Tradci 
 saw his opponent's eyes narrow For a mo- 
 ment he thought the Factor was about to 
 spring on him. 
 
 Then, with an effort that blackened his 
 face with blood, Galen Albret controlled 
 himself, and fell to striking the call-bell 
 violently and repeatedly with the palm of 
 his hand. After a moment Matthews, the 
 English servant, came running in. To him 
 the Factor was at first physically unable to 
 utter a syllable. Then finally he managed 
 to ejaculate the name of his bows man with 
 such violence of gesture that the frightened 
 servant comprehended by sheer force of 
 terror and ran out again in search of 
 Me-en-gan. 
 
 This supreme effort seemed to clear the 
 way for speech. Galen Albret began to 
 address his opponent hoarsely in quick, dis- 
 E'WI 
 
Chapter Six 
 
 jointed sentences, a gasp for breath between 
 each. 
 
 " You revived an old legend /a Longue 
 Traverse the myth. It shall be real to 
 you I will make it so. By God, you shall 
 not defy me " 
 
 Ned Trent smiled. " You do not deceive 
 me," he rejoined, coolly. 
 
 " Silence! " cried the Factor. " Silence! 
 You shall speak no more ! You have said 
 enough " 
 
 Me-en-gan glided into the room. Galen 
 Albret at once addressed him in the Ojib- 
 way language, gaining control of himself 
 as he went on. 
 
 "Listen to me well," he commanded. 
 "You shall make a count of all rifles in 
 this place at once. Let no one furnish 
 this man with food or arms. You know 
 the story of la Longue Traverse* This 
 
The Call of the North 
 man shall take it. So inform my people, 
 I, the Factor, decree it so. Prepare all 
 things at once understand, at once I * 
 
 Ned Trent waited to hear no more, but 
 sauntered from the room whistling gayly a 
 boatman's song. His point was gained. 
 
 Outside, the long Northern twilight with 
 its beautiful shadows of crimson was de- 
 scending from the upper regions of the east. 
 A light wind breathed up-river from the 
 bay. The Free Trader drew his lungs full 
 of the evening air. 
 
 "Just the same, I think she will come," 
 said he to himself. " La Longiie Traverse, 
 even at once, is a pretty slim chance. But 
 this second string to my bow is better. 1 
 believe I'll get the rifle if she comes >"' 
 
 [76] 
 
Chapter Seven 
 
 Virginia ran quickly up the narrow stairs 
 to her own room, where she threw herself 
 on the bed and buried her face in the 
 pillows. 
 
 As she had said, she was very much shaken. 
 And, too, she was afraid. 
 
 She could not understand. Heretofore she 
 had moved among the men around her, pure, 
 lofty, serene. Now at one blow all this 
 crumbled. The stranger had outraged her 
 finer feelings. He had insulted her father in 
 her very presence ; for this she was angry. 
 He had insulted herself ; for this she was 
 afraid. He had demanded that she meet him 
 [77] 
 
The Call of the North 
 again ; but this at least in the manner he 
 had suggested should not happen. And 
 yet she confessed to herself a delicious won- 
 der as to what he would do next, and a 
 vague desire to see him again in order to 
 find out. That she could not successfully 
 combat this feeling made her angry at her- 
 self. And so in mingled fear, pride, anger, 
 and longing she remained until Wishkobun, 
 the Indian woman, glided in to dress her for 
 the dinner whose formality she and her father 
 consistently maintained. She fell to talking 
 the soft O jib way dialect, and in the con- 
 versation forgot some of her emotion and 
 regained some of her calm. 
 
 Her surface thoughts, at least, were com- 
 pelled for the moment to occupy themselves 
 with other things. The Indian woman had 
 to tell her of the silver fox brought in by 
 Mu-hi-ken, an Indian of her own tribe ; of 
 [78] 
 
Chapter Seven 
 
 the retort Achille Picard had made when 
 MacLane had taunted him ; of the forest 
 fire that had declared itself far to the east, 
 and of the theories to account for it where 
 no campers had been. Yet underneath 
 the rambling chatter Virginia was aware 
 of something new in her consciousness, 
 something delicious but as yet vague. In 
 the gayest moment of her half-jesting, half- 
 xffectionate gossip with the Indian woman, 
 she felt its uplift catching her breath from 
 beneath, so that for the tiniest instant she 
 would pause as though in readiness for some 
 message which nevertheless delayed. A 
 fresh delight in the present moment held her, 
 a fresh anticipation of the immediate future, 
 though both delight and anticipation were 
 based on something without her knowledge. 
 That would come later. 
 The sound of rapid footsteps echoed across 
 [79] 
 
The Call of the North 
 the lower hall, a whistle ran into an air, sung 
 gayly, with spirit: 
 
 gt J*ai perdu ma maitresse, 
 Sans V avoir merite 1 , 
 Pour un bouquet de roses 
 Queje f ui refusal. 
 U, ya longtemps queje t'aimc, 
 Jamaisje ne CoubUerai ! " 
 
 She fell abruptly silent, and spoke no more 
 until she descended to the council-room 
 where the table was now spread for dinner. 
 
 Two silver candlesticks lit the place. The 
 men were waiting for her when she entered, 
 and at once took their seats in the worn, 
 rude chairs. White linen and glittering 
 silver adorned the service. Galen Albret 
 occupied one end of the table, Virginia the 
 other. On either side were Doctor and Mrs, 
 Cockburn ; McDonald, the Chief Trader ; 
 Richardson, the clerk, and Crane, the 
 [80] 
 
Chapter Seven 
 
 ,-;ionary of the Church of England. Matthews 
 served with rigid precision in the order of 
 importance, first the Factor, then Virginia, 
 then the doctor, his wife, McDonald, the 
 clerk, and Crane in due order. On entering 
 a room the same precedence would have 
 held good. Thus these people, six hundred 
 miles as the crow flies from the nearest 
 settlement, maintained their shadowy hold 
 on civilization. 
 
 The glass was fine, the silver massive, the 
 linen dainty, Matthews waited faultlessly : 
 but overhead hung the rough timbers of the 
 wilderness post, across the river faintly 
 could be heard the howling of wolves. The 
 fare was rice, curry, salt pork, potatoes, and 
 beans ; for at this season the game was 
 poor, and the fish hardly yet running with 
 regularity. 
 
 Throughout the meal Virginia sat in a 
 [81] 
 
The Call of the North 
 singular abstraction. No conscious thoughts 
 took shape in her mind, but nevertheless 
 she seemed to herself to be occupied in con- 
 sidering weighty matters. When directly 
 addressed, she answered sweetly. Much of 
 the time she studied her father's face. She 
 found it old. Those lines were already evi- 
 dent which, when first noted, bring a stab 
 of surprised pain to the breast of a child 
 the droop of the mouth, the wrinkling of 
 the temples, the patient weariness of the 
 eyes. Virginia's own eyes filled with tears. 
 The subjective passive state into which a 
 newly born but not yet recognized love had 
 cast her, inclined her to gentleness. She 
 accepted facts as they came to her. For 
 the moment she forgot the mere happen- 
 ings of the day, and lived only in the result- 
 ing mood of them all. The new-comer in- 
 spired her no longer with anger nor scr- 
 im 
 
Chapter Seven 
 
 row, attraction nor fear. Her active emo- 
 tions in abeyance, she floated dreamily on 
 the clouds of a new estate. 
 
 This very aloofness of spirit disinclined her 
 for the company of the others after the meal 
 was finished. The Factor closeted himself 
 vith Richardson. The doctor, lighting a 
 cheroot, took his way across to his infirmary, 
 McDonald, Crane, and Mrs. Cockburn 
 entered the drawing-room and seated them- 
 selves near the piano. Virginia hesitated, 
 then threw a shawl over her head and stepped 
 tmt on the broad veranda. 
 
 At once the vast, splendid beauty of 
 the Northern night broke over her soul. 
 Straight before her gleamed and flashed and 
 ebbed and palpitated the aurora. One mo- 
 ment its long arms shot beyond the zenith ; 
 the next it had broken and rippled back like 
 a brook of light to its arch over the Great 
 [83] 
 
The Call of the North 
 Bear. Never for an instant was it still. Its 
 restlessness stole away the quiet of the 
 evening ; but left it magnificent. 
 
 In comparison with this coruscating dome 
 of the infinite the earth had shrunken to 
 a narrow black band of velvet, in which 
 was nothing distinguishable until suddenly 
 the sky-line broke in calm silhouettes of 
 spruce and firs. And always the mighty 
 River of the Moose, gleaming, jewelled, 
 barbaric in its reflections, slipped by to 
 the sea. 
 
 So rapid and bewildering was the motion 
 of these two great powers the river and 
 the sky that the imagination could not 
 believe in silence. It was as though the 
 earth were full of shoutings and of tumults. 
 And yet in reality the night was as still 
 as a tropical evening. The wolves and the 
 sledge -dogs answered each other undis- 
 [84] 
 
Chapter Seven 
 
 turbed ; the beautiful songs of the wJhite- 
 throats stole from the forest as divinely in- 
 stinct as ever with the spirit of peace. 
 
 Virginia leaned against the railing and 
 looked upon it all. Her heart was big with 
 emotions, many of which she could not 
 name ; her eyes were full of tears. Some- 
 thing had changed in her since yesterday, 
 but she did not know what it was. The 
 faint wise stars, the pale moon just sinking, 
 the gentle south breeze could have told her, 
 for they are old, old in the world's affairs. 
 Occasionally a flash more than ordinarily 
 brilliant would glint one of the bronze guns 
 beneath the flag- staff. Then Virginia's heart 
 would glint too. She imagined the reflec- 
 tion startled her. 
 
 She stretched her arms out to the night, 
 embracing its glories, sighing in sympathy 
 with its meaning, which she did not know. 
 [85] 
 
The Call of the North 
 She felt the desire of restlessness ; yet she 
 eould not bear to go. But no thought of 
 the stranger touched her, for you see as yet 
 she did not understand. 
 
 Then, quite naturally, she heard his voice 
 in the darkness close to her knee. It 
 seemed inevitable that he should be there ; 
 part of the restless, glorious night, part of 
 her mood. She gave no start of surprise, 
 but half closed her eyes and leaned her fair 
 head against a pillar of the veranda. He 
 sang in a sweet undertone an old chanson 
 of voyage. 
 
 " Par derrier* chez mon pere, 
 Vole, mon cceur, vote t 
 Parderrier* chez mon pere 
 LA-ya-t-un pommier doux." 
 
 ** Ah lady, lady mine/' broke in the voice 
 softly, "the night too is sweet, soft as thine 
 eyes. Will you not greet me ? * 
 86] 
 
Chapter Seven 
 
 The girl made no sign. After a moment 
 the song went on. 
 
 Troisjilies <Tim pnncc, 
 Vole, man cceur, vote I 
 Troisjilles ffun prince 
 Sont endorrmes dessous" 
 
 ** Will not the princess leave her sisters of 
 dreams ? " whispered the voice, fantastically, 
 " Will she not come ? " 
 
 Virginia shivered, and half-opened her 
 eyes, but did not stir. It seemed that the 
 darkness sighed, then became musical again. 
 
 t La plusjeun se r&veille, 
 Vole, mon cceur, vole ! 
 La plusjeun se r&veille 
 Ma Sceur, voild lejour } 
 
 The song broke this time without a word 
 of pleading. The girl opened her eyes wide 
 and stared breathlessly straight before her 
 at the singer. 
 
 [87] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 ATon, <% n'est qu'une e&, 
 Fofe, won co?r, twwe / 
 A 7 on, ce ftw qu'Mne etou* 
 Qu'&taire no* amours *** 
 
 The last word rolled out through its 
 sionate throat tones and died into silence. 
 
 " Come ! " repeated the man again, this 
 time almost in the accents of command. 
 
 She turned slowly and went to him, her 
 eyes childlike and frightened, her lips wide, 
 her face pale. When she stood face to face 
 with him she swayed and almost fell. 
 
 " What do you want with me ? " she fal- 
 tered, with a little sob. 
 
 The man looked at her keenly, laughed, 
 and exclaimed in an every-day, matter-of- 
 fact voice: 
 
 " Why, I really believe my song frightened 
 you. It is only a boating song. Come, let 
 us go and sit on the gun-carriages and talk." 
 [88] 
 
Chapter Seven 
 
 " Oh ! tk she gasped, a trifle hysterically, 
 " Don't do that again ! Please don't. I do 
 not understand it I You must not ! * 
 
 He laughed again, but with a note of ten- 
 derness in his voice, and took her hand to 
 lead her away, humming in an undertone 
 the last couplet of his song : 
 
 " Non, ce nest quune Aoile, 
 Qufrlaire no* amours I " 
 
Chapter Eight 
 
 Virginia went with this man passively 
 to an appointment which, but an hour ago, 
 she had promised herself she would not 
 keep. Her inmost soul was stirred, just as 
 before. Then it had been few words, now 
 it was a little common song. But the 
 strange power of the man held her close, so 
 she realized that for the moment at least 
 she would do as he desired. In the amaze- 
 ment and consternation of this thought she 
 found time to offer up a little prayers 
 f *Dear God ? make him kind to rne/' 
 
 They leaned against the old bronze guns, 
 facing the river. He pulled her shawl 
 
Chapter Eight 
 
 about her, masterfully yet with gentleness, 
 and then, as though it was the most natural 
 thing in the world, he drew her to him 
 until she rested against his shoulder. And 
 she remained there, trembling, in suspense, 
 glancing at him quickly, in birdlike, plead- 
 ing glances, as though praying him to be 
 kind. He took no notice after that, so the 
 act seemed less like a caress than a matter 
 of course. He began to talk, half-humor 
 ously, and little by little, as he went on, she 
 forgot her fears, even her feeling of strange- 
 ness, and fell completely under the spell of 
 his power. 
 
 "My name is Ned Trent,** he told her, 
 " and I am from Quebec. I am a woods 
 runner, I have journeyed far. I have 
 been to the uttermost ends of the North, 
 even up beyond the Hills of Silence." 
 
 And then, in his gay, half-mocking, yot 
 [91] 
 
The Call of the North 
 musical voice he touched lightly on vast 
 and distant things. He talked of the great 
 Saskatchewan, of Peace River, and the 
 delta of the Mackenzie, of the winter jour 
 neys beyond Great Bear Lake into the 
 Land of the Little Sticks, and the half- 
 mythical lake of Yamba Tooh. He spoke 
 of life with the Dog Ribs and Yellow 
 Knives, where the snow falls in midsum 
 mer. Before her eyes slowly spread, like * 
 panorama, the whole extent of the great 
 North, with its fierce, hardy men, its dread- 
 ful journeys by canoe and sledge, its frozen 
 barrens, its mighty forests, its solemn 
 charm. All at once this post of Conjuror's 
 House, a month in the wilderness as it was, 
 seemed very small and tame and civilized 
 for the simple reason that Death did not 
 always compass it about. 
 *' It was very cold then," said Ned Trent 
 [921 
 
Chapter Eight 
 
 "and very hard. Le grand frete* of win- 
 ter had come. At night we had no othel 
 shelter than our blankets, and we could not 
 keep a fire because the spruce burned too 
 fast and threw too many coals. For a long 
 time we shivered, curled up on our snow- 
 shoes ; then fell heavily asleep, so that even 
 the dogs fighting over us did not awaken us. 
 Two or three times in the night we boiled 
 tea. We had to thaw our moccasins each 
 morning by thrusting them inside our shirts. 
 Even the Indians were shivering and saying, 
 ' Ed-sa, yazzi ed-sa ' * it is cold, very cold.' 
 And when we came to Rae it was not much 
 better. A roaring fire in the fireplace could 
 not prevent the ink from freezing on the 
 pen. This went on for five months.** 
 
 Thus he spoke, as one who says common 
 things. He said little of himself, but as he 
 
 Froid-cold. 
 
 [93] 
 
The Call of the NortH 
 went on in short, curt sentences the picture 
 grew more distinct, and to Virginia the 
 man became more and more prominent in 
 it. She saw the dying and exhausted dogs, 
 the frost-rimed, weary men ; she heard the 
 quick crunch, crunch, crunch of the snow- 
 shoes hurrying ahead to break the trail ; she 
 felt the cruel torture of the mat de raquette, 
 the shrivelling bite of the frost, the pain of 
 snow blindness, the hunger that yet could 
 not stomach the frozen fish nor the hairy, 
 black caribou meat. One thing she could 
 not conceive the indomitable spirit of the 
 men. She glanced timidly up at her com- 
 panion's face. 
 
 "The Company is a cruel master," she 
 sighed at last, standing upright, then lean- 
 ing against the carriage of the gun. He 
 let her go without protest, almost without 
 thought, it seemed. 
 
 [94] 
 
Chapter Eight 
 
 " But not mine," said he. 
 
 She exclaimed, in astonishment, " Are you 
 not of the Company ? " 
 
 " I am no man's man but my own," he 
 answered, simply. 
 
 " Then why do you stay in this dreadful 
 North ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because I love it. It is my life. I want 
 to go where no man has set foot before me; 
 I want to stand alone under the sky; I 
 want to show myself that nothing is too big 
 for me no difficulty, no hardship noth- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Why did you come here, then ? Here 
 at least are forests so that you can keep 
 warm. This is not so dreadful as the Cop- 
 permine, and the country of the Yellow 
 Knives. Did you come here to try la 
 Longue Traverse of which you spoke 
 to-day?" 
 
 [95] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 He fell suddenly sombre, biting in reflec- 
 tion at his lip. 
 
 "No yes why not? " he said, at length. 
 
 " I know you will come out of it safely," 
 said she; "I feel it. You are brave and 
 used to travel. Won't you tell me about 
 it?" 
 
 He did not reply. After a moment she 
 looked up in surprise. His brows were 
 knit in reflection. He turned to her again, 
 his eyes glowing into hers. Once more 
 the fascination of the man grew big, over- 
 whelmed her. She felt her heart flutter, 
 her consciousness swim, her old terroi 
 returning. 
 
 " Listen," said he. " I may come to you 
 to-morrow and ask you to choose between 
 your divine pity and what you might think 
 to be your duty. Then I will tell you all 
 there is to know of la Longue Traverse* 
 [96] 
 
Chapter Eight 
 
 Now it is a secret of the Company. You 
 are a Factor's daughter; you know what 
 that means." He dropped his head. " Ah, 
 I am tired tired with it all ! " he cried, in 
 a voice strangely unhappy. " But yesterday 
 I played the game with all my old spirit; 
 to-day the zest is gone ! I no longer care." 
 He felt the pressure of her hand. "Are 
 you just a little sorry for me?" he asked. 
 " Sorry for a weakness you do not under- 
 stand ? You must think me a fool." 
 
