GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 YOUNG FISHERMEN; OR, THE KING OF SMUG 
 GLERS' ISLAND 
 YOUNG LOGGERS; OR, THE GRAY AXEMAN OF MX. 
 
 CROW 
 YOUNG SEA-MERCHANTS; OR, AFTER HIDDEN 
 
 TREASURE 
 
 TIBERIUS SMITH 
 YOUNG GEM-HUNTERS; OR, THE MYSTERY OF THE 
 
 HAUNTED CAMP 
 YOUNG TIMBER-CRUISERS; OR, FIGHTING THE 
 
 SPRUCE PIRATES 
 YOUNG WOODSMEN; OR, RUNNING DOWN THE 
 
 SQUAWTOOTH GANG 
 YOUNG TRAPPERS; OR, THE QUEST OF THE GIANT 
 
 MOOSE 
 RED BELTS 
 
seized her hand and waited a second to mdlce 
 sure I was right" 
 
Gentlemen 
 of the North 
 
 By 
 Hugh Pendexter 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 by 
 Ralph Pollen Coleman 
 
 Garden City New York 
 
 Doubleday, Page & Company 
 
 1920 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF 
 
 TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES 
 
 INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 
 
 COPYRIGHT IQlg, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY 
 
TO 
 
 HUGH PENDEXTER, JR. 
 
 GOOD PAL, GOOD SON, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
PREFACE 
 
 IN building this story I have made use of the following 
 books for colour and historical facts: Alexander Henry's 
 Journal, edited by the late Dr. Elliott Coues; "Lewis and 
 Clark's Expedition," Chittenden's "American Fur Trade," H. 
 H. Brackenridge's journal of his Missouri trip in 1811. Almost 
 all the Indians named in the story were real characters. Old 
 Tabashaw was killed by a Sioux war-party at Wild Rice 
 River in the winter of 1807. Eshkebugecoshe, or Flat Mouth, 
 chief of the Pillager Chippewas, was about thirty years old at 
 the time of the story, and was one of Henry's hunters on Red 
 River. He is credited with influencing the Chippewas to cease 
 their practice of poisoning, and he refused to fight against the 
 United States in 1812. Le Borgne is drawn after descriptions 
 given by Brackenridge, members of the Lewis and Clark Expe 
 dition, Henry and others. For the sake of speeding up the ac 
 tion I have forced the coalition of the N. W. and the X. Y. 
 companies by a few months. The merger was completed on 
 November 5, 1804, and the winter express brought the news to 
 Henry at the Pembina post on January I, 1805. 
 
 HUGH PENDEXTER. 
 
 January 5, 1920. 
 Norway, Maine. 
 
 vii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE ICE GOES OUT 3 
 
 II. THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 26 
 
 III. THE STOLEN VOICE 51 
 
 IV. SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 66 
 
 V. THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 85 
 
 VI. BESIEGED 113 
 
 VII. THE Sioux RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS . . 121 
 
 VIII. WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE .... 137 
 
 IX. AT THE MlNNETAREE VILLAGE 162 
 
 X. LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 187 
 
 XL THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 212 
 
GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE ICE GOES OUT 
 
 A BROWN river rolling up from the south between 
 banks of oak and willow and bois blanc, surrounded 
 by the wet, steaming woods of April and flanked on 
 the west by plains which climb higher and higher until they 
 find the Rockies. A brown river bearing the trunks of mighty 
 trees; a silent, sullen flood carpeted with dead buffaloes. This 
 is the most persistent of all my pictures of the Red River of the 
 North. 
 
 It is long since I have gazed upon it. Yet there is scarcely 
 a day my thoughts do not travel back to some phase of it; 
 to the time when the rivalry was at its height between the* 
 North West Company and our opponents, the X. Y. Company 
 
 Sir Alexander MacKenzie's vehicle in fighting our arrogant 
 Simon McTavish for the fur trade and the indomitable 
 Hudson's Bay Company, which was to swallow us all. Of 
 all my recollections of cruel hardships and wild freedom, that 
 view of the river in early April, 1804, left the deepest impress 
 on me. This, partly because it was a symbol of the country's 
 desolation and loneliness and savage hostility to us Northmen, 
 partly because that April day proved to be the threshold to 
 remarkable experiences, wherein I was to suffer much and find 
 the great happiness. 
 
 When the spell is on me, which is often, the civilized horizon 
 of the Northwest films over and again I behold the brown ex- 
 
4 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 panse of freshet waters hurrying with their gruesome toil to 
 mingle with the Assiniboin at the Forks. No other river linked 
 us Northmen so closely with the Sioux country in the South, 
 that source of perpetual menace. The danger that might 
 come down the river at any minute kept alive my interest in 
 it and stimulated my imagination as I watched its muddy tide, 
 choked with innumerable shaggy victims, sweeping by the Pem- 
 bina River post of the N. W. Company. It was a bridge be 
 tween the known perils of the Pembina country and the bar 
 barity of the Adder People. 
 
 It was tingling to young blood to know a fate worse than 
 death might be descending the river at any time. Let the Sioux 
 war-parties range ever so wide of our domain, and yet, night 
 and day, we felt their presence, we few Northmen and our 
 Chippewas. 
 
 The slamming of a door to one of the men's huts outside the 
 stockade at night became the discharge of a Sioux gun ; a fright 
 ened mob would come hammering at the gate and frantically 
 demanding admittance, old Tabashaw, the chief and thorough 
 scoundrel, in the lead. A buffalo bull with a broken leg had 
 been wounded by a Sioux ; for days the hunters would hug the 
 fort. Or the buffaloes stampeded, or large flocks of swans rose 
 in alarm from the river above us; it was break open the gun 
 cases and serve out powder and ball. The wind from the 
 south brought smoke; only a Sioux fire could have made it. 
 An old woman dreamed a Sioux warrior stuck his head in 
 her hut and counted the men there; the children and women 
 are hurried inside the stockade. Horsemen riding and raising 
 a cloud of snow can only be Sioux warriors on a winter path. 
 Even Flat Mouth, chief of the Pillager band of Chippewas, 
 young like myself, a very brave man and much travelled, has 
 galloped to the fort after mistaking red deer in August for 
 enemy horsemen. 
 
 Thus it went from day to night and then repeated. Always 
 omens and signs to remind us of those ferocious people who 
 gave no quarter and who would never forget it was the Chip- 
 pewa Nation that prevented their holding a clear title to the 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 5 
 
 headwaters of the Mississippi. Summer and winter, with the 
 new leaf and with the yellow, tobacco was passing between the 
 Chippewas, Crees, and Assiniboins for war against the Sioux. 
 Never while I was in the country did the Northern Indians 
 accomplish anything lasting. A sudden foray, a few scalps 
 danced; that was about all. 
 
 Undoubtedly a subconscious fear of the Sioux was also re 
 sponsible for the picture of the brown river in April. Some 
 imaginative quality of reasoning, perhaps, interpreted the herds 
 of drowned buffaloes as a symbol of the Sioux's power and 
 remorselessness. When Nature has an opportunity for unlim 
 ited slaughter, she turns Sioux and kills on a tremendous scale. 
 
 Three seasons I heard the ice give and go out with the noise 
 of many guns, wrenching earth and trees from the banks like 
 rome aquatic behemoth with claws many fathoms wide. The 
 first time was at the Park River post above the Pembina ; once 
 from our outpost at the mouth of Reed River, ten miles below 
 the Pembina. But never was I filled with such longing to 
 follow the ice through the Forks and down the trail of lake 
 and river to Superior as on that mild April day of 1804. It 
 wasn't homesickness, for I was completing my third season 
 as company clerk and had no ties back East to draw me. It 
 was "Black" Chabot, bourgeois, or postmaster, who was serving 
 in place of Mr. Alexander Henry, the man I came out with, 
 who was now up the Saskatchewan on important business for 
 the gentlemen of the North. 
 
 It's not boasting to say I felt no physical fear of Chabot, 
 although he was an overgrown hulk of a man with an immense 
 black beard. His savage ways left nothing for our Chippewas 
 to teach him. But I did not fear him, for I could kill him as 
 a last resort. It was the daily grind of having to associate with 
 the brute that got on my nerves. The best of friends wear on 
 each other at times when cooped up for a long winter in close 
 quarters ; at his best Chabot was intolerable. For two months 
 I had kept my hand on my skinning-knife whenever he ap 
 proached me. 
 
 I hoped he would keep his beastly temper in check and never 
 
6 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 lay hands on me; for, did he do that, the Pembina would need 
 a new master or a new clerk. The danger lay in his growing 
 love for alcohol, thinly mixed with water "high wine" the 
 trade called it. When in drink, which was his normal condi 
 tion, he was very variable in his moods, ranging from the caress 
 ing to the ferocious and always foul-mouthed. If he ever 
 attacked me, I was determined not to cower like a sheep and 
 be murdered, as I've known Chippewa squaws to die when 
 their husbands were in a drunken fury. And, did one resist 
 him, it must be to the limit; kill or be broken. 
 
 The post was well situated at the mouth of the Pembina, 
 and opposite Peter Grant's old fort on the east bank of the 
 Red, now in ruins, the first North West Company post 
 established on the river. Below us grew large bois blanc, or 
 whitewood, which we used for floorings. Between us and the 
 western plains were the big oaks we had drawn on in construct 
 ing the buildings. From the Pembina to the Park the country 
 was level and open, the only timber being along the banks of 
 the Red. The Pembina site was discouraging enough when 
 Mr. Henry and I looked it over. It was heaped high with 
 fallen trees and the underbrush was so rank one couldn't see 
 a dozen feet in any direction. 
 
 We soon remedied that, however. But the fairest spot on 
 earth would become detestable if it had to contain Chabot and 
 his drunken humours. He may have done big things for the 
 N. W. when he was on the Assiniboin. Give the devil his 
 due; he must have accomplished much to be appointed master 
 at Pembina. It must have been that he traded his high wine 
 instead of giving so much of it to himself. He had held him 
 self in during the fall, but the winter had broken down all self- 
 restraint. So I was keen to return East and ask for another 
 position. I had committed myself to furthering the interests of 
 Simon McTavish, of McTavish, Frobisher & Company. 
 
 The breath of the fur company had filled my lungs, and, 
 although well educated for those days, I had no dreams of ever 
 doing anything except to trade for buffalo robes and beaver. I 
 had nursed ambitions. I desired to become a notable North- 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 7 
 
 man. So the wild fowl, filling the sky, were no more eager to 
 make their Northern homes than was I to make the Grand 
 Portage and hasten on to Montreal and obtain a transfer. 
 
 Now that the time was near for starting the skin canoes 
 down the river it did not seem I could compose my soul in 
 patience to await the great day. Strangely enough this ap 
 proach of freedom suddenly caused me to fear that I and not 
 Black Chabot might precipitate a tragedy. As I gazed on the 
 woful waste of hides swirling by the post, I repeatedly vowed 
 I would watch myself every minute and keep away from 
 Chabot as much as possible. I even planned to leave ahead 
 of him and the brigade, on the excuse it would be well for 
 me to visit our station on the Scratching, where the X. Y. 
 opposition also was established. 
 
 "Red" Dearness was the new master there, having arrived 
 late in the winter with Madame, his woman. He was a surly 
 sort, I heard, something of a recluse. Fragments of gossip 
 about his woman had her full-blood and quarter. It would 
 never do for me to suggest the trip. Black Chabot must think 
 it was his own idea and something of a hardship for me. I 
 fancied I was intelligent enough to bring this about. 
 
 I thought of several different methods for planting the notion 
 in his thick head as I idly watched the Indian women drag 
 buffaloes to the bank. They were lifting the back fat and 
 removing the tongues, leaving the rest to rot except for one or 
 two which they cut up for their own use. We white men 
 would not eat drowned buffalo, but the Chippewas were fond 
 of it. The meat did appear to be all right, fresh and firm. 
 Of course the women could secure only one or two out of each 
 hundred huge bodies floating by. There were literally herds of 
 the big brutes. Above and below our post every river was con 
 tributing its ghastly cargo. Thousands and thousands perished 
 each season in crossing the ice. And this terrific waste had been 
 going on for hundreds and probably thousands of years. In 
 addition to the carcasses floating downstream there were count 
 less bodies lodged along the banks of the many rivers. Soon 
 
8 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 there would arise an awful stench, for there were not enough 
 scavengers to cheat the hot sun. 
 
 On the plains as far as the eye could reach were living and 
 dead buffalo. Bald eagles and crows and wolves were batten 
 ing on the fallen. Our dogs chased those afoot that wandered 
 near the fort. Many a scabby old bull carried a crow on his 
 back and displayed a furious temper under the implacable and 
 continuous pecking. The beasts were a sad sight to look at 
 now, lean and showing huge patches where their winter coats 
 had fallen out. 
 
 Back in February one of the hunters said he had found a calf 
 frozen to death and declared it was a positive sign of an early 
 spring. At that time we were finishing two hundred cords in 
 our four chimneys and were sceptical of such prophecies. Still, 
 the season did break early, although for the life of me I never 
 could understand why abnormally cold weather in February 
 should forecast an early breaking up of the ice. For that 
 matter the strong timber Indians have many signs and omens 
 which come to nothing. 
 
 The town-bred would have found nothing but grim severity 
 in the panorama. But I knew the ash-leaf maples were running 
 and that the women were making sugar, and I felt the wind 
 mild and mellow as it blew up from the south, promising a 
 clear passage home even if it brought the reek of smoke which 
 might mean the Sioux. The summer birds and frogs unquali 
 fiedly insisted it was springtime and high time for one to desire 
 to go somewhere. 
 
 In and outside the stockade the hunters were preparing theii 
 traps for the spring hunt. Already the raccoons were begin 
 ning to leave their hollow trees during the daytime, and quite a 
 few were being taken. That morning one of the Indians had 
 brought in several wolf pups, tame and playful as kittens. He 
 intended raising them for sled dogs. An important event was 
 the arrival of two men with the winter express from Portage 
 La Prairie, bringing orders to Chabot and bearing other mat 
 ters which must be taken without delay to Grand Portage. 
 
 How I longed to carry the express! With the season so 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 9 
 
 early I knew I could make Sault Ste. Marie before June. Un 
 fortunately Chabot was the master and after reading his orders 
 he had stuffed them in his leather coat and lavishly treated the 
 messengers to rum before sending them on their way. They 
 were half drunk when they left and he continued drinking 
 alone. 
 
 Short Arms came in howling over the death of a child, and 
 he must have a keg of liquor to drive away his sorrow and 
 some red cloth and vermilion to cover the body. Chabot had 
 no excuse for getting the express drunk and thereby delaying 
 the business of the gentlemen of the North, but of course it was 
 necessary to give the rum to the Indian. With the English, as 
 with the French before them and as it would be with the 
 Americans in the South, liquor was the backbone of the fur 
 trade. 
 
 It made it beastly disagreeable at times for anyone inclined 
 to be fastidious, but only high wine would bring in furs and 
 skins for a surety. Even in Montreal, the heart of the North 
 ern fur trade, I have heard people complain about the universal 
 practice of trading rum for pelts. Substitute something else for 
 rum and see how many packs of beaver go down the St. Law 
 rence. 
 
 I do not suppose that that particular morning differed greatly 
 from those that preceded it, yet it sticks in my memory like a 
 burr to a bull because it was the beginning of a wonderful 
 experience for me, the coming of something which was to affect 
 my whole life and bring contentment out of a welter of great 
 dangers. The details, even the trivial things, stand very clear- 
 cut. All things counted, it had been a busy morning. Old 
 Tabashaw was drunk early and bawling some new medicine 
 songs in an attempt to cure a young woman whose jealous hus 
 band had shot an arrow through her body. Those not employed 
 in making their traps fit were playing their game of platter and 
 pestering me for liquor. 
 
 Before pausing to watch the river I had overseen the making 
 of the last of the pemmican, ninety pounds to a bag, fifty of 
 beef and the rest in grease. I also had supervised the repairing 
 
io GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 and the gumming of the canoes. These had rested all winter 
 under thick covering of hay, their frames loosened, and they 
 needed careful attention. I had pursued and caught Little 
 Crane and made him give up pelts due us for debt. He was 
 taking his hunt to the X. Y. post, angry because I had refused 
 him an extra ration of rum. 
 
 When I halted him and insisted on his squaring his debt, the 
 scoundrel tried to knife me, but a clout over the head with my 
 strong club quickly brought him to his senses, or, rather, 
 knocked him senseless. My duty to my employers demanded 
 I prevent the Crane from cheating us out of the debt and en 
 riching "Red" Dearness, of the opposition. 
 
 I had small stomach for what immediately followed. Some 
 women came in from the Pemibina Mountains, bringing a pack 
 of prime beaver which they were taking to the X. Y. post 
 on the Scratching to pay their men's debt. We had a hut in 
 the mountains and a small assortment of goods to catch the 
 Cree and Assiniboin as well as the Chippewa trade. Had there 
 been any chance of honourably trading for the pack, our men 
 would have done so. But the furs were already owed to the 
 opposition. When Chabot learned of the women's presence 
 and their intention of carrying their pack down-river, he raged 
 and cursed the hill men for fools for ever letting the beaver 
 get by them. Then he demanded the women give the furs to 
 him and when they refused he fought them. They fought like 
 wildcats, but he got the trade. 
 
 Such work was bound to make bad business for us, for the 
 devil had been to pay ever since the X. Y. and the H. B. opposi 
 tion came to the Red. During my three seasons there I had 
 seen the Chippewas, Crees, and Assiniboins spoiled. Each 
 season they grew worse. If a man killed a few skins, we treated 
 him as if he were a big chief. Almost all of them had scarlet 
 coats. It was bad enough when we had to cater to old Taba- 
 shaw, the drunken nuisance, but when we had to coddle every 
 hunter who made an ordinary hunt it was not only tedious but 
 dangerous. If I punished a man for stealing supplies, he would 
 go down to the Scratching to be petted up by Dearness. And 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT II 
 
 we made much of those who came to us after being corrected at 
 the X. Y. Of course, such conditions couldn't continually 
 grow worse without our dead bodies being thrown into the 
 Red to vary the monotony of drowned buffalo. And, having 
 created such an evil situation, it was madness for Black Chabot 
 to take skins from the native women by brute force. 
 
 All this and a dozen other tag ends of trouble were swim 
 ming through my mind as I watched the women drag the 
 buffaloes ashore and tried to perfect my scheme for being sent 
 on ahead to the Scratching. 
 
 When a great hubbub inside the stockade attracted my at 
 tention I took it for granted another jealous buck had knifed 
 his wife or bitten off her nose, but a glance showed me Chabot's 
 huge form and black whiskers, and the air seemed to be filled 
 with wolf pups. The owner of the pups looked bad about the 
 eyes but contented himself with grunting as he gathered his 
 pets in a corner. Chabot, from sheer brutality, had halted on 
 entering the gate to kick the little creatures out of his path. 
 Now he swaggered up to me, looking very nasty. I dropped 
 my hand over my knife and braced my feet. 
 
 His first words, bawled out so the whole post could hear, 
 were 
 
 "Found out yet who cut that hole through the back of the 
 storehouse?" 
 
 This stock question was the barometer of his drams. Nearly 
 three months before some Indian had cut a hole through the 
 logs of the storehouse and by means of a gun-screw on the end 
 of a stick had attempted to fish out some of our trade goods. 
 Fortunately the screw had broken off at the first trial and had 
 dropped inside, and we had lost nothing. When at the fighting 
 peak of his drinking Chabot always brought this matter up, 
 treating it as if it were a fresh crime and peculiarly within my 
 province to solve. There was scarcely anything outside of per 
 sonal abuse which he could have said that would have irritated 
 as did this query. 
 
 In my exasperation I answered 
 
12 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "I'll get a wabeno drum and go into a trance and maybe find 
 out all about it." 
 
 Instantly I was sorry to have said it, for I remembered my 
 fears of a flare-up at the last minute and my firm resolve to 
 avoid it. And now I had invited a tragedy by my sarcasm. 
 
 "Franklin, that ain't the way to talk to me," he murmured. 
 "As clerk you're supposed to keep track of the goods." 
 
 Once more my good intentions flew away and I angrily re 
 joined : 
 
 "I can't keep track of anything stolen unless I steal it myself. 
 Please remember that nothing was taken." 
 
 "I do remember," he snorted. "This post would go to if 
 
 I didn't do most of the remembering. Why didn't you look 
 for tracks?" 
 
 This was a fair sample of his drunken unreasonableness 
 when he was primed to pick a quarrel. Now I was determined 
 to hold myself in check and politely observed 
 
 "Pardon me, but the dogs had raced back and forth through 
 the snow ard destroyed all signs before you and I could look 
 the ground over." 
 
 "YouVe always got a good reason for not doing things," he 
 murmured. 
 
 Once he lowered his voice it was time to look out for trouble. 
 Twice within a minute he had spoken gently. I stepped back, 
 pretending to be watching the sturgeon jumping in the river, 
 but in reality to get elbow room as I toyed with the haft of 
 my knife. 
 
 "When you going to finish that pemmican ?" he softly asked. 
 
 "It's all finished," I said, gripping the knife-handle. 
 
 "Well, for God's sake, try to find something to do besides 
 sight-seeing," he bellowed. The danger was past for the time 
 and my hand dropped to my side. In his bull of Bashan voice 
 he continued, "One of the men is just down from up-river with 
 twenty beaver, six still in the meat, and you ought to be on 
 hand to trade them. Give him a quart of that West Indies 
 rum that's spoiled. The fools think it's French brandy. Tell 
 him it's a present for getting skins while those other skunks do 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 13 
 
 nothing but loaf. Shows what they can do if they want to. 
 He's only been gone two days." 
 
 His idea of teaching the idlers the profits of industry caused 
 me to smile as best I could do to keep a straight face, for the 
 loafers were all drunk. He caught the smile, although I swal 
 lowed it fast enough, and added 
 
 "After you've traded the skins I want to see you in my 
 room." Low tone again, the danger signal. 
 
 I believe we had reached a point where something radical 
 must happen. I could no longer gain anything by trying to 
 avoid him, to dodge his vicious moods. The man who found 
 the wolf pups and several others were watching us and listen 
 ing. They furnished me my cue and, jerking my head toward 
 them, I warned : 
 
 "You're spoiling your own trade when you talk this way to 
 me. They're ready for mischief. The X. Y. has spoiled 
 them." 
 
 My reference to the opposition caused him to forget me. 
 With a howl of rage he began cursing "Red" Dearness and his 
 woman. He had never seen the latter, yet he included her 
 in his volley of invectives. He had met "Red" Dearness once 
 at the mouth of Reed River and came within an inch of lock 
 ing canoes and having it out to the death. 
 
 "I kicked White Partridge nearly to death after he stole 
 my horse and went over there. When Dearness heard about 
 it he made a chief out of the skunk. As soon as I can get the 
 Indians off for the summer hunt and the brigade under way 
 I'm going to have a settlement with that red hound." 
 
 "That will mean the two posts will fight it out with the 
 Indians waiting to kill off the survivors. Then the H. B. will 
 have a clear field. Dearness is new down here, but from what 
 I hear you don't want to start blazing a trail toward him un 
 less you're willing to finish it. I don't see as he has done any 
 worse than you have. He'll probably have something to say 
 about your taking the skins from the women." 
 
 Instead of increasing his rage this frank speech set him to 
 
i 4 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 chuckling heavily. He was remembering his coup against the 
 X. Y. 
 
 "The Arrer's woman tried to cut my throat," he guffawed. 
 "He'd sell her to me for a nine-gallon keg." 
 
 "If he does, she'll cut your throat in earnest," I warned. 
 "But to get back to me; when the Indians see I am treated 
 with disrespect, they'll decide you can be treated the same way." 
 
 "Pooh ! I'll break the back of the first dirty buck that looks 
 at me squint-eyed," he bellowed. 
 
 "Hurt one and you hurt every Chippewa in the Northwest. 
 Next fall we'll find they've been passing tobacco to wipe us 
 out." 
 
 This statement jolted him and he stared at me steadily for 
 half a minute and began plucking at his long beard. He was 
 half drunk and wanted to deride my warning. However, there 
 was a streak of fear in his make-up. He tried to laugh and 
 carried it off poorly, for in the midst of a guffaw he happened 
 to catch the scowling gaze of the wolf-hunter and grew very 
 sober. 
 
 "Never mind about the beaver pelts. I'll go down and trade 
 them," he mumbled. "Old Tabashaw has been telling the 
 men he has a new medicine and can make rum and iron arrers." 
 
 "He's bad," I gravely agreed. "The year I was at the Park 
 post we gave him a New Year's treat of rum, flour and sugar, 
 and he paid us by trying to bribe our hunter to leave us, so we 
 would have to pay more for our meat. We were giving the 
 hunter sixty skins, cloth for his wife and all his ammunition too. 
 Trouble with him is our giving his men too many red coats. 
 When he alone had a red coat and a red feather for his hair, he 
 felt he was chief. Now all his men feel as big as he does. He 
 knows his power over the tribe is slipping and he wants to 
 get it back He's making ready for the Grand Medicine cere 
 mony. After that's over and they begin making the wabeno, 
 he'll spring some new tricks. That's why he plays his new 
 drum so much. Black Robe told his woman yesterday that 
 the chief can kill any man, red or white, by just wishing him 
 to die." 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 15 
 
 "The poisoners !" grunted Chabot, winding up with a little 
 shiver. "He's at it now, the murderer!" 
 
 He referred to the monotonous thudding of the new drum,* 
 accompanying the chief's yowling voice in more wabeno songs. 
 The chief had pretended to extract a piece of metal from the 
 wounded woman's side and had collected a big kettle and two 
 blankets from the husband. Now he was seeking another piece 
 of metal in her neck, for which he would be generously paid. 
 
 The fact that the arrow had left no foreign substance in the 
 wound did not impair the husband's credulity. The more frag 
 ments of iron the old rascal would pretend to draw from the 
 poor body the greater his reputation as a medicine man. His 
 voice rose above the noise made by the dogs, the women and 
 the children. Chabot had heard him throughout the morning 
 without paying any heed. Indian howling and drumming and 
 fighting was a background we were used to, just as we were 
 used to the song of the river and never heard it unless we 
 stopped and deliberately listened. 
 
 Now, because of my words, the chief's song had a new signif 
 icance. In it Chabot was finding a threat against his life. 
 Although I was glad to have diverted his attention from me, I 
 began to regret having mentioned poison. It would never do 
 for him to show he was afraid. We were but a handful of 
 white men possessing treasure the natives yearned for rum. 
 We were surrounded by one of the largest tribes on the conti 
 nent, a people numerous and brave enough to drive the Sioux 
 south. We held our place at the top of the heap only by hold 
 ing our heads high and forcing the impression that we belonged 
 there. 
 
 I had often travelled alone to the Pembina Mountains and all 
 through the Reed and Red Lake Rivers districts and up the 
 Red far beyond Grandes Fourches, in seeking Indian families 
 to kill skins for us. But with the exception of eccentric attacks 
 by drunken men I had never been in actual danger. There had 
 been many times, however, when my scalp would have dried in 
 smoke over a tent-pole had I shown the white feather. There 
 was only one Indian along the whole river in whom I put any 
 
16 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 trust. It was a whimsical truth that this exception should be 
 Flat Mouth, a chief of the greatest band of robbers in the 
 whole Chippewa Nation. So it was with lively concern that I 
 watched the changing expression in Chabot's eyes and feared 
 that his face under the heavy beard was developing lines of 
 weakness. 
 
 "The only thing to do is to be firm with them," I remarked. 
 
 "Yes, yes. Of course. We must be firm," he muttered, 
 trying to frown at the wolf-hunter. Then with a shrug of his 
 powerful shoulders he said, "We'll be getting out pretty soon. 
 Very soon." 
 
 "Not for a month at the quickest," I reminded. 
 
 "As soon as I can settle their accounts and hire the summer 
 men, the brigade starts," he sullenly replied. 
 
 "But the X. Y. and the H. B. canoes won't start till some 
 time in May," I protested. 
 
 "They can start when they please," he growled. "The bri 
 gade from this post pulls out when I give the word. I shall 
 have the packs made up very soon." 
 
 This was a startling announcement. I was keen enough to 
 go down the river, but a premature departure would cause a 
 commotion among the company heads. However, I did not be 
 lieve he could complete his arrangements for the summer men 
 as speedily as he intimated. 
 
 "If we go out before everything is caught up, the opposition 
 will steal our trade and our hunters," I was reminding, when 
 a shot from the plains side of the stockade, quickly followed 
 by excited whoops, saved me a stinging rebuke and sent him 
 hastening to the window. 
 
 It was nothing out of the ordinary. Prior to our conversa 
 tion Chabot would have thought nothing of it. Now he looked 
 apprehensively from the window, sighed in great relief, and 
 allowed his face to twist with mirth. He shouted boisterously 
 and clapped his hands. One would have thought it a great 
 feat. A scraggy bull that had lost its sight in some recent 
 prairie fire had wandered near the stockade. A hunter had 
 fired a ball into its side. 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 17 
 
 Now the poor brute was running wildly about, colliding 
 with trees and stumps, pursued and tormented by half a dozen 
 Indians. Blind buffaloes were a very common sight, especially 
 in the late fall when the plains burn in large areas until extin 
 guished by heavy snow or prolonged rains. With all their hair 
 burned off and their skin shrivelled up they prompt a humane 
 man to end their misery with a ball. But this spectacle was 
 sickening and I wasn't over-fastidious. I turned to get my gun 
 and end the miserable sport but was anticipated by a buck, who 
 ran in and leaped on the brute's back, then to his side and des 
 patched him with an axe. 
 
 Thrusting his head from the window, Chabot applauded in 
 a stentorian voice. 
 
 "Well done, Mauvaise Hache! Good work! Come inside 
 and have some new milk (rum) !" 
 
 It was nauseating. Rewarding an idler's attack on a blind 
 Dull as if he had penetrated deep beyond the old Sioux war-road 
 and had brought back a dozen packs of prime furs to trade! 
 The unexpected invitation not only brought Bad Ax, proudly 
 flourishing his bloody weapon, but all the others, whom I had 
 refused during the morning while Chabot was drinking with 
 the express. I went down with him and, to make matters 
 worse, he drank with them. The condescension of the fool was 
 disgusting. Once you drink with a man whom you wish to feel 
 your inferior he will proclaim himself your equal. To watch 
 him pour the rum and pat Bad Ax on the shoulder and bellow 
 out praise would make one think the lazy dog had brought in 
 ten tents of his people, all heavily loaded with trade. The 
 owner of the wolf pups edged toward the master and I stepped 
 to his side and made sure his hands were empty and no knife 
 was in his clout. 
 
 Chabot no sooner glimpsed him than he eagerly extended a 
 brimming mug. The fellow snatched it, his little eyes flick 
 ering like a snake's, and vague wonderment at his luck, at the 
 meaning of it all, showed in his heavy face. While they were 
 guzzling their first dram old Tabashaw sniffed the air and 
 
1 8 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 threw aside his drum and staggered into the room, loudly pro 
 claiming : 
 
 "New milk! Give it to me! It gives a good taste to the 
 smoke. Let us have plenty of new milk so the children won't 
 cry!" 
 
 I wanted to cuff the old vagabond's ears until he couldn't 
 hear the last trump, for his drunken speech contained a most 
 vicious threat. It was the same as if he had said we would all 
 be killed if he was refused a drink, thereby leaving our children 
 to mourn. An hour before Chabot would have kicked him 
 back to his damnable drumming, garnishing his flight with a 
 volley of curses. Now he actually grinned and poured him a 
 mug of "wine." 
 
 During our first season on the river we could dilute a quart 
 of river water with a gill of alcohol and trade it for six prime 
 beaver skins. I've traded a three-point blanket and a nine- 
 gallon keg of high wine, highly diluted, for a hundred and 
 twenty-five beaver; less than fifteen dollars' worth of stuff for 
 more than four hundred dollars' worth of skins, Halifax cur 
 rency. But our Indians would no longer stand so much water 
 and the profits were a bit less. Now their milk must be strong. 
 It was; the effects were speedy. 
 
 Old Tabashaw howled out another poorly veiled threat by 
 saying a hunter had found a sign that meant the destruction of 
 the post and all the white men on the river. He referred to a 
 badger that had chased a skunk into a hollow stump and had 
 been caught in a trap hidden there. This prophecy was bound 
 to have an evil effect, yet Chabot made no move to counteract 
 it. So I grabbed the old villain by the throat with one hand 
 and snatched Bad Ax's weapon with the other and, as he crashed 
 over backward with me on top, I loudly promised to leave his 
 hair and brains sticking to the floor unless he explained what he 
 meant by such talk. He wasn't so drunk but what he could be 
 cunning, and he protested : 
 
 "The Sioux will come. But the Chippewas will die fighting 
 for their white friends." 
 
 I accepted this amendment, having scored my point of show- 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 19 
 
 ing the men we would stand no nonsense; only it should have 
 been Black Chabot and not a subordinate who took action. A 
 year before, when Mr. Henry was at the post, Tabashaw had 
 started much the same kind of talk as a preface for a general 
 massacre. But Mr. Henry had taken the notion out of him 
 before he could barely begin. 
 
 Chabot looked troubled but did not upbraid me; nor did he 
 rebuke the Indians. With the chief silenced the effects of the 
 drink returned to its usual ruts. A young buck decided his 
 woman was unfaithful and stabbed her in the knee as she was 
 stealing a drink out of his mug. And he would have done for 
 her had I not nearly brained him with a stool. It was not my 
 place, however, to keep the men from murdering each other. 
 Even had the master been absent, it would not have been cus 
 tomary to interfere with their drinking beyond driving them 
 clear of the fort. 
 
 To be rid of the scene I went for my horse to ride out on the 
 plains to try my new double-barrel gun on the buffalo. The 
 horse came from the Mandans and was a noble buffalo horse. 
 He was crazy for the hunt, but I quickly found my heart was 
 not in the sport. He repeatedly ran me along beside bull or 
 cow and waited for me to shoot, while the only ambition I 
 could entertain was to follow the river north, to get clear of 
 Chabot. 
 
 The sun was screened off by clouds of pigeons and the earth 
 was cluttered with buffaloes; I did not fire a single shot, 
 although I rode several miles from the fort. I was so absent- 
 minded that I kept but little reckoning of my wanderings until 
 my mount halted beside a calf. It was lyingtdown and hiding 
 its head in the grass after its silly fashion. It had followed 
 its mother until tired out. 
 
 As I was mounted it was not afraid of me but staggered to 
 its shaky legs and would have followed my horse back inside 
 the stockade had not its mother at that moment come tearing 
 back to the rescue. My horse raced me into a desirable posi 
 tion. But we had buffalo enough and our stock of frozen meat 
 was thawing and spoiling. So I galloped away and left the calf 
 
20 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 to be consoled by the mother until the river or an arrow meas 
 ured out its destiny. 
 
 On my return to the fort I found the place in an uproar, the 
 women now having procured rum and adding their jealousies 
 and whimsies to the general confusion. As I entered, Taba- 
 shaw, in an exuberance of ferocity, threw his drum from him 
 and trampled upon it and smashed it and loudly proclaimed 
 that thus would he stamp out all white men. The Indians were 
 overrunning the place. A few years before there had been no 
 stockades about the forts in the Northwest, and the red nui 
 sances came and went as they would. When Mr. Henry built 
 the stockade round the Park River post they had been very 
 wrathy until we made them believe the barrier was intended to 
 keep out the Sioux. The Lord knows we had gone through 
 enough in teaching them their place without letting down the 
 bars now. Chabot was not to be seen, but the bucks and the 
 women were everywhere and several boys were openly fighting 
 over sugar one of them had filched. 
 
 I came just in time to witness the climax of one family row. 
 Old Crow's young wife had resented his trying to disfigure her 
 for life by burning her rather comely features with a brand 
 from the fireplace and was leaving him. The old devil pursued 
 her through the gate to make her leave their boy with him. The 
 child, not more than seven or eight, guarded his mother's retreat 
 with great sportsmanship by shooting several arrows at his 
 father. The bow was small and the arrows were not sent 
 with much force, but one did wound the old sot in the cheek, 
 whereat the youngster claimed a coup and yelled like a young 
 demon. 
 
 The sight of the savages swarming over our quarters, hand 
 ling and appropriating our effects, maddened me. Mr. Henry 
 had been stern in Indian discipline. What I beheld was a pre 
 lude to a massacre. Unless the license was immediately 
 squelched every white man on the river would fight for his 
 life and most likely lose it. I grabbed a tent-pole and began 
 swinging it in a circle, bringing them down in rows, regardless 
 of sex. Those who could not crawl out were thrown out. As 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 21 
 
 Tabashaw beheld his people making this unceremonious exit he 
 reasserted himself and called for volunteers to capture the fort 
 and make an end of the white men. 
 
 "We will kill them all and trade the furs at the Scratching 
 post for new milk!" he yelled. 
 
 His speech appealed to their drunken minds. One man, who 
 had been dancing wildly before the stockade gate, waving his 
 axe and calling the Sioux "old women" and defying them to 
 come out of the plains and give him battle, turned around and 
 threw the axe at me. I had my gun and my first instinct was 
 to shoot. But the man was crazy, the others were crazy, and 
 the lesson would be lost. An Indian in rum never profits by an 
 object lesson. So I stood on my guard, watching out for axes 
 or arrows, and called over my shoulder to Chabot. Apparently 
 the test had come and the long threatened uprising was about 
 to be a fact. Chabot heard me, or else he happened to be ap 
 pearing on the scene, for I heard his heavy step behind me as I 
 faced the infuriated Indians. 
 
 "Kill them all! Kill old Black Face!" incited Tabashaw. 
 
 Chabot's countenance, despite his beard, betrayed a great 
 fear, and yet it was not the Chippewas he feared, for without 
 seeming to sense the climax now thrust upon us he passed by 
 me and descended among the gesticulating figures. Buffeting 
 them aside and walking like a blind man feeling his way, he 
 advanced to the stockade gate and closed it and dropped the 
 bar in place without a hand being raised against him. Whether 
 his bold action took them so by surprise as to leave them inca 
 pable of hostile action, or whether they were so drunk as not to 
 realize the master of the post was in their power, I can't say. 
 Anyway, he gained the gate and then turned back, but now he 
 made the mistake of trying to run. 
 
 Instantly they became galvanized into venomous activity and 
 only their bloodthirsty eagerness saved him. They crowded 
 so closely about him they could not wield their weapons effect 
 ively. Chabot continued oblivious to their purpose. I raised 
 my gun, trying to decide just where the two barrels would do 
 
22 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 the most good, when the master found his voice. Raising both 
 arms and throwing back his big head, he roared out : 
 
 "The Sioux! The Sioux are upon us!" 
 
 There was nothing so likely to sober the Chippewas as this 
 alarm. Although remaining very drunk in the body their minds 
 reacted mechanically at the dread words and their hostility to 
 us instantly vanished. Old Tabashaw clawed at Chabot's arm 
 and pleaded for protection. Many times I had believed the 
 Sioux were upon us in force, but never had I betrayed my fears. 
 Let the master show concern and the natives become worthless. 
 They will leave a stout stockade that can defy several hundred 
 Sioux, and scatter helter-skelter to the woods to be run down 
 and slaughtered. Chabot's wild outcry threw them into a ter 
 rible panic, and they raised a tremendous clamour. These were 
 the very men who another day would pass war tobacco and 
 penetrate deep into the Sioux country and seek desperate odds. 
 
 It was always thus, one side attacking, one giving away; 
 seldom did two forces grow brave at the same time. Therein 
 they differed from white men. They required a show of weak 
 ness to arouse their courage ; then they could be quite terrific. 
 
 Old Crow's runaway wife and child now returned to the 
 gate and began pounding it and screaming to be admitted. 
 They could see no foe, but from their noise one would think 
 the devil was within a rod of them. 
 
 Jumping down into the mob, I caught Chabot by the arm 
 and dragged him into the door, demanding 
 
 "What have you seen?" 
 
 He eyed me wildly, as if not recognizing me. It was not 
 until I had him over the threshold and had shaken him smartly 
 did he find his voice. 
 
 "The hills is full of their smokes!" he bellowed. 
 
 I ran to a rear window and looked to the west. Only the 
 buffaloes and their ghostly trailers, the grey wolves, were on the 
 plain. Smoke was crawling high in the direction of the Pem- 
 bina Mountains. But it was nothing unusual at this time of 
 year. Beaver hunters, about to return, invariably made a 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 23 
 
 smoke to announce their coming. I told Chabot as much, but 
 he insisted the smoke was made by our inveterate enemy; and 
 he began breaking open the gun cases. Some of the raccoon 
 hunters now arrived from the woods and joined Old Crow's 
 wife and child in demanding admittance, one of them fren- 
 ziedly trying to chop a hole through the gate. Those inside 
 were crowding and pushing against the gate in an attempt to 
 get out. Hell was loose. 
 
 I left Chabot working over the gun cases and fought my 
 way to the gate and removed the bar, then battled until it had 
 space to swing open. In rushed the hunters; outward surged 
 those already inside. The impact of the two opposing bodies 
 brought the entire group to a standstill for a moment. Plac 
 ing my hands on the shoulders of two bucks, I raised myself 
 above their heads and harangued them, saying: 
 
 "What is the matter with you? Are you all old women? 
 Does a little smoke scare you? Where is Flat Mouth? He 
 isn't a coward." 
 
 Old Tabashaw began babbling the omen of the skunk chased 
 by the badger. The woman who had dreamed of a Sioux 
 warrior counting the men in the Chippewa tents shrilly added 
 her prophecy. Then, to my relief, Flat Mouth came running 
 from the river. He was the only composed one in the lot. 
 Pointing to the smoke and then to my horse outside the gate, 
 I explained the situation and asked him to ride out on the 
 plains and learn the truth. Without a word he leaped on the 
 horse and dashed away, riding straight for the signal. 
 
 His prompt readiness to investigate tended to calm the others 
 and they intelligently commenced preparations for our defence. 
 In about an hour Flat Mouth came galloping back. We opened 
 the gate, but he dismounted outside and entered leisurely, 
 announcing: 
 
 "Beaver smokes. Some Crees and Assiniboins are coming 
 with the hut people from the hills, bringing their trade here 
 instead of leaving it at the hut." 
 
 At once the Chippewas were hysterical with joy and they 
 
24 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 danced and clapped their hands and proclaimed their intentions 
 of exchanging tobacco with the newcomers and arranging for 
 a big war party against the Sioux. As changeable as children, 
 they were now lusting to go seek the enemy. 
 
 I took Flat Mouth aside to satisfy myself his information 
 was correct. He was sure, he said. Although he had seen 
 the hill party at a considerable distance he had recognized the 
 carts used by our three men in taking trade goods to the hill 
 hut. Being freed from a Sioux menace did not leave me 
 altogether happy, however. It meant another kind of unpleas 
 antness, that was all. The new trade being brought in would 
 call for more drinking; when the Crees and Assiniboins have a 
 drinking match with their friends the Chippewas it's high time 
 to hide all weapons. 
 
 Going inside, I told Chabot what the Pillager had learned. 
 He quit the gun cases and in his usual bluster went to the door 
 and berated the Indians for being cowards. Returning to me, 
 he fumbled inside his leather coat and finally fished out a des 
 patch, brought by the express, and informed: 
 
 "I have orders to send you to the X. Y. post on the Scratch 
 ing. You are to make a bargain with Red Dearness to the 
 effect that neither the X. Y. nor the N. W. shall send out 
 any men to drum up trade. The N. W. is anxious to agree 
 not to accept any trade unless it's brought in to a post. When 
 the brigade goes out, I will see the H. B. factor myself and 
 strike a similar bargain." 
 
 "When does the brigade start?" 
 
 "I don't know," he evaded, lowering his eyes. "But you are 
 to start to-morrow." 
 
 "I shall want a man to go with me." 
 
 "Take old Tabashaw and drown him and I'll give you a 
 pack of beaver," he gritted. "I'll give him a hundred drops of 
 laudanum in his next dram and see if that will stop his yawp. 
 Take who you want to." 
 
 I picked Flat Mouth. The trip I had secretly planned was 
 now an open path for me without my having said a word. In- 
 
THE ICE GOES OUT 25 
 
 wardly I rejoiced and was impatient for the morning to come. 
 Only I wished I knew more about Chabot's plans for going 
 down the river. I was intensely loyal to the N. W. and hoped 
 he had changed his mind about a too early departure. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 
 
 EARLY next morning a Red Sucker band of Indians 
 came in with their families from Turtle River above 
 us, where they had wintered. They brought sixty 
 beaver, a bale of fox, another of wolf, a few fisher and two 
 martens ; also a skin canoe loaded with bear fat, melted the fall 
 before and poured into bags of red deerskin. They had quite 
 a quantity of pemmican, which had spoiled because their fear 
 of the Sioux had prevented their taking the ordinary precau 
 tions to dry out the skin canoe at least once in each twenty- 
 four hours. The skin canoe is made of raw buffalo hides 
 stretched over a willow frame with the hair inside. It will 
 carry a heavy load but is no good except for floating down 
 stream. Unless emptied and dried over a fire or by the sun 
 once a day, it becomes waterlogged and will sink. 
 
 One of the party had found a buffalo with a broken leg. 
 Although their own people frequently wounded buffalo, which 
 escaped, they took it for granted this creature had been hunted 
 by the Sioux. They had precipitately decamped, leaving their 
 sugar making, driven by fear to make the post. They did not 
 dare stop and dry the big canoe until it began to settle. Before 
 they could unload, the pemmican was soaked. 
 
 Like excited children telling some tremendous bear story 
 they described the Sioux signs. Had we not already passed 
 through a siege of nerves the day before their recital would 
 have had our Indians badly frightened. As it was, their alarm 
 fell on deaf ears. No one showed any interest in them until 
 one of the band informed Chabot he had killed a big grizzly 
 and must have rum to appease the spirit of the slain monster, 
 
 26 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 27 
 
 also half a yard of red cloth to hang up as an additional concil 
 iation. 
 
 This request, like the demand for rum to wash out grief over 
 the dead, was reasonable. There are times when it is impera 
 tive the Indian should receive free rum rations, such as when 
 his deepest superstitions are involved. I measured out the drink 
 and the post idlers immediately began begging an allowance 
 from the newcomers. Old Tabashaw, who had withstood a 
 hundred drops of laudanum given in five doses spread over an 
 hour, was very wide awake and urging the Red Suckers to take 
 war tobacco with them to their summer home on the Grand 
 Passage on the Assiniboin for distribution among the Crees. 
 The drinking bout promptly started, but there was no danger 
 of the men repeating yesterday's performance, as they were 
 still afraid of the Sioux and when the shadow was over them 
 they could be quiet enough in their drams. The Red Sucker 
 band as hunters was worth all the Chippewas on the Lower 
 Red, although Tabashaw's men were keen enough for fur 
 during my first season in the department. 
 
 I found Flat Mouth at the river ready to push off my canoe. 
 Chabot came running after me, calling out 
 
 "Stop at the Reed and tell Probos to take his packs to our 
 Scratching post at once!" 
 
 "Yes, sir. But if there is a chance of the brigade going out 
 at once, I would like to know it, as I have some stuff of my 
 own I want to pack up," I replied. 
 
 "Oh, you'll have plenty of time to do that," assured Chabot. 
 
 My errand appealed to me aside from affording me a vaca 
 tion. I was curious to meet Red Dearness. Chabot had given 
 a garbled description of him, likening him to a red ape. But 
 they had met only the once and, as Dearness had accused my 
 superior of sending trappers to encroach on the X. Y. line and 
 they had come near to fighting, which must have meant death 
 for one, if not both, I took but little stock in the master's 
 account. 
 
 Flat Mouth had seen much of the man when he was on the 
 upper Saskatchewan and I questioned him for details. The 
 
28 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 Pillager briefly informed me that Dearness's whiskers were 
 fully as long as Chabot's and a vivid red, hence his nickname. 
 
 "His woman? What tribe did he take her from?" 
 
 He stared ahead at the brown current and did not seem to 
 hear me. I repeated my query and he shook his head. Beyond 
 his description of the man's beard, I could get nothing from 
 him. His silence, however, and his way of speaking gave the 
 impression he stood in awe of Dearness. The colour of the 
 man's beard might account for this, the Indian's love for red 
 amounting to reverence. 
 
 Without incident we covered the ten miles to the mouth of 
 the Reed and hunted up his camp on the north bank. Neither 
 he nor any of his Indians was to be seen. Flat Mouth said he 
 was up at Reed Lake after sturgeon. As the lake is surrounded 
 by a half-mile belt of swamp grass and reeds, I had no desire 
 to search for him. Once I had tried to follow an old Indian 
 and French path from this patch of water to Lake of the 
 Woods, but I soon decided the roundabout way was the quick 
 est. For taking out packs it was the only route. Not being 
 disposed to enter the marshy country, I made myself comfort 
 able in the camp and sent the Pillager on discovery. In a 
 short time he returned with Probos and several Indians, the 
 latter clamouring for "milk." I gave them all a few inches of 
 tobacco, delivered Chabot's orders to the clerk and resumed my 
 journey. 
 
 After leaving the Reed we came upon five bears drinking 
 at the river. I nearly broke Flat Mouth's heart by refusing 
 to stop while he shot them. The fur was excellent at this 
 season and a few pelts were not to be despised, but there was 
 something in the back of my mind that impelled me to finish 
 my business and return to the Pembina. Twenty-four hours 
 since I had been desperate to quit the post ; now I was keen to 
 return. I couldn't get rid of the notion that the brigade might 
 start before I was ready to accompany it. 
 
 However, I cheered my red friend by reminding him that 
 bear was plenty about the Pembina if an Indian would forget 
 the Sioux and go after them. He proclaimed his willingness 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 29 
 
 to go, even to the thickly wooded country of the Cheyenne 
 just south of Devil's Lake, where, he declared, the grizzlies 
 went in vast droves and the region must verily be the abode o 
 the great bear manito. The explanation for this abundance of 
 bears was simple enough, as that region was the disputed 
 northern boundary of the Sioux hunting range. 
 
 Any Indian venturing there in summer was pretty sure to 
 remain while his hair travelled south. As there was no hunting 
 to prevent the brutes from multiplying rapidly, I suppose they 
 did thrive in enormous numbers. Flat Mouth was pleased 
 with my reasoning, as it gave him a new viewpoint and inflamed 
 him to go there. Heretofore, he said, he had kept away because 
 of the great bear spirit. But if all he had to fear was the 
 Sioux and almost certain death, he was keen for the trip. He 
 measured up higher in courage than any other redskin I ever 
 met. 
 
 For miles we swapped bear talk. He entertained me by 
 describing the difference in the habits of grizzlies within so 
 narrow an area as contained between the Red River and the 
 Pembina Mountains. I have no reason for doubting his state 
 ment that in the hills, where the soil is dry and sandy, with 
 the frost seldom penetrating more than a foot, the bears, both 
 grizzly and black, den up in the ground. Our Red River bears 
 took to hollow trees. Flat Mouth said they did this because 
 the bear manito had taught them how the frost sinks into the 
 muddy banks for more than four feet; therefore they imitated 
 the raccoons. 
 
 I had never gone after bear in the hills, but before Chabot 
 took over the post one of the men brought me a cub which in 
 a way bore out the Pillager's words. The cub was as tame as 
 a kitten and trotted after me even when I quit the fort and 
 took to the woods. When cold weather came I had the men 
 open up a big hollow tree near the stockade and chop up some 
 boughs and put inside so he might be unusually cosy. The 
 place was almost snug enough for a human being. It measured 
 six feet across, with a two-foot shell to keep out the cold. 
 But the cub promptly showed his hills instinct by refusing the 
 
30 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 nest and insisting on digging a hole to live in. I never saw 
 him after he retired for the winter, but I suppose he was frozen 
 out and took to the hills. 
 
 With stories and wood lore we beguiled the passage down. 
 Flat Mouth talked glibly enough unless you touched upon 
 something that was tabu. Finally we came to the Scratching, 
 where our small post was in charge of a fellow called Desset. 
 On the opposite side, hidden by a grove of strong woods, was 
 the opposition post. When some distance above the post we 
 could catch the din made by the Indians as they swallowed 
 all the profits of their spring hunt ; men, women and children 
 all getting drunk as rapidly as possible. 
 
 j It's nasty work, peddling rum to Indians. But, after theoriz 
 ing and sermonizing from Montreal to the Rocky Mountain 
 House on the MacKenzie, let some of the sanctimonious critics 
 give out heavy debts to a race that believes successful thieving 
 is a greater honour even than scalp-taking, and then let them 
 see how they'll get the debts paid without rum. 
 t| To rob a trader, kill him if need be, but get his goods at any 
 costs, would be a great coup if not for the knowledge such 
 treatment would cut off the supplies. There was hardly an 
 Indian in the Northwest who would not cheerfully have cut 
 my throat for a keg of rum, if he knew it was the only keg in 
 the world and that there could never be any more. My friend 
 and companion was proud to call himself chief of the Pillagers- 
 Thieves. The name wasn't given him by outsiders but was 
 bestowed by his own people upon themselves. 
 
 After all, thievery among the Indians is only another name 
 for looking out for one's best interests; a characteristic of the 
 white man also. A man may take many scalps and count many 
 coups, but the really valuable man in a tribe is he who can 
 fetch home the most stolen horses. If getting what they want 
 above all else high wine results in their women being sold 
 and debauched, that is much their own business, not the trader's. 
 
 As we drew nearer the rival posts the hooting and singing 
 seemed to emanate impartially from both banks and I deduced 
 it had been going on all night. No one was down at the river 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 31 
 
 when we grounded our canoe. Leaving Flat Mouth to stay 
 with the canoe, I went up to the fort to interview Desset, the 
 clerk. I found most of our people sick, as they were every 
 spring when they shifted from meat to fat sturgeon. 
 
 The Indians, too, seemed to be badly off, men, women and 
 children coughing, several being far gone with consumption. 
 Desset obviously had been generous with the "milk," as all the 
 Chippewas were drunk. To add to the hubbub was the 
 Indians' excitement at having found that morning a Canada 
 lynx in a sturgeon net some ten feet from the shore. 
 
 Desset had endeavoured to explain that the cat broke through 
 while trying to cross the thin ice, which forms every night only 
 to float out at midday, and had become tangled in the net and 
 drowned. But nothing so simple as that could content a Chip- 
 pewa when he could read so many signs from the curious hap 
 pening. Optimistic from liquor, they read the sign favourably. 
 The sturgeon net was the Chippewa Nation. Some of the hunt 
 ers at the post were of the sturgeon gens. The lynx, of course, 
 was a symbol for the Sioux. The Chippewas were to exter 
 minate the Sioux. Not a shadow of a doubt about it in their 
 minds, and already plans were perfected for sending the glad 
 news and war-tobacco far up the Assiniboin. Had the Sioux 
 appeared at that time in battle array, the Chippewas, firm in 
 their faith, would have given them a terrible beating. 
 
 Desset had no control over them and spent most of his time 
 in keeping out of the way. Several bore bloody wounds. As it 
 wasn't my place to discipline Desset's Indians, I withdrew to a 
 cubby-hole that served as an office and sought information con 
 cerning Red Dearness before crossing the river. 
 
 "He never comes here. He doesn't want me to go there. I 
 never see him, only when he passes up the river or rides on the 
 plains. Until the snow melted, I saw nothing of him or the 
 Madame." 
 
 "What kind of a looking woman is she?" I asked. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, explaining: 
 
 "The few times I've seen her was when she was at a distance. 
 Then she wore a capote. I've heard she's a Slave, also a Cree. 
 
32 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 I know she isn't Chippewa, or our hunters would be going over 
 there for rum. They're afraid of Dearness and don't bother 
 him after the first time." 
 
 We talked for some time and I read the fellow pretty thor 
 oughly. He may have been a good office hand in Montreal, but 
 he was sadly out of tune on the Lower Red. Theoretically he 
 understood the business of buying furs. I could see that if all 
 Indians were exactly alike he could learn the technique. Inas 
 much as they were individuals, he was helpless. His babbling 
 revealed that much. 
 
 It was Chabot who got him the post, and I should have 
 disliked him because of his patron had he been less inoffensive 
 and helpless. He confessed he had but few furs and that it 
 wouldn't take him long to make up his packs once he knew 
 the brigade was going out. In pity for the poor fool I offered 
 to go over his books and make sure his accounts were straight. 
 
 "That's the worst of it," he bitterly took on. "The Indians 
 were all drunk in here a few weeks ago and threw my books on 
 the fire. I haven't even an account showing their debts." 
 
 As he confessed this I detected him slyly watching me to 
 read the effect of his announcement. My pitying contempt sud 
 denly evaporated and in its place I felt a strong aversion to him. 
 He seemed to be so weak, physically and mentally, I might 
 have bothered much to help him out. Now I wondered if it 
 wasn't a part of Chabot's scheme in getting him there to have 
 the books disappear. The Pembina post would show fat returns. 
 The Scratching post would mark up a loss. If Desset was dis 
 charged it needn't follow that anything criminal would be sus 
 pected. With the books gone and nothing but mismanagement 
 proven it would be possible for him and Chabot to share a fat 
 profit out of the past season, one which would make our gentle 
 men of the North tear their hair did they guess they were being 
 bilked. These suspicions came to me because I believed Chabot 
 to be a bad one and because of the furtive glances Desset 
 gave me. 
 
 I talked some further with him and then went outside to 
 visit the X. Y. On my way to the river I met Joe Pouliot, 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 3 3 
 
 one of the best men the N. W. employed, and in a bantering 
 way he made the boast he had brought in two hundred prime 
 skins from one derouin. This, if true, was the most successful 
 derouin ever made on the river. 
 
 I encouraged him to give me the details, which he did 
 eagerly; and when he had finished I believed him. Now a 
 derouin the sending of men forth to scare up trade among 
 the Indians instead of having them bring their hunt to the posts 
 was generally frowned upon by rival companies. It smacked 
 of free trading, the great sin in a company's eyes. It tended 
 to take the control of the fur business out of the companies' 
 hands, besides encouraging the men to do a little sly trading 
 for themselves, or to carry part of the skins to some rival. 
 
 Furthermore, it was disastrous because it petted up the 
 Indians until they were too lazy even to send their packs in by 
 their women. Now the point was this: Why, if the N. W. 
 post on the Scratching was securing any such number of skins 
 in this fashion, should Black Chabot be eager to strike a bargain 
 with Red Dearness, of the X. Y., to suppress the practice ? 
 
 Desset was paid a hundred a year, Halifax currency, five 
 hundred dollars in States' money. I had pitied him for a 
 weakling. I quickly revised my opinion when further question 
 ing brought forth the information from Joe that the season had 
 been a good one. 
 
 "You don't seem to have much for the brigade to pick up," 
 I remarked. 
 
 "But we sent out twenty-six packages of ninety pounds each 
 right after the express stopped here," said Joe. 
 
 "How was the express? Pretty drunk?" I asked. 
 
 He smiled gently, caressed his long fair moustaches as if 
 wiping off the dew of a drink and replied : 
 
 "They was asleep when our Indians saw their canoe drifting 
 sidewise. They woke up after we got them into the post and 
 held a dram of rum under their noses. We sent two Indians 
 to look after them until they got through the swift water 
 below. After that they'd be all right to look after themselves." 
 
 It was transparent. Desset and Chabot had traded for a 
 
34 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 canoe-load of prime furs and had sent them on ahead of the 
 brigade, consigned to someone other than Simon McTavish's 
 company. Indian troubles, a general failure to pay their debts, 
 the loss of the account books, would be cited to cover the empty 
 shelves. 
 
 I wasn't hired to spy on the Scratching River outfit. If 
 Mr. Henry should return, I would tell him what I suspected, 
 give the facts and leave the rest to him. But the N. W. had 
 seen fit to put Chabot in Mr. Henry's place. I would hold my 
 tongue. 
 
 Leaving Flat Mouth behind, I took the canoe and paddled 
 into the mouth of the Scratching and crossed over. I landed 
 in a willow growth so thick and stout I would not have at 
 tempted to penetrate it if not for a narrow path making down 
 to the water's edge. On the rising ground back of this was a 
 second growth of very big oak, elm and ash. Cutting through 
 the strong timber, I came out on a meadow that reached nearly 
 to the Red. As I entered the meadow I beheld an old acquaint 
 ance, and he was having trouble with his horse. 
 
 It was the "Rat," French, with a dash of Chippewa. He 
 had worked for us during Mr. Henry's first season on the Red 
 and was thoroughly untrustworthy. After we turned him off 
 he had joined the X. Y. as an interpreter. When we came to 
 the Red, there were practically no horses on the river, although 
 the Chippewas were constantly fighting the Sioux who had 
 many. During the last two years we had increased our number 
 of animals so that it was common enough sight to see the Indians 
 mounted. Besides those we and the opposition brought in were 
 a few the Crees had traded for new medicines. 
 
 But I never saw any horses on the river, aside from those 
 owned and cared for by white men, that were not in wretched 
 condition. The crude wooden saddle commonly used by the 
 Indians was largely to blame, as it ripped the hide off a nag's 
 back in no time. I've often seen the poor, tortured beasts turn 
 and bite their sides till the blood streamed, once the saddle was 
 removed. The Indians never paid any attention to their condi* 
 tion nor tried to correct the fault. They would throw the 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 35 
 
 wooden saddle on to the raw flesh and ride them as unconcern 
 edly as a white man would use a canoe. 
 
 The Rat's horse was fighting against the saddle. Its back 
 was 3 ghastly sight. As I came on to the scene the maddened 
 brute managed to break loose and ran for the plains. The Rat, 
 in a whirlwind of rage, raised his gun, then decided the enjoy 
 ment would be too dear and started in pursuit afoot. I called 
 out to him, and the moment he recognized me his dark face 
 lighted up and he forgot the runaway and eagerly cried : 
 
 "Meester Chabo'? Where he ees?" 
 
 I replied that Chabot would come down the river as soon 
 as he had packed up and had sent the Indians off some time 
 within the next thirty days. His manner in asking the question 
 rather puzzled me, for theoretically he should feel no enthu 
 siasm for the head of a post that had discharged him. It was 
 Mr. Henry who had turned the beggar loose, but according to 
 the Red River way of thinking he should nurse resentment 
 against all N. W. representatives. 
 
 "What do you want to see Mr. Chabot for?" I asked. 
 
 "I go to ride up the reever to see heem, to get heem to hire 
 me," he explained. 
 
 "What are you quitting the X. Y. for?" 
 
 "Meester Chabo' ees one live man," he grinned. "Meester 
 Dearness maybe a dead man when snow come some more." 
 
 "Who has charge of the summer men while he's away?" 
 
 "Hees gal, maybe." 
 
 "Meaning his wife?" 
 
 "When Meester Chabo' hire me I can talk," was the non 
 committal reply. "I go to ride that horse, now she run away. 
 I paddle up to meet heem." 
 
 "You'll be sure to find him at the fort," I said. "But Mr. 
 Dearness's girl? Could she handle the summer men?" 
 
 "Han'le summer men ? She can go to han'le the deveel like 
 she want to," he emphatically assured. 
 
 Then, as if fearing he had talked too freely, he hurried away. 
 
 Now I didn't believe there was a mixed blood in the country 
 capable of handling the Indians. Certainly there wasn't a 
 
36 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 squaw. Let her be ever so brainy, let her be educated in Que 
 bec and made much of by the English and French, yet her 
 Indian blood would be a terrific handicap when it came to 
 handling her people. Such a woman could have a big influence 
 with her people and swing trade to whatever post she favoured. 
 But as trader, having charge of the debts and advances and the 
 rum, she couldn't do it. The hunters would not respect her 
 commands. If she refused them liquor, they would take it more 
 evilly than if she were a white. 
 
 Of course, I understood the Rat had a lively imagination- 
 There was no reason to doubt his statement to the effect that 
 Dearness was ill. We had received reports to the same effect. 
 When his season closed he probably would send someone back 
 to run things until fall, when he, or his successor, would come 
 on. If he were seriously ill, then any bargain I might make 
 with him might be ignored by his successor. 
 
 Orders were orders, however, and I hurried on to the fort. 
 The Rat called after me the cheering information that Dear- 
 ness knew of my stopping Little Crane from taking his furs to 
 the X. Y. and had advised the Indian to kill me. This scarcely 
 primed me for a cordial reception, yet it was part of the game 
 we were playing and worried me none. 
 
 The fort presented a scene of industrious activity despite the 
 carousal going on inside the stockade. Men were making carts 
 and fashioning wheels from solid sections from three-foot trees. 
 A smith was turning out nails. Some sick Indians were making 
 a sturgeon net while their women smoked tongues. 
 
 On the whole I really felt rather jealous of the discipline. 
 Those drinking were obviously entitled to their liquor and had 
 paid high for it. Red Dearness was like Mr. Henry in that 
 respect ; the drams were for those who had earned them. Some 
 how I gained the impression, probably from Chabot's sneering 
 talk, that things were at sixes and sevens in the X. Y. post. 
 The evidences did not support any such notions. 
 
 To be true, all was not harmony, and the master was having 
 his rum troubles. As I entered the stockade I nearly stumbled 
 over one of his hunters who had been stabbed six times in the 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 37 
 
 side and abdomen and whom they were trying to heal with 
 wabeno songs. 
 
 Entering the big room of the fort, I met a young man with a 
 twisted face, who told me he was Angus, the clerk, and would 
 I state my business. 
 
 "I want to speak with Mr. Dearness," I informed. 
 
 "You come from the N. W. post upstream?" he asked in a 
 gloomy voice. 
 
 I answered in the affirmative and repeated my request. With 
 much reluctance he told me I could not see the master. 
 
 "Scurvy treatment even for the X. Y. to give a N. W. man," 
 I hotly retorted. "And I don't know that you have authority 
 to tell me your master won't see me." 
 
 He squirmed uneasily, then blurted out : "He's drunk. He 
 can't see anyone." 
 
 This did not square up with what I had heard about him. 
 He traded high wine for pelts, as did every Northman, but he 
 was exceedingly temperate in his habits. I suspected the clerk 
 wished to hide his master's illness from the N. W. 
 
 "I can wait," I said. "Mr. Chabot sent me to see him on 
 business. He will be sobering up some time." 
 
 The clerk shook his head discouragingly, saying: 
 
 "He sleeps like a dead man. Very, very drunken." 
 
 I was electrified, and the clerk fairly jumped from his stool, 
 as a clear voice from an inner room called out in the Chippewa 
 tongue : 
 
 "That is not true, Angus. You know he isn't drunk and 
 hasn't been drunk. Tell the young man he is ill from changing 
 from meat to sturgeon." 
 
 It was a woman's voice, undoubtedly Madame's, or his 
 "gal's," for I was getting mixed on the relationship. And it 
 was a wonderfully musical voice. I was tempted to advance 
 to the room, but the curtain of rawhide was pulled snug and 
 the woman continued: 
 
 "Ask him what he wants here with your master. Have you 
 lost your tongue?" 
 
 "I will ask him," Angus meekly replied in Chippewa. 
 
3 8 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Let me tell my business without being asked," I fluently 
 spoke up, rather proud of my knowledge of Chippewa. "Mr. 
 Chabot wishes to make a bargain with the X. Y. to the end 
 that neither the X. Y. nor the N. W. send out men to hunt 
 for trade." 
 
 "He is sorry when he hears men are sent out on derouin" 
 she mockingly retorted. "What about the derouin Pouliot 
 made this winter? Bah! The man is a snake, and I have no 
 trust in a man that goes on his business." 
 
 "I am only a clerk," I stiffly replied, glaring at the curtain. 
 "I'm not passing any tobacco to get help for Chabot. I obey 
 orders." 
 
 She was silent for nearly a minute, and I was about to take 
 my departure, when she spoke, very softly this time, saying: 
 
 "I am ashamed of my words. You are not to blame if 
 Chabot is Chabot. The good God made him, as he did the 
 skunk and white wolf. And only the good God knows why 
 He made him." 
 
 "For the fur trade, just as He made the skunk and wolf for 
 the fur trade," I smartly replied. 
 
 She ignored me and continued: 
 
 "The X. Y. will agree not to send men to trade in the Indian 
 camps. It is a bad way to trade. The N. W. has been doing 
 it on this river. If the N, W. stops it, we won't begin." 
 
 "You talk Chippewa like a native," I complimented. 
 
 "And French like a Frenchwoman, and English like an Eng 
 lishwoman," she quickly answered, using the two languages. 
 
 "And I don't know which of the three you are," I regretted. 
 "Am I not to see you?" 
 
 The rawhide curtain rattled viciously and in Chippewa she 
 commanded : 
 
 "Make a writing for him to sign, binding the N. W. and 
 the X. Y. not to make a derouin f f 
 
 Clerk Angus wrote rapidly, making two copies. I signed 
 them and waited while he went to get the X. Y. signature. He 
 did not go behind the closed curtain but to a similar recess at 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 39 
 
 the opposite end of the room. He was absent for a few minutes 
 and when he returned he was followed by Red Dearness. 
 
 The man was tall and very muscular. He was as heavy as 
 Black Chabot, only a more graceful distribution of flesh and 
 brawn did not allow him to look it. My first thought was, 
 what a fight the two would make of it if they ever clashed. 
 My second thought was one of congratulations to Chabot for 
 having avoided a tussle. 
 
 Red Dearness's face possessed staying qualities which I knew 
 Chabot lacked. His beard was long and full and as red as the 
 autumn sun when the smoke from prairie fires makes it look 
 like fresh blood. His eyes were large and deep blue but sadly 
 sunken. His general mien was that of great melancholy. My 
 first glance told me it was not sturgeon diet that ailed him. 
 Nor had he been drinking. He impressed me as being marked 
 by Death, and yet there was no falling away of the flesh, no 
 lack of elasticity in his step as he approached me. 
 
 "I have heard what you have said and what has been said to 
 you. I have your signature to a paper, which pretends to bind 
 your company together with the X. Y. to post trading entirely. 
 I have signed the agreement. I will send no man to trade, 
 among the Indians. They must bring their hunt to the post. 
 I agree, not because Chabot asks it, nor because I expect him to 
 keep his agreement, but because it is the one thing a post must 
 do if it is to exist. Your people have used me foully. You 
 have stolen my skins from my Indians. Little Crane was 
 robbed of a pack belonging to me." 
 
 Not even a sick man can accuse me of that without hearing 
 my voice. Had he accused Chabot of robbing the women, I 
 would have admitted the offence; for that was a nasty fact. 
 Evidently he had not learned of that particular coup yet. I 
 contented myself with saying: 
 
 "I was the man who took the skins from the Crane. He 
 took a debt and we wanted it paid. The skins belonged to us." 
 
 "Damnation! He's taken a debt from us. Now he will 
 never pay," fumed Dearness, his blue eyes blazing. His anger 
 
40 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 seemed to tire him, and he more quietly continued, "I am doing 
 you the compliment of taking your word for it." 
 
 "You had better," I shortly retorted, "or when you recover 
 your health I should have to have a reckoning with you." 
 
 "You young fool !" he contemptuously replied. 
 
 The woman behind the curtain laughed derisively. I must 
 'have coloured or in some way shown my anger, for in a more 
 decent tone he said : 
 
 "There! There! Words are foolish as the pounding of 
 sticks on those cursed medicine drums. If I spoke harshly, it 
 was out of envy for your youth and health. After all, we're 
 but a handful of white men up here and should stick together 
 as much as the trade will allow. You will eat with us." 
 
 "Does the young lady who laughed at me eat with us?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "She keeps quite by herself," he slowly replied, staring at me 
 in a peculiar manner. 
 
 "And I think I will follow her example," I decided. "One 
 word before I go. We'll call it a bonus for signing the paper. 
 You have a man the Rat hired as interpreter. He's a scoun 
 drel." 
 
 "They all are," he quietly reminded. 
 
 "It's not my business to warn the X. Y. against his tricks. 
 I have spoken." 
 
 "I shall break his neck for his tricks some day," said Dear- 
 ness. "However, I thank you for your warning. We're getting 
 -ceremonious enough for Quebec when the season is high. Now 
 I must give you what may not set well on your stomach. Your 
 master, Black Chabot, is a rascal." 
 
 As he spoke he leaned forward and stared round-eyed, as 
 if expecting a hot denial. 
 
 "He's a rascal," I corrected. 
 
 The ghost of a smile played round his bearded lips. The 
 tinkle of a little laugh came from behind the hide curtain. 
 
 "You should be working with honest men, working for the 
 X. Y.," he murmured. 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 41 
 
 "The N. W. has the best men in the business. Skunks are 
 found everywhere." 
 
 "True," he mused ; "only a skunk's pelt is worth something. 
 Sir Alexander MacKenzie appreciates young men who can do 
 things." 
 
 "So does Simon McTavish," I added. 
 
 "It's hopeless for me to even suggest it, isn't it?" 
 
 "Quite. Now that I've done my errand I'll be going." 
 
 "You'll not change your mind and eat?" 
 
 "I'll eat at our post. It's so close it would be foolish for me 
 not to." 
 
 He glanced toward the curtains and I flushed beneath the tan 
 of the April wind. He was amusing himself with thinking I 
 would have stayed gladly enough if the woman had offered to 
 join us. 
 
 He rose and followed me to the door, and either he was sud 
 denly in physical agony, or else the sunlight revealed more than 
 I had already noticed, for his eyes were contracted and his lips 
 pressed firmly. We exchanged a courteous farewell and I went 
 to my canoe, already regretting I had not accepted his invita 
 tion to eat with him. In all probability I should have seen 
 the woman. And speech with an educated woman, as I knew 
 this woman was educated, would be a heavenly treat after three 
 years of isolation. 
 
 Until this day I had known of but one white woman ever 
 being on the river. She had come with some Orkney Islanders, 
 disguised as a boy. She betrayed her secret to one man at the 
 Forks, who debauched her, and her child was born at our fort, 
 the first white child born on the Red River of the North. 
 
 To return to the Dearness woman ; whether she was a white 
 or a breed I couldn't decide. Rumour and gossip had given me 
 to understand she was mixed blood. But if such she must have 
 been taken East when very young to be educated by the Sisters. 
 I had met French-Indian and English-Indian girls in Montreal 
 and Quebec who would grace any home. 
 
 This incident of calling on Red Dearness, so long in the tell 
 ing, was a great adventure for me. It gave me a new train of 
 
42 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 thought. It is the lack of fresh mental food and the eternal 
 chewing over the same thoughts which drive men mad in the 
 lonely places. No one can appreciate the thrill and zest that 
 such a trivial encounter can afford one who has lived in a savage 
 rut month on month. 
 
 Accordingly I was in something of a state of mind when I 
 returned to the post and found Desset excitedly superintending 
 the last of the packing. The storehouse was cleared and the 
 Indian women and children were rummaging through it in fran 
 tic search for articles overlooked. They had even taken up the 
 whitewood flooring in hope of finding trinkets dropped through 
 the cracks. 
 
 Desset 's activity astonished me. He was like a man fighting 
 against time. 
 
 "Why are you in such a hurry?" I asked. 
 
 He grinned sheepishly, hesitated, gave me one of his sly 
 glances, then frankly confessed: 
 
 "I'm so keen to get out of this country. It makes me forget 
 if I am busy." 
 
 "But it will be days and weeks before the brigade comes 
 down. You've packed all your goods. What will you do if 
 the Indians bring in a hunt?" 
 
 "I've got plenty of rum out and ready," he replied with a 
 vacuous laugh. 
 
 "The Indians seem to have had enough," I observed as I 
 caught an outburst from the stockade. 
 
 "The red beggars won't have any more," he growled. 
 
 "You'll have to give them presents when you go away," I 
 reminded. "Ho ! When did that rascal come ?" 
 
 I pointed to the reeling figure of Old Crow. 
 
 "Since you came," was the careless reply. 
 
 It surprised me the Indian would come alone down the river, 
 and I knew his wife and child would have none of his com 
 pany. I couldn't believe Chabot had driven him out of the 
 fort, as Chabot had lost his power as a disciplinarian. I saun 
 tered up to the stockade gate and glanced inside. 
 
 It was the usual scene. Old Crow held my interest, how- 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 43 
 
 ever. He not only had had too much liquor, but he was also 
 wearing a red hat with a round red feather in it, usually a gift 
 for a chief. I knew he had not traded a skin for the season. I 
 caught him by the arm as he was dancing by in a drunken line 
 and asked 
 
 "Who sent you here?" 
 
 "Black Face," he answered, meaning Chabot. 
 
 "What did you bring?" 
 
 "The white bark that talks," he grunted, lurching away to 
 join the dancers. 
 
 I would have given a prime skin to know what written mes 
 sage Black Chabot had sent to Desset. No doubt but that it 
 concerned some of their schemes for looting the N. W. I found 
 something to eat and heartily wished I had accepted Red Dear- 
 ness's invitation to eat at the X. Y. Confusion and clamour sur 
 rounded me, Desset allowing the Indians to overrun the fort 
 as if it had been abandoned. One fellow boldly tried to take 
 away my sugar, and when I resented it his woman took offence. 
 It was only by an extravagant display of anger that I brought 
 them to their senses. If the day had not been so far advanced, 
 I would have taken to the canoe and returned upstream. 
 
 Going to the river, I found Flat Mouth and a man of his 
 band dragging the water for sturgeon by suspending a long net 
 between two canoes and sweeping upstream. Mr. Henry was 
 the first to introduce such a net to the Red. While I watched 
 them, a man came in with eight kegs of new sugar and six 
 beaver skins. Desset came down to the river as the man landed, 
 but he showed no enthusiasm for the trade. He gave the im 
 pression of being annoyed and refused to trade anything but 
 high wine, powder, and ball. An idea of how permanent alco 
 hol stood in our trade ventures is shown from the fact that, 
 out of twenty-eight "pieces" of assorted goods brought in by 
 each canoe in the early fall, ten were kegs of liquor, each hold 
 ing nine gallons. Gunpowder, which one might expect to hold 
 first place, furnished only two kegs per canoe. 
 
 The fort was so noisy that night, and there was so much 
 fighting going on, that I moved back into the woods where 
 
44 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 Flat Mouth threw together a shelter and where we built a 
 small fire and roasted some fish and spent the night. 
 
 After our morning meal we started for our canoe, eager to 
 be quit of the place. The Indians were quiet, either sick or 
 sleeping, and I saw nothing of Desset. We were near the 
 bank when out of the early shadows upriver shot a canoe, and 
 after a glance Flat Mouth said it was the Rat. He also pulled 
 the casing off his gun and suggested the man was fleeing from 
 an enemy, perhaps the Sioux; this because the Rat gave an ex 
 cellent exhibition of a man in a great hurry. I pooh-poohed 
 the Sioux notion. Even if they came in such force as to take 
 the Pembina post there would have been a few survivors to flee 
 down the river. Instead of crossing the mouth of the Scratch 
 ing and making the X. Y. post, the Rat drove full speed for 
 our bank and was ashore almost before his canoe found the 
 mud. 
 
 Without a word to me he started on the run for the post and 
 I chased after him. Desset had seen him land and was at the 
 stockade gate, his manner nervous. 
 
 "Very soon! Met heem coming like !" exploded the 
 
 Rat. 
 
 "Did he send any word ?" asked Desset, his eyes brightening. 
 
 "To be ready. That is all." 
 
 Having finished his errand, the Rat ran back to his canoe 
 and set off for the X. Y. establishment. 
 
 "Who did he meet? What's up?" I impatiently asked. 
 
 "I supposed you knew," innocently answered Desset. "Noth 
 ing's up except what happens every spring. The Pembina post 
 brigade is going out. Mr. Chabot sends word he will be here 
 soon and that I'm to have my packs ready to join him." 
 