 " I know you are unhappy," replied Vir- 
 ginia, gently. " I am truly sorry for that." 
 
 " Are you ? Are you, indeed ? " he cried. 
 " Unhappiness is worth such pity as yours." 
 He brooded for a moment, then threw his 
 hands out with what might have been a 
 gesture of desperate indifference. Suddenly 
 his mood changed in the whimsical, bewil- 
 dering fashion of the man. "Ah, a star 
 [97] 
 
The Call of the North 
 shoots ! " he exclaimed, gayly. " That means 
 a kiss!" 
 
 Still laughing, he attempted to draw her to 
 him. Angry, mortified, outraged, she fought 
 herself free and leaped to her feet. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, in insulted anger. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, in a red shame. 
 
 " OA/" she cried, in sorrow. 
 
 Her calm broke. She burst into the violent 
 sobbing of a child, and turned and ran hur 
 riedly to the factory. 
 
 Ned Trent stared after her a minute from 
 beneath scowling brows. He stamped his 
 moccasined foot impatiently. 
 
 " Like a rat in a trap ! " he jeered at him- 
 self. " Like a rat in a trap, Ned Trent 1 
 The fates are drawing around you close. 
 You need just one little thing, and you can- 
 not get it. Bribery is useless ! Force is 
 useless ! Craft is useless ! This afternoon 
 [98] 
 
Chapter Eight 
 
 1 thought I saw another way. What I could 
 get no other way 1 might get from this little 
 girl. She is only a child. I believe I could 
 touch her pity ah, Ned Trent, Ned Trent, 
 can you ever forget her frightened, white 
 face begging you to be kind ? " He paced 
 back and forth between the two bronze guns 
 with long, straight strides, like a panther in 
 a cage. " Her aid is mine for the asking 
 but she makes it impossible to ask ! I could 
 not do it. Better try la Longue Traver.se 
 than take advantage of her pity she'd 
 surely get into trouble. What wonderful 
 eyes she has. She thinks I am a brute how 
 she sobbed, as though her little heart had 
 broken. Well, it was the only way to de- 
 stroy her interest in me. I had to do it. 
 Now she will despise me and forget me. It 
 is better that she should think me a brute 
 than that I should be always haunted by 
 T99] 
 
The Call of the North 
 those pleading eyes." The door of the dis- 
 tant church house opened and closed. He 
 smiled bitterly. "To be sure, I haven't 
 tried that/' he acknowledged. " Their teach- 
 ings are singularly apropos to my case 
 mercy, justice, humanity yes, and love of 
 man. Ill try it. Ill call for help on the 
 love of man, since I cannot on the love of 
 
 woman. The love of woman ah yes.* 1 
 
 He set his feet reflectively toward th 
 2hapel. 
 
 I100J 
 
Chapter Nine 
 
 After a moment he pushed open the door 
 wit-hout ceremony, and entered. He bent 
 hL brows, studying the Reverend Archibald 
 Crane, while the latter, looking up startled, 
 turned pink. 
 
 He was a pink little man, anyway, the 
 Reverend Archibald Crane 5 and why, in the 
 inscrutability of its wisdom, the Church had 
 sent him out to influence strong, grim men, 
 the Church in its inscrutable wisdom only 
 knows. He wore at the moment a cambric 
 English boating- hat to protect his bald head 
 from the draught, a full clerical costume as 
 far as the trousers, which were of lavender, 
 [101] 
 
The Call of the North 
 and a pair of beaded moccasins faced with 
 red. His weak little face was pink, and 
 two tufts of side- whiskers were nearly so. 
 A heavy gold -headed cane stood at his 
 hand. When he heard the door open he 
 exclaimed, before raising his head, " My, 
 these first flies of the season do bother me 
 so ! " and then looked startled. 
 
 " Good-evening," greeted Ned Trent, stop- 
 ping squarely in the centre of the room. 
 
 The clergyman spread his arms along the 
 desk's edge in embarrassment. 
 
 " Good-evening," he returned, reluctantly. 
 " Is there anything I can do for you ? " 
 The visitor puzzled him, but was dressed as 
 a voyageur. The Reverend Archibald im- 
 mediately resolved to treat him as such. 
 
 " I wish to introduce myself as Ned Trent," 
 went on the Free Trader with composure, 
 " and I have broken in on your privacy this 
 [102] 
 
Chapter 
 
 evening only because I need your ministra- 
 tions cruelly." 
 
 " I am rejoiced that in your difficulties 
 you turn to the consolations of the Church," 
 replied the other in the cordial tones of the 
 man who is always ready. " Pray be seat- 
 ed. He whose soul thirsteth need offer no 
 apology to the keeper of the spiritual foun- 
 tains." 
 
 " Quite so," replied the stranger dryly, seat- 
 ing himself as suggested, " only in this case 
 my wants are temporal rather than spiritual. 
 They, however, seem to me fully within the 
 province of the Church." 
 
 " The Church attempts within limits to aid 
 those who are materially in want," assured 
 Crane, with official dignity. " Our resources 
 are small, but to the truly deserving we are 
 always ready to give in the spirit of true 
 giving." 
 
 [108] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 n I am rejoiced to hear it," returned the 
 young man, grimly ; " you will then have 
 no difficulty in getting me so small a matter 
 as a rifle and about forty or fifty rounds of 
 ammunition.'* 
 
 A pause of astonishment ensued. 
 
 "Why, really," ejaculated Crane, "I fail 
 to see how that falls within my jurisdiction 
 in the slightest. You should see our Trader, 
 Mr. McDonald, in regard to all such things. 
 Your request addressed to me becomes ex- 
 traordinary." 
 
 " Not so much so when you know who I 
 am. I told you my name is Ned Trent, 
 but I neglected to inform you further that 
 I am a captured Free Trader, condemned 
 to la Longue Traverse, and that I have in 
 vain tried to procure elsewhere the means 
 of escape." 
 
 Then the clergyman understood. The full 
 [1041 
 
Chapter Nine 
 
 significance of the intruder's presence flashed 
 over his little pink face in a trouble of un- 
 easiness. The probable consequences of 
 such a bit of charity as his visitor proposed 
 almost turned him sick with excitement. 
 
 "You expect to have them of me!" he 
 cried, getting his voice at last. 
 
 "Certainly," assured his interlocutor, 
 crossing his legs comfortably. " Don't you 
 see the logic of events forces me to think 
 so ? What other course is open to you ? I 
 am in this country entirely within my legal 
 rights as a citizen of the Canadian Com- 
 monwealth. Unjustly, I am seized by a 
 stronger power and condemned unjustly to 
 death. Surely you admit the injustice ? " 
 
 *' Well, of course you know the customs 
 of the country it is hardly an abstract 
 question * stammered Crane, still without 
 grasp on the logic of his argument, 
 [1051 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 -But as an abstract question the injustice 
 is plain," resumed the Free Trader, imper- 
 turbably. " And against plain injustice it 
 strikes me there is but one course open to 
 an acknowledged institution of abstract^- 
 and concrete morality. The Church must 
 set itself against immorality, and you, as the 
 Church's representative, must get me a rifle. 
 
 " You forget one thing," rejoined Crane. 
 
 - What is that ? " 
 
 " Such an aid would be a direct act of re- 
 bellion against authority on my part, which 
 would be severely punished. Of course/" 
 he asserted, with conscious righteousness, fc< 1 
 should not consider that for a moment as 
 far as my own personal safety is concerned. 
 But my cause would suffer. You forget, 
 sir, that we are doing here a great and good 
 work. We have in our weekly congrega- 
 tional singing over forty regular attendants 
 [106] 
 
Chapter Nine 
 
 from the aborigines ; next year I hope to 
 build a church at Whale River, thus reach- 
 ing the benighted inhabitants of that distant 
 region. All of this is a vital matter in the 
 service of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
 Christ. You suggest that I endanger all 
 this in order to right a single instance of in- 
 justice. Of course we are told to love one 
 mother, but " he paused. 
 
 "You have to compromise," finished the 
 stranger for him. 
 
 "Exactly," said the Reverend Crane. 
 " Thank you ; it is exactly that. In order 
 to accomplish what little good the Lord 
 vouchsafes to our poor efforts, we are obliged 
 to overlook many things. Otherwise we 
 should not be allowed to stay here at all." 
 
 "That is most interesting,'* agreed Ned 
 Trent, with a rather biting calm. " But is 
 it not a little calculating? My r slight famili* 
 [107] 
 
The Call of the North 
 arity with religious history and literature has 
 always led me to believe that you are taught 
 to embrace the right at any cost whatsoever 
 that, if you give yourself unreservedly to 
 justice, the Lord will sustain you through 
 all trials. I think at a pinch I could even 
 quote a text to that effect." 
 
 " My dear fellow," objected the Reverend 
 Archibald in gentle protest, " you evidently 
 do not understand the situation at all. I 
 feel I should be most untrue to my trust if 
 I were to endanger in any way the life-long 
 labor of my predecessor. You must be able 
 to see that for yourself. It would destroy 
 utterly my usefulness here. They d send 
 me away. I couldn't go on with the work. 
 I have to think what is for the best." 
 
 " There is some justice in what you say," 
 admitted the stranger, "if you persist in 
 looking on this thing as a business proposi* 
 [108] 
 
Chapter Nine 
 
 tion. But it seems to my confessedly un- 
 trained mind that you missed the point 
 ' Trust in the Lord/ saith the prophet. In 
 fact, certain rivals in your own field hold the 
 doctrine you expound, and you consider 
 them wrong. * To do evil that good may 
 come ' I seem to recognize as a tenet of the 
 Church of the Jesuits." 
 
 " I protest. I really do protest," objected 
 the clergyman, scandalized. 
 
 " All right," agreed Ned Trent, with good* 
 natured contempt. " That is not the point. 
 Do you refuse ? " 
 
 * Can't you see ? " begged the other. " I'm 
 sure you are reasonable enough to take the 
 cas>5 on its broader side." 
 
 " You refuse ? " insisted Ned Trent. 
 
 * It is not always easy to walk straightly 
 before the Lord, and my way is not always 
 clear before me, but " 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 " You refuse ! " cried Ned Trent, rising im- 
 patiently. 
 
 The Reverend Archibald Crane looked at 
 his catechiser with a trace of alarm. 
 
 " I'm sorry ; I'm afraid I must," he apolo- 
 gized. 
 
 The stranger advanced until he touched 
 the desk on the other side of which the Rev- 
 erend Archibald was sitting, where he stood 
 for some moments looking down on his op- 
 ponent with an almost amused expression of 
 contempt. 
 
 "You are an interesting little beast," he 
 drawled, " and I've seen a lot of your kind 
 in my time. Here you preach every Sun- 
 day, to whomever will listen to you, certain 
 cut-and-dried doctrines you don't believe 
 practically in the least. Here for the first 
 time you have had a chance to apply them 
 literally, and you hide behind a lot of words, 
 [HO] 
 
Chapter Nine 
 
 And while you're about it you may as well 
 hear what I have to say about your kind. 
 I've had a pretty wide experience in the 
 North, and I know what I'm talking about. 
 Your work here among the Indians is rot, 
 and every sensible man knows it. You coop 
 them up in your log-built houses, you force 
 on them clothes to which they are unaccus- 
 tomed until they die of consumption. Under 
 your little tin-steepled imitation of civiliza- 
 tion, for which they are not fitted, they learn 
 to beg, to steal, to lie. I have travelled far, 
 but I have yet to discover what your kind 
 are allowed on earth for. You are narrow- 
 minded, bigoted, intolerant, and without a 
 scrap of real humanity to ornament your 
 mock religion. When you find you can't 
 meddle with other people's affairs enough at 
 home you get sent where you can get right 
 in the business and earn salvation for doing 
 
The Call of the North 
 it. I don't know just why I should say this 
 to you, but it sort of does me good to tell 
 it Once T heard one of your kind tell a 
 sorrowing mother that her little child had 
 gone to hell because it had died before he- 
 the smug hypocrite had sprinkled its little 
 body with a handful of water. There's 
 humanity for you ! It may interest you to 
 know that I thrashed that man then and 
 there. You are all alike ; I know the breed. 
 When there is found a real man among 
 you and there are such he is so different 
 in everything, including his religion, as to be 
 really of another race. I came here with- 
 out the slightest expectation of getting what 
 I asked for. As I said before, I know your 
 breed, and I know just how well your two- 
 thousand-year-old doctrines apply to practi- 
 cal cases. There is another way, but I hated 
 to use it. You'd take it quick enough, I dare 
 [112] 
 
Chapter Nine 
 
 say. Here is \rhere I should receive aid. I 
 may have to get it where I should not. You 
 a man of God ! Why, you Door little insect, 
 I can't even get angry at you ! " 
 
 He stood for a moment looking at the con- 
 fused and troubled clergyman. Then he 
 went out. 
 
 111*1 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 Almost immediately the door opened again. 
 
 " You, Miss Albret ! " cried Crane. 
 
 " What does this mean ?" demanded Vir- 
 ginia, imperiously. " Who is that man ? 
 In what danger does he stand? What 
 does he want a rifle for ? I insist on know- 
 ing." 
 
 She stood straight and tall in the low 
 room, her eyes flashing, her head thrown 
 back in the assured power of command. 
 
 The Reverend Crane tried to temporize, 
 hesitating over his words. She cut him 
 short 
 
 ** That is nonsense. Everybody seems to 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 know but myself. I am no child. I came 
 to consult you my spiritual adviser in 
 regard to this very case. Accidentally 1 
 overheard enough to justify me in knowing 
 
 more." 
 
 The clergyman murmured something about 
 the Company's secrets. Again she cut him 
 short. 
 
 48 Company's secrets ! Since when has the 
 Company confided in Andrew Laviolette, 
 in Wishkobun, in you ! " 
 
 "Possibly you would better ask your 
 father," said Crane, with some return of 
 dignity. 
 
 " It does not suit me to do so," replied 
 she. " I insist that you answer my ques- 
 tions. Who is this man ? " 
 
 " Ned Trent, he says." 
 
 " I will not be put off in this way. Who 
 Is he? JFfto/ishe?" 
 
 [115] 
 
The Call of the North 
 " He is a Free Trader, " replied the Rever 
 end Crane with the air of a man who throws 
 down a bomb and is afrcid of the conse- 
 quences. To his astonishment the bomb 
 did not explode. 
 
 " What is that ? " she asked, simply. 
 The man's jaw dropped and his eyes 
 opened in astonishment. Here was a dei>- 
 sity of ignorance in regard to the ordinary 
 affairs of the Post which could by no stretch 
 of the imagination be ascribed to chance. 
 If Virginia Albret did not know the mean- 
 ing of the term, and all the tragic conse- 
 quences it entailed, there could be but one 
 conclusion : Galen Albret had not intended 
 that she should know. She had purposely 
 been left in ignorance, and a politic man 
 would hesitate long before daring to en- 
 lighten her. The Reverend Crane, in sheer 
 terror, became sullen. 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 " A Free Trader is a man who trades in 
 opposition to the Company/' said he, cau- 
 tiously. 
 
 " What great danger is he in ? " the girl 
 persisted with her catechism. 
 
 " None that I am aware of," replied Crane, 
 suavely. " He is a very ill-balanced and ex- 
 citable young man/* 
 
 Virginia's quick instincts recognized again 
 the same barrier which, with the people, 
 With Wishkobun, with her father, had shut 
 her so effectively from the truth. Her 
 power of femininity and position had to give 
 way before the man's fear for himself and 
 t)f Galen Albret's unexpressed wish. She 
 asked a few more questions, received a few 
 more evasive replies, and left the little 
 clergyman to recover as best he might from 
 a very trying evening. 
 
 Out in the night the girl hesitated in two 
 [117] 
 
The Call of tlie North 
 minds as to what to do next She wag ex 
 cited, and resolved to finish the affair, but 
 she could not bring her courage to the point 
 of questioning her father. That the stranger 
 was in antagonism to the Company, that ha 
 believed himself to be in danger on that ac* 
 count, that he wanted succor, she saw clear- 
 ly enough. But the whole affair was vague, 
 disquieting. She wanted to see it plainly, 
 know its reasons. And beneath her excite- 
 ment she recognized, with a catch of the 
 breath, that she was afraid for him. She 
 had not time now to ask herself what it 
 might mean ; she only realized the presence 
 of the fact. 
 
 She turned instinctively in the direction of 
 Doctor Cockburn's house. Mrs. Cockburn 
 was a plain little middle-aged woman with 
 parted gray hair and sweet, faded eyes. In 
 the life of the place she was a nonentity, and 
 [118] 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 her tastes were homely and commonplace, 
 but Virginia liked her. 
 
 She proved to be at home, the Doctor 
 still at his dispensary, which was well. Vir- 
 ginia entered a small log room, passed 
 through it immediately to a larger papered 
 room, and sat down in a musty red arm- 
 chair. The building was one of the old 
 regime, which meant that its floor was of 
 wide and rather uneven painted boards, its 
 ceiling low, its windows small, and its gen- 
 eral lines of an irregular and sagging rule- 
 of-thumb tendency. The white wall-paper 
 evidently concealed squared logs. The pres- 
 ent inhabitants, being possessed at once of 
 rather homely tastes and limited facilities, 
 had over-furnished the place with an in- 
 finitude of little things little rugs, lit- 
 tle tables, little knit doilies, little racks 
 of photographs, little china ornaments, 
 [119] 
 
The Call of the North 
 little spidery what-nots, and shelves for 
 books. 
 
 Virginia seated herself, and went directly 
 to the topic* 
 
 " Mrs. Cockburn," she said, " you have al- 
 ways been very good to me, always, ever 
 since I came here as a little girL I have 
 not always appreciated it, I am afraid, but 
 I am in great trouble, and I want your 
 help." 
 
 "What is it, dearie,* asked the older 
 woman, softly. " Of course I will do any- 
 thing I can." 
 
 " I want you to tell me what all this mys- 
 tery is about the man who to-day arrived 
 from Kettle Portage, I mean. I have 
 asked everybody: I have tried by all means 
 in my power to get somebody somewhere 
 to tell me. It is maddening and I have 
 a special reason for wanting to know," 
 [120] 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 The older woman was already gazing at 
 her through troubled eyes. 
 