 "The brigade going out?" I spluttered. "Devil's hoofs! 
 The Rat must have lied. Nothing has been done about the 
 planting, next season's fuel, arranging for the summer 
 men " 
 
 "I should think, Mr, Franklin, those were matters for your 
 superior to worry about," tartly broke in Desset. 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 45 
 
 "I don't think he will worry about them," I slowly replied. 
 "Maybe his superiors will, though." 
 
 He turned away to round up some Indians recovered enough 
 from their spree to carry the packs to the shore. I walked 
 leisurely back to the river. Chabot had told me I would have 
 ample time to return and get together some few belongings; he 
 had intended from the first to make this unusually early start. 
 Mr. Henry usually went out during the last week in May or 
 early in June. The only explanation I could scare up was 
 that Chabot, his nerves shaken by rum, was in a panic lest our 
 Indians rise and massacre us. Perhaps my mentioning old 
 Tabashaw's boast that he could kill a man, white or red, by just 
 wishing him to die was responsible. Anyway, I now knew the 
 nature of the message Old Crow had brought to Desset. The 
 clerk had been ordered to have everything in readiness for an 
 immediate departure. 
 
 My personal effects at the post could await my return in the 
 fall or be stolen. They were of not enough value to worry 
 over. I had my double-barrel gun, my dearest possession, and 
 I could arrange with one of the X. Y. people to go after my 
 horse or to care for it after Flat Mouth brought it down. 
 Probos, our clerk at the Reed, would be left in charge of the 
 post during the summer, but I did not wish to trust the horse 
 to him. He was honest but slow-witted. The Crees could 
 steal his moccasins and he would never know it until he went 
 out barefooted and got a blade of porcupine-grass through a toe. 
 
 Now a dozen canoes of Indian families turned the bend 
 above, stringing out in a long procession ; then came the post's 
 nine canoes and two boats, a man in each, the rest of the space 
 being heaped high with equipage and skins. This would leave 
 twenty-odd Indian canoes unaccounted for, and I was forced 
 to the conclusion that despite his precipitate departure Chabot 
 had found time to make up small assortments of trade goods 
 for the Hills and other outposts and to assign hunting territory 
 to the summer men. 
 
 Flat Mouth, who stood beside me watching the brigade, now 
 gave a low grunt. I observed he had shifted his attention 
 
46 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 downstream. I looked in that direction and beheld the X. Y. 
 brigade of eight canoes was starting down-river. This was my 
 second great surprise of the morning. 
 
 Yesterday Red Dearness had shown no symptoms of taking 
 an early departure. Now he was off, and seemingly in great 
 haste to precede our brigade. When Mr. Henry ruled at the 
 Pembina post, rival brigades usually travelled to the Forks each 
 spring in a most neighbourly fashion. 
 
 Red Dearness, enveloped in a cloak, was in the first canoe. 
 He turned and looked back only once, and then to wave his 
 hand to the X. Y. Fort. Dearness, I deduced, was in a serious 
 state of health, and some sudden symptoms had forced his de 
 parture. Which of the blanketed figures was the woman who 
 talked in English, French, and Chippewa it was impossible to 
 determine. Angus, the clerk, stood clear of the woods on the 
 little point and limply waved a hand in farewell. 
 
 Poor devil! I pitied him for the loneliness he must endure 
 as summer keeper of the fort, for the stench of the decaying 
 buffalo, for the possible plague of grasshoppers which would 
 rival the buffalo in stinks. For when these pests came to 
 blight the land they died in millions along the river. I've seen 
 the shores of Winnipeg inches deep with them decaying. Oh, 
 I had room to pity him for many things, even if he did belong 
 to the opposition. 
 
 Our brigade swung ashore and the Indians gave a hand in 
 unloading the skin canoes and turning them up to be dried out 
 by the sun. Chabot arrived last, having Probos with him. I 
 greeted him and reported on the agreement signed by me in 
 behalf of the N. W. and by Dearness for the X. Y., by the 
 terms of which neither in the department of the Lower Red 
 River was to drum up trade among the Indians. 
 
 He was not interested in my report but stood and grinned 
 ferociously down the river and boasted: 
 
 "The red rat wasn't keen to see me. According to your say, 
 he was going to do something about the furs I took from his 
 women. I was loaded for him. He knew it, too. Skun 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 47 
 
 out ahead of me, eh? Well, maybe I'll catch up with him 
 before he makes the Forks." 
 
 "He's a sick man," I said. 
 
 "He'll be sicker before I get through with him," he bragged. 
 
 "If you have any trouble with him, you must kill him. If 
 you don't, he will kill you. I talked enough to know he will go 
 the full distance. While sick, he hasn't lost his strength. Heart, 
 probably." 
 
 Chabot lost some of his assurance and his leer changed to a 
 dark scowl. I asked : 
 
 "How is it you go out so early? I thought I was to have 
 time to get back and pack up some of my belongings." 
 
 "It's likely the affairs of the North West Company will be 
 held up to make things easier for you," he sneered. 
 
 "At least tell me when you leave here. I've got to arrange 
 to send for my horse and have him cared for." 
 
 "I start just as soon as the skin canoes get dry and Desset is 
 ready." 
 
 Now something was amusing him, for as he finished he com 
 menced chuckling. I suspected it might be the canoeload of 
 furs he and Desset had sent off. With an oath he suddenly 
 began raging: 
 
 "That Desset has gone and lost his accounts! Let some 
 drunken Indians burn them up. Pretty Northman he'll make! 
 I'd planned to leave him to look after the summer trade, 
 but now the company will want to shift or ship him." 
 
 "He expects to go along with you. He's been busy packing 
 ever since Old Crow brought your message." 
 
 He slowly turned and eyed me, to see if my words hid any 
 thing. 
 
 "He'll go as far as the Forks, where he'll wait for the Assini- 
 boin brigade to come down. I ought to get orders from up 
 country about his case. How did you know anything about 
 my message ?" The last savagely. 
 
 "I was here when the Crow came," I lied, not wishing to 
 make trouble for the Indian. "Joe Pouliot was pretty lucky to 
 make that derouln. Two hundred skins." 
 
48 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Desset will never make a Northman. He talks too much. 
 The X. Y. will hear of it and then they'll howl." 
 
 "He's your man. You brought him here." 
 
 "Then it's none of your business, Franklin!" he roared, his 
 beard seeming to bristle. "I don't like your way of talking." 
 
 "All right. I'm through. Here's the Rat dancing round to 
 speak to you." 
 
 Chabot mumbled under his breath and turned aside. The 
 Rat, with much writhing and gesticulating, poured out a tor 
 rent of softly spoken words. Chabot listened with a frown 
 creasing his forehead. When the Rat had finished, he answered 
 him briefly, talking from the corner of his mouth. The Rat 
 fell back. 
 
 "Hired him?" I inquired. 
 
 "Told him to go to !" Chabot growled. Which was 
 
 surprising to learn after seeing how resignedly the Rat had 
 taken it. 
 
 That night Chabot and Desset and Probos and a few of the 
 men whites drank deeply from a ten-gallon keg of brandy 
 and distributed much mixed rum not only to our Indians but 
 also to those eagerly flocking across the river from the X. Y. 
 post. An Indian can scent rum a mile, I believe. Open a keg 
 in any open space with not a redskin in sight, and before you 
 know it they will begin to drop in like crows calling on a dead 
 buffalo. 
 
 They gave away fifteen kegs all told and speedily put a fight 
 ing edge on the Chippewas. Inside of an hour after the bout 
 began I saw four separate combats going on at the same time. 
 As I was leaving the hall, old Tabashaw stumbled against me 
 in the dark. When I pushed him away he attempted to stab 
 me. I knocked him down and threw him out. Little Shell, 
 imagining him to be a Sioux, grabbed his hair and would have 
 counted coup if my foot hadn't landed under his chin. Desset> 
 under orders from Chabot, had endeavoured to collect all weap 
 ons before giving out the rum, but I never saw an Indian 
 drinking match yet when weapons could not be produced. This 
 
THE BRIGADE GOES OUT 49 
 
 night the women were largely to blame, as they persisted in 
 smuggling knives to their men. 
 
 Early next morning we routed the Indians, but many of them 
 were in no condition to go on. There was no intention of 
 taking any with us except those bound for the Assiniboin, 
 where they proposed to summer. With a hearty shower of 
 curses Chabot assigned families to various locations for the 
 summer hunt. 
 
 He told some to go after red deer and bear east of the 
 Red, while others were to go after buffalo on the plains. I 
 noticed that neither Desset nor Probos was taking any notes of 
 these orders. The former, I knew, was booked for a home 
 passage, but Probos would be shifted from the Reed to the 
 Pembina. When he had finished, Chabot wheeled on me and 
 fiercely demanded 
 
 "So you can carry all that in your noodle, eh?" 
 
 "In my noodle?" I blankly repeated. 
 
 "You heard me say it," he growled. 
 
 "But why should your orders interest me? It's for your 
 summer man to prick up his ears." 
 
 He grinned maliciously, fished out his orders received from 
 the last express, placed a trembling finger on one paragraph and 
 invited me to read. It was an order for me to remain at the 
 Pembina post during the summer, with Probos staying at the 
 Reed camp and keeping an eye on the Scratching River post, 
 which was to be closed after the brigade departed. Chabot 
 had known this all the time and had allowed me to believe I 
 was going back east. 
 
 For fully a minute I stood stiff and motionless, frozen all 
 over with rage and disappointment. His rough voice sounded 
 far off as he explained: 
 
 "This post will be closed. The Reed camp will bring their 
 trade to you at Pembina. Just remember my orders to the 
 summer men and you'll have a mighty fine and easy time of it. 
 Before I go, I'll take a long drink to the new master of the 
 Pembina post." 
 
 My hand dropped to my knife, but I clinched my hands 
 
50 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 and walked away, fighting to keep my mouth shut, my fists 
 closed until sure of myself. 
 
 My first impulse was to enter my canoe and paddle down 
 stream to the Forks. Gradually reason stole through my black 
 mood. After all, the orders did not originate with him. Some 
 of the gentlemen of the North had picked me to have charge 
 of the Lower Red River department until the brigade returned 
 in the fall. Black Chabot's cruelty was his withholding of the 
 information. There was nothing to compel me to remain there. 
 I was free to refuse if I so wished. 
 
 Chabot, not done with his tormenting, came after me, per 
 haps to spur me into quitting the river, and arrogantly de 
 manded : 
 
 "What do you mean? Mean you won't take this high 
 honour that you won't serve as master at Pembina, per 
 orders?" 
 
 The Reed River clerk was watching us with a greedy gleam 
 in his eyes. Chabot had brought him along, intending to pro 
 mote him to the position after bullying me into refusing it. The 
 master was expecting me to refuse, was hoping I would. Did 
 I refuse, he would treat me well enough all the way to Mon 
 treal, satisfied in knowing the N. W. would have no more of 
 me. 
 
 "Refuse? God bless you, no!" I cried, forcing a ringing, 
 exulting note into my voice. "Refuse promotion from clerk to 
 master? Why, I came out here to make a career, to become a 
 Northman. I shall do everything necessary to keep the post 
 fit. But, so long as I am to be master in your place, I'll make 
 the assignments for the summer hunters." 
 
 Which was well within my right to say. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE STOLEN VOICE 
 
 THE return up the river was dreary enough for me. 
 Probos and a family of Indians accompanied us as far 
 as the mouth of the Reed. Leaving them, Flat Mouth 
 and I hurried on, with old Tabashaw and several families pur 
 suing in the vain hope of free rum. At least I would be the 
 master until relieved of my trust, and I was determined that 
 neither the chief nor any of his following should have any 
 liquor until they earned it. If they would drink, they must 
 work. As one of the results of the drinking bout at the 
 Scratching post, there was the burning of a summer Indian's 
 tent. 
 
 Chabot had just advanced goods to him to the value of a 
 hundred and fifty skins. That is, he was to pay us in skins 
 according to our valuation of that number of pelts. Now the 
 goods were burned, we would get never a pelt from him. Just 
 above the Reed we met the Northwest Annual Winter Express 
 from the Athabasca, making all speed to overtake the brigade. 
 They stopped only long enough to voice their surprise at having 
 found the post closed and to ask if the Indians were on the 
 war-path. 
 
 The fort looked very lonely as we drew ashore and hauled up 
 our canoe. The solitude of the place was intense even when we 
 were surrounded by drunken Indians. Now it was deathly. 
 The procession of drowned buffaloes was thinning out, though 
 still the river rolled a daily grist over the southern horizon. 
 Within twenty-four hours after my return I had sixty-five men 
 and women, brigades of children and nearly a hundred dogs 
 camping about the stockade. All were begging for rum except 
 
 51 
 
52 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 the dogs. I called for Tabashaw, who came on the jump, and 
 explained to him his people should be leaving for the Pembina 
 Mountains to make their summer hunt. 
 
 The crafty old villain loudly replied : 
 
 "When Tabashaw speaks, they will go. Tabashaw is chief 
 of the Chippewas. It is for him to send his people on the 
 hunt." 
 
 Meaning that it was none of James Franklin's business what 
 the Chippewa men should do. 
 
 "I have heard you speak," I carelessly answered. "I am 
 very busy. I must write down each word you say, so the gen 
 tlemen of the North can see by the talking paper just what 
 kind of a man you are." 
 
 He wriggled uneasily. The accounts I worked on each day 
 were a big mystery to him. That I could preserve in writing 
 a verbatim report of every word spoken in my hearing was no 
 harder for him to believe than was any other of the phenomena 
 of the white man's ways. 
 
 "A little rum will smooth the road to the hills," he cunningly 
 reminded. 
 
 I bowed over my books and pointed to the door. He with 
 drew and commenced a violent tirade against me. He was con 
 cluding with a spirited call for volunteers to rush in and cut my 
 throat and seize the milk when he glimpsed me at the window, 
 apparently taking down his speech. Without comprehending 
 that the written word could never condemn him until deliv 
 ered, he flew into a panic and with many an explosive "Hough ! >; 
 bitterly upbraided his people for not departing at once. Yet I 
 did not feel easy until I saw the entire party with their nine 
 horses and many dogs strung out in a mile-long line. 
 
 They left just in time to escape a fine fright. Two Indians 
 came tearing down the river, wild with fear. They had been 
 hunting at Grandes Fourches (Grand Forks, North Dakota) 
 and had found where a man had placed sticks to kneel on in 
 drinking. On the same day they came upon a buffalo bull, and 
 it was wounded. Two positive proofs the Sioux were hiding 
 in that neighbourhood. They packed their hunt into their canoes 
 
THE STOLEN VOICE 53 
 
 and wanted me to know they were through with any country 
 above the Pembina fort. 
 
 As they brought forty beaver and seven bear, my alarm was 
 tempered with rejoicing. Now that old Tabashaw and his crew 
 were gone I threw in a gallon of mixed wine as a bonus. It 
 came off cold that night with snow. The plains had been clear 
 and dry for several days, but with the storm the buffaloes edged 
 in to find shelter in the timber along the river. By the time 
 we were settled we could hear them crashing about close to the 
 fort and at times scraping against the stockade. The wolves 
 followed them in, looking for an unprotected calf or a sick crea 
 ture. I've noticed that while wolves can run a herd for short 
 distances the beasts will not stampede because of them. That 
 is why our Indians always suspected the Sioux instead of four- 
 legged wolves when they saw the buffaloes in rapid motion. 
 
 The wolves, however, aroused our dogs, and what with the 
 whistling of the storm and the racket made by the brutes one 
 needed to be very tired to sleep. 
 
 In the morning we found several inches of snow but with the 
 sun fast melting it. Flat Mouth came to me and gave it as his 
 opinion that the Sioux were above us. Had he been any other 
 Indian, I would have laughed at him. He had fought them 
 many times and was not quick to give the alarm. 
 
 "The men saw their own tracks and grew afraid," I insisted, 
 to drive him into giving me some reason. 
 
 From under his blanket he drew an arrow, short of shaft 
 and long in feathering, with shallow grooves down the shaft 
 the "lightning marks" or "blood" grooves. 
 
 "Sioux," he quietly said. 
 
 "Where did you get it?" 
 
 He pointed to the river, where buffaloes were occasionally 
 floating by. 
 
 "It was sticking into a bull. The bull was not killed by 
 water but was chased into the river." 
 
 If I had had a half dozen whites and some sober Chippewas 
 inside the stout stockade, I would have defied half a thousand 
 Sioux to dig me out. But, being alone, my Indians off in the 
 
54 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 hills, it might come to pass that I should seek safety in flight 
 down the river to save my skull from serving as a drinking- 
 dish. Such a forced retreat on the part of a white man and a 
 Northman would demean him in the estimation of the Indians. 
 
 "If there are Sioux at Grandes Fourches or this side, I must 
 know it at once. I shall start up the river within an hour." 
 
 "If the Sioux have come, they will cross the river to steal 
 down on the east side," he said. 
 
 "Then I will go up the east side and do two jobs at once. 
 There should be some of the Red Sucker band making sugar at 
 Thief River. I must see them. There should be good beaver 
 at Goose River. I want to look that country over." 
 
 "You will find Sioux," he warned, turning away. 
 
 I did not ask him to go with me. The sun was warm and 
 the snow was melting fast, and by the time I was ready to 
 start it was gone. I planned to go horseback, as the country 
 was level to Park River. The beast showed an ugly streak 
 when I headed him south along the edge of the timber instead 
 of taking after the buffalo, which were now far out on the plain. 
 
 There was a danger that the Sioux might be concealed any 
 where along the bank, but that was a risk I must take. Flat 
 Mouth was not in sight when I quit the fort, and I was deciding 
 I must make the trip alone when he overtook me. Without a 
 word he took the lead. Late afternoon brought us to the Park, 
 which we crossed on a log bridge built by Mr. Henry the year 
 before. 
 
 Thus far we had seen nothing alarming and made our camp 
 a few miles beyond the river. Before sunrise we were mounted 
 and rejoicing that the weather still held clear with the river 
 dropping rapidly. We crossed to the east bank of the Red, 
 wallowing to our horses* bellies in the mud left by high water. 
 
 We went through two miles of strong timber, then struck 
 willow and poplar, filled with red deer. We were continually 
 scaring the creatures into flight and I made a mental note of 
 the place for the benefit of our hunters. The willows were 
 bad enough, but nothing compared with the stretch we next en 
 countered. Now it was long grass concealing holes, and marsh 
 
THE STOLEN VOICE 55 
 
 ground, which tired our nags greatly. Not until midday did 
 we reach decent footing on an open plain. The deer signs were 
 very thick whenever we struck a little stream. 
 
 Plenty of bears was shown by the appearance of the bushes, 
 where they had gathered fruit and berries the season before. 
 That night we camped on Snake River without having discov 
 ered any signs of either friendly or hostile Indians. 
 
 Flat Mouth lost none of his keen concern. I had been with 
 him enough to know he expected trouble. In the morning we 
 crossed the Snake to follow up its western bank and in a few 
 hours were in sight of the strong woods along Red Lake River. 
 
 Now Flat Mouth motioned for me to hold back. Leaving 
 his horse with me, he went on a discovery. A turkey-buzzard 
 was lazily ascending above the tree tops, and it was the pres 
 ence of this scavenger, leaving his feeding, that had attracted 
 the Pillager Chief's attention. I waited half an hour; then 
 Flat Mouth came into view and beckoned me to approach. I 
 rode ahead, leading his animal, but I could surmise nothing 
 from his face. Therefore, the shock to my nerves was severe 
 when, without a word of warning, he led me to the remains of 
 a bloody tragedy. 
 
 An Indian, one of the Red Sucker band, was on the ground, 
 his body feathered with arrows. He had been mutilated beyond 
 all imagining. The Sioux for there was no mistaking their 
 work had raised the scalp and removed the skull to use it 
 as a dish. After I recovered my composure Flat Mouth 
 pointed ahead and informed : 
 
 "Signs two days old. They followed him from up the river. 
 He came from somewhere near mouth of the Red Lake River. 
 He was carrying a pack of beaver on his back." 
 
 Mounting his horse, he again took the lead, and we passed 
 through the woods to the bank of the Red Lake and found our 
 selves opposite the mouth of the Clearwater. This stream, very 
 rapid where it empties into the Red Lake, was famous for stur 
 geon. A short distance above the mouth was the ruins of the 
 winter post built several years before by Jean Baptiste Cadotte. 
 His father, of the same name, went to Michilimackinac fifty 
 
56 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 years back. Flat Mouth told me it was Cadotte senior who 
 prevailed on the Lake Superior Chippewas not to join in Pon- 
 tiac's conspiracy against the western garrisons. I had visited 
 the ruins the year before and had no desire to go there again, as 
 the woodticks would devour us. I intimated as much when 
 Flat Mouth started up the bush-grown path. He gave a low 
 hiss for silence and pointed to some almost imperceptible marks 
 on the edge of the bank while his lips formed the word 
 
 "Sioux !" 
 
 Now I was after Sioux, but I was not a bit anxious to come 
 upon them unexpectedly or while they were in any consider 
 able number. Then again the sight I had just witnessed rather 
 weakened my fighting spirit. My companion seemed to read 
 my thoughts, for he whispered : 
 
 "Hurt." 
 
 I plucked up spirit. If the Sioux were hurt, I wasn't much 
 frightened. I nodded, and we dismounted and led our horses 
 along the narrow path. 
 
 It was only a short distance to the old Cadotte place, and once 
 more I acted the hostler while the Indian went ahead. This 
 time I was alone only a few minutes, and this time his ges 
 tures on returning to me were those of exultation. I hurried 
 forward and beheld another dead Indian. The Red Sucker In 
 dian had struck like a rattlesnake before being killed, and he 
 had bagged a noble victim. For the dead man must have been 
 a great war chief. This was indicated by his feathered head 
 dress and the beautiful redstone pipe by his side. A buckskin 
 bag, which had held his medicine and mysteries, had been torn 
 to pieces by wolves. The beasts had mauled the body until it 
 was only a bundle of bloody bones and torn leather. By some 
 freak the head-dress had not been disturbed. Altogether, the 
 remnants of the dead man's dignity were in a sad condition. 
 
 "They were in a big hurry," explained Flat Mouth. "Some 
 time they will come to get the bones. The Red Sucker was 
 taken by surprise while carrying the pack. He had just time to 
 throw his axe and crack the Sioux's head when the others got 
 him. It was a good trade." 
 
THE STOLEN VOICE 57 
 
 "If they are in a hurry, we can hurry," I urged. "I must 
 know whether they have left this country or are hanging 
 around for more scalps." 
 
 "Only a few came up here. Lost their war-chief and ran 
 back to their war-camp near Grandes Fourches. May find 
 them quick if we follow." 
 
 Which meant we might find them before we were prepared 
 for the meeting. 
 
 The sight of the war-chief revived my fighting courage. 
 Thus far the Chippewa Nation had no reason for hanging its 
 head. Flat Mouth scalped the chief and followed the trail 
 downstream till we struck the main river. There the signs 
 prompted him to cross over to the mouth of the Cottonwood. 
 We struck into a beaten path made by deer and for a bit lost 
 the trail. When Flat Mouth picked it up he showed surprise. 
 Instead of making off southwest to Grandes Fourches, it led 
 us back north, forcing us to recross the Red Lake River, then 
 swerving to the northeast toward Thief River, which empties 
 into the main river below the Clearwater. In short, we wero 
 travelling in a rough circle. 
 
 Flat Mouth reasoned it out, saying: 
 
 "The Sioux were very much afraid when their war-chief was 
 killed. They started to run back to their camp and ride their 
 ponies for home. Then they remembered the beaver pack. If 
 the Chippewa was taking it down the river, he would be in a 
 canoe. They know the maple grows thick along the Thief. 
 Good beaver as well as sugar country. They think the dead 
 Indian came from there. They forget they are afraid at the 
 loss of their chief. They want to take more skulls. So they 
 start to find the dead man's family." 
 
 There was no need for hurrying, as either the Sioux had 
 found their victims or hadn't. As it was near sundown, I sug 
 gested that we camp. He agreed and, still holding his gun, be 
 gan picking up dry twigs with one hand, working in nearer the 
 woods very slowly. 
 
 "You've got enough wood," I called out, making to dismount 
 and much surprised that he should think of lighting a fire. 
 
58 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 He startled me by dropping a handful of twigs and by rais 
 ing his gun and firing among the trees. 
 
 His shot evoked a chorus of fiendish yells and a volley of 
 arrows and the snick of a lead ball against a tree. Almost im 
 mediately six Sioux warriors, hideous in their paint and howling 
 like demons, burst from cover. Flat Mouth moved back, keep 
 ing his face to them, coolly reloading. On sighting me, a white 
 man, they came to a halt, undecided for a few seconds as to 
 What course to pursue. While they were weighing the matter 
 I let drive with the right barrel and scuffed off the top of a 
 man's head ; the gun was loaded for buffalo bulls. 
 
 With a shriek of rage, fully believing our guns were empty, 
 the remaining five sprang forward. I fired the left barrel, pot 
 ting another warrior. Had they pressed the attack they would 
 have had us for the killing, but according to their ignorant no 
 tions a gun that shoots twice can shoot indefinitely. With yelps 
 of fear they faced about and raced for cover. By this time Flat 
 Mouth had reloaded. He sprang on his horse to get a better 
 view of the bush-grown ground at the edge of the timber and 
 scored his second kill. Then he threw back his head and raised 
 the Pillager Chippewa yell of triumph. And for good measure, 
 being proud of my race, proud of my two shots, and somewhat 
 young withal, I added my voice to his. 
 
 I told him he could have my scalps and claim the double kill 
 if he wished to. This, I knew, would stand him such a coup as 
 no Chippewa had counted within the knowledge of their oldest 
 men. I waited until he had finished his ghastly work and se 
 lected a beaded buckskin bag which contained some coloured 
 stones and bits of coloured feathers. This, Flat Mouth said, 
 was Cheyenne work and must have belonged to a big chief. 
 The bearer of it had killed his man, ash shown by the feather 
 in his hair, but he was no chief. 
 
 "The bag held the chief's medicine. It belonged to the dead 
 chief on the Clearwater. One of the Sioux was taking it home, 
 leaving his own in its place. It must be strong medicine to be 
 long to a chief." 
 
 And Flat Mouth eyed it with awe. 
 
THE STOLEN VOICE 59 
 
 "It wasn't strong enough to protect him," I reminded, slip 
 ping the trophy into my pocket. 
 
 "No man knows how strong his medicine is until he fights," 
 was the reply. 
 
 Flushed with success, Flat Mouth wanted to chase the Sioux, 
 depending upon my gun to slay another brace. I refused. The ' 
 Sioux had lost heavily on the expedition. Five men- and one a 
 big chief killed, and only a Chippewa skull to show for it. 
 Whoever carried the pipe on that raid lost caste once they 
 sighted their village and began throwing themselves to the 
 ground to prepare their people for bad news. 
 
 Many a finger on the left hand would lose a joint when the 
 relatives and friends of the dead went into mourning. Then 
 again the Sioux afoot could easily evade us. Once they reached 
 their ponies they would lose no time in retreating. They 
 would believe other whites were near. 
 
 Most potent of all was the medicine of my gun, shooting 
 twice without reloading. It would be talked about from the 
 upper waters of the Missouri down to the Mississippi. This 
 miracle alone should keep them from the river for the whole 
 season. We had done our work well. We had located beaver 
 and maple-sugar country the real maple, not the ash-leaf 
 which grew near our post. 
 
 So we found a suitable spot on the river and camped. Flat 
 Mouth tied his hunting-knife to a sapling and speared a stur 
 geon. I stumbled on to a small herd of buffalo which were in 
 much better flesh than those on the west side of the river. 1 
 shot a calf to get the hindquarters for steak. While I was 
 acting the cook the Pillager investigated up the river. 
 
 He had been unable to locate the dead man's family, but he 
 had found the camp. That the Sioux had not found the camp 
 or, at any event, had not come upon the family was evi 
 dent by Flat Mouth's failure to find any victims. My com 
 panion believed the men and women and children at the camp 
 had taken alarm and fled far back into the marsh country. I 
 afterward learned that this was true. 
 
 Flat Mouth regretted exceedingly the absence of his friends 
 
60 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 from the post, for seldom would the Red River Chippewas have 
 such a glorious collection of hair to dance. I was pleased they 
 were gone, for it saved the cost of a prolonged drinking bout. 
 
 Of course I gave Flat Mouth a generous allowance, and he 
 spent the evening in arranging his hair and painting his face 
 and pounding on a drum and chanting songs. After building 
 a song that narrated each move in the fight, and, being thor 
 oughly primed, he let out a terrific yell and danced the scalps. 
 
 In the morning Flat Mouth's luck was still with him, as he 
 managed to kill two beaver opposite the fort. I turned gar 
 dener. Thanks to the foresight of Mr. Henry on entering the 
 country, we were able to raise many vegetables. 
 
 Our harvest was aside from what the Indian women and chil 
 dren stole. This kind of thievery became such a nuisance that 
 we were compelled to inclose the whole potato field with a high 
 stockade. Otherwise it would have been necessary to post a 
 guard by day and night. 
 
 I had just traded the two beaver killed by Flat Mouth and 
 was on my way to plan my garden campaign when six Crees 
 and two Assiniboins came in. All told, they had a dozen 
 beaver and a quantity of wild fowl. 
 
 I traded and gave them a dram, but while they drank they 
 kept their bows and arrows in their hands and seemed suspicious 
 of something. At first I thought they were afraid of the Sioux 
 pouncing down upon us. To quiet their fears I told them of 
 Flat Mouth's coup. They put no stock in my story till the 
 chief came dancing in and held the scalps up before them. 
 
 Now this should have brought them great joy, for according 
 to their beliefs nothing is so wholesome as a Sioux warrior dead. 
 Yet the sight of the scalps seemed to alarm them instead of 
 bringing them any pleasure. Their attitude was sullen as they 
 heard Flat Mouth recite his coups. Finally he made his exit, 
 still dancing and singing the song he had composed. 
 
 "What is the matter with my friends? It is time you fin 
 ished your milk and went to the hills where the Chippewas are 
 hunting," I rebuked. 
 
THE STOLEN VOICE 6r 
 
 "The Chippewas have stolen our medicine. We will not go 
 among them," informed White Buffalo, leader of the Crees. 
 
 His companions followed the speaker's example of staring 
 after the Pillager, their bows and arrows ready for instant use. 
 
 "What do you mean by drinking in my house while you 
 hold strung bows in your hands?" I demanded. "Have you 
 passed war-tobacco against my children, the Chippewas?" 
 
 "We have passed no tobacco," grunted White Buffalo. "Do 
 not be afraid, white man, that we shall make a fight. We can 
 not fight. The Chippewas have stolen our medicine." 
 
 No matter how ridiculous I might think this allegation to be, 
 I knew it was the most serious matter on earth to them. If 
 they sincerely believed the Chippewas had stolen their medicine, 
 then good-bye to the hunting on the lower Red River. The 
 accusation might easily create a situation more grave than any 
 spasmodic attack by the Sioux. 
 
 "What medicine have they stolen ?" I solemnly asked. 
 
 White Buffalo pointed after Flat Mouth and gloomily re 
 plied : 
 
 "It was our stolen medicine that let the Pillager chief count 
 coup against the Sioux. No Chippewa can take four scalps 
 with only Chippewa medicine to help him." 
 
 This would have impressed a newcomer as being the silly 
 superstition of an Indian. And yet, unless happily cleared up 
 it might mean the ruin of the North West Company's fur trade 
 on both the Assiniboin and Red. The story would spread like 
 a malignant disease. 
 
 It was fortunate that the Chippewas were in the hills. Flat 
 Mouth was too deeply engrossed with preparing his scalps as 
 permanent trophies to bother us. Realizing the uselessness of 
 attempting to force an explanation, or of belittling the accusa 
 tion, I waited. At last White Buffalo continued: 
 
 "The Sioux followed the Voice and it led them to Flat 
 Mouth. The Voice made the Sioux blind and they did not 
 know Flat Mouth was cracking their skulls." 
 
 "The Voice?" I repeated, seizing upon this, the first clue to 
 the Cree's meaning. 
 
62 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "The River That Calls has lost its Voice," informed White 
 Buffalo with a little shiver. 
 
 Now Riviere Qu'Appelle, as the French knew it, or Catabuy- 
 sepu, as the Crees named it, was regarded with much awe and 
 fear by the Indians of the Northwest. It being the main fork 
 of the Assiniboin, my travels up that river had made me some 
 what familiar with it. It derives its quaint name from an In 
 dian belief that a mighty spirit haunts it, flying along its course 
 and crying aloud in what sounds like a human voice. I had 
 never observed that the Calling spoke differently than any other 
 river. But someone had tagged the superstition to it, and some 
 manito lived there. 
 
 What I couldn't understand was my visitors' reason for be 
 lieving the Chippewas had stolen this spirit, or Voice. While 
 the belief persisted, however, it was a very grave matter and 
 very detrimental to our interests. 
 
 "When did the Voice go away?" I asked. 
 
 "So many sleeps," mumbled White Buffalo, holding up his 
 fingers to indicate a week. "It was the Voice that helped Flat 
 Mouth take his scalps." 
 
 "Perhaps the Voice is tired and is resting," I suggested. "It 
 may be asleep, waiting for the mud-water to leave the river." 
 The last was the true solution, I believed. Freshet water had 
 eliminated the little, musical tinkling sounds of the shallows, 
 and perhaps had interfered with the air currents and their mur- 
 murings among the trees. 
 
 "On the Pembina, above this fort, we have heard the Voice," 
 was the rejoinder. 
 
 "You heard a summer bird singing." 
 
 Ignoring me as if I had never spoken, White Buffalo con 
 tinued : 
 
 "We have heard the Voice on the Red River. It sounded 
 like women weeping. The Voice wants to go back home. The 
 Chippewas cannot keep it." 
 
 The Crees worshipped the Voice because it was big medicine. 
 It was powerful enough to permit Flat Mouth to kill four 
 Sioux warriors. Wliite Buffalo believed that as thoroughly as 
 
THE STOLEN VOICE 63 
 
 he believed he liked rum. Yet a stronger Chippewa medicine 
 held it prisoner. It wept and moaned and wanted to go back 
 to the River That Calls and couldn't, and the Crees intended 
 to rescue it by force of their bows and arrows. So I solemnly 
 promised : 
 
 "Within a moon I will see that the Voice is back on the Cata- 
 buysepu." I believed that inside a month the river would be 
 back to normal conditions. "Let the Chippewa magic be ever 
 so strong, there is no medicine as strong as the white man's. 
 But there must be no fighting with the Chippewas. If any 
 blows are struck, the Voice will refuse to return." 
 
 My bold assurance seemed to put a little heart in them, al 
 though White Buffalo was curious to know why it took a moon 
 for my strong medicine to work. 
 
 "My medicine can work as quick as that," I said, snapping 
 my fingers. "But it will take a little time to learn if the Crees 
 have done some evil thing and have driven the Voice away." 
 
 All protested their innocence. One of the Assiniboins 
 smacked his lips over the dregs of his rum and informed me 
 
 "No summer trade will go to the Scratching." 
 
 I attached no importance to this remark, thinking the wily 
 fellow was fishing for more rum. I pricked up my ears when 
 he added : 
 
 "They will trade no new milk this summer for skins." 
 
 "No rum at the X. Y. post?" I incredulously asked. 
 
 The Indian, in a voice of deep disgust, repeated 
 
 "No rum." 
 
 If this news were true, I would have no rivalry during the 
 summer. To handle the trade without liquor was to fly with 
 out wings. I was glad that Red Dearness had gone away with 
 out requesting me to sell him a few kegs. Had he asked the 
 favour, I should have granted it not as a courtesy, but as a 
 protection against a possible time when the N. W. might need 
 a similar favour. And yet, even if Dearness, because of sick 
 ness or haste to be gone, had neglected to tap our stock, why had 
 not the clerk Angus come up for a few kegs? 
 
 "What were you doing at the X. Y. post?" I sternly de- 
 
64 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 manded, remembering that they had no business to take their 
 hunt there. 
 
 "We took our goods there, as we were afraid of the Chippe- 
 was here, who had stolen our medicine," defended White Buf 
 falo. 
 
 "If you could have traded for rum, you wouldn't be here 
 now?" 
 
 They readily admitted this to be true. 
 
 "You have heard my promise about the Voice," I said. "You 
 are not to be afraid of my Indians. You are to tell all your 
 people, all the X. Y. summer Indians, that there is plenty of 
 strong milk here." 
 
 "We will bring our hunt here all of it," he promised. 
 
 This new promise of trade pleased me immensely and I gave 
 each of the men another dram and left them. I was anxious 
 to have Flat Mouth's opinion on the stolen medicine. 
 
 "You have heard the Voice talking on the River That Calls?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "Everyone hears it who goes there." 
 
 "Have you heard that it has left the river?" 
 
 "It has left the river," he assured. 
 
 "Where is it?" I bluntly demanded. 
 
 "A strange spirit flies through the sky along the Pembina 
 River above the fort. It makes a loud noise." 
 
 "A strange spirit? What foolish talk is this? How can you 
 say that unless you have seen it?" I reproached. 
 
 "I have seen it," he astounded me by replying. "It floated 
 on the water through the darkness and sang its medicine song." 
 
 "What did it look like?" 
 
 "Like a big white swan." 
 
 His hesitation before answering satisfied me this was a bit 
 of imagination. 
 
 "The Pillager chief heard a loon cry and said it was a spirit," 
 I scoffed. 
 
 "The loon has the voice of an evil spirit. Ugly, like the 
 snarling of two foxes fighting." 
 
 By implication I was to understand that the strange spirit 
 
THE STOLEN VOICE 65 
 
 on the Pembina had a very sweet voice. This in itself was no 
 clue for a white man to follow, for the senseless thudding of a 
 war-drum is soothing and beautiful to the Indian ear. I was 
 glad old Tabashaw and his people were back in the hills. Once 
 they heard they held this mighty medicine Voice a captive, they 
 would stop hunting and depend upon their prisoner to charm 
 rum out of my strong room. 
 
 That night, after I had turned in, there came a pounding 
 on the stockade gate. I ran out. It was White Buffalo who 
 answered my angry challenge. 
 
 "Listen up the river, the Pembina," he requested in a trem 
 bling voice. 
 
 I turned my ear to the west. At first I heard nothing ; then 
 it came down the river to me. It was faint and far off, con 
 taining a wailing sweetness much like the soft passing of a bow 
 over a violin. It was like nothing so much as a human voice 
 without suggestion of spoken words. Rather a humming, moan 
 ing sound. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 
 
 FLAT MOUTH would not utter a word when I at 
 tempted to question him about the strange sound. I 
 thought to betray him into some expression by making 
 light of the incident and attributing it to some animal call. He 
 smiled grimly and turned away from me. He knew that I 
 knew no animal was ever heard in the Red River country to 
 give voice to that peculiar cry. 
 
 The effect on the Crees was tremendous. Their expressed 
 determination to fight the Chippewas and compel a return of 
 the Voice was not repeated after White Buffalo called me to 
 the gate to hear the wailing up the Pembina. They became 
 meek and humble in bearing, and their leader pathetically ex 
 plained : 
 
 "The new milk made us talk bad. We cannot fight against 
 the Chippewa medicine. We only want to stay where we can 
 hear the Voice." 
 
 For several nights I remained awake, hoping the phenomenon 
 would be repeated. As nothing happened, the edge of my in 
 terest wore off and I became busy with the ordinary humdrum 
 which occupies the attention of the bourgeois of a post, as the 
 French called a manager. We turned the horses out to graze 
 on the plains and fired the dead grass along the east bank of 
 the river. Two skin canoes, loaded with beaten meat and a few 
 skins, came down the Pembina from the hills hut. I sent back 
 several kegs of mixed wine and orders for our man to keep the 
 Indians there, to tell them they would get nothing to drink if 
 they came to the post. 
 
 That the X. Y. was pursuing its silly policy of attempting to 
 
 66 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 67 
 
 carry on trade without rum was again evidenced by the arrival 
 of several small bands of Indians, Chippewas who were bring 
 ing their hunt to me although they had taken debts from the op 
 position. They denounced the X. Y. for refusing them liquor, 
 and again I marvelled that Angus did not come to me and bor 
 row a few kegs. 
 
 Then came the Rat with two prime packs of beaver. As 
 he was still in the employ of the X. Y. I hesitated to trade, 
 fearing he had stolen the skins, but they bore none of the Mac- 
 Kenzie marks, and finally I believed him when he insisted he 
 was trading them in behalf of two tents of Crees who were 
 afraid to visit me from fear of the Chippewas. And the Rat 
 wanted rum. 
 
 I accommodated him and questioned him concerning affairs 
 at the post. He was curiously silent; not a bit like his usual 
 loquacious self. When he spoke it was to return evasive re 
 plies. To my pointblank query, "Isn't Angus planning to come 
 here for liquor?" he replied 
 
 "No, I don't think." 
 
 I next took up the Crees' fear of the Chippewas and de 
 manded to know on what it was based. He shook his head. I 
 decided they believed our Indians had stolen the Voice from 
 Riviere Qu' Appelle, but as he did not touch on the subject, and 
 as I was not anxious to have it revived, I held my tongue. I 
 did say, however: 
 
 "Tell the Crees they are welcome here. No Chippewa will 
 bother them when they bring in their hunt." 
 
 Presenting him with two quarts of liquor for bringing the 
 trade, and a keg for the Crees, I saw the rascal to his canoe 
 and was glad to be rid of him. 
 
 About the first of May old Tabashaw and seven other chiefs, 
 including a Cree and two Assiniboins, descended upon me for 
 their annual spring presents. I gave each a keg of liquor, a 
 new coat, some red feathers and tobacco. The usual drinking 
 match followed, keeping me busy for two days preventing mur 
 der. It was the Chippewas who seemed hungry for trouble, 
 the others, especially the Crees, appearing to be cowed. Taba- 
 
68 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 shaw, in particular, was in a mood to tickle the devil. Twice 
 I took a knife away from him while a Cree sat with a bowed 
 head, singing that he was not afraid to die. 
 
 This meek submission to a ranting scallywag like Tabashaw 
 was not a bit like the Crees' ordinary behaviour and I could 
 only attribute it to the theft of the Voice. However, although 
 I kept with them and listened sharply to their words, I heard 
 nothing said which would indicate the Chippewas felt they held 
 any advantage in medicine. If the news of the Voice had pene 
 trated the hills, none of my visitors revealed that fact. After 
 the second day I drove the whole party back to the hills to finish 
 their kegs and turned to stringing eighty fathoms of sturgeon 
 net across the river. Flat Mouth, who was my helper on the 
 opposite bank, ceased his labours and stared downstream. I 
 turned my head and beheld two canoes, the clerk Angus occu 
 pying the first. The second held a figure heavily cloaked and 
 with a capote drawn over the head. 
 
 I smiled grimly at Angus as he slowly paddled to the shore. 
 He had been forced to come for the rum. If he had held off 
 another month I would have cleaned up all the spring beaver 
 in the department. 
 
 Angus jumped out, pulled up his canoe, turned and did a 
 similar service for the second, and briefly announced 
 
 "Miss Dearness, of the X. Y., come to talk with you." 
 
 With this astounding statement he walked rapidly towards 
 the post, leaving me alone with the hooded figure. 
 
 More than one Northman had taken an Indian wife, and 
 whenever Dearness's "woman" was mentioned I had taken it 
 for granted that an Indian spouse was meant. Instead of his 
 wife it was his daughter, the woman who had talked to me in 
 three languages from behind the rawhide curtain at the X. Y. 
 post. This discovery was so overwhelming that for a moment I 
 forgot to be surprised at Dearness's departure without her. 
 
 "I am honoured," I began, bowing to her. 
 
 She threw back the capote, and I was stricken dumb at the 
 revelation. Expecting to find a mixed blood, I could only stare 
 foolishly at the clear skin, an English skin, and the glory of her 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 69 
 
 red hair. There was no mistaking her being her father's daugh 
 ter. For nearly a year I had seen only the coarse, greasy black 
 hair of the Indians and the dishevelled locks of the few white 
 men. Here was a head with a fiery nimbus. Not auburn or 
 yellow, but red a red that would fire the heart of a warrior 
 about to take the war-path. I have a vague recollection of a 
 skirt of blue cloth, such as the Spanish far-south trade with 
 the Missouri Indians, and a coat of dressed leather that fitted 
 her superb figure snugly. But it was the hair that held my eyes, 
 much as fire draws a moth. 
 
 "I didn't know you had been left behind," I heard myself 
 observing. "Or did you and your father go only as far as 
 the Forks?" 
 
 "I stayed behind to look after the post, to see it wasn't 
 burned down, while the clerk was away," she answered, her 
 blue eyes levelled on me with the utmost composure. 
 
 "Then Angus is only a clerk and you're the bourgeoise?" 
 
 "Quite correct ! And your name is Franklin, according to 
 the agreement you signed at the post. You represent Mr. Cha- 
 bot here this summer." 
 
 "You and I are of equal rank. I represent the N. W.," I 
 corrected. 
 
 "That makes it all the better." She smiled graciously and 
 nodded her head. Then reproachfully, "You have been trading 
 rum for skins which should have been traded at our post." 
 
 "I've traded rum for skins," I qualified. "Whether they 
 should have gone to you is another question. It's customary to 
 trade rum, you know." 
 
 "Rum would have kept the skins at the X. Y.," she quietly 
 informed. 
 
 "Of course I had no idea you were down there. Really, I 
 had no idea you were you. The hunters spoke of the 'woman.' 
 I supposed you were his wife." 
 
 "His Indian wife," she gravely amended. 
 
 I nodded and continued: 
 
 "I took it for granted Angus was there alone with the inter 
 preter. I've been prepared to let him have a few kegs any 
 
70 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 time he asked for it. It wasn't my place to force it upon him, 
 but you are more than welcome. How much do you want ?" 
 
 "I don't want any. Some of the X. Y. stock is stored at the 
 post." 
 
 I sank down on the nose of a canoe, almost doubting my ears. 
 And her blue eyes were gathering storm signs, which was also 
 bewildering. 
 
 "Well," I helplessly replied, "if you have rum and don't 
 want any from the N. W., I don't see how I can help you. 
 You've refused to trade rum for skins. Surely you're not go 
 ing to make the startling suggestion that I do the same?" 
 
 "It would be a very sensible suggestion. I had thought of 
 making it. Now I see it would be wasting my breath that 
 you would never consider it." 
 
 "Not for a second! Why, Miss Dearness, nothing but rum 
 will bring in the skins. You know that. I can't imagine your 
 father getting a hunt without using high wine. It's the one 
 thing the Indian cannot resist." 
 
 "He has always used it and always will," she calmly admit 
 ted. "But I will not." 
 
 "Then you'll do no summer trading on the Red," I assured 
 her. 
 
 "That doesn't follow," she murmured, half closing her eyes 
 and watching me sleepily. "I'm only staying till my father 
 returns." 
 
 "Does he know you're killing his trade in this way?" 
 
 "Not unless he has very strong medicine." Her teeth flashed 
 in a smile. 
 
 "I see," I mumbled, my brains quite addled by the red of 
 her hair and the deep blue of her eyes. "Of course." 
 
 "When I came here I was prompted by an impulse," she ran 
 on. "Before I jumped ashore I knew my errand was foolish." 
 
 "Don't say that," I begged. "You've given me the greatest 
 surprise in my life. Surprises up here are good for one." 
 
 "I've nothing to say to your trading rum," she imperturba- 
 bly continued. "It's customary. But there are some skins owed 
 the X. Y. on debts taken before my father left for the Forks. 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 71 
 
 You had no right to trade for those. Even the rum was passed 
 over for them." 
 
 "It's not nice, this taking skins owed on debts. But your 
 father has had few scruples, if you'll forgive me for saying it." 
 
 "Black Chabot had none. I should never have come to -see 
 him." 
 
 This was either a compliment or a reflection on my youth. 
 
 "I know the fur trade quite well," I said. "It isn't for 
 the N. W. to safeguard the X. Y. interests. I can't imagine 
 Sir Alexander MacKenzie going out of his way to prevent 
 Simon McTavish losing a profit. This is a trading-post." 
 
 "Quite so and you approve of Black Chabot's way of fight 
 ing women for their furs," she sneered. 
 
 "You know better. I have never fought with women. 
 There is a vast difference between holding up a woman and 
 taking her furs by force, whether she owes them on a debt or is 
 free to trade where she will, and trading for skins voluntarily 
 brought here." 
 
 "Then you refuse to stop trading with Indians who have not 
 settled their debts with us?" 
 
 "I must. The proposition is absurd. Your father would 
 never make such a request. When the X. Y. and the N. W. 
 make a bargain to that effect, all well and good. But the liquor 
 you have stored and won't use would bring in every debt owed 
 you." 
 
 "I'm disappointed in you," she said. 
 
 It was on my tongue to say I was in no way disappointed in 
 her, but there was something in her clear gaze, a strength in 
 her simple dignity, that held me constrained and awkward. She 
 made me feel as if I were very young and callow, a capacity 
 some women have, I've discovered. I resented it. 
 
 "You can't prove your experiment a success if I stop trading 
 rum," I argued. "If your medicine is strong, the only way you 
 can prove it is by overcoming opposition." 
 
 "I believe I understand that much quite thoroughly," she 
 gravely said, yet making me feel she was laughing at me all 
 the time. 
 
72 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Are you afraid of the Indians? Angus wouldn't be much 
 help in time of danger. The Rat is well a rat." 
 
 "I'm not afraid. They never bother me. I come and go. 
 I'm something of a mystery to them. They seem glad to keep 
 clear of me when they see me outside the fort." 
 
 "Do you go any distance from the fort?" 
 
 "Oh, I go as I wish. I've been as far as Grandes Fourches 
 in my canoe alone. Several times I've gone on my horse to the 
 Pembina and followed it to the hills. Now I'll be returning to 
 the Scratching. But please remember, I think you're making a 
 mistake in taking furs belonging to the X. Y." 
 
 "I shall have to risk it. You go up the Pembina. Do you 
 sometimes sing when you're travelling alone?" 
 
 She gave me a quick little glance and admitted 
 
 "I sing if I wish to." 
 
 "Then you're the medicine that has stolen the Voice from 
 Riviere Qu'Appelle," I exclaimed, very proud I had solved the 
 mystery. 
 
 "I have been on the River That Calls. I know the Indian 
 story about the Voice. But I don't catch your meaning," she 
 said, turning back and waiting for me to explain. 
 
 "Why, the Crees and Assiniboins say the Voice has left the 
 river probably high water and a change in air currents, per 
 haps just their imagination. The fact remains they believe the 
 Voice has been stolen. They say the Chippewas' medicine took 
 it away. They've heard you singing at night. That's a positive 
 proof to them the Chippewas have the Voice a captive down 
 here on the Red and its branches." 
 
 As I eagerly said all this she turned her head aside and half 
 closed her eyes. If her clear-cut profile had not remained im 
 mobile I would have sworn she was laughing at me. 
 
 "Very interesting! Very real to the Indians, too. From 
 what I've learned in going about with my father there are no 
 unfair practices among rival posts," she murmured. "That is 
 your code?" 
 
 "We have spoiled the Indians. We stop at nothing which 
 does not involve premeditated murder. Your father, you know, 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 73 
 
 advised Little Crane to kill me for preventing his trading our 
 skins to you." 
 
 "Very likely, although I did not hear him," she coolly com 
 mented. "I'm glad to get your point of view. I've said I 
 thought you were making a mistake in trading for our skins. 
 I meant a mistake that would hurt you morally. Now I'll 
 make a little prophecy. You've made a mistake in a business 
 sense. I see fur coming back to the X. Y. post on the Scratch 
 ing. And I thank you." 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 "For helping me bring the trade to our post." 
 
 Again she stared at me sleepily through her half-closed lids. 
 
 "So you've changed your mind. You will use the rum your 
 father left behind." 
 
 "No, I'll trade superstitions." 
 
 I didn't catch her meaning. 
 
 "Superstition has brought many troubles to the Indians," I 
 reminded. 
 
 "So it has to the whites. Superstition was here before the 
 whites came, but we brought rum into the country. We're re 
 sponsible for that." 
 
 Her quaint and prim notions concerning rum and Indians 
 amused me. But as she amused, she also thrilled me. She was 
 a white woman, wonderful to look at. She was well educated. 
 She was refined. No wonder the impression she made on me 
 grew stronger each moment I stared. The remarkable hair, the 
 fine texture of her skin despite the Red River sun, wind and 
 storms, all such may be found in many women. In addition to 
 these physical charms, however, was an indefinable quality that 
 Strangely affected me. I did not even know that I approved 
 of her, but still she fascinated me. 
 
 My first thought was that she was masculine this, perhaps, 
 because of her composure and I never cared for masculine 
 women. Almost any white woman would look fair to a man 
 marooned on the lower Red for a year. I could have fallen 
 madly in love with Miss Dearness if she had been less pro 
 nounced. A colourless type would have permitted my hungry 
 
74 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 imagination to add all sorts of attributes, and, being in love 
 with love, a commonplace woman would have become exalted. 
 But Miss Dearness was a woman a man must like or dislike. 
 Her personality was so strong that one's fancy could not add to, 
 or take from it. There was no room for deceiving one's self. 
 
 Men long in the wilds will be overwhelmed by the femininity 
 expressed by the first woman they meet on returning to civiliza 
 tion. Although I was hungry for the companionship of a 
 woman, I could find no commonplaces about Miss Dearness 
 which my zeal could transmute into ideals. She was what she 
 was. It was almost as if she had been created for just one 
 man and would repel all except her true mate. And he, meet 
 ing her, would wade through hell for her. 
 
 She also appealed to me in this fashion ; unless a man was in 
 love with her he would have no scruples in opposing her, just 
 as I felt no scruples now in taking all the X. Y. trade I could 
 get. This must have resulted from her air of self-dependence, 
 the conviction that she did not need to be protected. 
 
 "You'll trade superstition," I repeated, groping for her mean 
 ing. "And I have helped you ?" 
 
 "Superstition was here before rum. It's stronger. You may 
 think you are holding them you will hold them at times, when 
 the rum is under their noses but you'll learn that superstition 
 has the first call on them. Yes, you have helped me immensely 
 with your story of the Voice stolen from Riviere Qu'Appelle. 
 I know the river and the strange song it makes at times. You 
 tell me they heard me singing and thought it the lost Voice. I 
 confess it. I took the Voice." And she paused to smile at me 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "But what of it ?" I asked, tingling beneath the electricity of 
 her smile. 
 
 "If they would have it back, they must come to me bring 
 trade to me." 
 
 "Impossible !" I jeered, wondering how she could be so credu 
 lous. "You forget that I only have to tell them what you say 
 to make them see they're mistaken." 
 
 "Tell them. I shall be obliged to you if you will. You have 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 75 
 
 refused a very reasonable request in declining to stop trading 
 for skins taken on X. Y. debts. Without intending to do so, 
 you have given me the advantage. I'll strip your spring hunt 
 ers of their furs. The N. W. will have some unpaid debts as 
 well as the X. Y." 
 
 Tender, gentle women arouse one's pity when they attempt 
 defiance. She struck sparks with every word. 
 
 "Rum against superstition," I challenged, hungering to trade 
 with her and to best her. ' 
 
 Like the average man, my instinct toward the sex was to pro 
 tect, but I was keen to humiliate this woman. 
 
 "So let it be. I'll wager all the furs I've taken on rum." 
 
 Without heeding me further she walked to her canoe and 
 whistled a long quavering note. Angus came on the run around 
 the corner of the potato-field stockade. He had been trained 
 to leave her to look after herself, for he made no move to push 
 off her canoe, although his bearing was as skulking as that of a 
 whipped dog. Staring at me without seeing me, she sent her 
 craft out into the current. Then, resting her paddle, she lifted 
 her head and sounded a bell-like call that rose and fell and 
 trilled far up the river with a strange sweetness. With never 
 a glance at me she adjusted her capote and started down the 
 river. And, as she went, she sounded the call again, distance 
 giving it an eery note. 
 
 I was aroused from my meditations by the splash of a paddle 
 above me. It was Flat Mouth, and now he was running 
 toward me. I greeted him with a laugh and pointed after the 
 woman, saying 
 
 "There goes the white woman whose voice the foolish Crees 
 and Assiniboins took to be the Voice of the Calling River." 
 
 The fellow's behaviour both irritated and amused me. His 
 strong face showed a curious touch of timidity. His gaze fol 
 lowed the dancing canoe until a bend in the river snatched it 
 from view. 
 
 "The white woman is very big medicine," he grunted, speak 
 ing to himself rather than to me. 
 
 "But she is the trader's daughter. She sings when she is out 
 
76 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 on the river. Foolish Indians heard her singing at night and 
 thought it was a spirit's voice," I impatiently reminded. 
 
 "There was a spirit on the River That Calls. It is gone. 
 This woman with the medicine hair " 
 
 The rest was a mumble I could not catch. He hurried to 
 the stockade, forgetful of our unfinished task with the sturgeon 
 net. 
 
 I was greatly disappointed in the Pillager chief. I had been 
 with him on so many trips and always had found him so brave 
 and loyal and sensible. 
 
 With a wealth of new thoughts I resumed my daily tasks. 
 During that week Probos came up from the Reed, bringing 
 women of several families to plant the potatoes, corn, squash 
 and the like, and to burn the brush where we had cut last 
 season's fuel. 
 
 Never in all my experiences on the river had I seen such 
 tremendous flights of wild pigeons as now. From the south- 
 ern to the northern horizon the heavens fairly throbbed with 
 them, and their passage arched the sky and shut off the sun 
 light, leaving the plains in gloom. The Reed River Indians 
 held some secret pow-wows concerning the pigeons. They had 
 no rum, but I knew they were making medicines. Old Taba- 
 shaw unexpectedly arrived from the hills with Black Robe and 
 the latter's family. The Robe hadn't a single skin and would 
 give no answers when I inquired for his hunt. 
 
 Tabashaw asked for liquor and, despite my vow to give none 
 except when skins had been killed, I measured him out a dram 
 just enough to make him mad for more. Then I asked him 
 why the Robe came empty handed, and why the hillmen were 
 not sending in anything. He was dying for another drink, but 
 surprised me by simulating ignorance, talking vaguely about 
 certain difficulties which I knew did not exist. The Robe got 
 never a drop and, after hanging about the fort for several days, 
 disappeared. 
 
 Shortly after his going I discovered that a nine-gallon keg 
 was missing from my stock. It would never do to let an In 
 dian get clear with stolen property, especially if it were rum. 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 77 
 
 From Flat Mouth I learned the Robe had gone down the river. 
 Believing he had made for the Reed camp, where he would go 
 on a drunk with Probos's hunters, I put after him. 
 
 I lost a day at the Reed camp, waiting for some of the hunt 
 ers to appear, only to learn the rascal had paused just long 
 enough to cook and eat a sturgeon. Had the hunters sus 
 pected he had nine gallons of rum with him, he never would 
 have taken it away. On leaving the Reed he had continued 
 north, the hunters said. 
 
 I followed the west bank down to the Scratching, searching it 
 carefully for signs of the thief. If I did not find him at the 
 Scratching I intended searching the east bank going back. I 
 landed a short distance above our abandoned post and cast about 
 for a trace of him. Then, fearing lest he might get inside the 
 fort and set it afire, I left the woods and ran to the post. 
 
 Entering the stockade, I found him asleep near the gate, but 
 there was no sign of the keg. I kicked him awake and de 
 manded to know where he had hidden the rum. He scrambled 
 to his feet, intending, as I supposed, to lead me to the liquor. 
 With the ferocity of a cornered Canada lynx he was on me, his 
 knife slashing at my breast. My stout leather coat protected 
 me long enough to bring up the end of my paddle under his 
 chin. 
 
 Down he went, but was up again, insane from rum and rage. 
 I feared I would have to kill the brute when Miss Dearness's 
 voice, trilling and wailing, penetrated his black mood. He 
 ceased fighting and the knife dropped from his limp hand. 
 
 I wheeled just as she reached the gate. One sweep of her 
 blue eyes took in the situation. Puffing and panting from my 
 exertions and anger, I do not suppose I presented a very pretty 
 picture. Anyway, there was disdain in her glance, and before 
 I could speak she was saying: 
 
 "It isn't for the X. Y. to return goods stolen from the N. W., 
 but I suppose you want the liquor this Indian took. I saw him 
 carrying a keg into the woods." 
 
 Then to the Robe, speaking his own tongue even better than 
 I could, she commanded 
 
78 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Go!" 
 
 He ran to the timber and I ironically observed 
 
 "I thank you for your good intentions, but you've allowed 
 him to escape." 
 
 "If there is any liquor left he will bring it," she coldly re 
 torted. 
 
 I smiled skeptically and lingered, not to get back the rum 
 but to study her. She appeared to be oblivious of my presence, 
 quite as much as if I had been something impersonal, as a tree 
 or rock. I stared at her without any attempt to conceal my 
 interest. I knew I should never feel satisfied until I had 
 aroused her anger or her fear, I was in a frame of mind to 
 dislike her exceedingly. 
 
 Something thudded behind me and I whirled and raised my 
 paddle, only to find Black Robe sullenly standing beside the 
 keg. I tipped it with my foot and knew that less than a quart 
 had been taken. The expression of disgust on her face as she 
 watched me make an inventory of the liquor was maddening. 
 One might think she regarded me as an animal instead of a 
 Northman in the making. 
 
 Her own father was famous she would say "infamous" if 
 he were not her father for the big trades he made by means of 
 alcohol and water. He was accused of one trick I never had 
 been guilty of using a mug half filled with tallow on an In 
 dian too drunk to realize he wasn't getting a full drink. But 
 then, Chabot did it, too. The annoying fact remained that by 
 some influence she had compelled Black Robe to bring back the 
 stolen liquor. I would have given twenty kegs if the rascal, on 
 striking the woods, had kept on going. I wouldn't tickle her 
 vanity by asking how she did it ; I did say, however 
 
 "I'll send down to you the next furs offered me by an Indian 
 owing you a debt." 
 
 "Owing the X. Y.," she carelessly corrected. "Why not one 
 of the packs received by you yesterday?" 
 
 "None came in yesterday," I informed. 
 
 "Then the day before," she went on, smiling. 
 
 "It's fully a week since any of my Indians have brought in a 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 79 
 
 hunt," I explained. "No X. Y. Indians have offered me furs 
 since your visit." 
 
 She opened wide her mouth and laughed with such a mock 
 ing lilt as to send the blood sizzling into my scrawny face. So 
 bering abruptly and with no trace of merriment in her lips or 
 eyes, she coldly reminded 
 
 "Superstition against rum." 
 
 Raising her fingers to her lips, she whistled an ear-splitting 
 signal, and in twenty seconds Angus came running through the 
 gate. 
 
 "How many skins have we traded this week, Angus?" she 
 shot at him. 
 
 "Between sixty and seventy." 
 
 Had he told me that and she had not been present, I should 
 have informed him he was a little liar. As it was, however, I 
 clenched my teeth, knowing only too well he spoke by the book. 
 
 "And how many of them were brought by hunters owing N. 
 W. debts?" she sweetly continued. 
 
 This made Angus uneasy. He did not want to answer. She 
 snapped her eyes, and he replied 
 
 "All but four of them, Miss Dearness." 
 
 "Now I understand why my Indians haven't come in," I 
 confessed. "Yet it's only half a test. This thief has brought 
 his hunt to you." I pointed at the Robe. "If he hadn't stolen 
 the rum he would have returned here and stolen the skins back 
 to trade to me for high wine. You've started a dangerous 
 game. I shall stick to what I've told them no rum without 
 skins. Rum they will have, and they can't steal skins at our 
 post. You're responsible for anything that happens down 
 here." 
 
 "Mr. Franklin, you understand that you and I think alike on 
 lots of things concerning the fur trade," timidly spoke up 
 Angus. 
 
 "You go back to the post. We've left it alone in the Rat's 
 care," she gently commanded, and Angus left us forthwith, ac 
 cepting the rebuke without a word. 
 
 Her eyes were laughing as she faced about and confessed : 
 
8o GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "The Crees and Assiniboins bring me trade as a bribe to me 
 to send the Voice back to Riviere Qu'Appelle. The Chippewas 
 bring their hunt to keep the Voice on the Red. So far as being 
 in any danger, you should know I am a medicine woman to 
 them. My hair is very great medicine. Old Tabashaw says I 
 am a spirit-medicine. I have no sex for them." 
 
 "My, but you're a tearing beauty!" bawled Black Chabot's 
 bull of a voice behind us. "No sex, eh? And I never guessed 
 it. I blundered right by and never knew it." 
 
 I was amazed to behold him there on the Scratching when he 
 should be on the Lake of the Woods or Rainy River. He had 
 been drinking, of course, and never had I seen his eyes look more 
 evil. He glared at the pliant figure of Miss Dearness until his 
 gaze became defilement. She, cold as ice, did not flinch before 
 his lecherous staring. I could not see that his brutal presence 
 quickened her heart by a single beat. 
 
 "You did not go through with your brigade," she remarked. 
 "Did you overtake the X. Y. and my father?" 
 
 "I overhauled the X. Y., all right," he hoarsely responded, 
 edging a step closer to her. "That's how I learned you, his 
 daughter, was here. All white and a red head." 
 
 "Then you did overtake my father?" she demanded. 
 
 "I'd have to travel considerable to overtake him," he in 
 formed. "He's dead." 
 
 Her face went blank and with a little sigh she leaned limply 
 against the stockade. With the grunt of a wild animal Chabot 
 snarled 
 
 "I come way back here to overtake you, my pretty." 
 
 It was beastly. He lunged forward to seize her. I shoved 
 the paddle between his feet and brought him crashing down on 
 his face, and as he fell I gave him a thump on the head. He 
 lay very still, his face buried among the broad chips left from 
 hewing the stockade timbers. Across the clean chips the blood 
 trickled until I believed his fall, or my blow, had ruptured a 
 blood-vessel. 
 
 "He's a black-hearted liar," I told her. "I haven't a doubt 
 but what he's made it up out of whole cloth. Don't you be 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 81 
 
 afraid. I shall kill him if he bothers you again. The N. W. 
 would expect me to do it." 
 
 "Black-hearted, yet he told the truth," she whispered. "My 
 father was suffering with incurable heart trouble. He knew it 
 was only a question of time. He was very loyal to Sir Alex 
 ander and his partners, and he hoped to last until he could 
 send someone out here to take over the post. He didn't dare 
 send me while he stayed, for fear he would die before his suc 
 cessor could come. He had a horror of the post being without 
 a master, so I stayed and he went." 
 
 She talked like one dazed, and yet she had not given way to 
 her grief in the usual womanly way. 
 
 "Pack up," I directed. "I will have a canoeman here just 
 as soon as I can make our post and start him off. He will be 
 Flat Mouth. You can trust him absolutely. Take Angus with 
 you; he'd be helpless up here alone. Flat Mouth will see you 
 to the Forks. The rest of the trail is easy." 
 
 She pointed to Chabot, who was now showing signs of life, 
 and directed, 
 
 "Take that away. Don't send your Indian." 
 
 "Your clerk is not voyageur enough to take you through 
 alone," I protested. "Once the Indians learned you were 
 leaving the country, taking the Voice with you, they might do 
 anything." 
 
 She walked through the gate, and I followed her. She 
 halted and wearily informed me: 
 
 "My father left me to look after the post until someone 
 came. I shall stay. Good-bye ! You'll get more skins now 
 just for what you did to that." She nodded toward the fence, 
 behind which Black Chabot was trying to collect his drunken 
 senses. 
 
 She was gone by the time he had managed to stagger through 
 the gate. His long black beard was full of blood, a ghastly 
 sight even in the fur country. 
 
 "Where is she?" he whispered, glaring about. 
 
 "Miss Dearness? She went back to the post to get her 
 
82 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 father's double-barrelled gun. Said something about shooting 
 you on sight." 
 
 "I'll tame her," he vowed. "A regular red head ! But I'll 
 tame her. Come back a purpose to." 
 
 ''Scarcely worth the game," I carelessly remarked. "A risk 
 is a risk, and danger is a danger, but when she's got all the 
 Chippewas, Crees and Assiniboins believing she's a great tribal 
 medicine, when the whole outfit is willing to murder every 
 
 white in the Northwest if she gives the word But what's 
 
 the use of talking all this to you? You know your own busi 
 ness. You're old enough to take care of yourself." 
 
 He combed some of the blood from his beard and stared at 
 his fingers curiously. Slanting his eyes at me, he muttered : 
 
 "How did I come to fall? Felt like something was mixed 
 up with my feet like something hit my head." 
 
 His low voice was the danger signal. I was carrying the 
 keg on my left shoulder, the paddle in my right hand. I 
 dropped the keg as if to rest me and shifted the paddle, leaving 
 a hand free to snatch for my knife. 
 
 "Looked to me as if your last drink was what got mixed 
 with your legs," I boldly replied. 
 
 He combed more blood from his beard and stole murderous 
 glances at me. He knew I had mauled him over the head and 
 he proposed to get even. 
 
 "Indians think she is big medicine, you say?" 
 
 'lAsk any of them," I advised. 
 
 He picked up the keg and drank wolfishly ; then he made for 
 his canoe and, by some miracle, embarked. In spite of his drams 
 he handled the paddle smartly. I placed the keg in my canoe 
 and followed him. Instead of keeping inshore he swung out 
 into midstream, where he had to contend against the full force 
 of the current. 
 
 He had a reason in this, as I soon knew; it was to get a 
 view of the X. Y. post. I trailed him, and we both beheld 
 Miss Dearness standing on the shore, her face turned toward 
 the north, looking down the path her father had taken for the 
 last time. Her hair looked like a torch. 
 
SUPERSTITION VERSUS RUM 83 
 
 The sight of her seemed to drive him mad. He stood erect 
 and shook his fist at her and raved : 
 
 "I'm coming back to get you! It'll even up what I owe 
 Red Dearness." 
 
 I reached over with my paddle and gave his canoe a shove, 
 and he shot into the water. I had hoped that the rushing of 
 the river had smothered his beastly threat, but she must have 
 heard it or at least have sensed it, for I saw her place her 
 cupped hands to her mouth and I caught the long drawn out 
 call. I saw the bush growth move and tremble close by her 
 and heard her call out something in Chippewa. Then Black 
 Chabot's distorted face bobbed above the muddy surface, and I 
 caught his canoe and pushed it to him, holding the stern while 
 he clambered in, swearing between his gasps. 
 
 'Til settle with you for that when we get back to the post," 
 he choked. 
 
 "I'm going to kill you when we get out of sight of the young 
 woman," I promised him. 
 
 This was not an empty threat. His treatment of the girl 
 left me cold and deliberate in my purpose to have done with 
 him. 
 
 Without a word he turned and began paddling upstream. 
 He had gained a lead of a rod or so when an arrow whipped 
 from the bushes and hissed close to his wet beard. With a 
 yelp and a howl he toppled backward and all but went over 
 board again. By the time he had scrambled back to his knees 
 a second shaft stuck in the bow of the canoe. 
 
 Then came the girl's voice, clear as a bell, warning: 
 
 "Tell him he dies unless he goes downstream at once, Mr. 
 Franklin. Tell him he dies if he comes back here before I 
 have left the country." 
 
 I had no need of telling him, for he heard her. Snarling 
 with rage, yet weak with fear, he hesitated, and a third arrow 
 all but got him. The Black Robe, for I knew it must be he, 
 was shooting marvellously straight for one so recently drunk. 
 Howling like some wild animal caught in a trap, he frantically 
 spun his craft about and, hugging the east bank, paddled for 
 
84 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 his life downstream, making for the Forks. I watched him till 
 he was out of sight, but did not see any other arrows pursue 
 him. 
 
 I half expected the Robe to take a shot at me, but he did 
 not, although he had many opportunities had he so wished. 
 Perhaps it would be better to say had she not forbid his 
 doing so. 
 
 Thus closed Black Chabot's career in the Red River Coun 
 try expelled by a girl with fiery red hair. I had much to 
 ponder over as I fought my way upstream. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 
 
 THE girl was much in my mind that night and I began 
 to sympathize with her a bit. Not because she had 
 lost her father, as death must come to all and Red Dear- 
 ness had lived his life and given sympathy to but few. Nor 
 because she was left without a protector, inasmuch as she had 
 impressed me as being quite competent to care for herself. 
 Chabot's flight before Black Robe's hurtling arrows was a 
 token of this fact. My sympathy was more for her youth's be 
 ing spent in a lonely land probably a reflection of self-pity. 
 As I dropped off to sleep my last thoughts were of her red 
 head, glowing like a war beacon on that brown river bank. 
 
 Flat Mouth was cleaning a string of catfish when I went 
 to the river bank next morning. His manner was preoccupied 
 when he returned my greeting. I lighted my pipe and stared 
 down the river, thinking of her. 
 
 The Pillager wiped his knife on a tuft of grass and rose, 
 saying 
 
 "He will not come back here." 
 
 He referred to Black Chabot. There was no need of names 
 between us. 
 
 "How do you know that?" I asked. 
 
 "A very strong medicine will keep him away," he replied, 
 smiling grimly. 
 
 "A red medicine," I suggested. 
 
 "White man call it 'afraid/ " 
 
 "You have heard how he came and went away?" 
 
 "My wabeno medicine tells me much." 
 
 "What else has it told you?" 
 
 85 
 
86 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "The father of the medicine woman is dead," he said. 
 
 In some such way did news travel up and down the river, 
 often outspeeding a messenger. You might start post-haste for 
 the hills with news and find it ahead of you when you arrived. 
 The natural inference was that Black Robe had brought word 
 of Chabot's attempted assault on the girl, but the Robe had not 
 put in appearance and, unless he travelled during the night, 
 he could scarcely have arrived before I woke up. That he 
 would paddle day and night was hardly probable. 
 
 Of course there would be a flare-back, once Chabot reached 
 Grand Portage, but I was not worried over the outcome. Miss 
 Dearness's testimony would offset any charges Chabot could 
 prefer against me. What I had done was for the honour of the 
 N. W. company. The rivalry between my company and the 
 X. Y. was at its height, nearing the point where one must give 
 way, or both go down with a smash ; neither of us split hairs in 
 overreaching the opposition. 
 
 Still, there were things which could not be permitted. The 
 gentlemen of the North did not bother with the morals of their 
 representatives so long as the returns were good. The leisurely 
 procedure of the H. B. company had changed to a frantic en 
 deavour to suppress us, its most powerful rival. Sir Alexander 
 MacKenzie, once a partner in the N. W. but now head of the 
 X. Y., was very bitter against Simon McTavish. 
 
 With all this bad blood almost anything would be overlooked 
 that gave a trade advantage but a ruffian attacking a white 
 woman no! Tell headquarters that so-and-so is taking too 
 many Indian women as wives, and the gentlemen would over 
 haul the factor's last statement, note how many black, silver, 
 red and cross foxes his sheet showed, or how many beaver and 
 dressed moose, then gravely reply it was for the good of the 
 company's trade relations with the tribes. 
 
 We determined a Northman's reputation in terms of beaver, 
 marten, mink, and wolverines, bolstered up by his trade in black, 
 brown and grizzly bears. But all this only when Indians were 
 concerned. To trouble a white woman, especially when she 
 held the unique position of representing the X. Y. company, 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 87 
 
 was a vicious slap at Sir Alexander and his powerful associates. 
 The N. W. all question of decency aside had enough trouble 
 without seeking trade in that way. 
 
 So I wasn't worried over the final outcome, although I 
 looked for Chabot to spread wild reports about an Indian up 
 rising, with me turning renegade. This would result in the 
 company's rushing a brigade up the Red and relieving me of 
 command, and, doubtless, in sending me under arrest to Grand 
 Portage or Montreal, where I would ultimately be vindicated. 
 
 While at the bank watching the Pillager, two canoes came 
 upstream, containing Bad Ax and White Partridge with their 
 families. White Partridge had kept clear of us since Chabot 
 nearly kicked him to death for stealing a horse. Now Chabot 
 was gone, he was back, anxious to become one of our family. 
 As he had a number of skins I let the past sleep and gave him 
 and the Ax a dram. The Ax had started to hunt moose and 
 red deer on the east side of the Red, but had turned back, he 
 said, as the country was overflowed from the spring freshets. 
 I knew this to be a lie, as the river had dropped rapidly, and 
 because of the trip the Pillager and I had taken to the Red 
 River district. 
 
 It does no good to tell an Indian he lies, so I told the two 
 I would give them tobacco and ammunition if they would take 
 their families and paddle up to the Goose and get beaver. As 
 an additional incentive I promised a big keg if they should re 
 turn with enough skins to wipe out their debts. They vrere 
 much disgruntled over two points; they wanted the keg at 
 once, and they did not propose to hunt beaver on the Goose 
 at any time, as it was above the Red Lake country, where they 
 were sure of being gobbled up by the Sioux. 
 
 I spoke to Flat Mouth, who disappeared. When he proudly 
 returned he was flourishing the four scalps, now nicely stretched 
 on small hoops. With great relish he inflicted his new song 
 upon them, relating our adventures and picturing himself always 
 in the lead and at death grips while I lounged in the rear. The 
 scalps impressed them mightily, and they eagerly afiered to 
 
88 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 trade anything they possessed, even their daughters or wives, in 
 return for some of his war-medicine. 
 
 At the risk of spoiling a trade I interrupted the babel to 
 declare there was no need of war-medicine up the river now 
 that the Sioux had gone home, for they would not dare return 
 to the Red until the following spring. 
 
 "And before then, tobacco will be passed among all the 
 Chippewas, Crees and Assiniboins. A great war-party will go 
 after the Sioux and dig them out when the leaves begin to 
 turn yellow and drop off the trees," I added for good measure. 
 
 Flat Mouth boasted: 
 
 "The Sioux are still running like frightened calves. If one 
 is left behind because he is lame, shout the name of Eshkebuge- 
 coshe, war-chief of the Pillager Chippewas, and the lame man 
 will run like a fox to get away." 
 
 They wavered, and I tipped the scales in favour of the trip 
 by giving them another dram and consenting to furnish a gallon 
 of mixed wine for them to take along, the big keg to await 
 their return with a good hunt. I was anxious for them to go, 
 as the beaver signs were unusually good along the Goose, be 
 cause none of our Indians had dared tarry there and neither the 
 X. Y. nor the H. B. had cared to risk establishing a post 
 above us. 
 
 Aside from such unvisited streams, beaver was not plentiful 
 in the lower Red River department. The scarcity was not be 
 cause the animals had been trapped out, but resulted from some 
 disease that had killed off the valuable creatures by thousands. 
 They seemed immune so long as they remained in swift flowing 
 waters, but the colonies in ponds and stagnant waters were 
 wiped out in numbers sufficient to make a Northman's heart 
 ache. They died while at work cutting down trees, in the 
 entrances to their homes and while constructing their little 
 canals. 
 
 My Indian hunters had told me this wholesale extermina 
 tion was to be found all the way to Hudson Bay. Now that 
 Chabot would surely endeavour to prejudice headquarters 
 against me, I was anxious to build the best of defences a heavy 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 89 
 
 trade and the exploiting of regions heretofore left practically 
 untouched. 
 
 Flat Mouth's medicine and my promises of rum won them 
 to the venture and I had the satisfaction of seeing them on 
 the way with their families, kettles, ammunition and traps. 
 
 Taking the Pillager, I crossed over to the east side of the 
 river and shot three black bears, one on the shore, drinking, and 
 two out of an oak, where they had climbed to escape me. 
 Their fur was prime and the skins very acceptable. I mention 
 the incident to show how easily some of the idlers at the post 
 and the hills could pay off their debts and buy plenty of mixed 
 wine if they would take the trouble. 
 