 " It is a shame and a mistake to keep 
 you so in ignorance ! " she broke out, "and 
 I have said so always. There are many 
 things you have the right to know, al- 
 though some of them would make you very 
 unhappy as they do all of us poor women 
 who have to live in this land of dread. But 
 in this I cannot, dearie." 
 
 Virginia felt again the impalpable shadow 
 of truth escaping her. Baffled, confused, 
 she began to lose her self-control. A dozen 
 times to-day she had reached after this 
 thing, and always her fingers had closed on 
 empty air. She felt that she could not 
 stand the suspense of bewilderment a single 
 instant longer. The tears overflowed and 
 rolled down her cheeks unheeded. 
 
 4 Oh, Mrs. Cockburn ! " she cried. "P ; .eagjl 
 
The Call of the North 
 You do not know how dreadful this thing 
 has come to be to me just because it is 
 made so mysterious. Why has it been 
 kept from me alone ? It must have some- 
 thing to do with me, and I can't stand 
 this mystery, this double-dealing, another 
 minute. If you won't tell me, nobody will, 
 and I shall go on imagining Oh, please 
 have pity on me I I feel the shadow of a 
 tragedy. It comes out in everything, in 
 everybody to whom I turn. I see it in 
 Wishkobun's avoidance of me, in my 
 father's silence, in Mr. Crane's confusion, 
 in your reluctance yes, in the very reckless 
 insolence of Mr. Trent himself 1 w her 
 voice broke slightly. " If you will not tell 
 me, I shall go direct to my father," she 
 ended, with more firmness. 
 
 Mrs. Cockburn examined the girl's flushed 
 face through kindly but shrewd and ex* 
 [12*] 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 perieiiced eyes. Then, with a caressing Ik' 
 tie murmur of pity, she arose and seated 
 herself on the arm of the red chair, taking 
 the girl's hand in hers. 
 
 ** I believe you mean it," she said, " and I 
 am going to tell you myself. There is 
 much sorrow in it for you ; but if you go t<v 
 your father it will only make it worse. 1 
 am doing what I should not. It is shame- 
 ful that such tilings happen in this nine- 
 teenth century, but happen they do. The 
 long and short of it is that the Factors of 
 this Post tolerate no competition in the 
 country, and when a man enters it for the 
 purpose of trading with the Indians, he i* 
 stopped and sent out." 
 
 "There is nothing very bad about that," 
 said Virginia, relieved. 
 
 " No, my dear, not in that. But they say 
 his arms and supplies are taken from him. 
 
The Call of the North 
 and he is given a bare handful of provis- 
 ions. He has to make a quick journey, and 
 to starve at that. Once when I was visiting 
 out at the front, not many years ago, I saw 
 one of those men they called him Jo Bag- 
 neau and his condition was pitiable piti- 
 able!" 
 
 " But hardships can be endured. A man 
 can escape." 
 
 " A 0s," almost whispered Mrs. Cockburn, 
 looking about her apprehensively, " but the 
 story goes that there are some cases when 
 the man is an old offender, or especially de- 
 termined, or so prominent as to be able to 
 interest the law no one breathes of these 
 cases here but he never gets out 1 " 
 
 "What do you mean?" cried Virginia, 
 harshly. 
 
 " One dares not mean such things ; but 
 they are so. The hardships of the wilder 
 [124] 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 ness are many, the dangers terrible what 
 more natural than that a man should die of 
 them in the forest ? It is no one's fault." 
 
 " What do you mean? " repeated Virginia; 
 ' * for God's sake speak plainly ! * 
 
 " I dare not speak plainer than I know ; 
 and no one ever really knows anything 
 about it excepting the Indian who fires 
 the shot, or who watches the man un- 
 til he dies of starvation," whispered Mrs. 
 Cockburn. 
 
 "But but!*' sried the girl, grasping her 
 companion's arm. f * My father ! Does he 
 give such orders ? He ? n 
 
 44 No orders are given. The thing is un- 
 derstood. Certain runners, whose turn it 
 is, shadow the Free Trader. Your father is 
 not responsible; no one is responsible. It 
 is the policy." 
 
 " And this man * 
 
The Call of the North 
 ** It has gone about that he is to take ta 
 Longue Traverse. He knows it himself.* 
 *' It is barbaric, horrible; it is murder." 
 " My dear, it is all that ; but this is the 
 country of dread. You have known the 
 soft, bright side always the picturesque 
 men, the laugh, the song. If you had seen 
 as much of the harshness of wilderness life 
 s a doctor's wife must you would know 
 that when the storms of their great passions 
 rage it is well to sit quiet at your prayers." 
 The girl's eyes were wide-fixed, staring at 
 this first reality of life. A thousand new 
 thoughts jostled for recognition. Suddenly 
 her world had been swept from beneath 
 her. The ancient patriarchal, kindly rule 
 had passed away, and in its place she was 
 forced to see a grim iron bond of death laid 
 over her domain. And her father no 
 longer the grave, kindly old man had be- 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 come the ruthless tyrant. All these brignt, 
 laughing voyageurs, playmates of her child- 
 hood, were in reality executioners of a sav* 
 age blood-law. She could not adjust her- 
 self to it. 
 
 She got to her feet with an effort. 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs, Cockburn," she said, in 
 a low voice. "I I do not quite under- 
 stand. But I must go now. I must I 
 must see that my father's room is ready for 
 him," she finished, with the proud defen- 
 sive instinct of the woman who has been 
 deeply touched. 4 * You know I always do 
 that myself." 
 
 'Good-night, dearie," replied the older 
 woman, understanding well the girl's desire 
 to shelter behind the commonplace. She 
 leaned forward and kissed her. " God 
 keep and guide you. I hope I have done 
 right" 
 
 [1871 
 
The Call of the North 
 "Yes," cried Virginia, with unexpected fire, 
 ** Yes, you did just right I I ought to have 
 been told long ago ! They've kept me a 
 perfect child to whom everything has been 
 bright and care-free and simple. I I feel 
 that until this moment I have lacked my 
 real womanhood ! H 
 
 She bowed her head and passed through 
 the log room into the outer air. 
 
 Her father, her father, had willed this 
 man's death, and so he was to die ! That 
 explained many things the young fellow's 
 insolence, his care-free recklessness, his pas- 
 sionate denunciation of the Reverend Crane 
 and the Reverend Crane's religion. He 
 wanted one little thing the gift of a rifle 
 wherewith to assure his subsistence should 
 he escape into the forest and of all those 
 at Conjuror's House to whom he might 
 turn for help, some were too hard to give it 
 [128] 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 to him, and some too afraid ! He should 
 have it ! She, the daughter of her father, 
 would see to it that in this one instance her 
 father's sin should fail ! Suddenly, in the 
 white heat of her emotion, she realized why 
 these matters stirred her so profoundly, and 
 she stopped short and gasped with the 
 shock of it. It did not matter that she 
 thwarted her father's will ; it would not 
 matter if she should be discovered and pun- 
 ished as only these harsh characters could 
 punish. For the brave bearing, the brave 
 jest, the jaunty facing of death, the tender, 
 low voice, the gay song, the aurora-lit mo- 
 ment of his summons all these had at last 
 their triumph. She knew that she loved 
 him ; and that if he were to die, she would 
 surely die too. 
 
 And, oh, it must be that he loved her 1 
 
 Had she not heard it in the music of his 
 
 [129] 
 
The Call of the North 
 v oice from the first? the passion of his 
 tones ? the dreamy, lyrical swing of his talk 
 by the old bronze guns ? 
 
 Then she staggered sharply, and choked 
 back a cry. For out of her recollections 
 leaped two sentences of his the first 
 rareless, imprudent, unforgivable ; the sec- 
 ond pregnant with meaning. "Ah, a star 
 shoots t n he had said. " That means a kiss! " 
 and again, to the clergyman, " / came here 
 without the slightest expectation of getting 
 what I asked for. There is another way t 
 but I hate to use if 
 
 She was the other way! She saw it 
 plainly. He did not love her, but he saw 
 that he could fascinate her, and he hoped to 
 use her as an aid to his escape. She threw 
 her head up proudly. 
 
 Then a man swung into view across the 
 
 Northern Lights. Virginia pressed back 
 
 [130] 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 against the palings among the bushes until 
 he should have passed. It was Ned Trent, 
 returning from a walk to the end of the isl- 
 and. He was alone and unfollowed, and the 
 girl realized with a sudden grip at the heart 
 that the wilderness itself was sufficient safe- 
 guard against a man unarmed and un- 
 equipped. It was not considered worth 
 while even to watch him. Should he es- 
 cape, unarmed as he was, sure death by 
 starvation awaited him in the land of 
 dread. 
 
 As he entered the settlement he struck up 
 an air. 
 
 " Lejils du roi sen va chassant, 
 En roulant ma boule, 
 Avec son grand fusil d* argent, 
 Rouli roulant, ma boule roulanL" 
 
 Almost immediately a window slid back, 
 and an exasperated voice cried out : 
 [131] 
 
The Call of the North 
 dere, Vat one time dam fool yoo 
 for mak de sing so late 1 w 
 The voice went on imperturbably : 
 
 a Avec son grand fusil d 'argent, 
 En roulant ma boule, 
 Visa le noir, tua le blaiic, 
 Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant. 99 
 
 * Sacre!" shrieked the habitant. 
 
 " Hello, Johnny Frenchman 1 " called Ned 
 Trent, in his acid tones. " That you ? Be 
 more polite, or I'll stand here and sing you 
 the whole of it." 
 
 The window slammed shut. 
 
 Ned Trent took up his walk again toward 
 some designated sleeping-place of his own, 
 his song dying into the distance. 
 
 f< Visa le noir, tua le blartc, 
 En roulant ma boule, 
 OJils du roi, tu es meckant I 
 Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant.' 9 
 [188] 
 
Chapter Ten 
 
 "And he can sing!" cried the girl bitterly 
 to herself. "At such a time! Oh, my 
 dear God, help me, help me ! I am the un- 
 happiest girl alive ! " 
 
 11881 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 Virginia did not sleep at all that night. 
 She was reaching toward her new self. 
 Heretofore she had ruled those about her 
 proudly, secure in her power and influence. 
 Now she saw that all along her influence 
 had in not one jot exceeded that of the 
 winsome girl. She had no real power at 
 all. They went mercilessly on in the grim 
 way of their fathers, dealing justice even- 
 handed according to their own crude con- 
 ceptions of it, without thought of God or 
 man. She turned hot all over as she saw 
 herself in this new light as she saw those 
 about her indulgently smiling at her airs of 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 the mistress of it. It angered her though 
 the smile might be good-humored, even 
 affectionate. 
 
 And she shrank into herself with utter 
 loathing when she remembered Ned Trent. 
 There indeed her woman's pride was hard 
 stricken. She recalled with burning cheeks 
 how his intense voice had stirred her; how 
 his wishes had compelled her; she shivered 
 pitifully as she remembered the warmth of 
 his shoulder touching carelessly her own. 
 If he had come to her honestly and asked 
 her aid, she would have given it; but this 
 underhand pretence at love ! It was un- 
 worthy of him; and it was certainly most 
 unworthy of her. What must he think of 
 her? How he must be laughing at her 
 and hoping that his spell was working, so 
 that he could get the coveted rifle and the 
 forty cartridges. 
 
 [1351 
 
The Call of the North 
 I hate him!" she cried to herself, the 
 backs of her long, slender hands pressed 
 against her eyes. She meant that she loved 
 him, but for the purposes in hand one 
 would do as well as the other. 
 
 At earliest daylight she was up. Bath- 
 ing her face and throat in cold water, and 
 hastily catching her beautiful light hair 
 under a cap, she slipped down stairs and 
 out past the stockade to the point. There 
 she seated herself, a heavy shawl about her, 
 and gave herself up to reflection. She had 
 ^proached silently, her moccasins giving 
 no sound. Presently she became aware that 
 someone was there before her. Looking 
 toward the river she saw on the next level 
 below her a man, seated on a bowlder, and 
 gazing to the south. 
 
 His very soul was in his eyes. Virginia 
 gasped at the change in him since last she 
 [136] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 had seen him. The gay, mocking demeanor 
 which had seemed an essential part of his 
 very flesh and blood had fallen away from 
 him, leaving a sad and lofty dignity that 
 ennobled his countenance. The lines of his 
 face were stern, of his mouth pathetic; his 
 eyes yearned. He stared toward the south 
 with an almost mesmeric intensity, as 
 though he hoped by sheer longing to mate- 
 rialize a vision. Tears sprang to the girl's 
 eyes at the subtle pathos of his attitude. 
 
 He stretched his arms wearily over his 
 head, and sighed deeply and looked up. His 
 eyes rested on the girl without surprise; the 
 expression of his features did not change. 
 
 " Pardon me, n he said, simply. " To-day 
 is my last of plenty. I am up enjoying it." 
 
 Virginia had anticipated the usual instan- 
 taneous transformation of his manner when 
 he should catch sight of her. Her resent- 
 [137J 
 
The Call of the North 
 raent was dispelled. In face of the vaster 
 tragedies little considerations gave way. 
 
 " Do you leave to-day ? H she asked, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " To-morrow morning, early," he corrected. 
 " To-day I found my provisions packed and 
 laid at my door. It is a hint I know how to 
 take." 
 
 " You have everything you need ? M asked 
 the girl, with an assumption of indifference. 
 
 He looked her in the eyes for a moment. 
 
 " Everything," he lied, calmly, 
 
 Virginia perceived that he lied, and he* 
 heart stood still with a sudden hope that 
 perhaps, at this eleventh hour, he might 
 have repented of his unworthy intentions 
 toward herself. She leaned to him over the 
 edge of the little rise. 
 
 "Have you a rifle for la Longue Tra? 
 verse ? n she inquired, with meaning. 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 He stared at her a little the harder. 
 
 " Why why, surely," he replied, in a tons 
 less confident. " Nobody travels without a 
 rifle in the North." 
 
 She dropped swiftly down the slope and 
 stood face to face with him. 
 
 " Listen," she began, in her superb manner. 
 " I know all there is to know. You are a 
 Free Trader, and you are to be sent to your 
 death. It is murder, and it is done by my 
 father." She held her head proudly, but the 
 notes of her voice were straining. " I knew 
 nothing of this yesterday. I was a foolish 
 girl who thought all men were good and 
 just, and that all those whom I knew were 
 noble. My eyes are open now. I see in- 
 justice being done by my own household, 
 and " tears were trembling near her lashes, 
 but she blinked them back ' ' and I am no 
 longer a foolish girl ! You need not try to 
 [1393 
 
The Call of the North 
 deceive me. You must tell me what I can 
 do, for I cannot permit so great a wrong to 
 be done by my father without attempting to 
 set it right." This was not what she had in- 
 tended to say, but suddenly the course was 
 clear to her. The influence of the man had 
 again swept over her, drowning her will, fill- 
 ing her with the old fear, which was now for 
 the moment turned to pride by the character 
 of the situation. 
 
 But to her surprise the man was thinking 
 of something else. 
 
 " Who told you ? ** he demanded, harshly. 
 Then, without waiting for a reply, " It was 
 that little preacher; I'll have an interview 
 with him ! " 
 
 " No, no ! * protested the girl. " It was 
 not he. It was a friend. I had the right to 
 know." 
 
 " You had no right ! " he cried, vehemently 
 [140] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 "You and life should have nothing to do 
 with each other. There is a look in your 
 eyes that was not in them yesterday, and the 
 one who put it there is not your friend." He 
 stood staring at her intently, as one who 
 ponders what is best to do. Then very 
 quietly he took her hands and drew her to a 
 place beside him on the bowlder. 
 
 " I am going to tell you something, little 
 girl," said he, " and you must listen quietly 
 to the end. Perhaps at the last you may 
 see more clearly than you do now. 
 
 " This old Company of yours has been es- 
 tablished for a great many years. Back in 
 old days, over two centuries ago, it pushed 
 up into this wilderness to trade for its furs. 
 That you know. And then it explored ever 
 farther to the west and the north, until its 
 servants stood on the shores of the Pacific 
 and the stretches of the Arctic Ocean. And 
 [141] 
 
The CaU of the North 
 Its servants loved it. Enduring immense 
 hardships, cut off from their kind, outlining 
 dimly with the eye of faith the structure of 
 a mighty power, they loved it always. Thou- 
 sands of men were in its employ, and so loyal 
 were they that its secrets were safe and its 
 prestige was defended, often to a lonely 
 death. I have known the Company and its 
 servants for a long time, and if I had leisure 
 I could instance a hundred examples of de- 
 votion and sacrifice beside which mere pa- 
 triotism would seem a little thing. Men 
 who had no country cleaved to her desolate 
 posts, her lakes and rivers and forests ; men 
 who had no home ties felt the tug of her wild 
 life at their hearts ; men who had no God 
 bowed in awe before her power and grandeur. 
 The Company was a living thing, 
 
 " Rivals attempted her supremacy, and were 
 defeated by the steadfastness of the men 
 [142] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 who received her meagre wages and looked 
 to her as their one ideal. Her explorers 
 were the bravest, her traders the most enter- 
 prising and single-minded, her factors and 
 partners the most capable and potent in all 
 the world. No country, no leader, no State 
 ever received half the worship her sons gave 
 her. The fierce NorVesters, the traders of 
 Montreal, the Company of the X Y, Astor 
 himself, had to give way. For, although they 
 were bold or reckless or crafty or able, they 
 had not the ideal .which raises such qualities 
 to invincibility. 
 
 " And, little girl, nothing is wrong to men 
 who have such an ideal before them. They 
 see but one thing, and all means are good 
 that help them to assure that one thing. 
 They front the dangers, they overcome the 
 hardships, they crush the rivals. Bloody 
 wars have taken place in these forests, ruth- 
 [143] 
 
The Call of the North 
 less deeds have been done, but the men who 
 accomplished them held the deeds good. So 
 for two hundred years, aided by the charter 
 from the king, they have made good their 
 undisputed right. 
 
 " Then the railroad entered the west. The 
 charter of monopoly ran out. Through the 
 Nipissing, the Athabasca, the Edmonton, 
 came the Free Traders men who traded 
 independently. These the Company could 
 not control, so it competed and to its credit 
 its competition has held its own. Even far 
 into the Northwest, where the trails are 
 long, the Free Traders have established 
 their chains of supplies, entering into rivalry 
 with the Company for a barter it has always 
 considered its right. The medicine has been 
 bitter, but the servants of the Company 
 have adjusted themselves to the new con- 
 ditions, and are holding their own. 
 [144] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 " But one region still remains cut off from 
 the outside world by a broad band of unex- 
 plored waste. The life here at Hudson's 
 Bay although you may not know it is ex- 
 actly the same to-day that it was two hundred 
 years ago. And here the Company makes 
 its stand for a monopoly. 
 