 Black Robe, very penitent and very thirsty, came in the 
 next day and left a moose as a peace offering. He had shot 
 the animal in the river while coming up from the Scratching. 
 I read him a lecture on the awful crime of stealing rum from 
 a white man and showed him the three bears, telling him to 
 take his family and go and do likewise. Of course he wanted 
 rum at the start. I advanced some cloth for his woman, gave 
 him a few inches of tobacco, some powder and balls, and in 
 formed him that bear pelts were the only medicine that could 
 get rum from me. 
 
 In a final effort to touch my heart or arouse my fears, he 
 told me of meeting Tabashaw in the woods back of our 
 Scratching River post and learning some important news from 
 him, Tabashaw he wished me to understand, need no longer 
 lean on the white man. I encouraged him to proceed, and, 
 hoping for a drink, he explained: 
 
 "Tabashaw came down from the hills to the strong timber. 
 He was three days without eating. While singing his new song 
 a man, dressed like a white man, came to him and told him of 
 many things. This man-spirit told Tabashaw he must not ask 
 the sun to help him when he made feasts or new medicines, as 
 he, the man-spirit, the great Kitchimanito, was the father of 
 all life and the only power to help the Chippewas. This great 
 spirit told Tabashaw that the traders did not treat him well, 
 and that he, the great spirit, would give him rum and tobacco 
 
90 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 and ammunition if he gave his medals back to the traders and 
 have nothing more to do with them. Tabashaw told me all 
 this." 
 
 "He is a liar," I scoffed, yet glad to know the old rascal's 
 latest plans for regaining control of the tribe and thereby forc 
 ing the traders to grant all his whims. 
 
 "Kitchimanito goes everywhere to turn the Indians away 
 from the whites. Tabashaw saw his moccasins worn to pieces 
 by his long travels," persisted Black Robe. 
 
 "If you believe him, go to him. Tell him you will not hunt 
 for the traders. If he is not a liar he will give you rum which 
 the man-spirit gave to him," I advised. 
 
 The Robe drew a long face and grunted in despair. 
 
 "I will take my woman and my children and go and hunt 
 bear," he surrendered. 
 
 There were now two long tents of women and children at 
 the post, their active men being away on the hunt. I used these 
 in finishing the planting and in doing odd chores. The day 
 after the Robe crossed the river old Tabashaw arrived. His 
 manner was subdued and he was very humble when he came 
 to me for some new milk. 
 
 "Where is the milk the man-spirit was to give you?" I 
 jeered. ''And where are the medals you were to give back 
 to us?" 
 
 "I had a bad dream," he muttered, turning away. 
 
 His manner was strange. He forgot to threaten me. He 
 wandered apart and placed his wabeno drum before him and 
 stared at it gloomily. To draw him out I called him inside the 
 fort and gave him a drink. Even after that his downcast 
 demeanour continued. This was not play-acting. I tried to 
 get him to talk, but he would only say that he had had a bad 
 dream. 
 
 The arrival of several hunters, all Chippewas, called me 
 from him. I quickly observed these were sullen and uneasy 
 about something. I traded their skins and gave them rum 
 and sought to set their tongues to wagging, but, like their 
 chief, they remained moody and taciturn. The situation began 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 91 
 
 to get on my nerves. The Indians were children. Ordinarily 
 it was very simple to learn their intentions, despite their ex 
 pressionless features, but to get behind their thoughts it was 
 necessary to make them talk. So long as the chief and the 
 hunters sat in gloomy silence I could learn nothing, while my 
 imagination pictured all sorts of disagreeable events about to 
 happen. 
 
 Anxious to get at the truth, I went after Flat Mouth. I 
 despaired when I observed that even this intelligent and with 
 me very frank fellow was sobered almost to the point of de 
 jection. At first he would make no reply to my questions, 
 
 "My friend, the great war-chief of the Pillagers, looks sad 
 when four Sioux scalps hang in his tent. And he refuses to 
 tell his white brother, who would drive the shadows away,'* I 
 complained. 
 
 "My brother can not drive the shadows away," he grunted. 
 
 "Medicine is strong." 
 
 "Was it strong enough to bring the Voice here from the 
 River That Calls?" 
 
 I knew I had it. By indirection I had learned what a month 
 of cross-examination would not have told me. 
 
 "Flat Mouth is sad because the Voice has gone back to its 
 home on the Qu'Appelle," I boldly stated. 
 
 Assuming I knew all about it, he said 
 
 "It has gone back. The woman with the medicine hair sent 
 it back." 
 
 Old Tabashaw's gloomy bearing and the depression of the 
 hunters was now easily understood. 
 
 "That is why your people are so sad even when they have 
 new milk," I said. 
 
 "It was great wabeno medicine while it was with us," he 
 regretted. 
 
 "How do the Chippewas feel toward the woman?" 
 
 "They are very angry, but they are very afraid of her." 
 
 "They would like to have her scalp nailed to a tent pole," 
 I suggested. 
 
 "They are afraid to go near her. No one dares harm her." 
 
92 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "No one can harm her," I cried. "She is mighty medicine. 
 She called the Voice here. She has sent it back. She can call 
 it again when she will." 
 
 This possibility caused his eyes to glisten. 
 
 "I will tell my people, so their hearts will not be hard against 
 her," he said, rising and making for the stockade. 
 
 The result of Flat Mouth's interview with his friends was 
 soon apparent. Tabashaw began beating his drum and the 
 hunters found much vivacity in their wine. Scarcely had this 
 improvement taken place when two tents of Crees and two of 
 Assiniboins brought in their hunt. Their arrival was marked 
 with poorly veiled hostility toward the Chippewas, and yet they 
 seemed striving to hide elation. They eyed the Chippewas 
 askance and kept their bows and arrows in their hands and 
 camped by themselves. 
 
 This was unusual, as the three tribes ordinarily fraternized 
 when meeting at the posts. The weaker party during a drink- 
 ing-match usually desires to keep its weapons close at hand, but 
 this precaution is taken to protect them against the effects of the 
 rum, rather than because of any tribal antipathy. To be on 
 their guard when not in liquor had an ugly look. 
 
 "What's the matter with you?" I demanded of a Cree. 
 "You act as if you had passed war-tobacco with the Assiniboins 
 against my Chippewas. What do you mean?" 
 
 "We are afraid of the Chippewas. Our hearts are warm 
 toward Tabashaw and his people, but their hearts are black 
 against us," he replied. 
 
 "Why should you fear the Chippewas?" 
 
 "The Voice is back on the River That Calls. The Chippe 
 was are sad and angry at losing their medicine. They will 
 trade no more skins at the X. Y." 
 
 "What about your trade?" 
 
 "We bring our hunt here. The Medicine Hair told us we 
 could have no new milk. We can get milk here." 
 
 "You took your hunt there when you could not get milk," I 
 reminded. 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 93 
 
 "That was when she had the Voice. Now it is back on the 
 river we come here." 
 
 "See that you are very careful what you do, or the Medicine 
 Hair will take the Voice away from you," I warned. "If any 
 of you have not paid your debts to the X. Y., take your furs 
 and do it, or she will be angry." 
 
 It seemed that one hunter did owe the X. Y. a debt, and 
 as a result of my talk with the Cree he was made to do up his 
 skins and hold them out of the trade with the N. W. This 
 was scarcely good policy when the rival companies were bending 
 every energy to get the best of each other, but I had passed 
 my word to her. She had meant it when she said I should 
 receive more furs that she would let the trade come to me 
 because of what I did to Chabot. Royal pay for a slight ser 
 vice, but somehow there was scant consolation in it. It was 
 like having an opponent clearly demonstrate he can defeat you 
 at your own game and then quit playing from weariness or 
 some whim. 
 
 Could I have secured the trade with rum, leaving her hands 
 empty despite her taking advantage of the Indians' superstitions, 
 I should have felt much better. However, the trade continued 
 coming in, with very little going to the X. Y., and the bulk of 
 that returning down-river because I refused to buy from a 
 hunter in debt to my rival. 
 
 The monotony of refusing, then judiciously dealing out 
 drams; of threatening, then cajoling the hunters, wore on me. 
 My thoughts were too much given to wandering down the 
 river. I gave too much time to picturing the woman. I re 
 sented her attitude of aloofness. After all, we were both 
 young and of the same race. Even though we were trade 
 rivals, there was no reason why, as human beings, we should 
 not see each other and enjoy each other's company. 
 
 I was decently spoken, having a far better education than 
 many Northmen. I was born and brought up in the East 
 and was familiar with New York and other Atlantic cities, 
 as well as with Montreal and Quebec. The Hudson Bay 
 was a persistent rival; yet there were times when the heads 
 
94 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 of departments declared a truce and exchanged civilities. I've 
 seen Mr. Henry open a keg of brandy and share it with an H. 
 B. factor, the two of them getting quite merry and performing 
 with much zest on the fife and drum, and we have taken packs 
 down to the Forks for them and have granted and received like 
 favours from the X. Y. 
 
 It was while securing furs that we nipped each other often 
 till blood flowed. All of which means I was uneasy in spirit 
 and ashamed to admit even to myself that I wanted to see that 
 wonderful red hair again. 
 
 I tried to believe my mental depression was due to my desire 
 to be employed in the American fur trade, I being bom an 
 American. This was a silly deception to attempt, as there 
 was no American company to hire me. To be a Northman 
 one must go to the great Northwest and hire out to one of the 
 three companies I have named. 
 
 Months later, I was to learn that a scant two months behind 
 me the door had been opened to American adventurers, when 
 the Stars and Stripes were hoisted over St. Louis on the tenth 
 of March, marking the transfer of the magnificent Louisiana 
 territory to the United States. But many a long trail was to 
 be travelled before I could return East and hear how the 
 flags of Spain, of France and of the United States flew over 
 St. Louis, all within twenty-four hours, 
 
 There was no escaping the fact that the girl was in my mind 
 and was bothering me. Then, suddenly, came the chilling 
 fear that she might be gone. I had refrained from going down 
 the river. Her attitude had not been friendly. She wanted 
 to be alone. Very well, I had haughtily told myself, it should 
 be as she wished then the dread lest she had been relieved. 
 
 Once the X. Y. people learned of her father's death, they 
 would lose no time in shifting a man from the Assiniboin to the 
 Scratching to permit her leaving the river before cold weather 
 set in. The idea became fixed in my mind and tormented me. 
 She was buying no skins; there was no excuse for her remain 
 ing. If a summer man was not sent out, then Angus could look 
 after the post, and I was booked for the summer and winter a 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 9 5 
 
 whole year without another opportunity of looking on a white 
 woman. 
 
 It wasn't love for her that called me, I stoutly told myself; 
 for I knew we could not exchange a half dozen sentences with 
 out quarrelling. But she was a white woman, the only one in 
 the department. She aroused my resentment, and yet I was 
 miserable for wanting to see her. 
 
 At last I ceased trying to fool myself and made for the river. 
 I would canoe down to the Scratching, make an errand of 
 looking over our post and at least get a glimpse of her, if she 
 had not already departed from the country. I found the Rat 
 talking earnestly with Flat Mouth, and his presence aggra 
 vated my fears. Addressing him in Chippewa to provoke 
 a more voluble flow of language, I asked 
 
 "What is the Red Hair doing?" 
 
 "She makes ready to go away," he replied. 
 
 My heart gave a jump. 
 
 "When does she go down the river?" I carelessly inquired. 
 
 "Up, not down," he corrected. 
 
 I scowled at him, thinking he was lying to me. He eagerly 
 explained : 
 
 "She goes to make discoveries in the Red Lake River country. 
 She thinks to send hunters there." 
 
 "She can get no hunters," I sneered. 
 
 "She thinks she can get some Crees, some Assiniboins," he 
 retorted. 
 
 I began to believe that she could. All she need do would be 
 to threaten a second theft of the Voice from the Qu'Appelle. 
 I began to feel normal, to look on her as a rival whom I must 
 best in trade. 
 
 "Is she going herself?" 
 
 "She takes a guide maybe a family of Crees." 
 
 "When does she go?" 
 
 "She did not tell me. She talks with no one." 
 
 "But you should know if you go with her. Would a deep 
 dram of strong milk make you remember?" 
 
 He groaned at his misfortune and replied : 
 
96 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "I do not go with her, so I do not know. She asked me, 
 but it is too near the summer war-path of the Sioux." 
 
 "Flat Mouth, chief of the Pillager Chippewas, has scared 
 the Sioux back to their holes," scornfully cried my Indian. 
 Then to my amazement, "I go with the Medicine Hair." 
 
 "Did the Rat come to hire you ?" I sharply demanded. The 
 Rat drew away, looking very uncomfortable. Flat Mouth 
 readily admitted 
 
 "She knows I am a great warrior." 
 
 "She doesn't make any bones of hiring my men, it seems!" 
 And my resentment grew very strong. 
 
 "Her hair is great medicine. She calls the Voice. It comes. 
 She tells it to go to sleep. It is gone. I go with her," calmly 
 answered the chief. 
 
 This hiring of my man was a most serious affront. It was a 
 trick for which only a woman's logic would find an excuse. A 
 man might do it, but he would provide some shadow of an 
 excuse. She was going about it openly, ignoring my wishes. 
 The worst of all was my inability to restrain the chief. He 
 had said he would go, and there was no stopping him. The 
 devil was in that woman's hair if it were strong enough to bind 
 Flat Mouth to her service. 
 
 Hot with the indignity she had put upon me, I walked back 
 to the fort. After the first flush of anger had exhausted itself, 
 I discovered my state of mind was wofully twisted. I was 
 glad, in a sneaking fashion, that she was not on her way to 
 the Forks. 
 
 Her cool impudence in securing a guide at the post without 
 even asking my leave somehow hinted at the eternal feminine, a 
 quality I had steadfastly refused to detect in her. It was good 
 to think I might see her again, even if only to reproach her for 
 her insolence; I could not get over the conviction that it was 
 decidedly raw for her to send the Rat to hire my best Indian. I 
 could not forgive her going over my head in that fashion. Did 
 a man wish to borrow the Pillager, he would offer me some 
 skins as a bonus. Being a woman, she quietly appropriated 
 what she desired. It wounded my self-esteem, and yet pro- 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 97 
 
 longed meditation brought me to the point where I could appre 
 ciate the irony of it and grin a bit. 
 
 I had wild thoughts of trying to talk Flat Mouth out of the 
 trip, but retained sense enough to know that such an effort 
 would be about as successful as to attempt conversation with 
 a wounded buffalo bull. 
 
 He was the best of his complexion I ever met. At times you 
 would forget he was an Indian. But superstition could drive 
 him every which way. He liked me. He enjoyed many privi 
 leges because I both liked and trusted him. We had been 
 friends. Yet, without a word of warning, he was to leave me 
 and guide a rival to one of the few remaining beaver localities, 
 and all because of some red hair. 
 
 I grinned more broadly, although sardonically. Her lack of 
 logic grimly amused me now; perhaps because it revealed the 
 woman in her. How fiercely she had upbraided me for follow 
 ing the time-honoured custom of trading rum for pelts a cus 
 tom that was followed from Hudson Bay to the Willamett. 
 Then she deliberately stole a man without even a "thank you," 
 or "by your leave." 
 
 I sternly told myself she needed taming. I found the Rat 
 and asked him 
 
 "When do you go back to the Scratching?" 
 
 "At once, unless I am asked to stop for a dram. It is very 
 dry at the post and I am very thirsty. My throat is like the 
 prairie after the fires have scorched it." 
 
 "Come inside! You shall have a dram, and a keg to take 
 back with you," I promised. 
 
 "New milk is good," he murmured, his mouth watering. "I 
 will take a dram. Let the keg wait for me here, till after the 
 woman goes up the river." 
 
 I assured him the liquor would be held in trust for him. 
 He confessed that she was making life miserable for him and 
 Angus by refusing them liquor. 
 
 "After she is gone, the clerk and I will have a big drunk," 
 he gloated. 
 
 "Then why do you stay with her? I will make it a big keg 
 
98 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 for you two. Why not come up here? I will hire both you 
 and Angus. If a man behaves he can have plenty of rum here." 
 
 He sadly shook his head and drifted into French as he 
 answered : 
 
 "It is to be wished, to be prayed for the beautiful rum! 
 But I would be cursed. A bad sign would be on me." 
 
 "Bah ! She has made you believe such foolishness?" 
 
 "She says nothing. If I went and told her I was leaving 
 the post, she would say nothing. She does not seem to know I 
 am at the post. Since her father died, her eyes look very far 
 away. I do not want to stay, yet I know it would bring me 
 bad luck to leave her. After she goes up the river I will call 
 for the keg the big keg." 
 
 "You will start down the river at once," I directed. "You 
 will stop at the mouth of the Reed and find Probos. Tell him 
 I say for him to come up here at once. He is not to bring 
 the Indians, He will stay here for a few days." 
 
 The Rat readily promised to carry my message, downed his 
 dram and returned to the canoe and set off. I waited till he 
 was out of sight and then attempted to pump Flat Mouth. The 
 chief did not seem to know just when his services would be 
 required. I got the notion he was evading me. I knew it 
 would be useless to press him. 
 
 That night I had a stroke of luck. One of the Red Sucker 
 band dropped down the river and brought me five wonderful 
 white buffalo skins, four of them young bulls slain in January 
 below Grandes Fourches, and one, a calf, killed recently. The 
 hair on the bulls was like that of sheep fleecy and soft and all 
 white. The calfskin was white except for a black spot encir 
 cling the right eye. The Chippewas prize these white robes and 
 skins only for what they will bring in trade, but there are other 
 tribes, especially those on the Missouri, which will barter any f 
 their possessions to secure one. 
 
 So I called it a stroke of luck, my getting them ; for I planned 
 to use them to the great advantage of the N. W. company before 
 I quit the country. The Indian said he had seen no sign of 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 99 
 
 > 
 
 Sioux, that he had talked with my two hunters on the Goose, 
 and that they were taking beaver. 
 
 The story of our victory over the Sioux rather Flat 
 Mouth's victory, for he was being given all the credit had 
 spread throughout the country with that celerity with which 
 news ever travels in the wilds. It was taken for granted that, 
 after such a rebuff, the Sioux would not travel north on another 
 path until spring. They would be sure to expect the Chippe- 
 was, emboldened by the great coup, to venture south and seek a 
 second victory. 
 
 Probos came in due season and I manufactured excuses to 
 keep him, but it was two days after his arrival that I got up 
 one morning to find Flat Mouth had gone. No one seemed 
 to know when he departed. Old Tabashaw, I suspected, had 
 an inkling of the Pillager's engagement, for he performed on 
 his drum with sullen zeal, as if sending his medicine after some 
 one he feared. He sang, without giving any names, and called 
 on the Great Mystery to revenge the Chippewas. 
 
 I knew I held a thread to the puzzle in the ten-gallon keg of 
 high wine I intended to present to the Rat and Angus. De 
 positing the liquor on the bank and seating myself beside it, I 
 waited. An hour of impatience and then the nose of a canoe 
 scraped the willows on the west bank, announcing the arrival 
 of the Rat. From the slack water under the willows he spied 
 on the landing-place before the fort, then scanned the upper 
 reaches of the river and propelled his light craft forward. 
 
 "When did she pass the post?" I asked, kicking the keg 
 toward him. 
 
 "About the middle of the night," he replied, tenderly setting 
 the wine in his canoe. "The clerk stands on the bank before 
 the fort, his tongue hanging out like a blown bull's, waiting 
 for me to come back." 
 
 "You followed her?" 
 
 "Not too close. I timed myself to arrive here after sunrise. 
 Ran the canoe into a sunken tree in the night and dared not try 
 to shove off till light came. At the speed she was paddling, I 
 know she must have passed here in the night." 
 
ioo GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Flat Mouth has gone. Did he know when she was coming?" 
 
 "Yes, she was to sound her call, if she came in the night. He 
 was to be waiting for her." 
 
 "Did she bring any Indians with her?" 
 
 "She came alone." 
 
 I swore and wished I had made it a smaller keg. The rascal 
 had said nothing about Miss Dearness's plans to make a signal 
 to the Pillager. 
 
 "I thought he would tell you," he artlessly remarked, sending 
 his canoe into midstream with a deft sweep of the paddle. 
 
 "Do you know where they go first ?" I called after him. 
 
 "To the mouth of Riviere du Lac Rouge where the war 
 road of the Sioux ends. Where the Sioux wait many days when 
 watching the Chippewa hunters to come down the Thief, the 
 Clearwater and the Wild Rice Rivers." 
 
 Thanks to the fear my double-barrelled gun had instilled in 
 the Sioux, the woman and her guide would be free from any 
 danger even if they passed the mouth of the Red Lake River 
 and proceeded so far south, even, as the mouth of the Cheyenne. 
 
 Now that I knew they were only twelve hours ahead I was 
 undecided as to what I should do. I had called Probos from 
 the Reed, intending to follow them. Now, face to face with 
 the business, I weakened. I had no warrant to follow her. She 
 did not wish my company. She had planned to pass the post 
 in the night so that I might not know of her presence. This 
 was not because of any trade delicacy on her part, as she had 
 not scrupled to hire my best man to guide her. If she wished 
 to avoid me, what an awkward situation I would be in should 
 I follow and find her. 
 
 I set Probos to work to arrange a place for the season's hay, 
 some three thousand bundles if we had luck ; then I developed 
 great energy in having defective stockade posts of poplar re 
 placed by some of oak. In truth, for nearly an hour I was 
 desperately busy trying to make myself believe I had washed 
 her and her red head out of mind. Could Simon McTavish 
 have dropped in and witnessed my industry, he surely would 
 have appointed me to head an important department. 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 101 
 
 My artificial zeal died as abruptly as does an Indian's rum- 
 courage. Leaving the work on the stockade to take care of it 
 self, I walked moodily down to the river and thought of that 
 other river, Qu' Appelle Who Calls and in my fancy I heard 
 her calling this woman with the red hair. She had called in 
 passing the post and the Pillager had heard her. I almost wished 
 there were danger from the Sioux, so I could use it as an excuse 
 for setting out after her. Above all else, I did not care to 
 appear foolish in her eyes. I was positive she repelled me. I 
 took great satisfaction in telling myself this, and yet I fidgeted 
 around, seeking a reason for following her. 
 
 This attempt to fool myself soon gave way before a satisfac- 
 tory purpose. I would deceive her. I would go up the river 
 and encounter her, but I would have a legitimate errand and 
 our meeting should appear to be the work of chance. 
 
 Once I cast aside all pretences and squarely admitted I would 
 make an errand to take me after her, the way became easy. 
 There were the white robes. I would pack them in my canoe 
 and stalk her until I knew she and her guide had entered the 
 mouth of Red Lake River ; then I would turn in after them, 
 pretending I had come down the river, where I had traded for 
 the skins. 
 
 Flat Mouth would understand this was some subterfuge of 
 mine but he would never tell her. The scheme tickled my 
 fancy. I would display surprise on overtaking her. I would 
 pretend I thought I was following two of my hunters. Natu 
 rally I would exhibit displeasure at her hiring the Pillager. 
 Whether we got along or quarrelled, I would stimulate fear 
 of the Sioux and stay by her down the river. 
 
 Procuring the skins and baling them neatly, I put them with 
 my gun in the canoe, together with tobacco and a hook and 
 line the men were now taking many fish on the line. With a 
 final word to Probos to look after things until I returned, and a 
 stern command that he should give out no liquor, I started on 
 my eccentric journey. 
 
 I was much ashamed of myself, for I feared I was weak; 
 somehow, though, I was brazenly contented with the thought 
 
102 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 that I should soon see her. I passed the mouth of the Park at 
 sunset. A short distance beyond, I came to a dead fire and the 
 bones of several catfish, showing where they had paused to' eat. 
 There were two canoes and she was doing her own paddling. 
 I kindled a fire, caught some fish and made my camp there. 
 
 Nothing broke the monotony of the river until I reached the 
 Big Salt and began paddling by the long slough which extends 
 from that stream to the Turtle River. I was marvelling at the 
 immense number of wild-fowl in the marsh and was tempted 
 to recharge my gun with light shot and bag a few, when several 
 birds at the river bank rose in the air. I ceased paddling and 
 rested my gun across my knees and closely watched the surface 
 of the tall grass, wondering what had alarmed the fowl. 
 
 It was not my approach, for the countless numbers feeding 
 abreast of me had not taken fright. While I was debating the 
 problem, the birds began rising far down toward the Turtle, a 
 vast cloud of them, which gradually spread and covered the 
 entire slough as the fear radiated. The first to take flight 
 seemed to draw others up after them as the sun sucks up the 
 vapours in the early morning. In a minute the heavens were in 
 a furious commotion. 
 
 Paddling cautiously, I glided along close to the bank, my gaze 
 sweeping the shore at the mouth of the Turtle. The tall reeds 
 a short distance ahead became alive with motion, and, with a 
 twist of the paddle, I was backing into cover. 
 
 A canoe darted out, filled with women and children, the 
 former bowing low and paddling frantically. They were closely 
 followed by a second canoe, likewise holding women and chil 
 dren. A few rods behind the second came a third canoe, and 
 in this I recognized Bad Ax and White Partridge. 
 
 As they bore downstream, those who were not paddling kept 
 a constant watch to the rear. It was plain that my hunters 
 were afraid of something and, with their families, were fleeing 
 down the river. 
 
 The warriors, as was proper, brought up the rear, to stave off 
 death and permit their women and little ones to escape. I have 
 never known this trait to fail of expression in the Indian. He 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 103 
 
 may kill his wife when drunk, or brutally disfigure her, but in 
 event of an enemy attack there is none so cowardly as not to 
 take the fighting position in the rear. I waited until the two 
 canoes of women passed, then drove my craft across the course 
 of the warriors and held up my hand and called out my name. 
 
 With a powerful sweep of their paddles they swerved wide 
 to run by me and yelped something I could not understand. 
 Turning my canoe downstream, I laid to the paddle and drove 
 alongside of them until the canoes locked. White Partridge 
 was in the stern. I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to 
 desist paddling until he had explained his flight. 
 
 He turned a face on me that was distorted with terror and 
 gasped out "Sioux!" and tried to cast off my hand. 
 
 "You saw red deer," I cried. "There are no Sioux on the 
 war road since we killed them at the mouth of the Thief." 
 
 "Bad Ax saw them creeping through the woods on the east 
 bank of the Red just below our camp on the Goose," he cried, 
 his teeth chattering. 
 
 "He lied to you ! He wanted to get ack to the post and 
 get rum," I said. "He is a lazy dog." 
 
 "We saw their horses" protested Bad Ax over his shoulder. 
 "We counted them. "There were so many." And he opened 
 and closed his left hand until he had indicated thirty. "I had 
 crossed to the east bank after a bear. I came upon them in the 
 woods. They did not see me. I was very near. Some were 
 making new moccasins. Some were sticking willow sticks in 
 the ground and painting their faces. Some were creeping to the 
 river right toward me !" 
 
 The recollection caused him to give a little yelp and redouble 
 his efforts at the paddle. White Partridge took up the tale 
 and said: 
 
 "There were ten warriors left with the horses. They left 
 all their horses on the west bank. They will kill everyone 
 on the river." 
 
 He now succeeded in jerking himself free of my grip and, 
 with the two paddles working as one, they sped after their 
 families, leaving me to chew over the problem. 
 
104 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 It was the canoes of my hunters, hiding in the edge of the 
 marsh, that had frightened the wild-fowl. If any of the Sioux 
 were within miles of the slough they knew by this time that 
 something was moving on the river which might repay them for 
 investigating. I hastened to withdraw from midstream to the 
 shelter of the rushes and reeds. 
 
 I had not had time to ask the hunters if they had seen any 
 thing of Flat Mouth and the woman. I believed they had not 
 seen them, or else they would have mentioned the fact; or, 
 rather, the Pillager and Miss Dearness would be returning with 
 them. 
 
 Then I angrily declared there could be no Sioux. Aside from 
 the startled water-fowl, scared by my hunters, there wasn't a 
 hostile sign to be discovered up or down the river. Bad Ax 
 had heard a noise in the woods, probably that made by the red 
 deer as they passed along in single file over one of their many 
 paths, feeding. His timid imagination had transformed the un 
 seen into Sioux warriors. 
 
 White Partridge had wandered from the river to the edge of 
 the plains. He had seen deer a-t a distance. The stories of the 
 two men had frightened the wits out of their women. Scarcely 
 a week during the spring and fall but what Indians were racing 
 down the river, spreading alarms which amounted to nothing. 
 The shadow was always over them, and the least excuse for a 
 panic was quickly acted upon. 
 
 Still, I would have felt easier in my mind if Bad Ax's tally 
 of the warriors on the east bank and the Partridge's count of 
 the horses on the west bank, guarded by ten warriors, had not 
 squared up so nicely. Neither of the men was in a mood which 
 would permit calculation. The number of horses agreed with 
 the number of warriors. 
 
 Quitting my shelter, I resumed my journey south with rapid 
 strokes, eager to make the mouth of the Red Lake River. Should 
 there be any truth in the Chippewas* alarm, and had the enemy 
 unaccountably returned to spread along both banks of the river, 
 then the girl was in danger. 
 
 Once more I caught an agitation among the reeds and grass 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 105 
 
 on my side of the river. Knowing that all the Goose River 
 Indians had passed me, I drove my canoe into cover for the 
 second time. Once in the swamp growth, I could see but little. 
 A rod in front, flowed the river ; as for the rest, I had to depend 
 upon my ears. 
 
 Five minutes passed, I estimated, before I heard a flap-flap at 
 the edge of the river where it merges with the rank growth of 
 the slough. With the gun ready to be cocked and discharged, 
 I pulled my knife and waited. 
 
 The commotion drew nearer until it was nearly abreast of 
 me. Whatever it was, it was in the clear water but close to the 
 reeds. It turned into the marsh grass in the path left by my 
 canoe and I laughed aloud in relief as I glimpsed the long, gray 
 neck, twisting like a serpent, and the flapping wing. 
 
 It was a swan, disabled by mink or some other wild thing, 
 and it was floundering along most awkwardly. I sat very 
 quietly while the bird worked its way nearer the canoe. The 
 grass permitted of only occasional glimpses, and I saw it was 
 likely to blunder full against the canoe. With much splashing 
 it came through the last thin barrier, its head moving from side 
 to side in a curious way. 
 
 Like the jab of a red-hot knife-blade I remembered my loud 
 laughter which should have frightened the bird away. Its neck 
 it was never still. I fastened my gaze on the head and 
 followed it back and forth until I discovered the eyes were dead. 
 It grazed against the boat and at the same moment I drove the 
 butt of my gun down on the feathery mass. 
 
 Instantly a brown hand shot up and gripped the side of the 
 canoe with the lithe quickness of a water-snake. Before the 
 canoe could be capsized I had seized the hand and was hanging 
 over the opposite side, my free right hand holding my hunting- 
 knife. 
 
 The body of the swan toppled to one side, revealing the head 
 of a Sioux hideous with war-paint. As our eyes met, his left 
 hand came up with an axe and he opened his lips to sound his 
 yell of discovery. But, as the body of the swan fell and uncov 
 ered him, I pulled on his hand, propelling myself toward him 
 
io6 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 before he could use the axe, and drove my knife through his 
 neck. 
 
 For a moment he stood there, his lips parted for the yell and 
 only hloody froth coming through them. He sought to strike 
 with the axe and hit the gunwale a feeble blow. I released him 
 with a shove and with both hands thrown above his head he 
 settled back into the muddy water and sank from sight. 
 
 I crouched low in the canoe, expecting that the sound of our 
 struggle would bring more of the enemy. The slough seemed 
 calm enough ; the water-fowl were returning to feed ; the river 
 just ahead of me flowed on serenely. My nerves grew quiet and 
 I sensed the stench of a dead buffalo stranded somewhere near 
 by. The stench grew intolerable and I edged my canoe forward 
 through the last fringe of grass and glanced up and down the 
 river. Above my position, a moose was climbing the eastern 
 bank, having swum across. Dipping softly, I crept upstream. 
 
 Before coming to the mouth of the Turtle I turned toward 
 the east bank and crossed at my best speed, darting like an 
 arrow under the low-hanging willow boughs. I reconnoitred 
 from this position and found the river's banks quiet enough. 
 
 Not satisfied, I left the canoe and crawled up the bank and 
 advanced some distance south, seeking signs of the Sioux. At 
 almost every rod I aroused red deer from among the willows. 
 At last I realized that the Sioux, if in that neighbourhood, 
 would do the same and thus give me warning of their approach. 
 
 Returning to my canoe, confident no menace was stalking me 
 on the east bank, I paddled up the river, giving almost all my 
 attention to the west bank, i camped that night a few miles 
 below the mouth of Red Lake River and was nearly devoured 
 by mosquitoes. I dared not make a smudge and could only pull 
 my white robes over my head and endure it. 
 
 Two hours before sunrise I was afloat again, gliding up the 
 silent river and giving my attention to the beaches, which were 
 beginning to appear as the water lowered. There were no signs 
 in the muck, that I could find, that would indicate the passage 
 of a war party from bank to bank. On arriving at the mouth 
 of the Red Lake River, as wide as the Red at that point, I 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 107 
 
 swerved inshore and remained quiet for an hour before daring 
 to proceed. 
 
 Once above the mouth, I beached my canoe on the east bank 
 and had not stolen along three rods before I came to signs 
 which substantiated Bad Ax's story. Fully a score of savages 
 had crossed the river at this point, with no return trail showing. 
 
 Moving inland, I managed to follow the trail through a grove 
 of strong timber and much prickly ash until it led me back to 
 the Red Lake River only a short distance above its junction 
 with the Red. 
 
 This was a favourite hiding-place for Sioux war parties. It 
 was famous for sturgeon, many being found during the winter. 
 Red deer, bear, moose, and buffalo abounded, while the wild 
 fowl could never be counted. From this spot the Sioux could 
 watch for hunters coming down from the Red Lake country, or 
 from the Goose and other upper tributaries of the Red. 
 
 Within a quarter of a mile from where I struck the river I 
 came upon some huts of elm bark, such as the Sioux build when 
 on the war-path. These huts were a season old and must have 
 accommodated fully a hundred men. I looked them over care 
 fully and failed to find any fresh signs. I noted many poles 
 used in stretching beaver, showing they had combined business 
 with pleasure. 
 
 Except for the Indian I had killed at the edge of the slough 
 and the tracks in the mud, I had found nothing to indicate there 
 was a Sioux in the country. If I had not met Bad Ax and 
 White Partridge by accident, I should have walked or paddled 
 right into their arms. Even now they might be watching me 
 from any point. 
 
 Skirting the huts and warily keeping to cover, I followed up 
 the Red Lake River and observed that I no longer scared up red 
 deer. A few miles behind me, and on the same bank, the woods 
 were full of them. The coming of the enemy had driven them 
 away. 
 
 A short distance above the huts I came upon some little sticks, 
 painted with vermilion. These were fresh signs and such as 
 Sioux war parties left wherever they paused to renew their war 
 
io8 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 paint. I counted the sticks and they tallied with the tracks in 
 the mud. A score of the devils were on my side of the river, and 
 it was a miracle that Bad Ax could have discovered them and 
 retreated without being seen and slain. 
 
 A more disturbing thought was that Miss Dearness and Flat 
 Mouth were in that immediate vicinity. It looked mighty bad 
 for the girl. If already caught, a quick death was the kindest 
 fate I could wish for her. The thought of her glorious hair 
 flapping at a Sioux bridle made a madman of me for the time 
 being. I forgot to be cautious and prowled through the woods 
 with red lights always flashing before my eyes. 
 
 The undergrowth directly ahead of me gave way before in 
 cautious steps; my head cleared suddenly. I drew aside from 
 the deer path and stood close by the river, intending to discharge 
 one barrel of my gun and drop under the bank to seek a hole 
 among the roots of one of the giant elms, where I could reload. 
 The slight noises were repeated, and I now caught the sound 
 of laboured breathing. I was puzzled that a Sioux should dis 
 play exhaustion. The berry bushes swayed and parted. I raised 
 my gun, and caught a glimpse of dishevelled red hair. I lowered 
 my gun and Miss Dearness staggered toward me, one hand 
 pressed to her side, her blue eyes contracted with pain. 
 
 She did not see me until almost upon me. Her gaze widened 
 in surprise, questioned, and then lighted with hope. She could 
 not speak. I sprang to her side, passed my left arm around her 
 waist and felt her splendid arm thrown about my neck. Her 
 hot breath was in my face as I bowed my head and whispered 
 
 "They're on your trail." 
 
 She nodded and swallowed convulsively, not from fear but 
 from exhaustion. 
 
 "Have they got Flat Mouth?" I murmured. 
 
 She lifted her head to listen ; I did likewise. Off to one side 
 rang out the scalp cry of the Pillager Chippewa. She smiled 
 wearily and choked 
 
 "Leading them off my trail." 
 
 "Don't try to talk," I whispered. "I have a canoe back on 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP 109 
 
 the river. We must reach it. If we can get out into the open 
 we may stand them oft." 
 
 " after me?" was all I caught of her low query. 
 
 "But they haven't got you yet," I comforted. 
 
 She frowned and laboriously corrected 
 
 "No; you came after me?" 
 
 "Of course," I answered, inclined to be impatient at time 
 wasted on what was perfectly obvious. 
 
 She caught at her throat with her free hand and I saw she 
 was nearly choked with thirst. At the risk of being overtaken, I 
 relinquished my hold about her waist and slipped down the bank, 
 bringing back my hat filled with water. Her eyes lighted with 
 thankfulness. She swallowed some and poured the rest over her 
 face. I made to go for more but she took my arm and warned 
 
 "No time." 
 
 Encouraging her to lean on me, I began the retreat. The path 
 was narrow and encroached upon by the bushes. Two could 
 not walk it abreast without betraying themselves. I gave her 
 my gun and, picking her up, ran for it. Concealment was im 
 possible, as our feet had left tracks any Sioux would read at a 
 glance, and more than once we had advertised ourselves by 
 rustling the bushes. Either the enemy was not within hearing 
 or else he was already pressing after us. She murmured a pro- 
 test at my reckless pace and, as I set her on her feet to get my 
 second wind, I briefly explained that it made no difference. 
 
 "Then let me walk," she said. 
 
 "Faster my way," I said, taking her up in my arms. 
 
 This time I did not stop until back within sound of the Red 
 River's voice. Then I let her walk behind me while I advanced 
 to the bank and hunted for my canoe. We had come out almost 
 upon it. 
 
 I jumped down the bank and, turning, caught her as she came 
 after me. 
 
 "The Indian ? He was very brave led them away but not 
 all of them," she gasped. 
 
 The bank reached above my head. Stepping on a rock, I 
 secured a view of our back trail for a short distance. 
 
no GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 A lithe figure, bounding along with the elasticity and silence 
 of a loup-cervier, suddenly popped into the foreground. He was 
 the first of her trailers. The upper half of his face was painted 
 red and looked like a mask of blood through which the small 
 black eyes glittered ferociously. Shoving my gun through the 
 dead grass, I gave him the right barrel and he went down with 
 no time to sound his death howl. 
 
 Shoving off the canoe, I lifted her into it and gave her 
 the paddle, directing 
 
 "Downstream while I reload!" 
 
 "The Indian?" 
 
 "He must take care of himself downstream !" 
 
 "No, across!" 
 
 She pointed to several Sioux now breaking cover on the bank 
 below us. As I beheld them, they gained the river's edge and 
 stood ready to swim out should we attempt to descend. 
 
 "Across it must be!" I agreed, kneeling in the stern and 
 reloading. 
 
 The Indians below us began shooting arrows, which flew 
 wild, as the wind was strong from the south. 
 
 I held my fire until one of the Sioux waded waist-deep into 
 the river and prepared to aim a gun. The weapon was a 
 London Fusil, a number of which had trickled into the Sioux 
 country through the hands of traders, and I have seen a savage 
 do very efficient work with one. I gave him a barrel and he 
 went under, taking his gun with him. The others scrambled 
 for cover. 
 