 "At first it worked openly. But In the 
 case of Guillaume Sayer, a daring and pug- 
 nacious metis, it got into trouble with the 
 law. Since that time it has wrapped itself 
 iti secrecy and mystery, carrying on its affairs 
 behind the screen of five hundred miles of 
 forest. Here it has still the power ; no man 
 can establish himself here, can even travel 
 here, without its consent, for it controls the 
 food and the Indians. The Free Trader 
 enters, but he does not stay for long. The 
 Company's servants are mindful of their old 
 fanatical ideal. Nothing is ever known, no 
 [145] 
 
The Call of the North 
 .orders are ever given, but something happens, 
 and the man never ventures again. 
 
 " If he is an ordinary metis or Canadian, he 
 emerges from the forest starved, frightened, 
 thankful. If his story is likely to be believed 
 in high places, he never emerges at all. The 
 dangers of wilderness travel are many : he 
 succumbs to them. That is the whole story. 
 Nothing definite is known ; no instances 
 can be proved ; your father denies the legend 
 and calls it a myth. The Company claims 
 to be ignorant of it, perhaps its greater of- 
 ficers really are, but the legend holds so good 
 that the journey has its name la Longue 
 Traverse. 
 
 " But remember this, no man is to blame 
 unless it is he who of knowledge takes 
 the chances. It is a policy, a growth of 
 centuries, an idea unchangeable to which 
 the long services of many fierce and loyal 
 [146] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 men have given substance. A Factor can- 
 not change it. If he did, the thing would 
 be outside of nature, something not to be 
 understood. 
 
 **I am here. I am to take la Longuc 
 Traverse. But no man is to blame. If the 
 scheme of the thing is wrong, it has been 
 so from the very beginning, from the timfc 
 when King Charles set his signature to the 
 charter of unlimited authority. The history 
 of a thousand men gives the tradition power, 
 jives it insistence. It is bigger than any 
 one individual. It is as inevitable as that 
 water should flow down hill. w 
 
 He had spoken quietly, but very earnestly, 
 Still holding her two hands, and she had sat 
 looking at him unblinking from eyes behind 
 which passed many thoughts. When he 
 had finished, a short pause followed, at the 
 end of which she asked unexpectedly, 
 [147] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 * Last evening you told me that you might 
 come to me and ask me to choose between 
 my pity and what I might think to be my 
 duty. What are you going to ask of me ? " 
 
 " Nothing. I spoke idle words/ 
 
 "Last evening I overheard you demand 
 something of Mr. Crane, " she pursued, with- 
 out commenting on his answer. "When 
 he refused you I heard you say these words,, 
 ' Here is where I should have received aid ( 
 I rjay have to get it where I should not.' 
 What was the aid you asked of him? and 
 where else did you expect to get it ? w 
 
 " The aid was something impossible to ac- 
 cord, and I did not expect to get it else- 
 where. I said that in order to induce him 
 to help me." 
 
 A wonderful light sprang to the girl's eyes, 
 but still she maintained her level voice. 
 
 * You asked him for a rifle with which to 
 
 [148] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 escape. You expected to get it of roe. 
 Deny it if you can." 
 
 Ned Trent looked at her keenly a moment, 
 then dropped his eyes. 
 
 *' It is true," said he. 
 
 " And the pity was to give you this weapon; 
 and the duty was my duty to my father's 
 house." 
 
 " It is true," he repeated, dejectedly. 
 
 "And you lied to me when you said you 
 had a rifle with which to journey la Longuc 
 Traverse" 
 
 " That too is true," he acknowledged. 
 
 When next she spoke her voice was not 
 quite so well controlled. 
 
 " Why did you not ask me, as you in- 
 tended ? Why did you tell me these lies ? " 
 
 The young man hesitated, looked her in 
 the face, turned away, and murmured, 
 
 I could not." 
 
 [149] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 " Why ?" persisted the girl "Whyf Too 
 must tell me.'* 
 
 " Because," said Ned Trent "because it 
 could not be done. Every rifle in the place 
 is known. Because you would be found out 
 in this, and I do not know what your punish 
 ment might not be/' 
 
 " You knew this before ? " insisted Virginia, 
 stonily. 
 
 "Yes/ 
 
 " Then why did you change your mind ? * 
 
 " When first I saw you by the gun," begap 
 Ned Trent, in a low voice, * I was a des 
 perate man, clutching at the slightest chance. 
 The thought crossed my mind then that 1 
 might use you. Then later I saw that I had 
 some influence over you. and I made my 
 plan. But last night " 
 
 " Yes, last night ? " urged Virginia, softly. 
 
 " Last night I paced the island, and I found 
 150} 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 out many things. One of them was that 1 
 could not." 
 
 " Even though this dreadful journey " 
 
 " I would rather take my chances." 
 
 Again there was silence between them. 
 
 *' It was a good lie," then said Virginia, 
 gently " a noble lie. And what you have 
 told me to comfort me about my father has 
 been nobly said. And I believe you, for I 
 have known the truth about your fate." He 
 shut his lips grimly. " Why why did you 
 come ? " she cried, passionately. " Is the 
 trade so good, are your needs then so great, 
 that you must run these perils ? " 
 
 " My needs," he replied. " No ; I have 
 enough." 
 
 " Then why ? " she insisted. 
 
 "Because that old charter has long since 
 expired, and now this country is as free for 
 me as for the Company," he explained. " We 
 [151] 
 
The Call of the North 
 are in a civilized century, and no man has a 
 right to tell me where I shall or shall not go. 
 Does the Company own the Indians and the 
 creatures of the woods ? " Something in the 
 tone of his voice brought her eyes steadily 
 to his for a moment. 
 
 " Is that all ? " she asked at length, 
 
 He hesitated, looked away, looked back 
 again. 
 
 "No, it is not," he confessed, in a low 
 voice. "It is a thing I do not speak of. 
 My father was a servant of this Company, 
 a good, true servant. No man was more 
 honest, more zealous, more loyal.'* 
 
 " I am sure of it," said Virginia, softly. 
 
 " But in some way that he never knew 
 himself he made enemies in high places. 
 The cowards did not meet him man to man, 
 and so he never knew who they were. If 
 he had, he would have killed them. But 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 they worked against him always. He was 
 given hard posts, inadequate supplies, scant 
 help, and then he was held to account for 
 what he could not do. Finally he left the 
 company in disgrace undeserved disgrace. 
 He became a Free Trader in the days when 
 to become a Free Trader was worse than 
 attacking a grizzly with cubs. In three 
 years he was killed. But when I grew to be 
 a man " he clenched his teeth " by God I 
 how I have prayed to know who did it." He 
 brooded for a moment, then went on. " Still, 
 I have accomplished something. I have 
 traded in spite of your factors in many dis 
 tricts. One summer I pushed to the Copper- 
 mine in the teeth of them, and traded with 
 the Yellow Knives for the robes of the 
 musk-ox. And they knew me and feared 
 my rivalry, these traders of the Company. 
 No district of the far North but has felt the 
 153] 
 
The Call of the North 
 influence of my bartering. The traders of aD 
 districts Fort au Liard. Lapierre's Houses 
 Fort Rae, He a la Crosse, Portage la Loche v 
 Lac la Biche, Jasper's House, the House of 
 the Touchwood Hills all these, and many 
 more, have heard of Ned Trent.* 
 
 ** Your father you knew him well ? n 
 
 "No, but I remember him a tall, dark 
 man, with a smile always in his eyes and a 
 laugh on his lips. I was brought up at a 
 school in Winnipeg under a priest. Two 
 or three times in the year my father used to 
 appear for a few days. I remember well the 
 last time I saw him. 1 was about thirteen 
 years old. * You are growing to be a man. 
 said he; 'next year we will go out on the 
 trail.' I never saw him again.*" 
 
 " What happened ? * 
 
 " Oh, he was just killed/ replied Ned Trent 
 bitterly. 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 The girl laid her hand on his arm with an 
 appealing little gesture. 
 
 " I am so sorry," said she. 
 
 " I have no portrait of him," continued the 
 Free Trader, after an instant. " No gift from 
 his hands ; nothing at all of his but this." 
 
 He showed her an ordinary little silver 
 match-safe such as men use in the North 
 country. 
 
 " They brought that to me at the last the 
 Indians who came to tell my priest the news , 
 and the priest, who was a good man, gave it 
 to me. I have earned it ever since." 
 
 Virginia took it reverently. To her it had 
 all the largeness that envelops the symbol 
 of a great passion. After a moment she 
 looked up in surprise. 
 
 " Why ! " she exclaimed, " this has a name 
 carved on it ! * 
 
 "Yes," he replied. 
 
The Call of the North 
 " But the name is Graehme Stewart* 
 " Of course I could not bear my fathers 
 name in a country where it was well known,"* 
 he explained. 
 
 ** Of course," she agreed. Impulsively she 
 raised her face to his, her eyes shining. " TG 
 me all this is very fine," said she 
 
 He smiled a little sadly. " At least you 
 know why I came/ 
 
 "Yes," she repeated, "1 know why you 
 came. But you are in trouble." 
 " The chances of war." 
 " And they have defeated you after all* 
 " I shall start on la Longue Traverse sing- 
 ing 'Rouli roulant.* It's a small defeat, 
 that." 
 
 " Listen," said she, rapidly. " When I 
 
 was quite a small girl Mr. McTavish, of 
 
 Rupert's House, gave me a little rifle. I 
 
 have never used it, because I do not care to 
 
 [156] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 shoot. That rifle has never been counted, 
 and my father has long since forgotten all 
 about it. You must take that, and escape 
 to-night. I will let you have it on one con- 
 dition that you give me your solemn prom- 
 ise never to venture into this country again." 
 
 " Yes," he agreed, without enthusiasm nor 
 surprise. 
 
 She smiled happily at his gloomy face and 
 listless attitude. 
 
 <c But I do not want to give up the lit- 
 tle rifle entirely,** she went on, with dainty 
 preciosity, watching him closely. "As I 
 said, it was a present, given to me when I 
 was quite a small girl. You must return it 
 to me at Quebec, in August. Will you 
 promise to do that ? *' 
 
 He wheeled on her swift as light, the 
 uagerness flashing back into his &ce. 
 
 " You are going to Quebec ? " he cried. 
 [157] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 * My father wishes me to. I have decided 
 to do so. I shall start with the Abitibi 
 brigade in July." 
 
 He leaped to his feet. 
 
 "I promise!** he exulted, "I promise I 
 To-night, then! Bring the rifle and the 
 cartridges, and some matches, and a little 
 salt. You must take me across the river in 
 a canoe, for I want them to guess at where 
 I strike the woods. I shall cover my trail 
 And with ten hours* start, let them catch 
 Ned Trent who can ! ** 
 
 She laughed happily. 
 
 " To-night, then. At the south of the isl- 
 and there is a trail, and at the end of the 
 trail a beach 
 
 " I know! " he cried. 
 
 " Meet me there as soon after dark as you 
 can do so without danger.** 
 
 He threw his hat into the ah* and caught 
 [138] 
 
Chapter Eleven 
 
 it, his face boyishly upturned. Again that 
 something, so vaguely familiar, plucked at 
 her with its ghostly, appealing fingers* She 
 turned swiftly, and seized them, and so 
 found herself in possession of a memory out 
 of her far-off childhood. 
 
 " 1 know you 1 " she cried. " I have seen 
 you before this ! " 
 
 He bent his puzzled gaze upon her. 
 
 " I was a very little girl," she explained, 
 " and you but a lad. It was at a party, I 
 think, a great and brilliant party, for I re- 
 member many beautiful women and fine 
 men. You held me up in your arms for 
 people to see, because I was going on a 
 long journey." 
 
 "I remember, of course I do!" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 A bell clanged, turning over and over, 
 calling the Company's men to their day. 
 [159] 
 
The Call of the North 
 "Farewell," she said, hurriedly. "To- 
 night." 
 
 " To-night," he repeated. 
 She glided rapidly through the grass, noise- 
 less in her moccasined feet. And as she 
 went she heard his voice humming soft and 
 low, 
 
 * Isabeau *'y promene 
 Le long de sonjardln, 
 Le long de sonjardin, 
 Sur le bord de We, 
 Le long de svnjardin" 
 
 ** How could he help singing," murmured 
 Virginia, fondly. " Ah, dear Heaven, but I 
 am the happiest girl alive 1 " 
 
 Such a difference can one night bring 
 about. 
 
 [160] 
 
Chapter Twelve 
 
 The day rose and flooded the land with its 
 fuller life. All through the settlement the 
 Post Indians and half-breeds set about their 
 tasks. Some aided Sarnier with his calk- 
 ing of the bateaux; some worked in the 
 fields ; some mended or constructed in the 
 different shops. At eight o'clock the bell 
 rang again, and they ate breakfast. Then a 
 group of seven, armed with muzzle-loading 
 " trade-guns " bound in brass, set out for the 
 marshes in hopes of geese. For the flight 
 was arriving, and the Hudson Bay man 
 knows very well the flavor of goose-flesh, 
 smoked, salted, and barrelled. 
 [161] 
 
The Call of the North 
 Now the voyageurs began to stroll into 
 the sun. They were men of leisure. Pict- 
 uresque, handsome, careless, debonair, they 
 wandered back and forth, smoking their cigar 
 ettes, exhibiting their finery. Indian women, 
 wrinkled and careworn, plodded patiently 
 about on various businesses. Indian girls, 
 full of fun and mischief, drifted here and 
 there in arm-locked groups of a dozen, 
 smiling, whispering among themselves, ready 
 to collapse toward a common centre of gig- 
 gles if addressed by one of the numerous 
 woods- dandies. Indian men stalked singly, 
 indifferent, stolid. Indian children of all 
 sizes and degrees of nakedness darted back 
 and forth, playing strange games. The sound 
 of many voices rose across the air. 
 
 Once the voices moderated, when McDon- 
 ald, the Chief Trader, walked rapidly from 
 the barracks building to the trading store ; 
 
Chapter Twelve 
 
 mce they died entirely into a hush of re- 
 spect, when Galen Albret himself appeared 
 on the broad veranda of the factory. He 
 stood for a moment bulked broad and 
 black against the whitewash his hands 
 clasped behind him, gazing abstractedly tow- 
 ard the distant bay. Then he turned into 
 the house to some mysterious and weighty 
 business of his own. The hubbub at once 
 broke out again. 
 
 Now about the mouth of the long pick- 
 eted lane leading to the massive trading 
 store gathered a silent group, bearing packs. 
 These were Indians from the more immedi- 
 ate vicinity, desirous of trading their skins. 
 After a moment McDonald appeared in the 
 doorway, a hundred feet away, and raised 
 his hand. Two of the savages, and two 
 only, trotted down the narrow picket lane, 
 their packs on their shoulders. 
 [163] 
 
The Call of the North 
 McDonald ushered them into a big square 
 room, where the bales were undone and 
 spread abroad. Deftly, silently the Trader 
 sorted the furs, placing to one side or the 
 other the " primes," " seconds," and " thirds " 
 of each species. For a moment he calcu- 
 lated. Then he stepped to a post whereon 
 hung long strings of pierced wooden count- 
 ers, worn smooth by use. Swiftly he told 
 the strings over. To one of the Indians he 
 gave one with these words : 
 
 " Mu-hi-kun, my brother, here be pelts to 
 the value of two hundred * beaver.' Behold 
 a string, then, of two hundred * castors, 'and 
 in addition I give my brother one fathom of 
 tobacco." 
 
 The Indian calculated rapidly, his eye ab- 
 stracted. He had known exactly the value 
 of his catch, and what he would receive 
 for it in "castors," but had hoped for a 
 [164] 
 
Chapter Twelve 
 
 larger " present," by which the premium on 
 the standard price is measured. 
 
 "Ah hah," he exclaimed, finally, and stepped 
 to one side. 
 
 "Sak-we-su, my brother,*' went on Me 
 Donald, " here be pelts to the value of three 
 hundred * beaver. Behold a string, then, of 
 three hundred * castors/ and because you 
 have brought so fine a skin of the otter, be- 
 hold also a fathom of tobacco and a half 
 sack of flour." 
 
 " Good ! M ejaculated the Indian. 
 
 The Trader then led them to stairs, up which 
 they clambered to where Davis, the Assist- 
 ant Trader, kept store. There, barred by a 
 heavy wooden grill from the airy loft filled 
 with bright calicoes, sashes, pails, guns, 
 blankets, clothes, and other ornamental and 
 useful things, Sak-we-su and Mu-hi-kun 
 made their choice, trading in the worn 
 [165] 
 
The Call of the North 
 wooden " castors " on the string. So much 
 flour, so much tea, so much sugar and pow- 
 der and lead, so much in clothing. Thus 
 were their simple needs supplied for the year 
 to come. Then the- remainder they squan- 
 dered on all sorts of useless things beads, 
 ttlks, sashes, bright handkerchiefs, mirrors. 
 And when the last wooden " castor " was in 
 they went down stairs and out the picket 
 lane, carrying their lighter purchases, but 
 leaving the larger as " debt," to be called for 
 when needed. Two of their companions 
 mounted the stairs as they descended ; and 
 two more passed them in the narrow picket 
 lane. So the trade went on. 
 
 At once Sak-we-su and Mu-hi-kun were 
 surrounded. In detail they told what they 
 had done. Then in greater detail their 
 friends told what they would have done, 
 until after five minutes of bewildering ad 
 [1661 
 
Chapter Twelve 
 
 rice the disconsolate pair would have been 
 only too glad to have exchanged everything 
 if that had been allowed. 
 
 Now the bell rang again. It was " smoke 
 time." Everyone quit work for a half-hour. 
 Jhe sun climbed higher in the heavens. 
 The laughing crews of idlers sprawled in 
 the warmth, gambling, telling stories, sing- 
 ing. Then one might have heard all 
 the picturesque songs of the Far North 
 " A la claire Fontaine " ; " Ma Boule Ron- 
 lant " ; " Par derri&r' chez-mon P&re " ; " Isa- 
 beau s'y prom&ne"; "P'tite Jeanneton " ; 
 " Luron, Lurette " ; " Chante, Rossignol, 
 chante " ; the ever-popular "Malbrouck n ; 
 " C'est la belle Fran^oise ; " Alouette " ; or 
 the beautiful and tender " La Violette Dan- 
 dine." They had good voices, these voy 
 ageurs, with the French artistic instinct, 
 and it was fine to hear them. 
 [167] 
 
The Call of the North 
 At noon the squaws set out to gather ca- 
 noe gum on the mainland. They sat hud- 
 dled in the bottom of their old and leaky 
 canoe, reaching far over the sides to dip 
 their paddles, irregularly placed, silent, mys- 
 terious. They did not paddle with the uni- 
 son of the men, but each jabbed a little 
 short stroke as the time suited her, so that 
 always some paddles' were rising and some 
 falling. Into the distance thus they flapped 
 like wounded birds ; then rounded a bend, 
 and were gone. 
 
 The sun swung over and down the slope. 
 Dinner time had passed ; ' smoke time 
 had come again. Squaws brought the first 
 white-fish of the season to the kitchen door 
 of the factory, and Matthews raised the 
 hand of horror at the price they asked. Fi- 
 nally he bought six of about three pounds 
 each, giving in exchange tea to the approxi* 
 [168] 
 
Chapter Twelve 
 
 mate value of twelve cents. The Indian 
 women went away, secretly pleased over 
 their bargain. 
 
 Down by the Indian camp suddenly broke 
 the roar of a dog- fight. Two of the sledge 
 gidde's had come to teeth, and the friends 
 of both were assisting the cause. The 
 idlers went to see, laughing, shouting, run- 
 ning impromptu races. They sat on their 
 haunches and cheered ironically, and made 
 small bets, and encouraged the frantic old 
 squaw hags who, at imminent risk, were 
 trying to disintegrate the snarling, rolling 
 mass. Over in the high log stockade 
 wherein the Company's sledge animals were 
 confined, other wolf-dogs howled mourn- 
 fully, desolated at missing the fun. 
 
 And always the sun swung lower and 
 lower toward the west, until finally the long 
 northern twilight fell, and the girl in the 
 [169J 
 
The Call of the NortK 
 little white bedroom at the factory bathed 
 her face ari<3 whispered for the hundredth 
 time tc her beating heart : 
 "Night has come 5" 
 
 [170] 
 
Chapter Thirteen 
 
 That evening at dinner Virginia studied her 
 father's face again. She saw the square 
 settled line of the jaw under the beard, the 
 unwavering frown of the heavy eyebrows, 
 the unblinking purpose of the cavernous, 
 mysterious eyes. Never had she felt herself 
 very close to this silent, inscrutable man, 
 even in his moments of more affectionate 
 expansion. Now a gulf divided them. 
 
 And yet, strangely enough, she experi- 
 enced no revulsion, no horror, no recoil 
 even. He had merely become more aloof, 
 more incomprehensible ; his purposes vaster, 
 less susceptible to the grasp of such as she. 
 [171] 
 
The Call of the North 
 There may have been some basis for this 
 feeling, or it may have been merely the re- 
 flex glow of a joy that made all other things 
 seem insignificant. 
 
 As soon as might be after the meal Vir- 
 ginia slipped away, carrying the rifle, the 
 cartridges, the matches, and the salt. She 
 was cruelly frightened. 
 
 The night was providentially dark. No 
 aurora threw its splendor across the dome, 
 and only a few rare stars peeped between 
 the light cirrus clouds. Virginia left be- 
 hind her the buildings of the Post, she 
 passed in safety the tin-steepled chapel and 
 the church house ; there remained only the 
 Indian camp between her and the woods 
 trail. At once the dogs began to bark and 
 howl, the fierce giddes lifting their pointed 
 noses to the sky. The girl hurried on, 
 swinging far to the right through the grass, 
 [172] 
 
Chapter Thirteen 
 
 To her relief the camp did not respond to 
 the summons. An old crone or so appeared 
 in the flap of a teepee, eyes dazzled, to 
 throw uselessly a billet of wood or a vol- 
 ley of Cree abuse at the animals nearest 
 In a moment Virginia entered the trail 
 
 Here was no light at all. She had to pro- 
 ceed warily, feeling with her moccasins fof 
 the beaten pathway, to which she returned 
 with infinite caution whenever she trod on 
 grass or leaves. Though her sight was 
 dulled, her hearing was not. A thousand 
 scurrying noises swirled about her ; a mul- 
 titude of squeaks, whistles, snorts, and 
 whines attested that she disturbed the forest 
 creatures at their varied businesses ; and 
 underneath spoke an apparent dozen of ter- 
 rifying voices which were in reality only the 
 winds and the trees. Virginia knew that 
 these things were not dangerous that day^ 
 [173] 
 
The Call of the North 
 light would show them to be only deer* 
 mice, hares, weasels, bats, and owls never- 
 theless, they had their effect. For about 
 her was cloying velvet blackness not the 
 closed-in blackness of a room, where one 
 feels the embrace of the four walls, but the 
 blackness of infinite space through which 
 sweep mysterious currents of air. After a 
 long time she turned sharp to the left. 
 After a long time more she perceived a 
 faint, opalescent glimmer in the distance 
 ahead. This she knew to be the river. 
 
 She felt her way onward, still cautiously ; 
 then she choked back a scream and dropped 
 her burden with a clatter to the ground. A 
 dark figure seemed to have risen myster- 
 iously at her side. 
 
 " I didn't mean to frighten you/' said Ned 
 Trent, in guarded tones. " I heard you com- 
 ing. I thought you could hear me.' 
 [174] 
 
Chapter Thirteen 
 
 He picked up the fallen articles, running 
 his hands over them rapidly. 
 
 " Good," he whispered. " I got some moc- 
 casins to-day traded a few things I had in 
 my pockets for them. I'm fixed/ 
 
 " Have you a canoe ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes here on the beach/ 
 
 He preceded her down the few remaining 
 yards of the trail. She followed, already 
 desolated at the thought of parting, for the 
 wilderness was very big. The bulk of the 
 man partly blotted out the lucent spot 
 where the river was now his arm, now 
 his head, now the breadth of his shoul- 
 ders. This silhouette of him was dear to 
 her, the sound of his movements, the faint 
 stir of his breathing borne to her on the 
 light breeze. Virginia's tender heart al- 
 most overflowed with longing and fear for 
 him. 
 
 [175] 
 
The Call of the North 
 They emerged on a little slope and at once 
 pushed the canoe into the current. 
 
 She accepted the aid of his hand for a mo* 
 ment, and sank to her place, facing him 
 He spurned lightly the shore, and so they 
 were adrift. 
 
 In a moment they seemed to be floating 
 on a vast vapor of night, infinitely remote 
 from anywhere, surrounded by the silence 
 that might have been before the world's 
 beginning. A faint splash could have been 
 a muskrat near at hand or a caribou far away. 
 The paddle rose and dipped with a faint 
 swish, swish, and the steersman's twist of it 
 was taken up by the man's strong wrist so 
 it did not click against the gunwale; the 
 bow of the craft divided the waters with 
 a murmuring so faint as to seem but the 
 echo of a silence. Neither spoke. Virginia 
 Watched him, her heart too full for words ; 
 [176] 
 
Chapter Thirteen 
 
 watched the full swing of his strong shoul- 
 ders, the balance of his body at the hips, the 
 poise of his head against the dull sky. In a 
 moment more the parting would have to 
 come. 3he dreaded it, and yet she looked 
 forward to it with a hungry joy. Then he 
 would say what she had seen in his eyes ; 
 then he would speak ; then she would hear 
 the words that should comfort her in the 
 days of waiting. For a woman lives much 
 for the present, and the moment's word is 
 an important thing. 
 
 The man swung his paddle steadily, throw- 
 ing into the strokes a wanton exuberance 
 that showed how high his spirits ran. 
 After a time, when they were well out 
 from the shore, he took a deep breath of 
 delight. 
 
 " Ah, you don't know how happy I am," 
 he exulted, * you don't know I To be free* 
 [177] 
 
Catt of, the North 
 to play the game, to match my wits against 
 theirs ah, that is life ! " 
 
 " I am sorry to see you go," she murmured, 
 " very sorry. The days will be full of terror 
 until I know you are safe." 
 
 " Oh, yes," he answered ; " but 111 get 
 there, and 1 shall tell it all to you at Que- 
 bec at Quebec in August. It will he a 
 brave tale ! You will be there surely ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the girl, softly ; " I will be 
 there surely." 
 
 "Good! Feel the wind on your cheek? 
 It is from the Southland, where I am going. 
 I have ventured and I have not lost ! It 
 is something not to lose, when one has 
 ventured against many. They have my 
 goods but I 
 
 "You?" repeated Virginia, as he hesitated. 
 
 " Ah, I don't go back empty-handed ! " he 
 cried Her heart stood still, then leaped in 
 178] 
 
Chapter Thirteen 
 
 anticipation of what he wouW say. Her soul 
 hungered for the words, the words that should 
 not only comfort her, but should be to her 
 the excuse for many things. She saw him 
 shadowy, graceful against the dim gray of 
 the river and sky lean ever so slightly tow 
 ard her. But then he straightened again 
 to his paddle, and contented himself with 
 repeating merely : " Quebec in August, 
 then/' 
 
 The canoe grated. Ned Trent with an ex- 
 clamation drove his paddle into the clay. 
 
 " Lucky the bottom is soft here," said he ; 
 
 * I did not realize we were so close ashore." 
 
 He drew the canoe up on the shelving 
 beach, helped Virginia out, took his rifle, 
 and so stood ready to depart. 
 
 " Leave the canoe just where we got in," 
 he advised ; "it is around the point, you 
 
 ee, and that may fool them a little.* 
 [179] 
 
The Call of the NortR 
 
 ** You are going," she said, dully. Then she 
 came close to him and looked up at him 
 with her wonderful eyes. " Good-by." 
 
 * Good-by," said he* 
 
 Was this to be all ? Had he nothing more 
 to tell her? Was the word to lack, the 
 word she needed so much ? She had given 
 herself unreservedly into this man s hands, 
 and at paring he had no more to say to 
 her than * Good-by. * Virginia's eyes were 
 tearful, but she would not let him know 
 that. She felt that her heart would break. 
 
 " Well, good-by," he said again after a 
 moment, which he had spent inspecting the 
 heavens. " Ah, you don t know what it is 
 to be free J By to-morrow morning I shall 
 be half-way to the Matt^gami. I can 
 hardly wait to see it, for then I am safe! 
 And then next day why, next day they 
 won't know which of a dozen ways I've 
 [180] 
 
Chapter Thirteen 
 
 gone ! " He was full of the future, man 
 fashion. 
 
 He took her hands, leaned over, and light 
 ly kissed her on the mouth. Instantly Vir 
 ginia became wildly and unreasonably angry, 
 She could not have told herself why, but it 
 was the lack of the word she had wanted so 
 much, the pain of feeling that he could go 
 like that, the thwarted bitterness of a long 
 ing that had grown stronger than she had 
 even yet realized. 
 
 Instinctively she leaped into the canoe, 
 sending it spinning from the bank. 
 
 " Ah, you had no right to do that 1 * she 
 cried. " I gave you no right f n 
 
 Then, heedless of what he was saying, she 
 began to paddle straight from the shore* 
 weeping bitterly, her face upraised, her hair 
 in her *yes, and the tears coursing unheeded 
 iown her cheeks. 
 
 [181] 
 
Chapter Fourteen 
 
 Slower and slower her paddle dipped, lower 
 and lower hung her head, faster and fastei 
 flowed her tears. The instinctive recoil, the 
 passionate resentment had gone. In the 
 bitterness of her spirit she knew not what 
 she thought except that she would give her 
 soul to see him again, to feel the touch of 
 his lips once more. For she could not make 
 herself believe that this would ever come to 
 pass. He had gone like a phantom, like a 
 dream, and the mists of life had closed about 
 
 him, showing no sign. He had vanished* 
 
 
 
 and at once she seemed to know that th* 
 episode was finished. 
 
 riati 
 
Chapter Fourteen 
 
 The canoe whispered against the soft clay 
 bottom. She had arrived, though how the 
 crossing had been made she could not have 
 told. Slowly and sorrowfully she disem- 
 barked. Languidly she drew the light craft 
 beyond the stream's eager fingers. Then, 
 her forces at an end, she huddled down on 
 the ground and gave herself up to sorrow. 
 
 The life of the forest went on as though 
 she were not there. A big owl far off said 
 hurriedly his whoo-whoo-whoo, as though he 
 had the message to deliver and wanted to 
 finish the task. A smaller owl near at hand 
 cried ko-ko-ko-oh with the intonation of a 
 tin horn. Across the river a lynx screamed, 
 and was answered at once by the ululations 
 of wolves. On the island the gidctes howled 
 defiance. Then from above, clear, spiritual, 
 floated the whistle of shore birds arriving 
 from the south. Close by sounded a rustle 
 [183] 
 
The Call of the North 
 of leaves, a sharp squeak; a tragedy Had 
 been consummated, and the fierce little 
 mink stared malevolently across the body 
 of his victim at the motionless figure on the 
 beach 
 
 Virginia, drowned in grief, knew of none 
 of these things. She was seeing again the 
 clear brown face of the stranger, his curly 
 brown hair, his steel eyes, and the swing of 
 his graceful figure. Now he fronted th 
 wondering voyageurs* one foot raised against 
 the bow of the brigade canoe ; now he stood 
 straight and tall against the light of the sit- 
 ting-room door; now he emptied the vials 
 of his wrath and contempt on Archibald 
 Crane's reverend head; now he passed in 
 the darkness, singing gayly the chanson de 
 gandt But more fondly she saw him as he 
 swept his hat to the ground on discovering 
 her by the guns, as he bent his impassioned 
 [184] 
 
Chapter Fourteen 
 
 eyes on her in the dim lamplight of their 
 first interview, as he tossed his hat aloft in 
 the air when he had understood that she 
 would be in Quebec. She hugged the visions 
 to her, and wept over them softly, for she 
 was now sure she would never see him 
 again. 
 
 And she heard his voice, now laughing, 
 now scornful, now mocking, now indignant, 
 now rich and solemn with feeling. He 
 flouted the people, he turned the shafts of 
 his irony on her father, he scathed the min- 
 ister, he laughed at Louis Placide awakened 
 from his sleep, he sang, he told her of the 
 land of desolation, he pleaded. She could 
 hear him calling her name although he had 
 never spoken it in low, tender tones, " Vir- 
 ginia ! Virginia ! " over and over again softly, 
 as though his soul were crying through his 
 lips. 
 
 J18S] 
 
The Cdtt of the North 
 
 Then somehow, in a manner not to b 
 comprehended, it was borne in on her con- 
 sciousness that he was indeed near her, and 
 that he was indeed calling her name. And 
 at once she made him out, standing dripping 
 on the beach. A moment later she was in 
 his arms. 
 
 " Ah 1 " he cried, in gladness ; " you are 
 here!" 
 
 He crushed her hungrily to him, unmind- 
 ful of his wet clothes, kissing her eyes, her 
 cheeks, her lips, her chin, even the fragrant 
 corner of her throat exposed by the collar of 
 her gown. She did not struggle. 
 
 "Oh!" she murmured, "my dear, my 
 dear! Why did you come back? Why 
 did you come ? * 
 
 " Why did I come ? " he repeated, passion- 
 ately. " Why did I come ? Can you ask 
 that ? How could I help but come ? You 
 [186] 
 
Chapter Fourteen 
 
 must have known I would come. Surely 
 you must have known ! Didn't you hear 
 me calling you when you paddled away ? I 
 came to get the right. I came to get your 
 promise, your kisses, to hear you say the 
 word, to get you ! I thought you under- 
 stood. It was all so clear to me. I thought 
 you knew. That was why I was so glad to 
 go, so eager to get away that I could not 
 even realize I was parting from you so I 
 could the sooner reach Quebec reach you ! 
 Don't you see how I felt ? All this present 
 was merely something to get over, to pass 
 by, to put behind us until I got to Quebec 
 in August and you. I looked forward so 
 eagerly to that, I was so anxious to get 
 aw r ay, I was desirous of hastening on to the 
 time when things could be sure! Don't 
 you understand ? " 
 " Yes, I think I do," replied the girl, softly. 
 
The Catt of the North 
 
 *' And I thought of course you knew. 1 
 should not have kissed you otherwise/* 
 
 " How could I know ? " she sighed. " You 
 said nothing, and, oh ! I wanted so to hear ! " 
 
 And singularly enough he said nothing 
 now, but they stood facing each other hand 
 in hand, while the great vibrant life they 
 were now touching so closely filled their 
 hearts and eyes, and left them faint. So 
 they stood for hours or for seconds, they 
 could not tell, spirit-hushed, ecstatic. The 
 girl realized that they must part. 
 
 " You must go," she whispered brokenly, 
 at last. " I do not want you to, but you 
 must." 
 
 She smiled up at him with trembling lips 
 that whispered to her soul that she must be 
 brave. 
 
 "Now go/' she nerved herself to say, re- 
 leasing her hands. 
 
 [188] 
 
Chapter Fourteen 
 
 * Tell me,* he commanded. 
 
 What ? " she asked. 
 
 " Wliat I most want to hear." 
 
 " I can tell you many things," said she, so- 
 berly, " but I do not know which of them 
 you want to hear. Ah, Ned, I can tell you 
 that you have come into a girl's life to 
 make her very happy and very much afraid. 
 And that is a solemn thing ; is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes," said he. 
 
 " And I can tell you that this can never 
 be undone. That is a solemn thing, too, is 
 it not ? " 
 
 " Yes," said he, 
 
 " And that, according as you treat her, this 
 girl will believe or not believe in the good- 
 ness of all men or the badness of all men. 
 Ah, Ned, a woman's heart is fragile, and 
 mine is in your keeping." 
 
 Her face was raised bravely and steadily to 
 
The Call of the North 
 his. In the starlight it shone white and 
 pathetic. And her eyes were two liquid 
 wells of darkness in the shadow, and her 
 half-parted lips were wistful and childlike. 
 
 The man caught both her hands, again 
 looking down on her. Then he answered 
 her, solemnly and humbly. 
 
 " Virginia," said he, " I am setting out on 
 a perilous journey. As I deal with you. 
 may God deal with me." 
 
 " Ah, that is as I like you, * ^he breathed. 
 