 The girl now sounded the bell-like call which the Chippewas 
 believed she had stolen from the Qu'Apelle and had given 
 back. As the last note died away, the Chippewa scalp-yell rang 
 out from the bank above us and a slim figure burst from the 
 timber, taking to the river in a head-dive. 
 
 "The Pillager!" I yelled. 
 
 A volley of arrows hissed from the woods behind us, and one 
 ripped a hole in the stern, through which the river began to 
 gurgle most menacingly. More warriors had arrived and sev 
 eral were holding knives between their teeth, intending to swim 
 
THE RIVER SETS A TRAP m 
 
 after us. The group below also reappeared. The pursuit was 
 to be pressed in force. 
 
 I could easily have bagged two of them, but I must keep one 
 shot in reserve. I contented myself with catching the first man 
 to slide down the bank. At the same moment a dark hand 
 came out of the water and gripped the canoe. I raised the gun 
 to smash the fingers, but the girl poked me with the paddle, 
 crying 
 
 "The Chippewa!" 
 
 Sure enough, it was Flat Mouth. He grinned up into my 
 face sardonically and endeavoured to give his yell of triumph, 
 but a mouthful of water stopped him. 
 
 "We're sinking!" I told him. 
 
 He struck off for the opposite bank, swimming abreast of us 
 and watching our progress with much concern. 
 
 I crowded my knee against the hole and reloaded. My last 
 shot had driven the Sioux to cover, but now they were popping 
 up all along the bank. Below and above us several had taken 
 to the water, thinking to head us off while our attention was 
 held by the fire of those directly behind us. 
 
 Flat Mouth threw himself half out of the water and raised 
 his fiendish howl of triumph. There was no mistaking the fact 
 that he had made his kill, for a ghastly bunch of fresh hair was 
 caught through the rawhide lacing of his skin shirt. 
 
 Arrows and an occasional ball followed us. Above and below 
 bobbed the heads of the swimmers. Our approach to the west 
 bank was very slow and the canoe grew sluggish. I tried to 
 bail with my hat but nearly lost my gun overboard. The craft 
 settled slowly but steadily. I glanced forward and decided we 
 could ground her nose before she filled. 
 
 Flat Mouth gave a bark of warning and dived. The situa 
 tion above, below and behind us remained about the same. I 
 turned toward the west bank and the girl gave a little muffled 
 cry, yet held steadily on. Ten or a dozen of the enemy were 
 crouching in the grass at the top of the bank ready to receive us. 
 These were the Indians left to guard the horses. 
 
112 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "I want to thank you for what you've done for me," the girl 
 called over her shoulder. 
 
 "Don't thank me until I've pulled you out of this," I growled, 
 raising my gun. 
 
 "You said back there you came after me. Did you, or was 
 it just chance?" 
 
 "I came after you, to help you," I replied, staring at the top 
 of the bank. 
 
 "Your sense of duty I'm sorry," she sighed. 
 
 "I didn't know you were in any danger when I started. I 
 came because I couldn't help it. It looks bad for us. I'll be 
 honest with you with myself." 
 
 There's never any understanding a woman ; which is not sur 
 prising, as she does not understand herself. Logically she 
 should have been twice as sorry on learning I had followed her 
 without suspecting I was running into danger. Instead she 
 quietly called over her shoulder 
 
 "Now I'm glad. Don't let them take me alive." 
 
 "Of course not." That was why I had taken pains to reserve 
 one barrel of my gun. 
 
 The canoe now was very low in the water. She paddled 
 gently and we crept closer to the bank. Then, with a muscular 
 swing, she sent us into the mud with the water up to our waists. 
 The Indians on the bank jumped from cover. I blew a hole 
 through the leader. Flat Mouth came out of the water as if 
 shot by a gun, was half-way up the bank, had cut a fellow's 
 throat and was yanking off the squirming skunk's hair quicker 
 than you could skin a partridge. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 BESIEGED 
 
 THE sudden appearance of Flat Mouth from the river 
 and his fierce charge up the bank, perhaps, had as much 
 to do with the Indians* failure to press the attack as did 
 my gun. Their hesitation gave us an inch of room and, while I 
 reloaded, the Pillager snatched up a dead warrior's bow and 
 two quivers of arrows and, sheltered by the bank, began firing 
 rapidly. The Indians scattered and ran to escape his shafts. 
 While this was happening Miss Dearness secured the pack of 
 white robes from the submerged canoe and threw me two and 
 two to the chief and draped the fifth over her arm to serve as 
 a shield. 
 
 The Sioux ahead of us had lost two of their number, and 
 while they could have smothered us in a rush, had they remained 
 instead of fleeing, they knew the victory would cost them dear. 
 Ducking and dodging, they picked up their discarded shields of 
 bull-hide. This retreat on the part of the enemy was to be 
 commended from their point of view, as the Indians crossing the 
 river would soon be landing above and below us. Then we 
 would be hemmed in and they could kill us at their leisure. 
 
 With the canoe out of commission and the water road closed, 
 there remained but one course to attack at the weakest point. 
 In other words, go ahead. The fewest warriors opposed us and 
 with them were the horses of the entire war party. 
 
 "We must have horses!" I cried to Flat Mouth in Chip- 
 pewa. 
 
 "Good cover here," grunted the Pillager, motioning for me 
 to climb up the bank and survey the plain. 
 
 I joined him and saw that the growth on the river several 
 
 "3 
 
ii 4 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 hundred yards below us extended some distance into the plain. 
 
 I called to the girl to follow. Four savages were cautiously 
 approaching the bank, depending on their shields, while their 
 mates ran to procure some of the horses. Flat Mouth snatched 
 up the white hides and held them before him with his left hand 
 and ran toward the enemy. They began to fall back, shooting 
 their arrows wildly. I gave Miss Dearness a hand, took my 
 robes and fell in behind her to guard the rear. I had nothing 
 but admiration for her coolness as we made for the woods, for 
 she bothered to pick up the arrows the Sioux were wasting. 
 
 Once she turned to me and held up a knife she had picked 
 up beside the two dead devils down the bank, and cried out 
 
 "Use both barrels if you have to." Meaning that if the worst 
 came she would kill herself to escape capture. 
 
 The four Sioux refused to dispute Flat Mouth's advance and 
 began falling back. Either the white robes worried them, being 
 big medicine, or else they believed they had the game in their 
 own hands and could afford to wait. Suddenly they turned and 
 ran zigzag toward the horses. This behaviour puzzled me. I 
 glanced behind me, but as yet none of the Indians had mounted 
 the bank. We were advancing obliquely toward the woods. 
 
 Now Flat Mouth called on us to hurry and turned to make 
 cover along the shortest line. Miss Dearness ceased hunting 
 arrows and ran like a deer. I pounded along at her heels, with 
 no immediate danger visible and yet realizing that a crisis must 
 be at hand, else the Pillager would not flee so precipitately. 
 
 He slowed up so that the girl and I caught up with him. 
 
 "Big medicine !" he exulted. 
 
 "The robes?" I panted. 
 
 "They sent the Sioux running away like old women !" And 
 although we needed to conserve our breath he halted and in 
 dulged in a long-drawn-out howl of triumph. 
 
 There was no doubt now in my mind as to the effect of the 
 robes. While an albino buffalo counted only as a hide among 
 the Indians in the Red River department, the skins were ob 
 jects of reverence among the tribes on the Missouri. The pos 
 sessor of one was most fortunate. He was destined to be sue- 
 
BESIEGED 115 
 
 cessful in the hunt, on the war-path, and in his accumulation 
 of wives. He would part with his dearest belongings to secure 
 such a robe. 
 
 Their value was so high that often the price was beyond 
 any individual. When one was infrequently put on sale the 
 village would undertake to purchase it. The robe was then 
 cut into strips, and each contributor to the fund received a por 
 tion. Even a narrow width of the hide would guarantee good 
 luck to a lodge. 
 
 Believing all this, it was natural they should view our five 
 hides as a stupendous display of mighty medicine, worth any 
 price to possess, yet to be sought for very cautiously. There 
 was nothing partisan about a hide's medicine. It would benefit 
 and protect us so long as we could hold it, but its benevolence 
 would instantly be transferred to a new owner. 
 
 "They come from the river!" bawled Flat Mouth as we 
 struck into the edge of the timber and turned to look back. 
 
 The warriors from the eastern shore were popping their heads 
 above the bank. None had crossed directly behind us, out of 
 respect for my gun. By going up or down stream they had 
 lost time. The Sioux on the plain were now mounted and busy 
 rounding up the rest of the animals. But the horses were re 
 luctant to cease feeding and viciously rebelled. Two managed 
 to break their hobbles and run clear of the herd. Flat Mouth 
 watched the runaways through half-closed eyes. I gave my 
 attention to the Indians. 
 
 Our situation was desperate. The strong timber we had en 
 tered followed a rivulet only for a short distance. It was only 
 a thin grove on each side of the tiny stream, and to the north of 
 it was the open plain again. It was surrounded on all sides by 
 the plain except in the east, where the river flowed. Could we 
 have had a brief respite we might have raised the canoe, patched 
 it up and trusted to luck. While I was regretting our inabil 
 ity to do this, two of the Sioux scrambled over the bank, danc 
 ing and hooting and waving pieces torn from the damaged craft. 
 
 "That closes the river to us," Miss Dearness calmly observed. 
 
 I cut a slit in one of the robes and dropped it over her head 
 
u6 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 so it formed a long apron in front and behind. She thanked 
 me with a smile. She knew she would not be taken alive and 
 this knowledge gave her strength. 
 
 I put on a robe, only I allowed it to hang on both sides. 
 While this left my back and breast exposed, it gave me free play 
 with the gun, and in case of arrow-fire I could turn sideways. 
 Against a ball the robe would offer but small protection. Flat 
 Mouth grunted in approval as he watched me prepare myself. 
 Taking two of the robes, he slit them in the middle and put 
 them on as I had done, making his armour doubly thick. The 
 calfskin he hung down his back. 
 
 "Dig holes," he said, walking to the edge of the timber. 
 
 "What is it now, Eshkebugecoshe ?" I called after him, fear 
 ing he planned a fanatical display of bravery by charging the 
 Sioux single-handed. 
 
 "We must have horses. It is the only way," he answered 
 without looking back. Standing in the open, he paused to study 
 the enemy.* Again he cried out : 
 
 "Dig! Dig! I will watch." 
 
 I found a hole where an uprooted oak had torn the soil. 
 Jumping into this, I began excavating with my knife. The girl 
 joined me with her borrowed blade. We worked side by side, 
 her red hair falling over her face and at times brushing against 
 mine. I threw out the dirt with my hands and placed it as a 
 breastwork, the butt of the tree with its long roots forming a 
 good half of the defence. 
 
 Digging was slow work, however, and we soon shifted to 
 dragging fallen timbers and building a barricade. Leaving her 
 to finish the little fort with a mask of willow branches, I 
 searched until I found a spot near-by where several mouldering 
 trunks lay crisscrossed. This I fashioned into a refuge for the 
 Pillager. Having accomplished this while the chief stood guard, 
 I crept forward and announced 
 
 "We have dug the holes." 
 
 He did not appear to have heard me but continued staring 
 at the Sioux. Those from the river were warily advancing. 
 Only one of them that I could see carried a gun. I took care- 
 
BESIEGED 117 
 
 ful aim and fired. It was a long shot and I missed, but the ball 
 must have passed close to his painted head, for he ducked wildly 
 and threw himself down, the whole line following his example. 
 I let them have the second barrel on top of the first, believing I 
 had ample time to reload. This double discharge from one 
 gun was acknowledged with yelps of alarm. 
 
 They remained in the grass, their brown bodies scarcely to 
 be distinguished from the brown earth. The effect of the two 
 shots on the other group was equally pronounced. Abandoning 
 the herd, they galloped to the river and took up a position be 
 hind those afoot. I reloaded and, aiming high, fired twice at 
 the horsemen and wounded one of their animals. 
 
 Flat Mouth considered this to be a suitable time for his en 
 deavour. Loudly singing his song of triumph, he stalked from 
 the timber. He was rather imposing in his white robes. Nor 
 was the effect lost on the Sioux, for I heard low cries of envy. 
 They shot their arrows but the distance was too great, and he 
 remained untouched. To rush him they would have to .enter 
 the zone of my gun-fire crossing from east to west in front of 
 me. The mounted Sioux now realized their mistake, and gal 
 loped back, making a deep detour. 
 
 I began to believe he might succeed in securing at least one 
 of the animals, one that had broken its hobbles and had halted 
 to graze on the short grass. Dropping his voice to a monotone, 
 the Pillager began to advance toward this brute. The Sioux 
 afoot and on horseback set up a loud howling, to frighten the 
 animal, and discharged arrows in high arcs in the hope one 
 might descend on the horse and send him galloping off. But 
 the runaway continued feeding, quite used to his master's hulla 
 baloo. When Flat Mouth was within ten or a dozen feet and 
 moving slowly, the brute raised its head and glared viciously. 
 The Pillager made to pass him, still chanting. 
 
 "He'll get that one !" Miss Dearness exclaimed. 
 
 For the moment I had forgotten her, so intent was I on 
 watching the chief. One horse might mean freedom for her. 
 
 A warrior leaped up from the ground and yelled to the 
 horsemen. They began a turning movement and started a shrill 
 
ii8 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Hi-yi-yi!" to alarm the animal, at the same time recklessly 
 charging the Pillager. I could have easily brought down one 
 if not two of their ponies, but held my fire for fear of startling 
 Flat Mouth's prize. The chief needed to exercise much pa 
 tience. The enemy were coming toward him at a smashing 
 gallop. The grazing pony was suspicious and kept turning so as 
 to watch him. If not encumbered by the robes, he could have 
 covered the distance in one spring and caught the beast by the 
 nose. As it was, he manoeuvred as coolly and deliberately as 
 if he were alone on the plain. 
 
 "To the left!" softly cried the girl, tugging my arm. 
 
 I pivoted and beheld the warriors leaving the grass to run 
 forward. The menace of the double-barrel was sufficient to 
 send them to earth again. 
 
 "Good !" cried the girl. "I'll watch them." 
 
 Back went my gaze to the Pillager. The Sioux horsemen 
 were perilously near, and I prepared to shoot. He was close to 
 the pony, which snorted and jumped back a few feet, then 
 ducked its head to snatch a mouthful of the poor feed. In the 
 next second the Pillager had him by the muzzle, was on his back 
 and darting like a white streak for the herd, the flapping of 
 the robes giving him the appearance of some gigantic bird. 
 
 The advancing horsemen, as if afraid of the sacred robes, 
 swerved deeper into the plain, then conquered their reluctance 
 and bore down on him. I took two quick shots, one a clear 
 miss, the other wounding a warrior. His fellows instantly 
 reined in. 
 
 "On the left!" cried the girl. 
 
 I wheeled and bumped into her, because she was standing 
 so close and she had interposed her body between me and the 
 men in the grass. I threw my arm about her and swung her 
 behind me as a volley of arrows struck the ground around us, 
 several rattling harmlessly against my robe. I raised my empty 
 gun and the line of kneeling men flattened out, none daring to 
 learn if I could fire more than two shots without reloading. 
 They must have approached in a most subtle manner, or the 
 
BESIEGED 119 
 
 girl would have warned me. At the least they had managed to 
 get within long arrow range. 
 
 "Now you can stand between them and me," I told her. 
 
 Behind cover of her white robe I hastily reloaded without 
 them seeing me; then I again placed her behind me. One of 
 the scoundrels was lying on his back and sending arrows in a 
 high curve. 
 
 Leaving her to watch them, I turned my attention to Flat 
 Mouth. He was guiding his animal with his knees and sending 
 arrow after arrow at the horsemen as he rode. Now he was up 
 at the edge of the herd and the horsemen were manoeuvring on 
 the opposite side of the wide circle and wheeling into position 
 to charge. 
 
 I fired one barrel and hit a nag, sending the rider flying to 
 the ground. This halted their advance long enough for the 
 Pillager to gather up two halters, lean low and cut the hobbles. 
 When he turned to retreat the brutes balked and dragged back. 
 The horsemen started to interfere, yelping fiendishly. I fired 
 my second barrel and, although I could not see that I scored, 
 my shot stopped them. Now the Pillager was coming at a hard 
 gallop and I swept the Indians in the grass with my empty 
 gun. To my great relief they did not rise, although they contin 
 ued shooting their arrows until the chief had smashed into the 
 undergrowth. 
 
 "For the Medicine Hair," he proudly announced as he leaped 
 to the ground and made two of the ponies fast to an oak branch. 
 
 "I'll let you ride one of them, Mr. Franklin," she encouraged 
 with a sad little play at cheerfulness. 
 
 "I will go back and get all of them," cried Flat Mouth, 
 fighting his vicious beast to a standstill against a tree before he 
 could mount him. 
 
 "No !" I cried, pointing to the line of Sioux, who had quit the 
 grass during our minute of forgetfulness and were now racing 
 toward the herd. 
 
 They were bent half double and grotesquely leaped from 
 side to side as they ran to escape my lead. 
 
120 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "They will try to ride us down in force," muttered Miss 
 Dearness. 
 
 I believed this to be their plan and urged her to fall back to 
 our fort. She insisted on remaining with me until the attack 
 was under way. The path to the river was open but we had 
 no canoe. We could pass through the timber and race north 
 and, at night, I would have asked for no better chance. Flat 
 Mouth secured his pony and began gathering arrows from the 
 grass. I could account for two with my gun and the Pillager 
 was sure to score as good a tally, yet we must go under if they 
 pressed the charge home. 
 
 I called for the Pillager to return to the timber and asked 
 him which it should be a break through the woods and a gal 
 lop north, or a last fight where we were. 
 
 "Stay till night," he promptly decided. "They can not dig us 
 out. In the dark we will ride home." 
 
 "Can't they ride in here and get us?" she asked him. 
 
 "They could if they would pay enough," he admitted. "But 
 they want scalps without losing any men. They have lost 
 heavily on this war-path and they lost heavily when they 
 brought the pipe the time before. If they ride at us they will 
 not come too near. At night they will creep in. We shall not 
 be here." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 
 
 THIS encouraged us tremendously. Miss Dearness stuck 
 more willow branches around our two forts, while I re 
 mained with the chief, who was curiously watching the 
 Indians on the plains. All of the Sioux were now mounted, the 
 horses the Pillager had captured being replaced by those whose 
 owners had fallen. For some minutes the band milled about; 
 then one man rode aside and began haranguing in a loud voice. 
 The Pillager, who had travelled and lived on the Missouri, 
 readily interpreted the speech, which consisted of exhortations 
 for the Sioux to remember they were brave men, that our 
 scalps must go back to their village to wipe out their disgrace in 
 having lost warriors. The white woman was to be taken alive. 
 I was glad Miss Dearness was busy with her willow wands, 
 for the Pillager interpreted word for word, and she understood 
 the Chippewa tongue almost as well as she did English. 
 
 When the speechmaker desisted the Sioux swung into a long 
 line, a manoeuver beautifully executed. In this formation they 
 came towards us at a walk, tossing up their lances, waving their 
 axes and singing lustily. I made ready with my gun, picking 
 the leader and a man on the left end as my two victims, but 
 Flat Mouth folded his arms and did not even see to it that his 
 bow was taut. 
 
 "Make ready!" I nervously advised. 
 
 He grunted in disgust. All but half a dozen of the horse 
 men began to pivot on the left end of their line and, almost 
 before I could understand what they were up to, this huge 
 segment was galloping madly along, parallel to the woods and 
 away from us. 
 
 121 
 
122 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "When night comes we shall ride very swift or very soft," 
 mumbled Flat Mouth, resuming the task of gathering arrows. 
 
 In short, the Sioux were perfectly willing we should break 
 from cover and ride south, and left the six men to keep watch 
 on us. But if we attempted to ride north we must pass through 
 the bulk of their band. 
 
 Miss Dearness came up to us, and I told her how the Sioux 
 had thrown most of their men to the other side of the grove. 
 She promptly said : 
 
 "It doesn't make sense. If they didn't dare attack when 
 all together what good will it do them to divide their forces?" 
 
 "They will wait until dusk and creep in from both sides " 
 
 1 "And be shooting into each other," she shot in. 
 
 "Or stay out on the plain and wait for us to try and break 
 through," I concluded. 
 
 "But if they don't dare attack in force they must know we 
 can stay here as long as they can stay out there. We can creep 
 to the river and fish. We can make some kind of a raft and 
 cross, or float downstream. We can stay right here and eat 
 our horses. The rivulet furnishes water. And there is a 
 chance that some of our Chippewas may come up the river 
 and give them battle. There's more to it than a waiting cam 
 paign. They're anxious to cage us up here until what ? What 
 ever it is the time will be short." 
 
 She spoke in English and I translated it to the Pillager. His 
 small eyes sparkled appreciatively and he declared: 
 "Medicine Hair sees beyond the woods and hill. She can 
 call and send away a voice. She can send her eyes far up the 
 river and over the plain. Look! Tell me what that means!" 
 
 He was pointing to the south and at first I could make out 
 nothing. Then I spied it, a thin stream of blue smoke. The 
 girl promptly said in Chippewa: 
 
 "The Sioux know help is coming. They will not attack until 
 their friends come. That will be some time before morning. 
 Soon the others will send up a smoke." 
 
 The meaning of the smoke was very obvious. Not a half- 
 breed hunter, not a man at any post in our department who 
 
THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 123 
 
 could not have read ft. Even Probos would have understood. 
 Yet the Pillager, a master at such things, heard her as if she 
 had been an oracle. 
 
 "Can the Medicine Hair's eyes, when she calls them back, 
 tell how many Sioux there are at the bottom of that smoke?" 
 he humbly asked. 
 
 "As many as were here before you killed any," she calmly 
 replied. Then in English to me : "It's reasonable to believe they 
 belong to the same party and split up in two equal bands. So 
 long as he believes in my manito, so much the braver will he 
 be." 
 
 The chief began talking to himself in a guttural and almost 
 audible voice and fell to fingering his bow nervously. His 
 emotion was occasioned by the sight of the six warriors out in 
 front. They were beyond arrow range, and only by luck could 
 a ball score any damage. 
 
 They began running back and forth, and we saw they were 
 heaping up dry grass. They paid no attention to us, being intent 
 solely on answering the signal. 
 
 With a leap the Pillager w r as on his horse and riding towards 
 them, his bow held with arrow notched. He was not singing 
 now, and as if in a trance the girl and I watched his progress. 
 As the drama of the situation got into our heads we instinc 
 tively clasped hands. Back and forth scuttled the Sioux. For 
 ward rode the Pillager. Then one of them chanced to discover 
 him and, with a shout of fear, turned and made for his pony. 
 I saw him go down with a Sioux arrow buried to the feathers 
 in his back. 
 
 With screams of rage the others snatched up their weapons, 
 opened fire and then mounted their horses. With a whoop the 
 Pillager charged at them, and they separated in haste to let him 
 pass through, but, when a bit beyond the fallen warrior, he 
 brought his pony round on two hoofs and was making for 
 the timber, swinging very low from the saddle as he rode. For 
 a moment the speed of his mount was checked, then picked up a 
 rattling pace, and the chief was sitting erect, waved something 
 round his head and sounded his terrible scalp-cry. 
 
124 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "By heavens! But that was a coup worth counting!" I 
 fiercely exclaimed. 
 
 With a little shudder the girl reminded: 
 
 "They could have come through the woods while we stood 
 here. We've been very careless and " 
 
 She ceased abruptly and stared down at our clasped hands. 
 
 I was as much surprised as she. Certainly I was no more 
 conscious than she of having taken her hand. It was three 
 years since I had taken a white woman's hand. In no way 
 was the experience displeasing. 
 
 "He may need help," she said, releasing her hand and looking 
 toward the Pillager. 
 
 I leaped out in front with my gun, and the warriors behind 
 the Chippewa vanished over the sides of their ponies and swung 
 off to the west. On rushed Flat Mouth, still singing and shout 
 ing. But the climax of his arrival was weakened by a puff of 
 smoke from a mound of grass. The signal fire was burning, 
 and the Indians were heaping wet grass and green branches 
 upon it. 
 
 Leaving the two to watch the smoke, I hastened to the north 
 side of the grove. Had the enemy but known it he could have 
 massacred the girl and me easily, as we watched the Pillager's 
 sensational exploit. When I came to the end of the growth I 
 noted the Sioux had heard the Chippewa's scalp-yell and were 
 very uneasy. They were riding back and forth, their eyes 
 fixed on the timber, while one of their number was galloping 
 madly toward the tip of the grove to learn what had happened. 
 After watching them for a minute and failing to detect any 
 sign of an advance on our position, I returned to my compan 
 ions and related what I had observed. 
 
 "The name of Eshkebugecoshe fills the Sioux hearts with 
 fear. It makes them old women," loudly boasted the chief. 
 
 "It was a big coup," I declared. "You may paint the marks 
 of death and the feet of horses on your body and on your tent 
 to show you killed a man while riding hard." 
 
 The chief toned down his vanity on meeting the girl's clear 
 gaze and confessed : 
 
THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 125 
 
 "Eshkebugecoshe is a mighty warrior, but the white woman's 
 medicine helped him. It made the Sioux blind till I could 
 creep very close." 
 
 "Couldn't we get across the river? I can swim," eagerly 
 spoke up Miss Dearness. 
 
 Flat Mouth said it would be foolish to cross before dark, but 
 he suggested that I reconnoitre the river while he watched the 
 Indians. He did not seem to think much of the suggestion, 
 but as it came from the girl he was bound to consider it, prob 
 ably believing her medicine suggested the plan. I thought very 
 favourably of the idea. The Indians' belief that we planned to 
 use the ponies in attempting to escape would tend to blunt their 
 watch of the river. I followed the rivulet until I came to its 
 mouth, a bit of a beach grown round with reeds and tall grass. 
 The river rolled brown and silent except for the murmuring 
 of air currents. Midstream a huge tree floated with roots up 
 raised, like arms held up in surrender desolation and solitude. 
 As I watched the water I decided a man could well risk the 
 danger. A long swim under water, timed to take advantage 
 of some of the driftwood ever passing, and the trick could be 
 turned. But the water was icy cold and the danger was not for 
 a woman to run unless absolutely necessary. 
 
 Yet at night, with the aid of a log, Miss Dearness could be 
 ferried across. I began to look about for some fallen timber 
 which would serve as a raft. It was while occupied in this task 
 that I received ample proof that the Sioux had not forgotten the 
 river. The proof was an arrow which whizzed by my head and 
 disappeared in the reeds. I drew back among the trees and, 
 cocking my gun, searched the top of the bank. I could see noth 
 ing suspicious, yet a savage could remain below the bank with 
 the top of his head masked by the fringe of dead grass. Thus 
 concealed, he could follow my every movement and loose 
 another arrow when I presented a fair target. 
 
 The thought made me uncomfortable, and I retreated deeper 
 into the grove. A mocking yell told me that my flight had been 
 witnessed, and, incensed, I turned back, determined to get a 
 
126 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 shot at him. The rascal was too cunning in his hiding, so, 
 returning to my companions, I reported the incident. 
 
 Flat Mouth slipped out of his white robes and without a 
 word stole to the river to match his woodcraft against the sen 
 tinel's. As he had reported that the Sioux on the north side 
 of the timber were quiet, and as no danger could take the girl 
 unaware from the south side, I surrendered to my desire and 
 followed him. 
 
 Armed only with his bow and arrow he slipped through the 
 growth with the softness of a lynx, following my trail along the 
 rivulet. Keeping well back, I watched him. He was studying 
 my tracks rather than looking about for the enemy. He halted 
 a short distance from where I had stood in the open when the 
 arrow missed me, then glided to the edge of the reeds and, bend 
 ing low, pulled an arrow from the muck. As he straightened I 
 saw his arm twitch and a red blotch appear on the biceps. Leap 
 ing to one side, he fitted the arrow to his bow, gave a keen, 
 Sweeping glance overhead and discharged the arrow. Almost 
 with the twang of the bow there came the shrill death-cry from 
 the sentinel and I saw a dark body bump along the trunk 
 of an oak and lodge against one of its branches. 
 
 Gliding back to me, the Pillager announced : 
 
 "Sometime I will climb up and get his hair. The arrow in 
 the mud showed that it came from overhead and not from the 
 bank." 
 
 With this explanation he registered the kill with his terrible 
 war-cry. 
 
 We hastened back through the grove, the Pillager swinging 
 to the north to reconnoitre, while I made direct for Miss Dear- 
 ness. She had heard the two cries, one of death and one of 
 victory, and stood facing the river, her hands twisted together, 
 her face white and drawn. On beholding me she hastily turned 
 toward the plain and her hands fell listlessly to her side. 
 
 The column of smoke had replied to the message from the 
 south and was now dying out. She informed me that while I 
 had been gone the Indians had used their robes to confine the 
 smoke and then released it in puffs. Had the Pillager witnessed 
 
THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 127 
 
 it he could have read the code. However it was not difficult to 
 guess the message; it told those in the south to hasten if they 
 would be in at a triple kill. 
 
 Until now I had had no chance to exchange more than a few 
 words with Miss Dearness. She gestured for me to sit beside 
 her on the robes, and I took the opportunity to say: 
 
 "You should have started back east the minute you heard 
 your father was dead." 
 
 "I told him I would stay till someone came to take his place." 
 
 "But it's no place for a white woman," I protested. "It's 
 bad enough for a man to be cast away among these savages." 
 
 She smiled faintly and reminded 
 
 "The only danger I've faced until to-day was from a white 
 man, Black Chabot." 
 
 "I wish the Robe had hit him with his arrows." 
 
 "I told the Robe to be very careful and not hit him, the 
 drunken beast!" 
 
 "If we could only get word to my Chippewas," I sighed. 
 
 "It would do no good so long as I am with you," she dis 
 couraged. Then with a grim little laugh : "I'm bad luck. If 
 you were alone they would come ; but not while I'm with you. 
 They believe I stole the voice from the Qu' Appelle or that my 
 medicine wasn't strong enough to keep. If I hadn't sent the 
 Voice back they would dare anything to help me." 
 
 "Then the Crees and Assiniboins?" 
 
 "They've heard the Chippewas tell that my medicine is weak. 
 Now they believe I would have kept the Voice if I could. They 
 feel no gratitude. It would be as dangerous for me to meet 
 Cree or Assiniboin away from the post as it has been to meet 
 the Sioux." 
 
 "Nonsense!" I scoffed. "They're afraid of you, even if 
 they don't like your medicine." 
 
 "They hate me and they don't fear me. When I went on the 
 river alone at night and sang to forget my loneliness I little 
 knew what I was stirring up. I went to get away from the 
 drinking and fighting. I sang, as I was always singing back in 
 the east." 
 
128 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "But the Assiniboins would listen to me," I proudly insisted. 
 
 "Mr. Franklin, you don't know them. You've met those that 
 come to your post. Their territory extends far to the west. 
 They're a mighty people. You've met men from one band only. 
 Meet them away from your fort and your rum and you will 
 find they're very much savages." 
 
 A horseman suddenly darted toward us, his bow drawn, seek 
 ing to leam if we were keeping vvatch. I covered his bobbing 
 figure as best I could and held my fire until he should come 
 within decent range. Just as I began to hope, he pulled his 
 pony about and scuttled back to his mates. 
 
 "Who are you ? Where were you born ?" I asked, lowering 
 my gun. 
 
 "English England," she murmured, her gaze wandering far 
 beyond the wild horizon. 
 
 "And I'm an American. Flat Mouth thinks your hair is 
 medicine." 
 
 With a little frown she gathered up the dishevelled mass, and, 
 before my eyes, performed the miracle of restoring her hair to 
 glossy smoothness by the simple process of patting, twisting, and 
 poking. Stay out in the Northwest for three seasons and you 
 will appreciate how keenly this simple task appeals to a white 
 man. 
 
 She faced me suddenly, her blue eyes prying deep into mine, 
 and abruptly asked 
 
 "Why do you look at me like that?" 
 
 "Like what?" I defended. 
 
 "As if you had never seen a woman before." 
 
 "I haven't seen a white woman for three seasons," I sighed. 
 
 "I understand." And she turned to resume her watch of the 
 Indians. 
 
 "A white woman even if she be as ignorant and unattractive 
 as a scullery maid would seem a goddess to you now." 
 
 "Scarcely that," I demurred. "Three years out here is a 
 long time, but not an eternity. I never dream of scullery maids. 
 I" 
 
 Her grave reproachful gaze caused me to shift and ask 
 
THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 129 
 
 "You'll be willing to start back east after you get out of 
 this?" 
 
 "When my successor comes. The X. Y. people allow nothing 
 to interfere with the interests of the company." 
 
 "Except rum," I reminded. 
 
 "That was my whim. The company will disapprove. My 
 defence will be that the drinking made it dangerous for me. 
 They will let it go at that. The companies know liquor is bad 
 for the trade. If it weren't for competition they wouldn't use 
 it. It isn't sound business. You must depend entirely upon the 
 Indians to get furs into the posts. The richest fur country in the 
 world would be worthless unless you had Indians to work it. 
 Then where is the sense in killing off your workmen with rum ? 
 Every drinking match means so many wounded and usually one 
 or more dead. It's bad enough when the quarrels are kept with 
 in one tribe, but let a Chippewa stab a Cree, or a Cree an Assin- 
 iboin, and you have a season of war between the two tribes, and 
 no trade. Except when fighting an opposition the Hudson's 
 Bay Company is very careful about giving out liquor. So would 
 the X. Y. and the N. W. be if either could have all the trade." 
 
 "If the N. W. and the opposition posts should shut down on 
 rum to-morrow you'd find these Indians hunting for some free 
 trader to give rum for their goods. They will travel any dis 
 tance to get new 'milk.' They will have rum and we must have 
 the furs. There is no other way." 
 
 "Oh yes, there is," she murmured. "Give one company a 
 monopoly of the trade, and the furs will come in and no rum 
 will go out." 
 
 "But which company? The N. W.? Then I agree with all 
 my heart." 
 
 "The companies should combine into one. No company 
 would refuse if it knew a monopoly was to be granted." 
 
 She became silent and I was satisfied to study her profile. 
 During the stress of fighting and retreating I had defended her 
 from a sense of duty. The puzzling and disturbing emotions 
 which had driven me up the river to find her had abated. From 
 the moment we met in the woods, and I learned my work was 
 
i 3 o GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 cut out for me she became quite impersonal, something to be 
 saved. The Pillager placed her on a pedestal and looked on 
 her as mighty medicine because of her hair. 
 
 Now that I took time to study her she became a personality 
 again, to be protected differently than one protects a pack of 
 beaver. This knowledge was borne in upon me after I had 
 decided she was very tired. Weariness suggests weakness. The 
 strain had told on her and this fact humanized her. I began to 
 pity her. I was guilty of feeling glad she was weary, for it 
 proved that she was no superwoman. 
 
 I arranged a robe at the foot of an oak between two huge 
 roots and asked her to lie there and rest. At first she dismissed 
 the suggestion with an impatient shake of the head, then ab 
 ruptly changed her mind and made herself comfortable. I re 
 mained behind the bushes watching the enemy. Inside of five 
 minutes her deep and regular breathing told me she was asleep. 
 
 I turned and looked at her and found the masculine resolu 
 tion which had characterized her face was replaced by woman 
 liness. She held a new interest for me, and I wondered if, when 
 back east, she was not always like this, relaxed and soft and 
 winsome. She was half reclining, half sitting, with her head 
 and shoulders against the oak, and as I gazed, her head sank to 
 one side and I feared she would lean too far and lose her 
 balance. I sat beside her, and her head rested on my shoulder. 
 
 Thus we sat while the sun sped along on its eternal errand. 
 Thus we sat when a Sioux vidette galloped slowly toward the 
 grove with the intention of counting coup by coming very close. 
 Through the lace work of willow branches I could see the 
 scoundrel plainly, although remaining unseen by him. 
 
 As the girl had her head pillowed on my right shoulder I 
 raised my gun with my left hand. Even when thus handi 
 capped I knew I could pot him if he should come up a bit closer. 
 He wavered, almost halted and stabbed his suspicious glances up 
 and down the front of our shelter, then directed his horse well 
 within easy range. I had him, only the explosion of the piece 
 would have startled the girl. I held my fire. Something sud 
 denly alarmed him, and he yanked his pony about and rode 
 
THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 131 
 
 frantically back to his mates. Arrows began pursuing him, 
 three in the air at a time, and I knew the Pillager was back 
 from his trip of discovery. The arrows did no damage, and 
 the man escaped. 
 
 Then the Pillager burst through the undergrowth, his face 
 distorted with fear. On beholding us he grunted in deep dis 
 gust, yet looked much relieved. Finding the savage so close 
 without any action on my part, he assumed we had been butch 
 ered. The girl stirred and opened her blue eyes. For a few 
 moments she remained with her head on my shoulder, her eyes 
 slightly dazed as sleep still lingered. Then a red tide spread 
 to her neck and she drew back against the tree trunk. 
 
 "You could have killed him !" Flat Mouth was accusing. 
 
 "The range was long," I protested. 
 
 "You could have killed him," insisted the chief. "The Medi 
 cine Hair slept on your shoulder, or we would have now one 
 more dead Sioux." 
 
 The girl understood. Her manner was gentle as she asked* 
 
 "You didn't fire because of me?" 
 
 "You were sleeping nicely. You needed rest. To-night will 
 be very hard on you. Besides, the chief is mistaken. The war 
 rior was too far away." 
 
 Flat Mouth easily followed my disclaimer and with a grunt 
 cried : 
 
 "Let the Medicine Hair see how far away the Sioux dog 
 was." 
 
 Before I could stop him he was running out on the plain. The 
 horseman pranced about, undecided whether to drive him back 
 or await developments. Possibly they believed he was insane. 
 He stopped, stuck an arrow into the earth and loudly called : 
 
 "Here, white woman, is where the dog turned his horse. Is it 
 long range?" 
 
 "Almost an easy pistol shot," she murmured. "You shouldn't 
 have minded me." 
 
 "But I do mind you," I assured. "Besides, one more dead 
 won't save us. Others will be arriving before night. Shooting 
 won't get us clear. We must depend on the darkness." 
 
132 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "You think we can break through ?" she wistfully asked. 
 
 "We will sneak through," I answered, renewing my pity for 
 her as I more fully realized how she had stood face to face with 
 death ever since discovered by the Sioux. 
 
 The Pillager and I had the stimulus of battle to hold us up 
 to the mark. She must await the verdict and, if it be adverse, 
 kill herself or die a thousand deaths. 
 
 "I suppose it depends on whether the Sioux up the river 
 arrive before or after dark," she murmured. 
 
 "It will be dark before they arrive," I comforted. 
 
 I was horribly afraid. The Sioux would make all haste on 
 reading the smoke which told of three victims one a woman 
 awaiting capture. I believed they would arrive before night. 
 Did they do this we must stand an attack in force and go down 
 fighting. I prayed for a storm to spoil their bow-strings and 
 leave my gun master of the situation, but the wind continued 
 strong from the south, and there was no hint of rain in the sky. 
 
 Had it been a case of the Pillager and myself we would have 
 taken to the river, trusting to reach the opposite bank and find 
 a hiding place in the thickly timbered country. By separating, 
 one of us would stand some chance of escaping. Together with 
 the girl it would be a miracle if we could conceal ourselves even 
 if we reached the other bank of the river. Only a black night 
 would reduce the advantage of mere numbers. 
 
 Flat Mouth came up to us, turned on his heel and retired into 
 the timber. I endeavoured to engage him in conversation but he 
 would not talk. The girl said his silence meant he had lost 
 hope, that he believed the enemy would receive reinforcements 
 before night. I insisted he was still angry because I had not shot 
 at the Sioux while she slept on my shoulder. Then we sat side 
 by side, trying to conceal from each other our anxiety, as we 
 watched the sun and kept an eye on the few Indians. They too 
 seemed more interested in the upper reaches of the Red than in 
 us. Like ourselves they were watching for the coming of their 
 tribesmen. 
 
 The sun was all but lost behind the western rim, and the long 
 shadows cast by the Indians in front of us would soon fade with 
 
THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 133 
 
 the twilight. Now the race between the red scoundrels and the 
 sun was almost run, my heart began jumping most erratically. 
 The girl seemed lost in a reverie, so I left her to see what was 
 going on north of the timber. 
 
 The Indians were dismounted and stretched across the plain 
 to prevent our making a break. There were no shadows now, 
 and the light had perceptibly dimmed. I knew how quickly the 
 light fled in these vast areas of loneliness, once the sun gave up 
 the fight. Only a few minutes more and we would hope for 
 the best. A warrior sprang to his feet and stared toward the 
 river. I believed he had glimpsed the Pillager. He said some 
 thing, and other warriors stood up, one even standing on his 
 horse. 
 
 Then came a high pitched call from the river. With an 
 extravagant display of joy they answered the call, sprang to 
 their ponies and began riding back and forth. From the other 
 side of the timber came a yelping chorus. 
 
 "Mr. Franklin ! Mr. Franklin !" called the bell-like voice of 
 Miss Dearness. 
 
 1 ran back, much alarmed, and found she had come as far as 
 the rivulet in search of me. 
 
 "They're coming !" she said. 
 
 I raced to the edge of the woods and beheld them, riding far 
 apart, waving their weapons and shouting their war-songs as 
 they slowly cantered towards us. Dropping on one knee, I 
 covered the man riding in advance of the line whose elaborate 
 headdress marked him as the bearer of the pipe on this expedi 
 tion. I sent a ball through his chest most neatly, and as his 
 spirit fled to the land of many lodges his followers came to a 
 confused halt. I fired again, this time knocking a man half 
 round in his saddle but not dismounting him. Instantly the 
 survivors scurried back. As I was reloading Flat Mouth came 
 through the bushes and motioned for me to follow him. I hesi 
 tated to leave the girl, but she urged : 
 
 "Go ! They've learned their lesson. They'll keep back." 
 
 Flat Mouth hurried diagonally across the timber and emerged 
 
134 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 on the lower edge near the river. Drawing me down beside 
 him, he pointed to the east bank and grunted 
 
 "Sioux!" 
 
 "I heard their signal," I informed him. 
 
 "They came down the river on the other side. When it gets 
 very dark they will bring their horses over. They heard your 
 gun and they don't want to try it just now." 
 
 "When they cross we can not break through," I said. 
 
 "We will all be killed if we stay in the woods. You must 
 stop them from crossing their horses for a little while. The 
 Sioux on this side feel sure of a coup. They will not fight till 
 their friends join them. Stay here till it gets too dark to sryoot. 
 I will take Medicine Hair and the horses to the end of the 
 timber. When they attack on both sides we must ride after the 
 sun." 
 
 "West?" 
 
 "It leads from home but it is the nearest way there. We can 
 strike the Cheyenne near the Lac du Diable country. There 
 are many good hiding places there." 
 
 The bushes across the river swayed and a painted face showed 
 through the dusk as one of the newcomers stood up to signal 
 the horsemen on our side. Knowing I could not begin too soon 
 to teach them their place, I rested the gun on Flat Mouth's 
 shoulder, aimed a bit high and had the satisfaction of seeing the 
 brave go sprawling down the bank, his head and shoulders 
 remaining under water. This kill wrung a chorus of devilish 
 yells from the hidden warriors. Flat Mouth hurled his war- 
 cry at them and danced in great glee. 
 
 I reloaded and urged the Pillager to return to the girl and 
 prepare her for making the tip of the grove. Reluctantly he 
 left me, swinging to the north to take a final look at the horse 
 men there, and I settled down to waiting. 
 
 Objects began to fade out of my vision. Trees near by be 
 came blurred and unreal. I knew our supreme effort could not 
 be long delayed. The surface of the water became a black 
 waste, and I thought I heard a faint splash opposite my position. 
 Now voices began calling loudly farther down the river. The 
 
THE SIOUX RECEIVE REINFORCEMENTS 135 
 
 newcomers had gone to find a crossing. I could see no reason 
 why I should not put after the chief and the girl ; then the soft 
 splashing was repeated, this time nearer. 
 
 Quitting the bushes, I crawled through the mud to the edge 
 of the bank and heard a rippling sound that was not made by 
 the lap-lap of the water on the narrow beach. Suddenly a vague 
 shape stood before me, within twenty feet, and I fired. He did 
 not have time to utter his death cry before slumping back into 
 the current. Trailing my gun, I ducked into the woods and 
 followed up the rivulet. 
 
 The Pillager and Miss Dearness were about half-way to the 
 end of the timber when I overtook them. It seems she had 
 refused to go further until I joined them. 
 
 "Take her and go on," viciously directed Flat Mouth, thrust 
 ing the bridles of the three horses into my hands. 
 
 "No time for you to count a coup," I warned as he turned 
 back. 
 
 "Very soon I shall be at your heels," he promised. 
 
 Our progress was slow because of the difficulty in avoiding 
 the frequent clumps of willows. From the plain on the north 
 came the sound of much singing. From the south the Indians 
 were racing their horses impudently near the woods and yelling 
 derisively. I gave the girl the bridles to hold while I recharged 
 my gun. We had nearly reached the end of our cover, and the 
 underbrush was thinning out, when the girl caught my hand and 
 whispered 
 
 "They're trying to burn us out!" 
 
 I sniffed and detected smoke, a thin reek of burning grass. I 
 wet my finger and tested the faint breeze. It still held from the 
 south. Creeping to the edge of the plain I could make out mov 
 ing shapes as the Indians rode up and down the front of the 
 timber. But there were no fires burning on this side, and a 
 blaze lighted on the north would sweep away from us. 
 
 Returning to Miss Dearness, I reassured her. 
 
 "Then there is only one other explanation," she said. "Flat 
 Mouth has set the grass afire on the north side of us," 
 
 "It will burn to the Turtle, perhaps to the Park." 
 
I 3 6 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Someone is coming!" she warned, and again her hand in 
 stinctively closed over mine. 
 
 I cocked the gun and rested it over a saddle, not bothering 
 to release my hand. 
 
 "It is Eshkebugecoshe," softly called a voice. 
 
 The girl dropped my hand hurriedly. 
 
 Without pausing, Flat Mouth took charge of the horses and 
 pressed ahead while I guarded the rear. Now the smoke was 
 very noticeable and our animals showed a tendency to bolt. 
 
 "You fired the grass?" I whispered. 
 
 "In many places," he grunted. "The Sioux are spreading out 
 and watching for us to ride through under cover of the smoke. 
 The warriors on the other side will think we're escaping and 
 will ride into the woods." 
 
 We were at the end of the timber, and the girl mounted her 
 pony and adjusted her white robe. 
 
 Dead ahead sounded the pounding of hoofs and an Indian 
 screamed something. Flat Mouth interpreted : 
 
 "He says for the men to ride through the woods, some to go 
 to the river, some to come up here, some to follow the fire and 
 see if we are there, some to keep in front of it. Wait for me 
 here and do not fire the gun unless you have to." 
 
 Before we could restrain him he was galloping toward the 
 messenger, his white robe making him resemble a Sioux warrior 
 whose skins were white with clay. I heard him salute the Sioux 
 in that tongue. The other asked something in a sharp, insistent 
 voice. The next moment there was the blurr of a struggle, then 
 the clump of a falling body. A horseman was riding toward me. 
 I cocked my piece, but Flat Mouth softly commanded : 
 
 "Hurry! Hurry!" 
 
 Then he took the girl's pony by the halter and led the way 
 out into the plain. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 
 
 Oour left the warriors were entering the woods. On our 
 ght they were riding their ponies through the fire to 
 nd us behind the smoke. Had it been autumn there 
 would have been no passing the flames, but with the short stub 
 ble sprinkled with the new grass trying to gain the sun, and 
 with the ground still wet, there was no danger. The smoke, 
 the night, and the shouting brought much confusion to the 
 enemy. Away from it all we rode, the girl and the Pillager in 
 advance, and I scampering behind with my two barrels ready. 
 
 Our escape must have been quickly discovered, as we had not 
 travelled more than two miles before we heard shouting to the 
 north and abreast of us. We slowed our animals to a walk, our 
 course tending a bit south of west and which, if persisted in, 
 would bring us to the Cheyenne River. The Sioux knew we 
 were somewhere south of them and were concentrating all their 
 efforts in throwing a barrier across the plains to prevent our 
 turning north towards the Pembina. 
 
 I rode up beside the girl. She reached out, patted my arm 
 and said 
 
 "I've made you a lot of bother." 
 
 "Life out here is made up of bothers. I'm glad to find one 
 that's worth while." 
 
 "You say it very nicely," she approved. "But I won't be a 
 bother to anyone again if I can get out of this. So long as I 
 could manage without being helped it was my place to stay. 
 Now that I find I have to shift my responsibilities I am anxious 
 to go back east. I never had believed it, but I do now; a woman 
 is sure to need help some time." 
 
 137 
 
138 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "She wouldn't be a woman if she didn't," I declared. "Even 
 men expect to help each other in this country." 
 
 "He doesn't have to ask another to see to it he isn't taken 
 prisoner," she gravely replied. "I had no right to ask you. 
 Another example of dodging responsibilities." 
 
 "God forbid it should ever have to be!" 
 
 "But you wouldn't let them take me alive?" she fiercely de 
 manded. 
 
 "No man would/' I answered. 
 
 Again she patted my arm and murmured 
 
 "If we had met back east we might have been such friends." 
 
 The wind whipped a strand of her hair across my face, and in 
 that moment she was all feminine dependent, and her presence 
 became a tonic. I was saved from replying to her last speech 
 a foolish speech, as there was nothing to prevent our being "such 
 friends" out here by a warning hiss from the Pillager. 
 
 He leaped to the ground and ordered us to do likewise. I 
 helped the girl to dismount, and the chief caught her pony by 
 the nose to keep him from giving an alarm, while I muzzled 
 my own beast and waited. A thudding of hoofs, not more than 
 four men, as the Pillager whispered, drew nearer. They were 
 bearing directly down on us, and I was anxious to release my 
 animal and make ready to fire. Flat Mouth warned : 
 
 "Be still ! See that the horse doesn't call out. They can't see 
 us." 
 
 I knew this must be true, as we could see nothing of them. 
 On they came and raced by in front of us and very close a 
 suggestion of motion as if something had disturbed the darknes? 
 and left a swirl of darkness behind it. These were spies sent 
 out to learn our true position. Above us on the right the enemy 
 kept calling back and forth as they patrolled from east to west. 
 Still on foot, we resumed our flight, the chief picking his course 
 without any hesitation. I suggested the necessity of a turning 
 movement before daylight, but he discouraged it, saying: 
 
 "We must keep this way till light. Then we must hide. This 
 is a big war-party. It will be ashamed to go back and face the 
 women without scalps to pay for the braves we have killed. 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 139 
 
 These are the Sioux of the plains, very cruel and fierce. Once 
 they held the country along the lower Red River. They are 
 always at war with the Chippewas." 
 
 "For just where are we striking?'* 
 
 "The bend of the Cheyenne. It is very rough and heavily 
 wooded along the river. The Sioux claim the country. We can 
 hide there a few days and then go home." 
 
 From what he said I judged the distance to be covered was 
 about forty miles. I know that we rode and walked all night 
 long with the Sioux hovering to the north of us during much of 
 the journey. When the east began lighting its fires, and we 
 were permitted to see the plain around us, I was delighted by 
 two discoveries; the plain was empty of Indians, and a short 
 distance ahead a thick growth marked the course of the Chey 
 enne where it made its northern loop. 
 
 The girl swayed in her saddle, and I rode closer to her. 
 
 "I was asleep," she drowsily murmured, leaning against my 
 arm. "Dreamed the Indians had captured me, that you came." 
 
 Again her head dropped, and it was a long time before I 
 learned of the heroics I played in that particular dream. 
 
 Flat Mouth led the way into the growth, going ahead to 
 make sure no grizzlies were waiting to pounce upon our horses. 
 After securely hobbling the animals so they could not escape, 
 he disappeared in the direction of the river which flowed unseen 
 near-by. I spread out the skin and three of the robes and in 
 duced the girl to lie down. Then I placed the remaining robes 
 over her to keep out the morning chill and promised to call her 
 for breakfast. 
 
 Searching the edge of the growth, I collected an armful of 
 dry sticks which I knew would not smoke, and by the time I 
 had done this Flat Mouth appeared with several wild geese. 
 He attended to the cooking, making a fire so small as to seem 
 ridiculous to a white man. As he broiled the fowl he told me 
 the trees were ripped and seamed by bears' claws and that both 
 banks of the river must be teeming with the animals. I had 
 nothing but contempt for the black and brown varieties, know 
 ing them to be harmless, but the grizzly was a different propo- 
 
I 4 o GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 sition. Flat Mouth insisted, however, that these seldom at 
 tacked unless cornered or wounded. 
 
 The girl woke up, and, after she had eaten, the chief and I 
 stuffed ourselves. Then he insisted that we try to get some 
 sleep. The sun was half-way through its day's work when I 
 opened my eyes. The girl was seated with her back to a tree, 
 her hair a marvel of neatness. She had thrown a robe over me, 
 and this little act, so meaningless to those never initiated into the 
 wilds, affected me strangely. It was the first time in many years 
 that anyone had taken thought for my comfort; certainly the 
 first wherein a woman had given me any attention since I was a 
 child in the States and under my mother's care. My first sen 
 sation was that of being "mothered." I liked it. All men do, 
 let them disclaim to the contrary as they will. 
 
 I half closed my eyes and for several minutes pretended to be 
 asleep, that I might watch her. Her blue eyes were serene ; her 
 fine features were softened by repose. Here, in a position of 
 great danger, she impressed me as revealing her true self, her 
 genuine womanliness. At the X. Y. post, where no physical 
 harm could intrude, she had been cold, hard and unapproach 
 able. 
 
 At last she caught me spying and coloured furiously, instinc 
 tively feeling of her hair. 
 
 "Where is the chief?" I innocently asked. 
 
 She pointed, and I arose and beheld him sleeping, lying on his 
 face. When I stepped toward him he came to his senses and 
 sprang to his feet like a wildcat. Our voices had not disturbed 
 him but my step had. Subconsciously, perhaps, he had cata 
 logued our voices, but a stealthy step was not so easily classified. 
 He always insisted a person woke up more easily and more com 
 pletely woke up all over as he expressed it if he slept on his 
 face. The girl insisted that he finish out his nap. but he replied 
 he was "filled" with sleep and would need no more till another 
 day. 
 
 The girl said that during our slumbers there had been no 
 signs of life on the plain except the buffalo and their lurking 
 escort of gray wolves. She had heard sounds back in the woods, 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 141 
 
 and once a red deer had poked his head through the bushes to 
 look us over. 
 
 I went with Flat Mouth to the river, where he fashioned 
 several drinking-dishes out of bark, and while there we saw 
 seven grizzlies descend the opposite shore to drink. They were 
 huge brutes and more to be feared than the Sioux, should they 
 take a notion to attack. The Pillager observed them uncon 
 cernedly, however, assuring me that they would not bother us 
 if we did not trouble them. 
 
 The river, he reminded us, was seldom visited by Assiniboin, 
 Cree, or Chippewa because the Sioux claimed it. From fear of 
 attacks from the northern Indians, the Sioux, in turn, seldom 
 came there except in war strength. So all animal life had been 
 left to develop undisturbed by man. The bears had not been 
 hunted and did not know man as a destroyer. This was all 
 very comforting as long as I could believe it, but the thought of 
 the girl back in the little glade alone, with these monsters wan 
 dering about in batches of seven, made me anxious to return. 
 
 We took water to her and on the way started up red deer 
 which were nowhere near as shy as those on the Red River. 
 Leaving her again, we visited the horses and found them con 
 tentedly grazing inside the fringe of bushes and willows. Leav 
 ing the chief with them, I rejoined the girl. 
 
 "Must we wait until night before starting home ?" she eagerly 
 asked. 
 
 "I believe that is the chief's idea. He knows the country and 
 the Indians far better than we do. We must take no foolish 
 risks." 
 
 "If you were alone would you start now?" she asked. 
 
 In truth I should have, but I said nothing. 
 
 "Then pretend I'm a man. Let's go at once," she cried with 
 a show of impatience, and she stood and began gathering up 
 the robes. 
 
 My imagination was incapable of detecting anything mascu 
 line in her splendid womanhood. I could not suppress a small 
 smile at her suggestion. Instantly she was the woman of the 
 X. Y. post and was commanding: 
 
142 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Call the Indian ! Tell him we start at once." 
 
 Flat Mouth appeared on the scene before I could remon 
 strate with her. In Chippewa she repeated to him her intention 
 of starting for the Red River. He shook his head, saying 
 
 "We must stay here a little longer." 
 
 "You two can stay. I will go alone. The country is per 
 fectly safe. The Sioux have lost the trail entirely." 
 
 I have no doubt she would have taken a pony and set forth 
 if I had not stopped her, saying: 
 
 "You can't go alone. We'll take orders from the Pillager." 
 
 "I'll take orders from no one," she haughtily informed. "I 
 suppose I may have one of the horses, seeing that they belonged 
 to the Sioux?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Very well, I can make it afoot," she calmly said. 
 
 "What's the matter with you?" I angrily inquired. "Can't 
 you reason? Or is it your temper?" 
 
 I thought she was trying to annihilate me with her furious 
 gaze. By an effort she mastered herself and quietly retorted : 
 
 "My temper is nothing to you. We're thrown together by a 
 series of mishaps. I appreciate your coming to find me, but if 
 your coming makes you feel any responsibility for my acts I'm 
 sorry you came." 
 
 "The Lord forbid I should ever have to be responsible for 
 such a bundle of spite as you seem to be," I peevishly protested. 
 
 She smiled with her lips, turned and walked towards the 
 plain. I caught up with her and demanded 
 
 "What do you plan?". 
 
 "I'm on my way to the X. Y. post," she lazily informed. 
 
 "Unless you return to cover at once the Pillager and I will 
 tie you." 
 
 "You would never dare!" she gritted, turning on me like a 
 cat. 
 
 All my silly resentment dropped from me, and I gently ex 
 plained : 
 
 "Miss Dearness I should never dare to look a man, red or 
 white, in the face if I allowed you to start alone for the Red. 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 143 
 
 I won't threaten again to tie you, but if you start for the Red 
 I'll go with you. It's hardly fair to let the Pillager go with us 
 as he is of a different race." 
 
 She fought the battle with herself, her red hair being a true 
 gauge of her temper. Suddenly she surrendered, murmuring: 
 "I was wrong. We'll go back to the chief." 
 
 "You're tired. Your nerves are out of tune. In a few hours 
 it will be night; then we can go." 
 
 "It isn't my nerves," she contritely corrected. "It's just 
 temper." 
 
 "My temper is off the key. Of course I spoke foolishly when 
 I said I would tie you." 
 
 "I'll obey orders." 
 
 Flat Mouth had watched us without a lineament of his strong 
 face betraying that he could either see or hear. When we joined 
 him he gave her a quick look and walked towards the horses. 
 She remained silent, not inclined to talk. I waited some 
 minutes to see if she desired companionship, then went after 
 the Pillager. 
 
 The chief was crouching behind some cherry trees and had, 
 I observed, shifted the horses deeper into the growth. He was 
 staring intently out on the plain. He motioned for me to 
 drop beside him. My heart gave a thump, for I had been so 
 positive we had shaken the Sioux off our trail that this hint of 
 their presence weakened me for a moment. 
 
 "Assiniboins," he said. 
 
 "Where ?" I demanded. He pointed to the northern rim and 
 by much staring through half-closed lids I managed to make out 
 some dots. 
 
 "Buffaloes," I decided. 
 
 "Assiniboins," he repeated. 
 
 "Then they're friendly. They won't do anything worse than 
 try to steal our horses." 
 
 "They've killed traders when catching them alone. These 
 are not of the same band that comes to the Pembina." 
 
 "All the Assiniboins are good robe-makers. They're all 
 friendly with the whites," I persisted. 
 
144 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "These are not any Red River band. If they see us they will 
 do their best to kill us and take our horses. I am an Indian. 
 I tell you I know this." 
 
 As a trader I had had experience only with straggling bands 
 of the tribe. It was hard for me to believe that I had anything 
 to fear from a people who begged rum rations from me and who 
 went and came when I gave the word. My incredulity must 
 have been obvious, for the chief hissed out 
 
 "Do you think Eshkebugecoshe is afraid ?" 
 
 No, he was not afraid. He had lived with Mandans and had 
 fought with them and their allies, the Crows, against these same 
 Assiniboins and the Sioux. The tribe had taken to horses, being 
 a migratory people and forever chasing the buffalo, and horses 
 they must have. That they would appropriate ours if they got 
 the chance went without saying, but I had supposed the theft 
 would be committed with stealth and in no event be accom 
 panied with violence. 
 
 "Say what is to be done and we will do it," I agreed. 
 
 "We will wait until they go. If they come down here we 
 will follow up the river," he replied. Then very significantly 
 "They must not see the white woman." 
 
 "She was big medicine to them once," I reminded. 
 
 "To those who came to the Pembina. But the Voice is back 
 on the River That Calls, and this band would kill her to prevent 
 it being stolen again." 
 
 I remembered what the girl had told me, much to the same 
 effect, and if Flat Mouth was not afraid, I was. 
 
 Yet I still hoped and half believed the dark objects were 
 buffaloes. At so great a distance it is impossible to detect any 
 but the most rapid motion. A horse galloping at full speed will 
 scarcely appear to be moving. So far as the dots were con 
 cerned, they appeared to be stationary. We rose to go back to 
 the camp, and I was debating whether it was necessary to in 
 form Miss Dearness of this possible new peril, when the Pil 
 lager gave a sharp yell and went bounding through the bush as 
 if the devil were nipping his heels. Believing the girl was in 
 some danger, I charged after him. When I entered the glade 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 145 
 
 he was furiously stamping out a little fire. Miss Dearness stood 
 at one side anxiously watching him. 
 
 "What have I done now?" she whispered to me. 
 
 "Nothing," I warmly assured, scowling at the Pillager. 
 
 "Green bark!" he grunted and, tilting his head, he pointed 
 upward. Even with the fire extinguished there was a pale haze 
 floating clear of the tree tops, 
 
 I belittled it, saying 
 
 "An eagle cou.ldn't see that, Eshkebugecoshe." 
 
 "They have sacrificed dogs to their manito. Their medicine 
 is strong," he gloomly retorted. 
 
 "What's the matter, Mr. Franklin? Are the Sioux near?" 
 cried Miss Dearness. 
 
 "Not a Sioux in sight. The Pillager and I disagree about 
 some dots out on the plain. He says they're Assiniboins. I say 
 they are buffaloes." 
 
 "And he fears they saw the smoke," she cried, wringing her 
 hands. "Now I've brought new danger on you two by my 
 thoughtlessness. It was so dreary waiting. I forgot myself. I 
 threw some green bark on the hot ashes to see it curl up it 
 burst into flame then I fed on some green sticks I bring bad 
 luck." 
 
 "Nonsense," I sharply replied. "Is it surprising that a band 
 of thieving Indians should stumble upon us here? They will 
 stand clear of my gun. It's stood off their betters." 
 
 I turned to Flat Mouth and boasted the same to him. 
 
 He shook his head energetically: 
 
 "It's no medicine to the Assiniboins, the Crees, or the Chip- 
 pewas. They have seen it and its two barrels, and the truth 
 has gone through the three tribes. They are two shots afraid ; 
 that is all. Soon the Sioux of the plains will know about it. 
 Then it won't be medicine to them." 
 
 He ran back to watch the dots, and Miss Dearness and I 
 followed him. Now they were no longer dots but mounted 
 men. They had drawn near enough for us to be sure of this, 
 and yet they strangely resembled buffaloes. It was not until a 
 line of them raced parallel to our hiding place that I discovered 
 
146 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 the cause for my fancy. Each warrior wore on his head a cov 
 ering of buffalo hide to which were fixed two horns. In some 
 cases this strange head-gear comprised the whole head of the 
 creature, the skull bones having been carefully removed, and the 
 skin worn as a hood. 
 
 They seemed to be racing about aimlessly, and I rejoiced to 
 the Pillager 
 
 "They didn't see the smoke." 
 
 "It was such a tiny smoke they couldn't," added Miss Dear- 
 ness. 
 
 The Pillager's answer was a silent drama. Without a word 
 he reached over his shoulder and pulled arrows from his quiver. 
 Without removing his gaze from the swiftly manoeuvring horse 
 men he placed the arrows before him in a row, then caught up 
 his bow and drew the cord taut. Miss Dearness glanced at me 
 with a little frown worrying her forehead. 
 
 "They think we're here?" I asked Flat Mouth. 
 
 "They know it," he tersely responded. 
 
 To my way of thinking the horsemen were not acting sus 
 piciously. One of them, the leader, whirled a disk of rawhide 
 from the point of his lance and the riders raced to where it 
 fell, jabbing and spearing until one managed to pick it up. He, 
 in turn, carried it triumphantly aloft until hard pressed, when 
 he sent it sailing from him, and again the mad scramble to 
 obtain it. 
 
 I doubted the Pillager's bald assertion until I noted that the 
 rawhide was always being sent in our direction. Each rush 
 brought the band closer. Now the chief had the piece of hide 
 and his men were strung out behind him in undulating loops 
 like the letter S greatly prolonged. My eyes were distracted 
 by the constantly shifting loops. Yet the leader, with each 
 manoeuver, brought them nearer to the woods. 
 
 "They're coming!" I softly warned as the first loop suddenly 
 swung far forward so as to line up fully thirty warriors riding 
 abreast with their chief on their left. 
 
 "Fire the gun and get back to the horses!" ordered Flat 
 Mouth, snatching up an arrow. 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 147 
 
 With a terrific shout the whole band came toward us. I 
 fired both barrels into the front rank, and a miss was impossible. 
 Flat Mouth's bow began to twang, and his arrows streamed into 
 the centre of the assault. 
 
 "Get to the horses!" he cried and then raised a war-cry. 
 
 It was not the Pillager's yell, but the cry of the Sioux, and 
 faster and faster flew the arrows. I seized the girl's wrist and 
 urged her to the camp. I had barely slipped the hobbles and 
 gathered up the halter ropes when Flat Mouth came gliding to 
 us, his face exalted with the lust of battle against great odds. 
 Without a word he took his horse and began leading the way 
 along a deer-path that led up-stream. The girl rode behind 
 him, and I, on foot, brought up the rear. 
 
 I managed to reload one barrel and, as nothing happened, I 
 halted and charged the other. The way was rough and at every 
 rod we read the signs of much game. Little piles of hair at 
 the foot of trees whose bark was worn smooth showed that the 
 buffaloes penetrated the thickets in considerable numbers. Signs 
 of bears were the most plentiful, however. It was a pelt- 
 hunter's paradise if he could gather the toll without losing his 
 scalp. 
 
 After an hour of continuous travel the Pillager halted and 
 briefly explained : 
 
 "They didn't dare to enter the woods at first, thinking the 
 Sioux were there. My Sioux war-cry and the Sioux arrows 
 fooled them. They'll soon find out their mistake. Their men 
 are creeping in now ; soon they'll see where only two men and a 
 woman camped. Soon they will come fast." 
 
 "What shall we do now?" asked Miss Dearness. 
 
 "Cross the river and strike for the Mandan villages on the 
 Missouri," was the astounding answer. 
 
 I gasped aloud in dismay. Leave the post with only foolish 
 Probos on duty, with old Tabashaw having free rein to intimi 
 date, to bully, and to consume the company's rum ! Run to the 
 Missouri to escape while home was so near? 
 
 "It must be so," growled the chief, guessing my reluctance. 
 "Only in that way can we save the white woman." 
 
I 4 8 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "To the Mandan villages it is, then," I agreed. 
 
 "I'm willing to risk turning back," spoke up Miss Dearness. 
 
 "Eshkebugecoshe is not willing," grimly retorted the chief. 
 "I killed some of them, and the gun killed some. When they 
 see how they were tricked only one torture will satisfy them. 
 Wait while I look at the river." 
 
 He glided down the rough and heavily timbered bank. While 
 he was gone I strained my eyes, seeing an enemy in every bush 
 and stump. At last he returned and, without speaking, led his 
 pony down the slope. I estimated our position to be directly 
 south of the Lac du Diable country and I knew, from talks with 
 the post Indians, that the river woods we were now traversing 
 thinned out into scattering willows a few miles farther west. 
 
 The river was once occupied by the Cheyennes who served as 
 a barrier between the Sioux and the Chippewas, being neutral 
 to both. More than half a century before, the Chippewas, a 
 very jealous people by nature, got the idea the neutrals were 
 favouring the Sioux in trade. While returning from an un 
 successful expedition, a war-party of Chippewas fell on a Chey 
 enne village and killed many. The Cheyennes promptly mi 
 grated across the Missouri, and since then the red shadow of 
 the Sioux has hung over the Chippewas, with no neutral nation 
 between to minimize the shock of an attack. 
 
 The crossing was not difficult and we made it easily and sur 
 mounted the opposite bank, but left a trail a bull buffalo could 
 read. Flat Mouth held up his hand for silence and cocked his 
 ear. I heard nothing beyond the usual noise of wood life. 
 
 "They're following our trail," he warned. "If we stick to 
 the woods they will overtake us. Our only chance is to take to 
 the open now and ride for it. Our horses are fresh, theirs are 
 tired. Once on the plain, we can leave them." 
 
 "But they'll chase us?" asked the girl. 
 
 He nodded and, to cheer her up, added : 
 
 "We shall find some Mandans, or some of the Big Bellies 
 (Minnetarees) hunting buffalo. They will help us." 
 
 We broke through the timber and started for the southwest 
 at a gallop. We had gone not more than a fourth of a mile 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 149 
 
 when a ringing cry sounded behind us. Glancing back, I be 
 held a warrior dancing and waving his arms at the edge of the 
 timber. We had not advanced more than half a mile before 
 nearly a hundred horsemen emerged from the woods. 
 
 Flat Mouth was worried, for well he knew that it would take 
 more than an ordinary hunting party to stand off such a force. 
 At the start the chances favoured us, as our animals were well 
 rested, whereas the enemy's had been ridden far and fast. There 
 was no question as to our maintaining a safe lead, providing 
 none of our animals met with an accident. Realizing this my 
 eyes became focused on the flying feet of Miss Dearness's mount. 
 At every stride I expected to see a hoof stick into a hole and hurl 
 her to the ground, leaving one of our mounts to carry a double. 
 I glanced back once more and beheld even more warriors quit 
 ting the woods. 
 
 Flat Mouth grimly explained : 
 
 "Big war-party going to fight the Mandans. We shall have 
 them all the way." 
 
 He insisted it was the medicine of the girl's hair that per 
 mitted us to drop them before the night came. I felt a great 
 uplift when, with the last light, I failed to make out their figures 
 against the northern skyline. The chief quietly assured me they 
 would be on our trail in the morning. 
 
 We camped that night in the bed of a dry coulee. The chief 
 managed to kill a buffalo calf with his bow and arrow, and we 
 ventured to build a small fire, fencing it about with our white 
 robes. Over this we broiled some excellent steaks and cooked 
 enough to carry with us on the morrow. At daybreak we were 
 up, and beheld figures creeping over the horizon. 
 
 The country grew rougher with each hour, and we lost the 
 Assiniboins only when we dropped into the hollows. On sur 
 mounting ridge or hillock we raised them to view again, ten 
 aciously sticking to our track. Flat Mouth had eyes only for 
 what was ahead, seeking for some opportunity of shaking the 
 enemy off. I was always staring behind me, fascinated by the 
 implacable purpose that held the savages to the chase. The girl 
 
150 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 rode with head bowed, seldom bothering to lift her gaze from 
 the ground. Her fear was an accident to her pony. 
 
 We began to encounter coulees filled with water, each a sign 
 post for the Couteau du Missouri, the rough and hilly country 
 we must cross before descending to the Missouri River. The 
 Pillager believed the Assiniboins would not venture beyond this 
 height of land. Yet they were in such strong force they might 
 recklessly risk an encounter with Mandan or Minnetaree. 
 
 Ahead were the steep red banks of the Missouri. At our 
 feet were two cows freshly slain. Flat Mouth inspected them, 
 and for the first time since our flight from the Cheyenne his 
 immobile features showed animation. 
 
 "The brains have been taken to dress hides. Hunters did it, 
 not a war-party after meat. Only Mandans hunt here." 
 
 The Assiniboins had been lost to sight for a day. In their 
 place we were dreading a Sioux war-party, for the Sioux hung 
 closely about the Mandan villages, seeking to pick off a victim 
 or two. To the north of the villages was a stretch of timber, 
 and in this cover small bands of the Sioux would hide and wait 
 for days, being satisfied if they killed a lone hunter or a woman. 
 We had passed through the rough country of the Coteau and 
 had an excellent view of the river in the southeast. Flat Mouth 
 insisted we were too far downstream and said we must cross a 
 high and precipitous bank on our right. To me it seemed a 
 needless exertion, as we could round the end of the ridge by 
 skirting its base until it broke off at the river, but the chief felt 
 the menace of the Sioux and must have his way. I did not be 
 lieve the horses could make the ridge, for the soil was glutinous 
 mud from the spring rains. 
 
 The Pillager dismounted to demonstrate what an Indian pony 
 could do and with the beast scrambling like a cat he led the way 
 up the slope. Miss Deamess made light of it, although she was 
 forced to climb it afoot. On reaching the top we had a more 
 intimate view of the river. The valley was some two miles in 
 width and caged in by steep banks. The current was sluggish 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 151 
 
 and swollen, dotted with much driftwood .and many black dots 
 which I knew to be drowned buffalo. Immediately below us 
 was a growth of big cottonwoods, and from our position to these 
 woods ran a well-beaten path. 
 
 For the first time since our race began, I presumed to take the 
 lead, but before I could do more than press ahead to the brow 
 of the ridge, Flat Mouth was halting me and explaining that the 
 way was full of dangers and that he must go first. I placed my 
 gun across my saddle, but the danger was not animate and 
 consisted of certain deep holes, or pits the Indians had dug for 
 trapping fox and wolves. These pits were ten or more feet 
 deep, with the openings masked by the dead grass. 
 
 We descended slowly and cautiously, skirting several of these 
 menaces, and I know I should have plunged into the first one, 
 had I had my way. At the foot of the ridge the Pillager reined 
 in and warned: 
 
 "We must say we have come from Fort Assiniboin, that the 
 Medicine Hair is the daughter of the big white chief there and 
 that we work for him. The big white chief wishes to open a 
 post here and sends his daughter because her medicine lets her 
 see things we men can not see. He has told us to stay but a few 
 days and to ask for warriors to go back with us as far as the 
 Mouse. The Mandans must not know we were driven here by 
 the Assiniboins. They would think the white woman's medicine 
 was weak and that her father was a little chief if they knew the 
 Assiniboins had made us run." 
 
 "Why can't we start back as soon as we get fresh horses?" 
 I anxiously asked, my mind reverting to the incompetent Probos 
 in charge of the post and to old Tabashaw bullying him for 
 rum. 
 
 "And why must we travel by the way of the Mouse?" de 
 manded Miss Dearness, referring to the long route to the con 
 fluence of the Mouse and the Qu'Appelle, thence down the 
 Assiniboin to the Forks, where we would turn south up the 
 Red. 
 
 "We must stay and look about, as if looking for a good place 
 for a post," Flat Mouth patiently explained. Then to the girl 
 
152 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "We must come from Fort Assiniboin to show why we are here. 
 We must go back the same way to make our talk sound straight. 
 Even if we could pick our trail we must return by way of the 
 Mouse and the Assiniboin. It is the regular path and safer." 
 
 I told Miss Dearness the chief was right and that a few days 
 wouldn't make much difference, that we ought to be thankful 
 at having escaped the Sioux and the Assiniboins this to cheer 
 her up. 
 
 "Oh, we will go through with it," she wearily replied. "I 
 was thinking of you and your affairs more than of mine. I 
 have no trade to lose. Angus can watch the post till I get back, 
 or my successor arrives." 
 
 With our story understood we started ahead, taking the sem 
 blance of a road which had been much travelled but never re 
 paired. It was filled with mud and holes and eloquently re 
 vealed the ravages of the spring freshet. We followed this into 
 the woods and continued through the growth for two miles. It 
 was most abominable travelling. At last we were clear of it and 
 were come to a riot of beans, squash, and corn sprouts, but so 
 mixed with grass that I proclaimed it to be mighty poor garden 
 ing. I was disappointed, as I had heard much about the Man- 
 dans as agriculturists. Flat Mouth explained, however, that 
 these budding growths were runaways and represented only 
 what the wind had stolen and sown broadcast. The tribe's 
 gardens were farther on. 
 
 "Here is the village !" warned the girl. 
 
 She checked her mount and stared wonderingly and, with a 
 little shudder, exclaimed : 
 
 "It's like a village of the dead. Where are the Indians?" 
 
 Flat Mouth twisted uneasily in his saddle and whispered : 
 
 "It is a village of the dead a village they left when I was 
 here last. The gardens would not grow. After so many years 
 the ground refuses to care for the seed ; then they move. Wlien 
 they left this place they used it for their dead." 
 
 We pressed ahead a bit and came in full view of the grue 
 some exhibit. The girl quailed for a moment, then held up her 
 head and gazed about steadily. Everywhere were platforms 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 153 
 
 some ten feet in height, and on these were laid the dead. The 
 shrouds were of dressed leather, some in very excellent condition 
 and fit for trade; but for the most part the coverings had suc 
 cumbed to the weather and had fallen apart, allowing the bones 
 to show. Some of the platforms had fallen to the ground and 
 no attempt had been made to replace them or their grim 
 burdens. We quickened our pace and soon were beyond the 
 forbidding spot. 
 
 "Remember our talk!" warned the Pillager, kicking his horse 
 into a gallop and riding ahead. 
 
 Off at one side and at a distance was an Indian with a gun. 
 Around him were women and children working. These were 
 the gardeners and they were planting and hoeing under an 
 armed guard. This was impressive proof of their daily danger. 
 Even at the very outskirts of their villages they did not dare to 
 move about without a sentinel. Just as the Red River of the 
 North always contained the menace of the Sioux, so did the 
 stretch of woods hold for Mandan and Minnetaree a hidden 
 danger. 
 
 At the Pillager's gesture the girl and I halted while he rode 
 to the man with the gun. I saw the fellow nervously cock his 
 piece, then stand keenly at attention while Flat Mouth, with 
 both hands above his head, talked to him. Suddenly the gun 
 was lowered, and the guard was shaking hands warmly with 
 our companion. 
 
 "He recognizes him," murmured the girl. 
 
 The two conversed for several minutes, then came to us. Flat 
 Mouth announced it was all right, that we were to proceed and 
 find quarters at the village a short distance ahead. The guard 
 smiled broadly and shook hands with me, but seemed to stand 
 in awe of Miss Dearness. Later I learned the Pillager had 
 filled him with tales concerning the wonderful medicine she 
 possessed and her powers as a magician. Then the guard looked 
 at my pony and at the chief's and said something we could not 
 understand. 
 
 "He asks where our presents are," translated the Pillager. 
 
 He might well be puzzled, for beyond the white robes snugly 
 
154 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 wrapped in my blanket we had no possessions. No voluntary 
 visitor to the villages would fail to bring a pack-animal or two 
 loaded with gifts. 
 
 Before I could scare up an answer the girl was haughtily 
 saying in Chippewa: 
 
 "Tell him the big white chief does not send gifts by his 
 friends. He has slaves to bring them. They will come later. 
 He will decide how much to send after he hears how we have 
 been treated." 
 
 Flat Mouth's eyes twinkled as he listened, but his bearing 
 was stern and haughty as he translated her words to the guard. 
 
 The guard next informed us that an H. B. man was living 
 in the village across the river, but was now on the headwaters 
 of the Missouri looking for trade in spring beaver. 
 