 " Good-by," said he. 
 
 She raised her lips of her own accord, and 
 he kissed them reverently. 
 
 " Good-by," she murmured. 
 
 He turned away with an effort and ran 
 down the beach to the canoe. 
 
 * Good-by, good-by," she murmured, un- 
 der her breath. "Ah, good-by! I love 
 you ! Oh, I do love you! " 
 [190] 
 
Chapter Fourteen 
 
 Then suddenly from the hushes leaped 
 dark figures. The still night was broken by 
 the sound of a violent scuffle blows a 
 falL She heard Ned Trent's voice calling 
 to her from the mette. 
 
 " Go back at once ! " he commanded, 
 clearly and steadily. "You can do no 
 good. I order you to go home before they 
 search the woods." 
 
 But she crouched in dazed terror, her pu- 
 pils wide to the dim light. She saw them 
 bind him, and stand waiting; she saw a 
 canoe glide out of the darkness ; she saw 
 the occupants of the canoe disembark ; she 
 saw them exhibit her little rifle, and heard 
 them explain in Cree, that they had fol- 
 lowed the man swimming. Then she knew 
 that the cause was lost, and fled as swiftly 
 as she could through the forest. 
 
 [191] 
 
Chapter Fifteen 
 
 Galen Albret had chosen to interrogate his 
 recaptured prisoner alone. He sat again in 
 the arm-chair of the Council Room. The 
 place was flooded with sun. It touched the 
 high-lights of the time-darkened, rough fur- 
 niture, it picked out the brasses, it glorified 
 the whitewashed walls. In its uncompro- 
 mising illumination Me-en-gan, the bows- 
 man, standing straight and tall and silent 
 by the door, studied his master's face and 
 knew him to be deeply angered. 
 
 For Galen Albret was at this moment 
 called upon to deal with a problem more 
 subtle than any with which his policy had 
 
Chapter Fifteen 
 
 been puzzled in thirty years, It was bad 
 enough that, in repeated defiance of his au- 
 thority, this stranger should persist in his 
 attempt to break the Company's monopoly; 
 it was bad enough that he had, when capt- 
 ured, borne himself with so impudent an air 
 of assurance ; it was bad enough that he 
 should have made open love to the Factor's 
 daughter, should have laughed scornfully 
 in the Factor's very face. But now the 
 case had become grave. In some mysteri- 
 ous manner he had succeeded in corrupting 
 one of the Company's servants. Treach- 
 ery was therefore to be dealt with. 
 
 Some facts Galen Albret had well in hand. 
 Others eluded him persistently. He had, 
 of course, known promptly enough of the 
 disappearance of a canoe, and had thereupon 
 dispatched his Indians to the recapture. 
 The Reverend Archibald Crane had report- 
 [193] 
 
The r CaU of the North 
 i*d that two figures had been seen in the act 
 of leaving camp, one by the river, the other 
 by the Woods Trail. But here the Fac- 
 tor's investigations encountered a check. 
 The rifle brought in by his Indians, to 
 his bewilderment, he recognized not at all. 
 His repeated cross-questionings, when they 
 touched on the question of Ned Trent's 
 companion, got no farther than the Cree 
 wooden stolidity. No, they had seen no 
 one, neither presence, sign, nor trail. But 
 Galen Albret, versed in the psychology of 
 his savage allies, knew they lied. He sus- 
 pected them of clan loyalty to one of their 
 own number ; and yet they had never failed 
 him before. Now, his heavy revolver at 
 his right hand, he interviewed Ned Trent, 
 alone, except for the Indian by the portal. 
 
 As with the Indians, his cross-examination 
 had borne scant results. The best of his 
 [194] 
 
Chapter Fifteen 
 
 questions but involved him in a maze of 
 baffling surmises. Gradually his anger had 
 mounted, until now the Indian at the door 
 knew by the wax-like appearance of the 
 more prominent places on his deeply carved 
 countenance that he had nearly reached the 
 point of outbreak. 
 
 Swiftly, like the play of rapiers, the ques- 
 tions and answers broke across the still 
 room. 
 
 " You had aid," the Factor asserted, posi- 
 tively. 
 
 " You think so?" 
 
 " My Indians say you were alone. But 
 where did you get this rifle ? " 
 
 " I stole it." 
 
 " You were alone ? " 
 
 Ned Trent paused for a barely appreciable 
 instant. It was not possible that the Ind- 
 ians had failed to establish the girl's pres- 
 [195] 
 
 
The Catt of the North 
 ence, and he feared a trap. Then he caught 
 the expressive eye of Me-en-gan at the door. 
 Evidently Virginia had friends. 
 
 " I was alone," he repeated, confidently. 
 
 "That is a lie. For though my Indians 
 were deceived, two people were observed by 
 my clergyman to leave the Post immediately 
 before I sent out to your capture. One 
 rounded the island in a canoe; the other 
 took the Woods Trail.' 
 
 " Bully for the Church," replied Trent, im- 
 perturbably. " Better promote him to your 
 scouts." 
 
 " Who was that second person ? * 
 
 " Do you think I will tell you ? " 
 
 " I think I'll find means to make you tell 
 me ! " burst out the Factor. 
 
 Ned Trent was silent. 
 
 " If you'll tell me the name of that man 
 
 I'll let you go free. I'll give you a permit 
 
 [196] 
 
Chapter Fifteen 
 
 to trade in the country. It touches my au- 
 thority my discipline. The affair becomes 
 a precedent. It is vital." 
 
 Ned Trent fixed his eyes on the bay and 
 hummed a little air, half turning his shoul- 
 der to the older man. 
 
 The latter's face blazed with suppressed 
 fury. Twice his hand rested almost con- 
 vulsively on the butt of his heavy revolver. 
 
 " Ned Trent," he cried, harshly, at last, 
 ** pay attention to me. I've had enough of 
 this, I swear if you do not tell me what I 
 want to know within five minutes, I'll hang 
 you to-day 1 " 
 
 The young man spun on his heeL 
 
 ** Hanging 1 n he cried, " You cannot mean 
 that?" 
 
 The Free Trader measured him up and 
 down, saw that his purpose was sincere, and 
 turned slowly pale under the bronze of his 
 197] 
 
The Call of the North 
 out-ot-door tan. Hanging is always a dread 
 ful death, but in the Far North it carries an 
 extra stigma of ignominy with it, inasmuch 
 as it is resorted to only with the basest 
 malefactors. Shooting is the usual form of 
 execution for all but the most despicable 
 crimes. He turned away with a little 
 gesture. 
 
 "Well!" cried Albret. 
 
 Ned Trent locked his lip in a purposeful 
 straight line of silence. To such an outrage 
 there could be nothing to say. The Factor 
 jerked his watch to the table. 
 
 " 1 said five minutes/ he repeated. ** 1 
 mean it." 
 
 The young man leaned against the side of 
 the window, his arms folded, his back to the 
 room. Outside, the varied life of the Post 
 went forward under his eyes* He even 
 noted with a surface interest the fact thai 
 [198] 
 
Cliapier Fifteen 
 
 out across the river a loon was floating, and 
 remarked that never before had he seen one 
 of those birds so far north, Galen Albret 
 struck the table with the flat of his hand. 
 
 " Done ! * he cried. " This is the last chance 
 I shall give you. Speak at this instant or 
 accept the consequences ! " 
 
 Ned Trent turned sharply, as though break- 
 ing a thread that bound him to the distant 
 prospect beyond the window. For an in- 
 stant he stared enigmatically at his opponent. 
 Then in the sweetest tones, 
 
 " Oh, go to the devil ! " said he, and began 
 to walk deliberately toward the older man. 
 
 There lay between the window and the 
 head of the table perhaps a dozen ordinary 
 steps, for the room was large. The young 
 man took them slowly, his eyes fixed with 
 burning intensity on the seated figure, the 
 muscles of his locomotion contracting and 
 [199] 
 
The Call of the North 
 relaxing with the smooth, stealthy contintritj 
 of a cat Galen Albret again laid hand OP 
 his revolver, 
 
 w Come no nearer/' he commanded, 
 
 Me-en-gan left the door and glided along 
 the walL But the table intervened betwee* 
 him and the Free Trader. 
 
 The latter paid no attention to the Factor** 
 command, Galen Albret suddenly raised 
 his weapon from the table, 
 
 Stop, or I'll fire ! " he cried, sharply. 
 
 " I mean just that," said Ned Trent between 
 his clenched teeth. 
 
 But ten feet separated the two men. Galen 
 Albret levelled the revolver. Ned Trent, 
 watchful, prepared to spring. Me-en-gan, 
 near the foot of the table, gathered himself 
 for attack, 
 
 Then suddenly the Free Trader relaxed his 
 muscles, straightened his back, and returned 
 
Chapter Fifteen 
 
 deliberately to the window. Facing about 
 in astonishment to discover the reason for 
 this sudden change of decision, the other two 
 men looked into the face of Virginia Albret, 
 standing in the doorway of the other room. 
 
 * Father * she cried. 
 
 "You must go back," said Ned Trent 
 speaking clearly and collectedly, in the hope 
 of imposing his will on her obvious excite- 
 ment. " This is not an affair in which you 
 should interfere. Galen Albret, send her 
 away, 
 
 The Factor had turned squarely in his 
 heavy arm chair to regard the girl, a frown 
 on his brows 
 
 ** Virginia, he commanded, in deliberate, 
 stern tones of authority, " leave the room. 
 You have nothing to do with this case, and 
 X do not desire your interference." 
 
 Virginia stepped bravely beyond the por- 
 
The Call of the NortK 
 tals, and stopped. Her fingers were ner 
 vously interlocked, her lip trembled, in her 
 cheeks the color came and went, but her 
 eyes met her father s, unfaltering. 
 
 " 1 have more to do with it than you 
 think, she replied, 
 
 Instantly Ned Trent was at the table. " ) 
 really think this has gone far enough, ' he 
 interposed. " We have had our interview 
 and come to a decision. Miss Albret must 
 not be permitted to exaggerate a slight senti- 
 ment of pity into an interest in my affairs. 
 If she knew that such a demonstration only 
 made it worse for me J am sure she would 
 say no more. He looked at her appealing- 
 ly across the Factor's shoulder 
 
 Me-en-gan was already holding open the 
 door. " You come/ he smiled, beseech 
 ingly. 
 
 But the Factor s suspicions were aroused. 
 
Chapter Fifteen 
 
 " There is something in this," he decided. 
 M I think you may stay, Virginia." 
 
 You are right, broke in the young man, 
 desperately. "There is something in it. 
 Miss Albret knows who gave me the rifle, 
 and she was about to inform you of his 
 identity. There is no need in subjecting her 
 to that distasteful ordeal. I am now ready 
 to confess to you. I beg you will ask her 
 to leave the room/ 
 
 Galen Albret, in the midst of these warring 
 intentions, had sunk into his customary im- 
 passive calm. The light had died from his 
 eyes, the expression from his face, the energy 
 from his body. He sat, an inert mass, void 
 of initiative, his intelligence open to what 
 might be brought to his notice. 
 
 " Virginia, this is true ? " his heavy, dead 
 voice rumbled through his beard. "You 
 fenow who aided this man ? * 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 Ned Trent mutely appealed to her,; fcet 
 glance answered his. 
 
 M Yes, father, " she replied* 
 
 " Who ? ? 
 
 I did." 
 
 A dead silence fell on the room. Galen 
 Albrets expression and attitude did not 
 change. Through dull, lifeless eyes, from 
 behind the heavy mask of his waxen face 
 and white beard, he looked steadily out 
 upon nothing. Along either arm of the 
 chair stretched his own arms limp and heavy 
 with inertia. In suspense the other three 
 inmates of the place watched him, waiting 
 for some change. It did not come. Finally 
 his lips moved. 
 
 ** You ? " he muttered, questioningly, 
 
 M I," she repeated 
 
 Another silence fell. 
 
 * Why ? " he asked at last 
 [204] 
 
Chapter Fifteen 
 
 " Because it was an unjust thing. Be- 
 muse we could not think of taking a life in 
 Uat way, without some reason for it." 
 
 " Why ? " he persisted, taking no account 
 *f her reply. 
 
 Virginia let her gaze slowly rest on the 
 Free Trader, and her eyes filled with a world 
 of tenderness and trust. 
 
 " Because I love him," said she, softly. 
 
 l05j 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 After an instant Galen Albret turned slowly 
 his massive head and looked at her. He 
 made no other movement, yet she staggered 
 back as though she had received a violent 
 blow on the chest. 
 
 " Father ! " she gasped. 
 
 Still slowly, gropingly, he arose to his feet, 
 holding tight to the edge of the table. 
 Behind him unheeded the rough-built arm- 
 chair crashed to the floor. He stood there 
 upright and motionless, looking straight be- 
 fore him, his face formidable. At first his 
 speech was disjointed. The words came in 
 widely punctuated gasps. Then, as the wave 
 [206] 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 of his emotion rolled back from the poise 
 into which the first shock of anger had 
 thrown it, it escaped through his lips in 
 a constantly increasing stream of bitter 
 words. 
 
 "You you love him," he cried. " You-- 
 my daughter ! You have been a traitor-^ 
 to me ! You have dared dared deny that 
 which my whole life has affirmed ! My own 
 flesh and blood when I thought the near 
 est metis of them all more loyal ! You love 
 this man this man who has insulted me, 
 mocked me ! You have taken his part 
 against me ! You have deliberately placed 
 yourself in the class of those I would hang 
 for such an offence ! If you were not my 
 daughter I would hang you. Hang my own 
 child!" Suddenly his rage flared. "You 
 little fool ! Do you dare set your judgment 
 against mine ? Do you dare interfere where 
 [207] 
 
The Call of the North 
 I think well ? Do you dare deny my will ? 
 By the eternal, I'll show you, old as you are, 
 that you have still a father ! Get to your 
 room ! Out of my sight ! " He took two 
 steps forward, and so his eye fell on Ned 
 Trent. He uttered a scream of rage, and 
 reached for the pistol. Fortunately the ab' 
 ruptness of his movement when he arose 
 had knocked it to the floor, so now in the 
 blindness of a red anger he could not see it. 
 He shrieked out an epithet and jumped for- 
 ward, his arm drawn to strike. Ned Trent 
 leaped back into an attitude of defence. 
 
 All three of those present had many times 
 seen Galen Albret possessed by his noted 
 fits of anger, so striking in contrast to his 
 ordinary contained passivity. But always, 
 though evidently in a white heat of rage 
 and given to violent action and decision, he 
 had retained the clearest command of his 
 [208] 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 faculties, issuing coherent and dreaded orders 
 to those about him. Now he had become a 
 raging wild beast. And for the spectators 
 the sight had all the horror of the unprece- 
 dented. 
 
 But the younger man, too, had gradually 
 heated to the point where his ordinary care- 
 less indifference could give off sparks. The 
 interview had been baffling, the threats real 
 and unjust, the turn of affairs when Vir- 
 ginia Albret entered the room most exasper- 
 ating on the side of the undesirable and 
 unforeseen. In foiled escape, in thwarted 
 expedient, his emotions had been many 
 times excited, and then eddied back on 
 themselves. The potentialities of as blind 
 an anger as that of Galen Albret were in 
 him. It only needed a touch to loose the 
 flood. The physical threat of a blow sup- 
 plied that touch. As the two men faced 
 [209] 
 
The Call of the North 
 each other both were ripe for the extreme 
 of recklessness. 
 
 But while Galen Albret looked to nothing 
 less than murder, the Free- Trader's indi- 
 vidual genius turned to dead defiance and 
 resistance of will. While Galen Albret's 
 countenance reflected the height of passion, 
 Trent was as smiling and cool and debonair 
 as though he had at that moment received 
 from the older man an extraordinary and 
 particular favor. Only his eyes shot a bale- 
 ful blue flame, and his words, calmly enough 
 delivered, showed the extent to which his 
 passion had cast policy to the winds. 
 
 ' * Don't go too far ! I warn you ! " said he. 
 
 As though the words had projected him 
 bodily forward, Galen Albret sprang to de- 
 liver his blow. The Free Trader ducked 
 rapidly, threw his shoulder across the middle 
 of the older man's body, and by the very 
 [210] 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 superiority of his position forced his antag- 
 onist to give ground. That the struggle 
 would have then continued body to body 
 there can be no doubt, had it not been for 
 the fact that the Factor's retrogressive move- 
 ment brought his knees sharply against the 
 edge of a chair standing near the side of 
 the table. Albret lost his balance, wavered, 
 and finally sat down violently. Ned Trent 
 promptly pinned him by the shoulder into 
 powerless immobility. Me-en-gan had pos- 
 sessed himself of the fallen pistol, but be- 
 yond keeping a generally wary eye out for 
 dangerous developments, did not offer to 
 interfere. Your Indian is in such a cri- 
 sis a disciplinarian, and he had received 
 no orders. 
 
 "Now," said Ned Trent, acidly, "I think 
 this will stop right here. You do not cut a 
 very good figure, my dear sir," he laughed a 
 
The CaU of the North 
 little. " You haven't cut a very good figure 
 from the beginning, you know. You for- 
 bade me to do various things, and I have 
 done them all. I traded with your Indians, 
 I came and went in your country. Do you 
 think I have not been here often before 1 
 was caught ? And you forbade me to see 
 your daughter again. I saw her that very 
 evening, and the next morning and the next 
 evening." 
 
 He stood, still holding Galen Albret im- 
 movably in the chair, looking steadily and 
 angrily into the Factor's eyes, driving each 
 word home with the weight of his contained 
 passion. The girl touched his arm. 
 
 " Hush ! oh, hush ! " she cried in a panic. 
 " Do not anger him further ! " 
 
 " When you forbade me to make love to 
 her," he continued, unheeding, " I laughed 
 at you." With a sudden, swift motion of 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 his left arm he drew her to him and touched 
 her forehead with his lips. ** Look ! Your 
 commands have been rather ridiculous, sir. 
 I seem to have had the upper hand of you 
 from first to last. Incidentally you have my 
 life. Oh, welcome! That is small pay and 
 little satisfaction.'' 
 
 He threw himself from the Factor and 
 stepped back. 
 
 Galen Albret sat still without attempting 
 to renew the struggle. The enforced few 
 moments of inaction had restored to him 
 his self-control. He was still deeply angered, 
 but the insanity of rage had left him. Out- 
 wardly he was himself again. Only a rapid 
 heaving of his chest answered Ned Trent's 
 quick breathing, as the two men glared de- 
 fiantly at each other in the pause that fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 " Very well, sir," said the Factor, curtly, at 
 
The Catt of the North 
 last. "Your time is over. I find it un- 
 necessary to hang you. You will start on 
 your Longue Traverse to-day, w 
 
 " Oh 1 * cried Virginia, in a low voice of 
 agony, and fluttered to her lover s side. 
 
 Hush ! hush I " he soothed her " There 
 is a chance/ 
 
 "You think so?" broke in Galen Albret, 
 harshly. And looking at his set face and 
 blazing eyes, they saw that there was no 
 chance. The Free Trader shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " You are going to do this thing, father, ' 
 appealed Virginia, ** after what J have told 
 you?' 
 
 " My mind is made up/ 
 
 ** I shall not survive him, father ! " she 
 threatened, in a low voice. Then, as thi 
 Factor did not respond, "Do not misunder 
 stand me. I do not intend to survive him.' 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 w Silence I silence 1 silence ! " cried Galen 
 Albret, in a crescendo outburst * 4 Silence t 
 I will not be gainsaid! You have made 
 your choice \ You are no longer a daughter 
 of mine 1 ' 
 
 * Father ! " cried Virginia, faintly, her lips 
 going pale. 
 
 " Don't speak to me ! Don t look at me 1 
 Get out of here ! Get out of the place ! I 
 won't have you here another day another 
 hour ! By " 
 
 The girl hesitated for a moment, then ran 
 to him, sinking on her knees, and clasping 
 his hand. 
 
 " Father," she pleaded, '* you are not your- 
 self. This has been very trying to you. 
 To-morrow you will be sorry. But then it 
 will be too late. Think, while there is yet 
 time. He has not committed a crime. You 
 yourself told me he was a man of intelligence 
 [215] 
 
The Call of the North 
 and daring a gentleman ; and surely, though 
 he has been hasty, he has acted with a brave 
 spirit through it all. See, he will promise 
 you to go away quietly, to say nothing of 
 all this, never to come into this country 
 again without your permission. He will do 
 this if I ask him, for he loves me. Look 
 at me, father. Are you going to treat your 
 little girl so your Virginia ? You have 
 never refused me anything before. And 
 this is the greatest thing in all my life." 
 She held his hand to her cheek and stroked 
 it, murmuring little feminine, caressing 
 phrases, secure in her power of witchery, 
 which had never failed her before. The 
 sound of her own voice reassured her, the 
 quietude of the man she pleaded with. A 
 lifetime of petting, of indulgence, threw its 
 soothing influence over her perturbation, 
 convincing her that somehow all this storm 
 [216J 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 and stress must be phantasmagoric a dream 
 from which she was even now awakening 
 into a clearer day of happiness. ** For you 
 love me, father," she concluded, and looked 
 up daintily, with a pathetic, coquettish tilt 
 of her fair head, to peer into his face. 
 
 Galen Albret snarled like a wild beast, 
 throwing aside the girl, as he did the chair 
 in which he had been sitting. Ned Trent 
 caught her, reeling, in his arms. 
 
 For, as is often the case with passionate 
 but strong temperaments, though the Factor 
 had attained a certain calm of control, the 
 turmoil of his deeper anger had not been in 
 the least stilled. Over it a crust of deter- 
 mination had formed the determination to 
 make an end by the directest means in his 
 autocratic power of this galling opposition. 
 The girl's pleading, instead of appealing to 
 him, had in reality but stirred his fury the 
 [817] 
 
The Call of, the North 
 more profoundly. It had added a new fueJ 
 element to the fire. Heretofore his con- 
 sciousness had felt merely the thwarting of 
 his pride, his authority, his right to loyalty 
 Now his daughter s entreaty brought home 
 to him the bitter realization that he had 
 been attained on another side that of his 
 family affection. This man had also killed 
 for him his only child. For the child had 
 renounced him, had thrust him outside her- 
 self into the lonely and ruined temple of 
 his pride. At the first thought his face 
 twisted with emotion, then hardened to cold 
 malice. 
 
 * Love you 1 " he cried. " Love you 1 An 
 unnatural child ! An ingrate 1 One who 
 turns from me so lightly!" He laughed 
 bitterly, eyeing her with chilling scrutiny. 
 6 You dare recall my love for you I " Sud- 
 denly he stood upright, levelling a 
 
Chapter Sixteen 
 
 trembling arm at her. " You think an ap- 
 peal to my love will save him ! Fool ! " 
 
 Virginia's breath caught in her throat. 
 She straightened, clutched the neckband of 
 her gown. Then her head fell slowly for- 
 ward. She had fainted in her lover's arms. 
 
 They stood exactly so for an appreciable 
 interval, bewildered by the suddenness of 
 this outcome ; Galen Albret's hand out- 
 stretched in denunciation ; the girl like a 
 broken lily, supported in the young man's 
 arms ; he searching her face passionately for 
 a sign of life ; Me-en-gan, straight and sor- 
 rowful, again at the door. 
 
 Then the old man s arm dropped slowly,, 
 His gaze wavered. The lines of his face re- 
 laxed. Twice he made an effort to turn 
 away, All at once his stubborn spirit 
 broke ; he uttered a cry, and sprang for- 
 ward to snatch the unconscious form hun 
 
The Call of the North 
 grily into his bear clasp, searching the girl's 
 face, muttering incoherent things. 
 
 " Quick ! " he cried, aloud, the guttural 
 sounds jostling one another in his throat, 
 Get Wishkobun, quick ! " 
 
 Ned Trent looked at him with steady 
 scorn, his arms folded. 
 
 " Ah 1 "' he dropped distinctly in deliberate 
 monosyllables across the surcharged atmos- 
 phere of the scene. " So it seems you have 
 found your heart, my friend 1 " 
 
 Galen Albret glared wildly at him over 
 the girl's fair head. 
 
 * She is my daughter," he mumbled. 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 They carried the unconscious girl into the 
 dim-lighted apartment of the curtained 
 windows, and laid her on the divan. Wish- 
 kobun, hastily summoned, unfastened the 
 girl's dress at the throat. 
 
 " It is a faint," she announced in her own 
 tongue. " She will recover in a few min- 
 utes; I will get some water." 
 
 Ned Trent wiped the moisture from his 
 forehead with his handkerchief. The dan- 
 ger he had undergone coolly, but this over- 
 same his iron self-control. Galen Albret, 
 tike an anxious bear, weaved back and forth 
 tfie length of the couch. In him the rum- 
 
The Call of the North 
 ble of the storm was but just echoing into 
 distance. 
 
 u Go into the next room/ he growled at 
 the Free Trader, when finally he noticed 
 the latter's presence. 
 
 Ned Trent hesitated. 
 
 "Go, I say 1" snarled the Factor. "You can 
 do nothing here." He followed the young 
 man to the door, which he closed with his 
 own hand, and then turned back to the 
 couch on which his daughter lay. In the 
 middle of the floor his foot clicked on some 
 small object. Mechanically he picked it up. 
 
 It proved to be a little silver match-safe of 
 the sort universally used in the Far North. 
 Evidently the Free Trader had flipped it 
 from his pocket with his handkerchief. 
 The Factor was about to thrust it into his 
 own pocket, when his eye caught lettering 
 roughly carved across one side. Still me- 
 [ttt] 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 chanically, he examined it more closely. 
 The lettering was that of a man's name* 
 The man's name was Graehme Stewart. 
 
 Without thinking of what he did, he 
 dropped the object on the small table, and 
 returned anxiously to the girl's side, cursing 
 the tardiness of the Indian woman. But in 
 a moment Wishkobun returned. 
 
 "Will she recover?" asked the Factor, 
 distracted at the woman's deliberate exam- 
 ination. 
 
 The latter smiled her indulgent, slow 
 smile. " But surely," she assured him in 
 her own tongue, "it is no more than if she 
 cut her finger. In a few breaths she will 
 recover. Now I will go to the house of the 
 Cockburn for a morsel of the sweet wood * 
 which she must smell" She looked her in- 
 quiry for permission. 
 
 * Camphor. 
 [223] 
 
The Call of the NortK 
 
 "Sagaamig go," assented Albret. 
 
 Relieved in mind, he dropped into a chair, 
 His eye caught the little silver match-safe. 
 He picked it up and fell to staring at the 
 rudely carved letters. 
 
 He found that he was alone with his 
 daughter and the thoughts aroused by the 
 dozen letters of a man's name. 
 
 All his life long he had been a hard man. 
 His commands had been autocratic; his 
 anger formidable ; his punishments severe, 
 and sometimes cruel. The quality of mercy 
 was with him tenuous and weak. He knew 
 this, and if he did not exactly glory in it, he 
 was at least indifferent to its effect on his 
 reputation with others. But always he had 
 been just. The victims of his displeasure 
 might complain that his retributive meas- 
 ures were harsh, that his forgiveness could 
 not be evoked by even the most extenuating 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 of circumstances, but not that his anger had 
 ever been baseless or the punishment un- 
 deserved. Thus he had held always his own 
 self-respect, and from his self-respect had 
 proceeded his iron and effective rule. 
 
 So in the case of the young man with 
 whom now his thoughts were occupied. 
 Twice he had warned him from the country 
 without the punishment which the third 
 attempt rendered imperative. The events 
 succeeding his arrival at Conjuror's House 
 warmed the Factor's anger to the heat of 
 almost preposterous retribution perhaps 
 for after all a man's life is worth something, 
 even in the wilds but it was actually ret- 
 ribution, and not merely a ruthless proof 
 of power. It might be justice as only the 
 Factor saw it, but it was still essentially 
 justice in the broader sense that to each 
 act bad followed a definite consequence. 
 
The 'Call of the North 
 Although another might have condemned 
 his conduct as unnecessarily harsh, Galen 
 Albret's conscience was satisfied and at 
 rest. 
 
 Nor had his resolution been permanently 
 affected by either the girl's threat to make 
 away with herself or by his momentary soft- 
 ening when she had fainted. The affair was 
 thereby complicated, but that was all. In 
 the sincerity of the threat he recognized his 
 own iron nature, and was perhaps a little 
 pleased at its manifestation. He knew she 
 intended to fulfil her promise not to survive 
 her lover, but at the moment this did not 
 reach his fears ; it only aroused further his 
 dogged opposition. 
 
 The Free Trader's speech as he left the 
 
 room, however, had touched the one flaw in 
 
 Galen Albret's confidence of righteousness. 
 
 Wearied with the struggles and the passions 
 
 [826] 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 he had undergone, his brain numbed, his 
 will for the moment in abeyance, he seated 
 himself and contemplated the images those 
 two words had called up. 
 
 Graehme Stewart ! That man he had first 
 met at Fort Rae over twenty years ago. It 
 was but just after he had married Virgin- 
 ia's mother. At once his imagination, with 
 the keen pictorial power of those who have 
 dwelt long in the Silent Places, brought 
 forward the other scene that of his woo- 
 ing. He had driven his dogs into Fort la 
 Cloche after a hard day's run in seventy^five 
 degrees of frost. Weary, hungry, half- 
 frozen, he had staggered into the fire-lit 
 room. Against the blaze he had caught for 
 a moment a young girl's profile, lost as she 
 turned her face toward him in startled ques- 
 tion of his entrance. Men had cared for his 
 dogs. The girl had brought him hot tea, 
 
 [par! 
 
The Call of the North 
 In the corner of the fire they two had whis- 
 pered one to the other the already grizzled 
 traveller of the silent land, the fresh, brave 
 north-maiden. At midnight, their parkas 
 drawn close about their faces in the fearful 
 cold, they had met outside the inclosure of 
 the Post. An hour later they were away 
 under the aurora for Qu'Apelle. Galen Al- 
 bret's nostrils expanded as he heard the 
 crack, crack., crack of the remorseless dog- 
 whip whose sting drew him away from 
 the vain pursuit. After the marriage at 
 Qu Apelle they had gone a weary jour- 
 ney to Rae, and there he had first seen 
 Graehme Stewart. 
 
 Fort Rae is on the northwestward arm 
 of the Great Slave Lake in the country of 
 the Dog Ribs, only four degrees under the 
 Arctic Circle. It is a dreary spot, for the 
 Barren Grounds are near. Men see only 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 the great lake, the great sky, the great gray 
 country. They become moody, fanciful, 
 In the face of the silence they have little to 
 say. At Fort Rae were old Jock Wilson, 
 the Chief Trader ; Father Bonat, the priest ; 
 Andrew Levoy, the metis clerk ; four Dog 
 Rib teepees ; Galeu AJbret and his bride ; 
 and Graehme Stewart. 
 
 Jock Wilson was sixty-five ; Father Bonat 
 had no age ; Andrew Levoy possessed the 
 years of dour silence. Only Graehme Stew- 
 art and Elodie, bride of Albret. were young. 
 In the great gray country their lives were 
 like spots of color on a mist. Galen Albret 
 finally became jealous. 
 
 At first there was nothing to be done ; 
 but finally JLevoy brought to the older man 
 proof of the younger 's guilt. The harsh 
 traveller bowed his head and wept. But 
 since he loved Elodie more than himself 
 
The Call of the North 
 Ivhich was perhaps the only redeeming feat 
 ure of this sorry business he said nothing, 
 nor did more than to journey south to 
 Edmonton, leaving the younger man alone 
 in Fort Rae to the White Silence. But 
 his soul was stirred. 
 
 In the course of nature and of time Galen 
 Albret had a daughter, but lost a wife. It 
 was no longer necessary for him to leave his 
 wrong unavenged. Then began a series of 
 baffling hind ranees which resulted finally in 
 his stooping to means repugnant to his open 
 sense of what was due himself. At the first 
 he could not travel to his enemy because of 
 the child in his care ; when finally he had 
 succeeded in placing the little girl where he 
 would be satisfied to leave her, he himself 
 was suddenly and peremptorily called east 
 to take a post in Rupert's Land. He could 
 not disobey and remain in the Company, and 
 [30] 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 the Company was more to him than life or 
 revenge. The little girl he left in Sacr 
 Cceur of Quebec ; he himself took up his 
 residence in the Hudson Bay country. 
 After a few years, becoming lonely for his 
 own flesh and blood, he sent for his daughter. 
 There, as Factor, he gained a vast power -, 
 and this power he turned into the channels 
 of his hatred. Graehme Stewart felt always 
 against him the hand of influence. His 
 posts in the Company's service became in- 
 tolerable. At length, in indignation against 
 continued injustice, oppression, and insult, he 
 resigned, broken in fortune and in prospects. 
 He became one of the earliest Free Traders 
 on the Saskatchewan, devoting his energies 
 to enraged opposition of the Company which 
 had wronged him. In the space of three 
 short years he had met a violent and striking 
 death ; for the early days of the Free Trader 
 [231] 
 
The Call of the North 
 were adventurous. Galen Albret's revenge 
 had struck home. 
 
 Then in after years the Factor had again 
 met with Andrew Levoy. The man stag- 
 gered into Conjurors House late at night. 
 He had started from Winnipeg to descend 
 the Albany River, but had met with mishap 
 and starvation. One by one his dogs had 
 died. In some blind fashion he pushed on 
 for days after his strength and sanity had 
 left him. Mu-hi-kun had brought him in. 
 His toes and fingers had frozen and dropped 
 off; his face was a mask of black frost-bit- 
 ten flesh, in which deep fissures opened to 
 the raw. He had gone snow-blind. Scarcely 
 was he recognizable as a human being. 
 
 From such a man in extremity could come 
 nothing but the truth, so Galen Albret 
 believed him. Before Andrew Levoy died 
 that night he told of his deceit. The Fac- 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 tor left the room with the weight of a crime 
 on his conscience. For Graehme Stewart 
 had been innocent of any wrong toward 
 him or his bride. 
 
 Such was the story Galen Albret saw in 
 the little silver match-box. That was the 
 one flaw in his consciousness of righteous- 
 ness ; the one instance in a long career 
 when his ruthless acts of punishment or re- 
 prisal had not rested on rigid justice, and 
 by the irony of fate the one instance had 
 touched him very near. Now here before 
 him was his enemy's son he wondered that 
 he had not discovered the resemblance be- 
 fore and he was about to visit on him the 
 severest punishment in his power. Was not 
 this an opportunity vouchsafed him to re- 
 pair his ancient fault, to cleanse his con- 
 science of the one sin of the kind it would 
 acknowledge ? 
 
 [238] 
 
The Call of the North 
 But then over him swept the same blur 
 of jealousy that had resulted in Graehme 
 Stewart's undoing. This youth wooed his 
 daughter; he had won her affections away. 
 Strangely enough Galen Albret confused 
 the new and the old ; again youth cleaved 
 to youth, leaving age apart. Age felt 
 fiercely the desire to maintain its own. The 
 Factor crushed the silver match-box be- 
 tween his great palms and looked up. His 
 daughter lay before him, still, lifeless. De 
 liberately he rested his chin on his hands 
 and contemplated her. 
 
 The room, as always, was full of con* 
 trast ; shafts of light, dust-moted, bewilder- 
 ing, crossed from the embrasured windows, 
 throwing high-lights into prominence and 
 shadows into impenetrable darkness. They 
 rendered the gray-clad figure of the girl 
 vague and ethereal, like a mist above a 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 stream ; they darkened the dull-hued couch 
 on which she rested into a liquid, impalpable 
 black; they hazed the draped background 
 of the corner into a far-reaching distance ; 
 so that finally to Galen Albret, staring with 
 hypnotic intensity, it came to seem that he 
 looked upon a pure and disembodied spirit 
 sleeping sweetly cradled on illimitable 
 space. The ordinary and familiar surround- 
 ings all disappeared. His consciousness ac- 
 cepted nothing but the cameo profile of 
 marble white, the nimbus of golden haze 
 about the head, the mist-like suggestion of a 
 body, and again the clear marble spot of the 
 hands. All else was a background of mod- 
 ulated depths. 
 
 So gradually the old man's spirit, wearied 
 by the stress of the last hour, turned in on 
 itself and began to create. The cameo pro- 
 file, the mist-like body, the marble hands 
 [235.] 
 
The Coil of th* North 
 remained ; but now Galen Albret saw other 
 things as well. A dim, rare perfume was 
 wafted from some unseen space ; indistinct 
 flashes of light spotted the darknesses ; faint 
 swells of music lifted the silence intermit- 
 tently. These things were small and still, 
 and under the external consciousness like 
 the voices one may hear beneath the roar 
 of a tumbling rapid but gradually they 
 defined themselves. The perfume came to 
 Galen Albret's nostrils on the wings of in- 
 censed smoke ; the flashes of light steadied 
 to the ovals of candle flames; the faint 
 swells of music blended into grand-breathed 
 organ chords. He felt about him the dim 
 awe of the church, he saw the tapers burn- 
 ing at head and foot, the clear, calm face of 
 the dead, smiling faintly that at last it 
 should be no more disturbed. So had he 
 looked all one night and all one day in the 
 [ 2361 
 
Chapter Seventeen 
 
 long time ago. The Factor stretched his 
 arms out to the figure on the couch, but he 
 called upon his wife, gone these twenty 
 years. 
 
 ** Elodie ! Elodie 1 " he murmured, softly. 
 
 She had never known it, thank God, but 
 he had wronged her too, In all sorrow and 
 sweet heavenly pity he had believed that 
 her youth had turned to the youth of the 
 other man. It had not been so. Did he 
 not owe her, too, some reparation ? 
 
 As though in answer to his appeal, o* 
 perhaps that merely the sound of a hu- 
 man voice had broken the last shreds of 
 her swoon, the girl moved slightly. Galea 
 Albret did not stir. Slowly Virginia turned 
 her head, until finally her wandering eyes 
 met his, fixed on her with passionate inten- 
 sity. For a moment she stared at him, then 
 comprehension came to her along with 
 
 ram 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 memory. She cried out, and sat upright 
 
 in one violent motion. 
 "He! He! " she cried, "Is he gone ? " 
 Instantly Galen Albret had her in his 
 
 arms. 
 
 "It is all right," he soothed, drawing her 
 
 close to his great breast. "All right. You 
 
 are my own little girl. 1 
 
 " 
 
 [338 J 
 
^Chapter Eighteen 
 
 For perhaps ten minutes Ned Trent lin- 
 gered near the door of the Council Boom 
 until he had assured himself that Virginia 
 was in no serious danger. Then he began 
 to pace the room examining minutely the 
 various objects that ornamented it. He 
 paused longest at the full length portrait of 
 Sir George Simpson, the Company's great 
 traveller, with his mild blue eyes, his kindly 
 face, denying the potency of his official 
 frown, his snowy hair and whiskers. The 
 painted man and the real man looked at each 
 other inquiringly. The latter shook his head. 
 "You travelled the wild country far," said 
 [289] 
 
The Call of the North 
 tie, thoughtfully. " You knew many men 
 of many lands. And wherever you went 
 they tell me you made friends. And yet, as 
 you embodied this Company to all these 
 people, and so made for the fanatical loy 
 alty that is destroying me, I suppose you 
 and 1 are enemies I" He shrugged his 
 shoulders whimsically and turned away. 
 
 Thence he cast a fleeting glance out the 
 window at the long reach of the Moose and 
 the blue bay gleaming in the distance. He 
 tried the outside door. It was locked. Taken 
 with a new idea he proceeded at once to the 
 third door of the apartment It opened. 
 
 He found himself in a small and much-lit 
 tered room containing a desk, two chairs, a 
 vast quantity of papers, a stuffed bird or so, 
 and a row of account-books, Evidently the 
 Factor's private office, 
 
 Ned Trent returned to the main room and 
 [240] 
 
Chapter Eighteen 
 
 listened intently tor several minutes, After 
 that he ran back to the office and began 
 hastily to open and rummage, one after an- 
 other, the drawers of the desk. He discov- 
 ered and concealed several bits of string, a 
 desk-knife, and a box of matches. Then he 
 uttered a guarded exclamation of delight, 
 He had found a small revolver, and with it 
 part of a box of cartridges. 
 " A chance 1 " he exulted : " a chance 1 * 
 The game would be desperate. He would 
 be forced first of all to seek out and kill me 
 men detailed to shadow him a toy revolver 
 against rifles ; white man against trained 
 savages. And after that he would have, 
 with the cartridges remaining, to assure his 
 subsistence. Still it was a chance. 
 
 He closed the drawers and the door, and 
 resumed his seat in the arm-chair by the 
 council table. 
 
 [841J 
 
The Call of the North 
 For over an hour thereafter he awaited the 
 next move in the game. He was already 
 swinging up the pendulum arc. The case 
 did not appear utterly hopeless, He re- 
 solved, through Me-en-gan, whom he di- 
 rined as a friend of the girl's, to smuggle a 
 message to Virginia bidding her hope. Al- 
 ready his imagination had conducted him to 
 Quebec, when in August he would search 
 her out and make her his own 
 
 Soon one of the Indian servants entered 
 the room for the purpose of conducting him 
 to a smaller apartment, where he was left 
 alone for some time longer. Food was 
 brought him. He ate heartily, for he con- 
 sidered that wise. Then at last the sum- 
 mons for which he had been so long in 
 readiness, Me-en-gan himself entered the 
 loom, and motioned him to follow. 
 Ned Trent had already prepared his mes- 
 
Chapter Eighteen 
 
 sage on the back of an envelope, writing ft 
 with the lead of a cartridge. He now 
 pressed the bit of paper into the Indian'i 
 palm. 
 
 " For O-mi-mi," he explained* 
 
 Me-en-gan bored him through with his 
 bead-like eyes of the surface lights. 
 
 "Nin nissitotam, 1 he agreed after a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 He led the way. Ned Trent followed 
 through the narrow, un carpeted hall with 
 the faded photograph of Westminster, down 
 the crooked steep stairs with the creaking 
 degrees, and finally into the Council Room 
 once more, with its heavy rafters, its two 
 fireplaces, its long table, and its narrow 
 windows. 
 
 "Beka wait!" commanded Me-en-gan, 
 and left him. 
 
 Ned Trent had supposed he was being 
 
The CM of the North 
 conducted to the canoe which should beai 
 him on the first stage of his long journey, 
 but now he seemed condemned again to 
 take up the wearing uncertainty of inaction. 
 The interval was not long, however. Al- 
 most immediately the other door opened 
 and the Factor entered. 
 
 His movements were abrupt and impa- 
 tient, for with whatever grace such a man 
 yields to his better instincts the actual car- 
 rying out of their conditions is a severe 
 trial. For one thing it is a species of emo- 
 tional nakedness, invariably repugnant to 
 the self-contained. Ned Trent, observing 
 this and misinterpreting its cause, hugged 
 the little revolver to his side with grim sat- 
 isfaction The interview was likely to be 
 stormy, If worst came to worst, he was at 
 least assured of reprisal before his own end. 
 
 The Factor walked directly to the head 
 
Chapter Eighteen 
 
 of the table and his customary arm-chair 7 
 in which he disposed himself. 
 
 "Sit down," he commanded the younger 
 man, indicating a chair at his elbow, 
 
 The latter warily obeyed. 
 
 Galen Albret hesitated appreciably. Then, 
 AS one would make a plunge into cold 
 water, quickly, in one motion, he laid on 
 the table something over which he held his 
 hand. 
 
 " You are wondering why 1 am interview- 
 ing you again/* said he. *' It is because 
 I have become aware of certain things 
 When you left me a few hours ago you 
 dropped this/ He moved his hand to one 
 side. The silver match-safe lay on the 
 table, 
 
 *' Yes, it is mine, agreed Ned Trent, 
 
 * On one side is carved a name," 
 
 -Yes." 
 
 [245] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 ** Whose ? " 
 
 The Free Trader hesitated. "My fo- 
 ther s," he said, at last. 
 
 **I thought that must be so. You will 
 understand when I tell you that at one time 
 I knew him very well." 
 
 " You knew my father ? " cried Ned Trent, 
 excitedly. 
 
 M Yes. At Fort Rae, and elsewhere. But 
 I do not remember you/' 
 
 "I was brought up at Winnipeg/' the 
 other explained. 
 
 *' Once," pursued Galen Albret, " I did 
 your father a wrong, unintentionally, but 
 nevertheless a great wrong. For that reason 
 and others 1 am going to give you your 
 life." 
 
 " What wrong ? " demanded Ned Trent, 
 frith dawning excitement. 
 
 * I forced him from the Company." 
 [246] 
 
Chapter Eighteen 
 
 "You!" 
 
 ** Yes, I. Proof was brought me that he 
 had won from me my young wife. It could 
 not be doubted. I could not kill him. After- 
 ward the man who deceived me confessed. 
 He is now dead." 
 
 Ned Trent, gasping, rose slowly to his feet. 
 One hand stole inside his jacket and clutched 
 the butt of the little pistol 
 
 " You did that," he cried, hoarsely. " You 
 tell me of it yourself? Do you wish to 
 know the real reason for my coming into this 
 country, why I have traded in defiance of 
 the Company throughout the whole Far 
 North ? I have thought my father was per- 
 secuted by a body of men, and though I 
 could not do much, still I have accomplished 
 what I could to avenge him. Had I known 
 that a single man had done this and you 
 are that man ! " 
 
 [247] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 He came a step nearer. Galen Albret re* 
 garded him steadily. 
 
 " If I had known this before, I should nevei 
 have rested until I had hunted you down, 
 until I had killed you, even in the midst of 
 your own people 1 " cried the Free Trader 
 at last 
 
 Galen Albret drew his heavy revolver and 
 laid it on the table. 
 
 44 Do so now," he said, quietly. 
 
 A pause fell on them, pregnant with possi- 
 bility. The Free Trader dropped his head. 
 
 **No," he groaned. "No, I cannot She 
 stands in the way I " 
 
 " So that, after all," concluded the Factor, 
 in a gentler tone than he had yet employed, 
 "'we two shall part peaceably. I have 
 wronged you greatly, though without inten- 
 tion. Perhaps one balances the other* We 
 will let it pass.'" 
 
 [248] 
 
Chapter Eighteen 
 
 " Yes," agreed Ned Trent with an effort. 
 ** we will let it pass." 
 
 They mused in silence, while the Factor 
 drummed on the table with the stubby 
 fingers of his right hand. 
 
 " I am dispatching to-day," he announced 
 curtly at length, "the Abitibi brigade* 
 Matters of importance brought by runner 
 from Rupert's House force me to do so a 
 month earlier than I had expected. I shalt 
 send you out with that brigade" 
 
 " Very well." 
 
 " You will find your packs and arms in the 
 canoe, quite intact." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 The Factor examined the young man's face 
 with some deliberation. 
 
 " You love my daughter truly ? w he asked, 
 quietly. 
 
 Yes," replied Ned Trent, also quietly. 
 
 " 
 
Tks Call of the North 
 * That is well, for she loves you. And/ 
 went on the old man, throwing his massive 
 head back proudly, " my people love well { 
 I won her mother in a day, and nothing 
 could stay us. God be thanked, you are a 
 man and brave and clean. Enough of that ! 
 I place the brigade under your command! 
 You must be responsible for it, for I am 
 sending no other white the crew are Ind- 
 ians and metis? 
 
 "All right," agreed Ned Trent, indiffer* 
 ently. 
 
 " My daughter you will take to Sacre* Coeui 
 at Quebec." 
 
 " Virginia ! " cried the young man* 
 *' I am sending her to Quebec. I had not 
 intended doing so until July, but the mat- 
 ters from Rupert's House make it impera 
 tive now." 
 
 '* Virginia goes with me ? w 
 [250] 
 
Chapter Eighteen 
 
 '* You consent ? You - 
 
 *' Young man, r said Galen Albret, not 
 unkindly, ' I give my daughter in your 
 charge ; that is alL You must take her to 
 Sacr Coeur. And you must be patient 
 Next year I shall resign, for I am getting 
 old, and then we shall see. That is all I can 
 tell you now." 
 
 He arose abruptly, 
 
 " Come," said he, " they are waiting/ 
 
 They threw wide the door and stepped out 
 into the open. A breeze from the north 
 brought a draught of air like cold water in 
 its refreshment. The waters of the North 
 sparkled and tossed in the silvery sun. Ned 
 Trent threw his arms wide in the physical 
 delight of a new freedom. 
 
 But his companion was already descend- 
 ing the steps. He followed across the square 
 
The Call of the North 
 grass plot to the two bronze guns. A noise 
 of peoples came down the breeze. In a 
 moment he saw them the varied multitude 
 of the Post gathered to speed the brigade 
 on its distant journey. 
 
 The little beach was crowded with the 
 Company's people and with Indians, talking 
 eagerly, moving hither and yon in a shilling 
 kaleidoscope of brilliant color. Beyond the 
 shore floated the long canoe, with its curv- 
 ing ends and its emblazonment of the five- 
 pointed stars. Already its baggage was 
 aboard, its crew in place, ten men in whose 
 caps slanted long, graceful feathers, which 
 proved them boatmen of a factor. The 
 women sat amidships. 
 
 When Galen Albret reached the edge of 
 the plateau he stopped, and laid his hand on 
 the young man's arm. As yet they were 
 unperceived. Then a single man caught 
 
Chapter Eighteen 
 
 iight of them. He spoke to another ; the 
 two informed still others. In an instant the 
 bright colors were dotted with upturned 
 faces. 
 
 " Listen,** said Galen Albret, in his reso- 
 nant chest-tones of authority. "This is 
 my son, and he must be obeyed. I give 
 to him the command of this brigade. See 
 to it." 
 
 Without troubling himself further as to the 
 crowd below, Galen Albret turned to his 
 companion. 
 
 " I will say good- by," said he, formally. 
 
 Good-by," replied Ned Trent 
 
 " All is at peace between us ? " 
 
 The Free Trader looked long into the 
 man's sad eyes. The hard, proud spirit, 
 bowed in knightly expiation of its one fault, 
 for the first time in a long life of command 
 looked out in petition. 
 
 [25SJ 
 
The Call of the North 
 " All is at peace," repeated Ne^ Trent. 
 They clasped hands. And Virginia, per- 
 ceiving them so, threw them a wonderful 
 smile. 
 
Chapter Nineteen 
 
 Instantly the spell of inaction broke. The 
 crowd recommenced its babel of jests, ad- 
 vices, and farewells. Ned Trent swung 
 down the bank to the shore. The boat- 
 men fixed the canoe on the very edge of 
 floating free. Two of them lifted the young 
 man aboard to a place on the furs by Vir- 
 ginia Albret's side. At once the crowd 
 pressed forward, filling up the empty spaces. 
 Now Achille Picard bent his shoulders to 
 lift into free water the stem of the canoe 
 from its touch on the bank. It floated* 
 caught gently by the back wash of the 
 stronger off-shore current. 
 [255] 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 Good-by, dear," called Mrs. Cockburn. 
 " Remember us 1 " 
 
 She pressed the Doctor's arm closer to her 
 side. The Doctor waved his hand, not 
 trusting his masculine self-control to speak. 
 McDonald, too, stood glum and dour, clasp- 
 ing his wrist behind his back. Richardson 
 was openly affected. For in Virginia's per. 
 son they saw sailing away from their bleak 
 Northern lives the figure of youth, and they 
 knew that henceforth life must be even 
 drearier. 
 
 " Som* tarn' yo' com' back sing heem de 
 res' of dat song I " shouted Louis Placide to 
 his late captive. " I lak* hear heem 1 " 
 
 But Galen Albret said nothing, made no 
 sign. Silently and steadily, run up by some 
 invisible hand, the blood-red banner of the 
 Company fluttered to the mast-head. Be- 
 fore it, alone, bulked huge against the sky, 
 [256] 
 
Uiapter Nineteen 
 
 dominating the people in the symbolism of 
 his position there as he did in the realities 
 of everyday life, the Factor stood, his hands 
 behind his back. Virginia rose to her feet 
 and stretched her arms out to the solitary 
 figure. 
 
 " Good-by ! good-by ! " she cried. 
 
 A renewed tempest of cheers and shouts 
 of adieu broke from those ashore. The 
 paddles dipped once, twice, thrice, and 
 paused. With one accord those on shore 
 and those in the canoe raised their caps and 
 said, " Que Dieu vous benisse." A mo- 
 ment's silence followed, during which the 
 current of the mighty river bore the light 
 craft a few yards down stream. Then from 
 the ten voyageurs arose a great shout. 
 
 "Abitibi! Abitibi !" 
 
 Their paddles struck in unison. The water 
 
 swirled in white, circular eddies. Instantly 
 
 [257] 
 
The Call o) ike North 
 the canoe caught its momentum and began 
 to slip along against the sluggish current, 
 Achille Picard raised a high tenor voice, fix- 
 ing the air, 
 
 " En roulant ma boule roulante, 
 En roulant ma boule," 
 
 And the voyageurs swung into the quaint 
 ballad of the fairy ducks and the naughty 
 prince with his magic gun. 
 
 t Derrier chez-nous y-a-t-un 'etang, 
 En roulant ma boule." 
 
 The girl sank back, dabbing uncertainly at 
 her eyes. " I shall never see them again," 
 she explained, wistfully. 
 
 The canoe had now caught its speed. 
 Conjuror's House was dropping astern. The 
 rhythm of the song quickened as the singers 
 told of how the king's son had aimed at the 
 black duck but killed the white. 
 [258] 
 
Chapter Nineteen 
 
 ^ Akfils du roi, tu es mediant. 
 En roulant ma boule, 
 Toutes les plumes s'en vont au cent, 
 Rouli roulant) ma boule roulant." 
 
 " Way wik ! way wik ! " commanded Me- 
 en-gan, sharply, from the bow. 
 
 The men quickened their stroke and shot 
 diagonally a; r >ss the current of an eddy* 
 
 " Ni-shi-shin," said Me-en-gan. 
 
 They fell back to the old stroke, rolling out 
 their full-throated measure. 
 
 " Toutes les plumes sen vont au vent, 
 En roulant ma boule, 
 Trois dames sen vont les ramassant, 
 Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant" 
 
 The canoe was now in the smooth rush of 
 the first stretch of swifter water. The men 
 bent to their work with stiffened elbows. 
 Achille Picard flashed his white teeth back 
 at the passengers, 
 
 (MB) 
 
The Call of the North 
 
 " Ah, mademoiselle, eet is wan long way/' 
 he panted. ** C'cst une longue traverse ! ' 
 
 The term was evidently descriptive, but 
 the two smiled significantly at each other. 
 
 <b So you do take la Longue Traverse, after 
 all ! " marvelled Virginia. 
 
 Ned Trent clasped her hand. 
 
 "We take it together," he replied. 
 
 Into the distance faded the Post. The 
 canoe rounded a bend. It was gone. Ahead 
 of them lay their long journey. 
 
 THE END 
 
 360; 
 
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