 The man returned to his charge, and we rode on. All I 
 could think of on first glimpsing the round domes of the Man' 
 dan houses was of a colony of gigantic beavers. These huts were 
 very large, some being ninety feet in diameter and so solidly 
 built that fifty men could lounge on their tops at a time. The 
 door of each was of rawhide, stretched over willow, and was 
 nearly six feet square. A broad porch led up to this. Near 
 each porch was a platform, a score of feet long, half as wide 
 and eight or nine feet high. On these platforms they stored 
 their corn to dry in the fall, also their meat, but now these 
 were being used for driftwood. 
 
 Flat Mouth told us the village depended entirely for its sup 
 ply of fuel on what the river brought down each spring. From 
 my view of the swollen stream and its innumerable trees I could 
 see the toll must be enormous. The reason why we had not 
 seen more Indians in travelling to the village was that the able- 
 bodied were busy swimming in the icy current and bringing the 
 drift ashore, while their people watched and encouraged them. 
 Besides the driftwood they brought drowned buffalo ashore in 
 large numbers, and these were already giving off the stench of 
 decay. My Chippewas would salvage the dead brutes when the 
 ice went out, when the meat was firm and fresh, but the Man- 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 155 
 
 dans and the Minnetarees, the Pillager assured me, preferred the 
 tainted to the fresh. 
 
 What men I saw on shore were stout and strongly built and 
 wore their hair trailing at their heels and even sweeping the 
 ground. As they daubed this daily with red and white earth 
 the effect was grotesque. The same cough which was troubling 
 our Indians seemed to be common with them. 
 
 As we entered the village we were discovered and quickly 
 surrounded. They greeted us cordially, shaking hands and 
 seemingly much pleased at our coming. Some recognized Flat 
 Mouth and hailed him as a friend. Then they commenced 
 asking where we had left our packs. As he had explained to 
 the armed guard, so now did the Pillager explain to the tribe 
 that while we represented the greatest traders of the North we 
 had brought no goods with us either for trade or for gifts. 
 Their faces fell. 
 
 The chief continued to explain how our errand was to in 
 vestigate the chances of trade. Of course he described Miss 
 Dearness as being a medicine-woman and the daughter of the big 
 white chief at the head of the fort on the Assiniboin. It was 
 grimly amusing that I should pose as an engage instead of bour 
 geois, that she, of the opposition, should masquerade as my 
 superior. 
 
 The interest Miss Dearness aroused was accumulative, and it 
 was plain she created a tremendous impression. One young 
 buck standing close to her pony reached up a hand to feel the 
 texture of her fiery hair. As quick as loup-cervier her hand rose, 
 and the handle of her leather whip landed on his wrist, causing 
 him to spring back in dismay. I think it was the blazing fire of 
 her blue eyes, rather than any physical hurt from the blow, 
 that startled the fellow. 
 
 Flat Mouth took occasion to warn that the hair was medicine 
 and that the white woman had saved the young man's life by 
 preventing his touching it. After that incident the circle wi 
 dened. In turn the Indians informed us that the Sioux had been 
 very troublesome ever since the snow melted, and that since Le 
 Borgne (The Blind), the great war chief of the Minnetarees on 
 
156 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 the Knife a few miles above, had gone out with a hunting party, 
 the Mandans had kept their huts barricaded every night. On 
 his return an alliance was to be formed with the Cheyennes and 
 aggressive measures taken to teach the enemy a lasting lesson. 
 
 Flat Mouth, further to increase our prestige and make them 
 forget we came without gifts, now stated that the good-will of 
 the white woman was worth a war-party and that her anger was 
 equal to a blast of lightning. 
 
 Firmly believing as he did that the girl possessed powers of 
 magic, he did not hesitate to draw a long bow, and I was 
 fearing that she might be requested to bolster up her reputation 
 by some little display, when a newcomer distracted the atten 
 tion. This was none less than Poscopsahe, or Black Cat, the 
 chief of the village. We were presented to him and he was duly 
 impressed by the girl and assured her that the big white chief 
 would do well to send traders there and to the Minnetaree vil 
 lages above, but especially to his village of the Mandans. This 
 jealousy, when it came to acquiring the white man's goods in 
 trade, was very keen among the villages, although they would 
 unite readily and solidly enough in opposing their ancient 
 enemies. 
 
 Through the Pillager, the girl calmly replied that she had 
 heard the Mandans had a good trade in robes and buffalo 
 tongues and a fair trade in beaver ; that she would look the vil 
 lages over for a day or so and then report back to Fort Assini- 
 boin. 
 
 With these ceremonies out of the way we were shown to a 
 hut reserved for visitors. I took my pack of white robes inside 
 and turned the horses over to a young man. One of the chief's 
 wives followed us to the hut with a huge dish of boiled corn 
 and beans, a tasteless mess, and another of dried meat. The 
 latter was impossible because of the Mandans' preference for 
 tainted to fresh meat, so on the whole we made a sorry meal 
 of it. 
 
 Despite our explanation that we had no goods to trade, nor 
 gifts to bestow, the men, women, and children crowded about 
 our hut, eager for us to open our packs. The fact that they 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 157 
 
 had seen all our possessions, namely my bundle of robes, did not 
 spoil their imagination. White people always had gifts, always 
 wanted to trade. They believed that in some mysterious man 
 ner we would produce articles of the white man's making which 
 they were so eager to secure. It was with the greatest difficulty 
 that Flat Mouth persuaded them to believe we had nothing to 
 trade, and their attitude was sullen when they finally withdrew. 
 
 After they left us in peace the Pillager advised that we take 
 up different quarters, urging that by doing so we would create 
 a better impression. So we decided that Miss Dearness should 
 remain in the guest hut with the chief's wife as attendant, while 
 the Pillager and I found shelter elsewhere. Leaving her with 
 the Indian woman, we went out to look the village over. The 
 Mandans, being a settled people, had no need for dogs, so this 
 nuisance was not in evidence. The children, too, were quite 
 decently mannered, although they would have stolen the clothes 
 off my back had I given them a chance. The population of this 
 and the village across the river was about two thousand. Flat 
 Mouth said. I suggested we cross over and visit the second 
 village. Flat Mouth called out to some young men, and, on 
 my giving them a few inches of tobacco, they readily agreed to 
 set us across. 
 
 Proceeding to the river, I had my first sight of a bull-boat, as 
 their curious skin canoes are called. They were much different 
 from the skin canoes we used on the Red River, being circular 
 in shape and formed of raw buffalo hides stretched over a frame 
 of willow. The craft had the appearance of being very frail 
 and not a bit suitable for navigating the swollen and muddy 
 waters of the Missouri, yet each was capable of carrying eight 
 hundred pounds or more. 
 
 One man did the paddling, and his paddle was a five-foot 
 pole with a strip of board lashed across the end. With his first 
 stroke the boat turned nearly around, but he quickly reversed 
 us with a stroke on the other side. First one was looking up 
 stream at the mass of floating trees and dead buffalo, then down 
 stream. It made me dizzy, yet our man was an expert, for we 
 
158 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 drifted less than a quarter of a mile, whereas the average boat 
 man would have drifted a full mile. 
 
 The news of our arrival in the first Mandan village had 
 spread across the river, and on landing we were met by a crowd 
 of natives, headed by Big Man, a Cheyenne prisoner and now 
 adopted into the tribe a man of prominence. He shook us 
 warmly by the hand and anxiously asked why we had left all 
 our packs in Black Cat's village. The tedious explanation was 
 given by Flat Mouth and the interest of the assemblage flattened 
 out, and many turned away to resume the work of towing trees 
 and dead buffalo ashore. 
 
 Through the Pillager I learned from Big Man that the Min- 
 netaree village was much excited over the arrival of six Chey- 
 ennes seeking a peace treaty. Messengers had been sent for Le 
 Borgne to bring him back from the hunt. Black days were 
 waiting for the Sioux, once the treaty was perfected. We pa 
 raded the village, finding it a duplicate of the one across the 
 river. We were invited into several huts to eat, but always 
 found the meat abominable. On the outskirts of the village 
 women with hoes made from buffalo shoulder-blades were work 
 ing in their gardens, with armed men stationed at intervals. 
 Their danger was imminent, much like that which surrounds 
 some of the smaller wood-folk who live under stumps, sporting 
 and raising their little families while death stalks them day and 
 night. 
 
 The Pillager mumbled to me 
 
 "We must go back now." 
 
 I had known him long enough to realize that he was dis 
 turbed at something. Thanking Big Man and telling him he 
 should have presents when our traders arrived, we returned to 
 the river and were ferried across. 
 
 "Something makes my brother sad," I remarked in Chippewa 
 after we had stepped ashore. 
 
 "I was glad when I heard that the Blind was away on a 
 buffalo hunt. My heart is heavy now, for they send to bring 
 him home to meet the Cheyennes." 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 159 
 
 "You believed we should find him here before we arrived," 
 I reminded. 
 
 "I knew and hoped for the best. When we came and found 
 him gone my heart sang. I believed we should get away before 
 he returned. Now to find he will come back, makes me sorry." 
 
 "The Blind does not like white men?" 
 
 "He likes white men," was the laconic response. 
 
 "Then why feel sad to know he is coming back?" 
 
 "He likes women. He has never seen such a woman as Medi 
 cine Hair. He is a mighty war chief. His word is law in 
 both Minnetaree and Mandan villages. When we fought the 
 Sioux and the Assiniboins I thought only of escaping to a place 
 where we would not be killed. I knew we would not be harmed 
 in these villages. Now I have had time to think. What The 
 Blind wants he takes." 
 
 The danger must be pressing when an Indian would be 
 troubled over the fate of a white woman. His words reduced 
 my complacency to ashes. I could only say 
 
 "We must start before he comes back." 
 
 "They will think our coming is a trick if we go away too 
 quickly," he warned. "I will talk with the Mandans and ask 
 if they have seen any signs of Assiniboins or Sioux to the north. 
 We must visit the villages, but in one or two sleeps we might 
 start for the Mouse. Once we reach Fort Assiniboin the 
 Medicine Hair will be safe." 
 
 "But Le Borgne would be very blind to make the whites 
 angry by taking one of their women," I protested. 
 
 Flat Mouth smiled in grim pity at my ignorance. 
 
 "You do not know The Blind," he murmured. "He takes 
 what he wants. No chief is as powerful as he. When I was 
 here before, he took a woman from a Mandan chief who went 
 with his war-club to bring her back. They buried his war-club 
 with him. He likes white men. He will treat you better than 
 his warriors, but he doesn't let anything stand between him 
 and the thing he wants." 
 
 From the end of the village rose the girl's wonderful voice, 
 singing her quaint song, in which one heard the rush of the 
 
i6o GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 river and the sighing of the wind, a voice of sadness and pathos, 
 yet coloured with a rare beauty. For the first time I realized 
 there were no Indians hanging about us begging for tobacco and 
 gifts. We walked to the guest-hut and found the entire village 
 grouped about it. Black Cat was seated on a robe, before the 
 entrance, smoking his Missouri tobacco villainous stuff and 
 wondering at the medicine of her voice. 
 
 "When she sings her medicine song I see the leaves turn 
 yellow and drop, and I feel the first of the snow. I hear the ice 
 breaking up and smell the first grass," said Black Cat as we 
 stood beside him. 
 
 "She calls the voices from rivers and sends them back when 
 she is tired of them," Flat Mouth boasted. "She is very strong 
 medicine. It is her hair. The Chippewas are afraid of her." 
 
 "The Chippewas are old women," snorted Black Cat. 
 
 Flat Mouth's visage grew very wicked. From inside the robe 
 he was wearing Mandan-fashion he pulled forth a grisly string 
 of Sioux scalps, shook them in Black Cat's face and hoarsely 
 taunted : 
 
 "I am a Chippewa. I do not hide in a village when the Sioux 
 of the Plains come near. I go out and kill them. Have the 
 Mandans any old women who take scalps like these?" 
 
 It was the master-stroke for putting the beggars in their 
 proper place. The Cat was unable to speak for a full minute. 
 His eyes glowed and gloated over the trophies. He sprang to 
 his feet and loudly proclaimed : 
 
 "My Chippewa brother is a very brave man. I will adopt 
 him as a son. He shall have a new war name. He shall have 
 many wives. He shall carry the pipe for us against our ene 
 mies." 
 
 I feared Flat Mouth would indulge in more boasting and 
 scornfully flout the chief's offer, but his finesse was sharpened 
 because of the girl's peril. He replied 
 
 "After I have taken Medicine Hair back to her father." 
 
 This gave the Cat great pleasure. He pictured himself 
 basking in the glory of his new son, the recipient of homage, the 
 possessor of many scalps. He loudly announced he would give 
 
WE MEET BLACK CAT'S PEOPLE 161 
 
 a feast for the mighty Chippewa and forthwith directed his 
 wives to prepare an abundance of stinking meat, corn, and beans. 
 The Indians scattered in all directions to make ready for the 
 festival. Black Cat hurried off to see his commands were 
 obeyed, and, with a glance at me, the Pillager walked beside 
 him. 
 
 I remained before the hut. The door swung open a crack, 
 then wide open, and Miss Dearness confronted me, her eyes 
 searching mine anxiously. 
 
 "When can we start from this place?" she whispered. 
 
 "Very soon in a few days." 
 
 "A few days!" she faintly exclaimed. "Something tells me 
 we must start at once." 
 
 "The Pillager would say it is your medicine," I bantered. 
 
 "It is instinct. It has never failed me since I came to the In 
 dian country. Let us start to-night!" 
 
 "But that would invite danger. We must make a pretence 
 of looking the villages over for trade purposes," I protested. 
 "If there is any vital, any immediate danger, of course we will 
 start at once and fight for it. Now tell me just what has hap 
 pened." 
 
 "Nothing has happened," she slowly replied, her eyes staring 
 into mine and yet not beholding me. "But I'm afraid I am 
 horribly afraid different from anything I ever felt in my 
 life I'm never afraid of death." With this she closed the door, 
 leaving me standing there gaping. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 
 
 EARLY next morning Flat Mouth and I went to Miss 
 Dearness's hut and, on her joining us at the porch, asked 
 her to make ready for a trip to the Minnetaree villages a 
 few miles above, situated on the Knife River. To attempt leav 
 ing the country without visiting these "Big Bellies/' as the 
 trade had named them, would be to incur the wrath of Le 
 Borgne and throw discredit on our story of representing the 
 N. W. company and its plan to set up an opposition to the 
 already established H. B. trader. 
 
 The girl was afraid. Her bearing was calm and collected 
 enough, but there were transient flashes in her big blue eyes, a 
 curious trick of glancing sidewise through half-closed lids, that 
 bespoke a furtive fear. However, she readily agreed we must 
 visit the upper villages to sustain our role. She only insisted 
 that we make all haste to have it over with. 
 
 As I was anxious to go and return before Le Borgne came 
 back, I directed Flat Mouth to engage men to cross our horses, 
 promising them some handsome pipes when the traders arrived 
 with their assortment of goods. The Mandans proved to be as 
 expert in handling the horses in the river as they had been in 
 collecting the driftwood. Hitching a line to a nag's mouth, a 
 brave would take the end between his teeth and swim ahead 
 while others swam alongside and behind the animal. In this way 
 the three were taken across quickly and drifted downstream 
 scarcely at all. 
 
 When we landed from the bull-boat and mounted our horses, 
 we were surrounded by the entire village, every one being anx 
 ious to gaze on the white woman with the medicine hair. Miss 
 
 162 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 163 
 
 Dearness would have drawn her capote over her head but the 
 Pillager urged her not to, declaring that the belief she was a 
 magician would help us much. So she rode between us with her 
 oriflamme of a head glinting in the early sunlight and making 
 me think of a maple turned red by the first frosts. 
 
 Flat Mouth improvised a legend which he sung as we slowly 
 made our way through the crowd. It was to the effect that 
 beams of sunlight became imprisoned in the girl's hair when 
 she was born, and that their struggles to escape created the pow 
 erful medicine she possessed. 
 
 Big Man walked by my side and informed me a hunting party 
 of a hundred braves was due to arrive home after a three days' 
 trip and that, if we would postpone our visit to the Minnetarees, 
 we could procure some fresh meat. I immediately feared lest the 
 Minnetaree chief, Le Borgne, would be with this party, but 
 Flat Mouth explained that the Minnetarees hunted to the south 
 west of the Knife and the Mandans to the southeast, the river 
 being the boundary. We needed fresh meat badly, but the hunt 
 ing party would greatly delay our journey up the river, so we 
 pressed on more determinedly than ever. 
 
 I assured Miss Dearness that we could make the villages, ride 
 through them and start back for Black Cat's village before dark. 
 On returning and recrossing the river we could decide whether 
 to start north immediately, unaccompanied, or wait till morning 
 and endeavour to obtain an escort from the Mandans. The girl 
 was for an immediate departure. 
 
 I had planned to take my white robes with me, thinking I 
 might have a chance to trade them for horses, they being about 
 the only thing the Minnetarees would exchange horses for. Flat 
 Mouth, however, insisted such a trade would consume all the 
 day, that the horses we had were fresh enough, and that the 
 hides had better be left behind in the hut, where they would be 
 perfectly safe. 
 
 So we rode forth. Miss Dearness's peculiar type of loveli 
 ness was greatly accentuated by the appearance of the Mandan 
 women, who could not be called comely even by Indian stand 
 ards. I never could understand why the Crows, the most 
 
1 64 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 lascivious of all the Indians I ever met, should be the most pre 
 possessing in appearance, or why the women of the Aricaras, the 
 most treacherous of any tribe I ever encountered, should ap 
 proach the nearest to the white standard of good looks. 
 
 Miss Dearness was not inclined to talk, and we rode rapidly, 
 as if eager to have done with a disagreeable errand. The road 
 we followed was very decent and led us over two hills and then 
 for two miles across a plain, skirting a small village which we 
 did not enter. The whole distance was through an area of 
 gardens which included much ground given over to the culti 
 vation of sunflowers. In every direction were horses grazing on 
 the early grass, and Flat Mouth's eyes glittered as became a 
 true Pillager. All these animals were brought into the villages 
 at night, revealing the Indians' constant dread of their invet 
 erate enemies, the Sioux and the Assiniboins. The Mandans 
 kept their ponies in their huts while the Minnetarees used small 
 corrals. 
 
 These villages on the Missouri and Knife were distinct from 
 any I ever became acquainted with. They suggested permanency 
 and a strong devotion to the soil, especially the villages of the 
 Mandans. Our road along the south bank of the Missouri to 
 the Knife afforded almost continuous glimpses of a bucolic life 
 which made me think of Canadian villages. 
 
 All hunting was done in large bands, Flat Mouth told me, 
 for fear of surprise attacks. Each hunting party, therefore, con 
 tained the potentials of a war-party. Even when in large num 
 bers the warriors did not care to wander far from their homes 
 lest the villages be assaulted in force during their absence. Be 
 cause of this caution it became necessary to conserve the buffalo 
 and under no circumstances scare him away. It resulted that 
 they aimed to surround a small herd of a few hundred and kill 
 every one. They believed that if a survivor escaped he would 
 communicate his alarm to other herds. Nor did they use their 
 guns in hunting, but always the bow and arrow. 
 
 The first pause in our journey was at the Minnetaree village 
 at the mouth of the Knife, consisting of half a hundred huts and 
 called the "little village." We very quickly learned there was 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 165 
 
 a great difference between this and either of the Mandan vil 
 lages in regard to manners. 
 
 The moment we were sighted a mob of young demons sur 
 rounded us, hooting and deriding. Their elders sat smoking 
 their miserable tobacco on top of the huge circular huts and 
 enjoying the spectacle. More troublesome even than the chil 
 dren were the dogs which swarmed from all directions. They 
 were as vicious as wolves and much more daring. 
 
 Miss Dearness, who had drawn her capote over her head 
 when we neared the village, gave a cry of alarm, and I spurred 
 forward and brained a brute with the butt of my gun as he 
 leaped high to pull her from the saddle. This act caused much 
 scowling and mumbling from the spectators, which I inter 
 preted to be threats. Flat Mouth leaned low from his saddle 
 and did for another beast with his axe. The mumbling broke 
 into a sullen roar, and the men on the huts began rising and 
 preparing to descend. 
 
 Flat Mouth pulled out his string of Sioux scalps and, waving 
 them above his head, shouted his name and the fact that he had 
 once lived among the Mandans and the Minnetarees. Then in 
 their own tongue he chanted nis record of coups, touching a 
 scalp as he narrated the details of each encounter. The men on 
 the huts gathered to the edge and allowed their feet to hang 
 down while they listened. 
 
 Finishing the story of his exploits, the Pillager explained how 
 he was serving the woman with the medicine hair, the most 
 wonderful woman ever on the Missouri, whose father was the 
 mightiest of all traders and who had intended to build a post 
 among the villages so the Indians could always obtain whatever 
 they wanted in arms and ammunition. He significantly con 
 cluded with saying: 
 
 "The big white chief will send no traders where his daugh 
 ter is met by mad dogs and screaming children." 
 
 Then, turning to Miss Dearness, he directed her to reveal 
 her hair. 
 
 She obeyed, and as the Indians stared at her fiery hair, those 
 on the ground drew back and forgot their scowls, while those on 
 
i66 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 the huts stood erect and forgot their smoking. As the Pillager 
 rapidly translated his speech to me I understood their concern ; 
 each village was anxious to obtain all the white man's goods 
 possible and was extremely jealous of every visit made by a 
 trader to a neighbouring village. 
 
 Their lack of hospitality was an excellent excuse for us to 
 save time by pushing on. Although they beseeched us to enter 
 their huts and partake of food and tobacco, we held on steadily 
 through the village and into the road leading up the Knife. 
 They followed us outside the village but we gave them no heed. 
 We followed the road for about a mile when the Pillager halted 
 and announced that we were opposite the big Minnetaree vil 
 lage. He said it consisted of some hundred and thirty huts, 
 but, rub my eyes as I would, I could not see it. 
 
 Then he explained this. The last of the five villages was* 
 located a mile back from the river, and because of this fact and 
 the resulting problem over fuel the warriors moved into hills 
 each winter, where they had more circular huts and wood 
 aplenty. We forded the Knife with the water up to our horses' 
 bellies and made a dash for the village. 
 
 This time we met less of the rudeness which had greeted us 
 below, and yet there was no suggestion of hospitality. They 
 were rude in another way. We were ignored. They were most 
 arrogant in their bearing. After ordering a woman to show us 
 to a big hut, set apart for visitors, they paid no attention to us. 
 A physical characteristic of all Minnetarees was the large 
 aquiline nose. The Pillager assured us we were safe among 
 them, but added that this was the case purely because they 
 must have arms from traders to protect themselves from the 
 Sioux, and they believed that we were paving the way for per 
 manent traders. The village originally contained a thousand 
 huts, but the deadly small-pox had whittled it down to its 
 present proportions. 
 
 The hut we were shown to was a duplicate of the one in 
 Black Cat's village except that it was dug down three feet 
 below the surface. As in the Mandan huts we found earthen 
 pots and a copper kettle. The kettle, it seems, was used entirely 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 167 
 
 for boiling meat. Why they couldn't cook meat in the earthen 
 ware, as they did their corn and beans, I do not know. Some 
 foolish superstition was behind it, of course. I asked the 
 woman about it, and she said the meat would make the earthen 
 pots crack. 
 
 I quickly learned it was unsafe to move outside the hut unless 
 armed with a club. The first time I stepped to the door to 
 survey the scene, I was set upon by a huge dog. I kicked myself 
 clear of the brute and after that I never ventured abroad with 
 out a club in my hand. So long as we remained in the hut we 
 were left by ourselves. The moment we passed through the door 
 we were surrounded by impish brats who would go through our 
 clothes and filch anything they could. Miss Dearness went out 
 with us once, but the repulsive sights and the constant attend 
 ance of the vicious-mannered mob which accompanied us every 
 step was experience enough for her. 
 
 "You and the Pillager carry out your plans," she urged after 
 we returned to the hut. "But let us start back to the Mandan 
 village before dark." 
 
 "It's a beastly place," I admitted, pitying her deeply. "I al 
 most wish, for your sake, we had tried to win back north with 
 out coming here. I think we could have made it." 
 
 "No, we stood no chance. The Sioux were too close, the 
 Assiniboins too many. Our lives are safe here, but we ought to 
 be starting for the Red River within a day or two." After a 
 pause she asked, "When do you think Le Borgne will come?" 
 
 "Not till after we have gone. You have heard of him ?" 
 
 "My father spoke of him when we were on the Assiniboin. 
 The Indians had much to tell of him. But go and finish your 
 business so we can be getting away." 
 
 The undercurrent of her thoughts was Le Borgne, that sin 
 ister master of the Minnetarees, who ruled as an autocrat, an 
 unusual condition of affairs among the Indians. I did not care 
 to ask her what she had heard about the chief ; it was sure to be 
 something disquieting. I picked up my club and, followed by 
 Flat Mouth, passed from the hut. 
 
 We had a brisk battle with the dogs but finally put them to 
 
i68 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 rout. Young bucks swaggered close, glaring murderously at our 
 success over their pets. One was so bold as to step before the 
 Pillager to block his path, or to make him step aside. Flat 
 Mouth slapped him in the face with his string of Sioux scalps, 
 called him a "child," and asked how long before he could 
 grow up and kill a Sioux. 
 
 The buck, maddened beyond self-control and knowing the 
 warriors were watching his shame, grabbed for his axe. Flat 
 Mouth smiled evilly and dangled the string before his face. 
 The hand on the axe relaxed. I was using the medicine bag 
 taken from the war-chief killed in the Red Lake River country, 
 as a tobacco pouch. Now I produced it, filled my pipe and 
 through the Pillager advised the young man and his friend not 
 to bother mighty warriors who never bothered to slay any but 
 chiefs carrying the pipe. 
 
 The display of scalps and the sight of the medicine pouch 
 brought the elders to sharp attention. Several approached, their 
 bearing very decorous, and questioned the Pillager. He proudly 
 proclaimed himself a hero and gave his new name of Sioux 
 Killer. He declared I came next to him and said the white 
 woman with the medicine hair was more powerful than both 
 of us. 
 
 The lowering glances continued, yet our exhibit of trophies 
 had made a deep impression and forced their respect. Their 
 great chief, Le Borgne, would have been proud to recite the 
 coups the Pillager had recounted. Harsh commands were given, 
 and the band of children drew back, the young men ceased their 
 insolence, and women clubbed the dogs to the outskirts of the 
 village. 
 
 Then Le Borgne's brother, Caltahcota, or Choke-cherry, as 
 the traders knew him, deigned to make himself known and in 
 quired minutely into the purpose of our visit. He was pleased 
 with the story I told through the Pillager, and said his brother 
 would be very glad to welcome us, but that we had done wrong 
 in not bringing guns, powder and ball with us, as the Sioux 
 were very thick and troublesome around the village. 
 
 The Pillager sneered and loudly declared he would drive the 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 169 
 
 Sioux away and double the length of his string. Choke-cherry 
 seemed to accept him at his own estimation, and his respect took 
 on a touch of awe. He insisted we go into his hut and eat. 
 
 We followed him and were presented with bowls of meat 
 that only one word can describe putrid. Even for politeness' 
 sake I could not endure the stench of it, let alone tasting it. 
 Choke-cherry gobbled at it voraciously and gave us some dried 
 beans and corn, bruised in a mortar, cooked without salt, and 
 very tasteless. Still it could be swallowed. Flat Mouth was 
 not particular as to what he ate, yet there were limits to even 
 his Indian appetite and stomach. He partook only of the corn 
 and beans. While we were bolting our portions he assured me 
 that the Minnetarees would kill a buffalo in winter, leave it in 
 the snow and wait until decomposition had set in before using 
 it for food. I could well believe it. 
 
 Escaping to the free air, I asked Choke-cherry when his 
 mighty brother would be back. He believed in a few days. He 
 was very vague, indicating he knew no more about it than we 
 did. The six Cheyenne envoys had withdrawn a mile north 
 of the village to await the coming of more of their people- 
 Upon their arrival the treaty between them and the Minne 
 tarees would be duly cemented. The Minnetarees would adopt 
 a Cheyenne youth and many presents would be "placed under 
 the stem." While Le Borgne was too big a man to abandon a 
 hunting trip for any purpose except to follow his own will, it 
 was probable he would return very soon. 
 
 With the Pillager interpreting I said: 
 
 "We must go back to the lower villages to-night. When your 
 brother comes send a man to us so we may come to him." 
 
 He urged that we remain with the Minnetarees indefinitely, 
 but I explained we had certain trade preparations to make, and 
 he finally agreed to inform us when the chief arrived. 
 
 Utterly disgusted with the villages, determined to get away 
 where I could feel clean once more, and sensing that it must 
 be hell for Miss Dearness, I made up my mind on the spot to 
 make a break north from the Mandan village early the next 
 morning. Fear of the Sioux would keep the village Indians 
 
170 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 from pursuing us, while the presence of the Cheyennes on the 
 Knife, anxious to make peace, would tend to make both Sioux 
 and Assiniboins chary about remaining in that neighbourhood. 
 
 The Mandans, while peacefully disposed and much less arro 
 gant than the Minnetarees, were known as dogged fighters, 
 Allied with the Cheyennes, they could carry a good fight to the 
 Sioux, and the latter knew it. By striking directly north and 
 travelling much by night I believed we could make the big loop 
 of the Mouse. After following the Mouse a short distance we 
 would be within the sphere of influence of the N. W. company, 
 represented by Fort Assiniboin, and our dangers from hostile 
 red men would be over. Nor did I expect any difficulty in leav 
 ing the Mandan village. We had come and gone as we pleased, 
 our story was believed, and we had visited the Minnetaree 
 village to consult with Le Borgne's brother. 
 
 Leaving Choke-cherry Cherry-on-a-Bush was his full name, 
 I believe we returned to the hut and found Miss Dearness 
 seated on a robe before the empty fire-hole and looking very sad. 
 I briefly explained my purpose, and it was worth great risks to 
 behold the wonderful lighting up of the blue eyes as she turned 
 them on me. 
 
 '"It will succeed!" she cried in English. "It must! Oh, 
 you've removed a big load from my heart. To be out in the 
 open to breathe clean air again anything but this !" 
 
 "YouVe seen so much of Indian life in travelling with your 
 father that you must be prepared to withstand what would 
 shock an inexperienced white woman," I remarked. 
 
 "True," she murmured. "I can force myself to indifference 
 to much that's repulsive a make-believe indifference, anyway. 
 I've said the Indians talked of Le Borgne on the Assiniboin. 
 I've also heard the H. B. men describe him in talking with my 
 father. He likes to meet white men. He treats them better 
 than his warriors do. He's shrewd enough to know he must 
 have arms, and he can get them only through the white traders. 
 From the Indian standpoint he is a very great man. Yes, he's 
 that even by our standards. He controls these villages abso 
 lutely, and you know how dearly an Indian prizes his personal 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 171 
 
 liberty. Le Borgne overrides many hard-and-fast rules of ordi 
 nary Indian usage. What he wants he takes." 
 
 Her face went red as she finished; then the colour receded, 
 leaving her cheeks a ghastly white, and her hand fumbled at 
 something inside her leather coat, probably her knife. 
 
 "You understand him as well as the Pillager does," I gravely 
 commented. "Perhaps it's best you should." 
 
 "The truth is always best," she simply replied. "The fact is 
 there. It would be foolish to hide from it as a calf hides his 
 head in the grass to escape a hunter." 
 
 Flat Mouth, who had listened and picked up a word herd 
 and there, now broke in: 
 
 "When I was here last, Le Borgne would go into a hut and 
 take a warrior's wife away from him. The warrior never made 
 any fight. Le Borgne is a great chief." 
 
 His lack of finesse in making the brutal speech would have 
 angered me more if I did not believe the girl knew all that he 
 knew. She glanced with a curious little smile and quietly said 
 
 "Well, he will never take me." 
 
 "What nonsense! Of course not!" I cried hotly. "To hear 
 us one would think this raw savage was all-powerful. Then 
 again, let's give him credit for having some sense. He wants 
 traders to come here so he can stand off the Sioux. Is he fool 
 enough to spoil all the chances for saving his people from the 
 Sioux by turning every trader against him? Of course not. 
 Miss Dearness, you haven't any cause to worry." 
 
 She reached out and patted my hand and murmured 
 
 "Comforter!" Then she reminded "Yet there is some dan 
 ger, so great that you plan to return to the Mouse without an 
 escort." 
 
 She had me. In all honesty I insisted our proposed flight 
 was impelled by idle fears, so far as we knew. Beyond the 
 general character of Le Borgne we had no reason for deducing 
 he would bring down the wrath of the American Government 
 upon him by stealing a white woman. 
 
 "Tell that to these Indians and they will laugh at you," she 
 jeered. "You can't make them believe but what they are the 
 
172 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 most superior and the most brave people on earth. There may 
 come a time when your Government can control them. Now 
 they have no more respect for or fear of your Government than 
 that of China, which they never heard of. Why, they even 
 believe they outnumber the whites. Tell them of big white 
 villages beyond the Mississippi, and they will tell you that you 
 lie. I've travelled enough with my father and have heard 
 enough trade-talk to know at least that much." 
 
 I had to admit the truth of her statements and shifted to the 
 contention that the chief's imperative need of guns would 
 come first in his heart. He might laugh at the United States 
 Government as a shadowy thing, but he would never laugh at 
 the Sioux and a powerful trading company. Believing we all 
 three represented the N. W. company, he would be anxious for 
 us to carry back pleasant reports and thereby hasten the estab 
 lishment of a permanent post. 
 
 "And yet you plan to escape at the earliest opportunity to 
 morrow morning if we can manage it," she monotonously re 
 minded. 
 
 "We can wait and see the chief and have him send an escort 
 with us," I boldly declared. 
 
 With a little shudder she protested. 
 
 "No ! No ! We must start to-morrow. Instinct tells me we 
 must do so. I only wish we could start now. I tell you I am 
 afraid, and I'm not bothered with any silly imagination. I feel 
 as if something were about to happen." 
 
 "For heaven's sake don't let our friend here know that, or 
 he'll sit down and sing his death song, waiting for someone to 
 club him to death. You're big medicine to him. So long as he 
 can believe that, he can do much." 
 
 "Medicine Hair big medicine," murmured Flat Mouth, 
 catching at the familiar words, although puzzled by the rest of 
 our talk. 
 
 She raised her head and stared at us both haughtily. The 
 effect at once registered on the Pillager. Smoothing out her 
 wonderful hair, she softly sounded the ululating call that car 
 ried the whispering of the wind and the prattling of shallow 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 173 
 
 rivers. The chief stood very straight, his head tipped back, his 
 nostrils distended. 
 
 There was a warrior's ambition in his small eyes. If he had 
 been disturbed by her downcast mien he was now restored to 
 all his old-time strutting complacency. He was the chief of the 
 Pillager Chippewas. The Minnetarees were low dogs who lived 
 cooped up in a village and ate stinking meat. The hand that 
 struck against his robe where hung his scalps was itching for 
 more bloody work. Then the door of the hut swung open, and 
 Choke-cherry stood before us, blinking at the girl. 
 
 He was wearing a gorgeous headgear made from a turkey- 
 cock's tail, and he seemed much puffed up with his own impor 
 tance. For a few moments he forgot his errand and stared at 
 Miss Dearness and her lustrous hair. With an effort he recalled 
 his business and, in a loud voice, began reciting. As he talked 
 he pounded his chest and glanced from me to the girl and then 
 to the impassive Pillager. When he had finished the Pillager 
 explained that the messenger sent to inform Le Borgne of the 
 Cheyennes' presence at the village had found the great chief a 
 short distance up the Knife. But, being a great chief, it did not 
 please his fancy to quit the hunt, even for making the peace 
 treaty. Accordingly he had sent the messenger back with direc 
 tions for his brother, the renowned and redoubtable Choke- 
 cherry, to treat with the Cheyennes and to adopt the Cheyenne 
 youth. 
 
 These delegated powers had swollen Choke-cherry's conceit 
 almost to the exploding point. Out of five brothers to Le 
 Borgne he had been picked. He had sent word to the Cheyenne 
 camp that he was coming to act for his illustrious brother and, 
 to give more tone to the ceremony, he desired his new friends 
 to be present. 
 
 Miss Dearness's face remained cold and proud, but her soul 
 was on her lips when she whispered to me: 
 
 "Thank God, he isn't coming. You two go, and I will 
 wait here." 
 
 On being informed of our decision, Choke-cherry violently 
 objected. He needed the medicine of her hair, he said. Never 
 
174 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 had the Cheyennes seen such hair. Her attendance was abso 
 lutely necessary, he insisted. 
 
 "You'd better come," I urged after Flat Mouth had inter 
 preted. "It will give us better standing with them. We can 
 ride directly from the ceremony to the lower village." 
 
 "If you think best," she surrendered, rising and gathering up 
 her capote. 
 
 Choke-cherry had had small chance to wear the purple, I 
 took it, and his dignity and conceit were terrific. As Choke- 
 cherry, the warriors would have laughed at him ; as the mouth 
 piece of his illustrious brother, his orders were obeyed with great 
 celerity. Our horses were brought to the hut, and the buck 
 who acted as hostler did not even pause to beg for the usual 
 piece of trade tobacco. We found the village humming with 
 unusual activity, and Choke-cherry, every few rods, halted his 
 pony and hoarsely harangued the people. These speeches had no 
 point, I deduced from Flat Mouth's grim smile of contempt, but 
 they killed the time which I believed to be precious. 
 
 Finally we were ready and rode beside Choke-cherry at the 
 head of two hundred or more mounted warriors. They had 
 decorated their ponies with white and red earth, some showing 
 white or red hand-prints to advertise that their riders had grap 
 pled bare-handed with an enemy. Others were marked with 
 stripes. 
 
 The riders, too, were painted, but they would have been 
 very ferocious to behold even without any colouring, for the 
 majority of them showed wide welts in the flesh, produced by 
 pushing an arrow-head along under the skin. Many had several 
 of these hideous ridges running from the hand to the shoulder 
 and then down on the chest, where they ended in a series of 
 circles. Nearly all had scalps hanging from their bridles or from 
 the handles of their axes and spears. The women, also mounted, 
 brought up the rear. These were uniformly tattooed with broad 
 lines from the nose to the ears, and from the corners of the 
 mouth down to the throat. 
 
 As we galloped along behind Choke-cherry, Flat Mouth 
 festooned his scalps down the front of his robe, while I hung 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 175 
 
 the Sioux medicine pouch on my breast. Several groups of young 
 men now swung in ahead of us, riding ten abreast and chanting 
 their war-songs and sounding their rattles. Choke-cherry pro 
 duced the ceremonial pipe from a case carried across his saddle, 
 and held it high in one hand so that it could not touch his horse. 
 
 Now, while we went in superior numbers to sign a peace pact, 
 yet we moved in a compact body as if fearing an attack. Nor 
 was this because of any ceremony. We were afraid of an attack. 
 Word was given for the young men to cease racing their ponies 
 and stay close with the main body, and more than one of the 
 gun-bearers saw that his piece was properly primed and slipped 
 an extra ball into his mouth. 
 
 When, within about a quarter of a mile of the Cheyenne 
 camp, a score of warriors came racing out to meet us, on horse 
 flesh that was far superior t& anything the Minnetarees owned, 
 their animals* heads were cunningly concealed in masks repre 
 senting buffalo and red deer heads. The riders were all young 
 men and they rode up to us, shook hands and cried out greetings 
 in their own language. 
 
 On beholding Miss Dearness they seemed strangely affected 
 and lost much of their noisy manner. Plat Mouth and his 
 decorations also impressed them, although he wore none of the 
 finery the Minnetarees were displaying. But he had the proof 
 of having been at hand-grips with the Sioux. 
 
 As they galloped back to their camp they repeatedly turned 
 to gaze at us. Choke-cherry took all this to his own credit, but 
 I knew it was the girl and her vivid hair that attracted these 
 backward glances. She, too, was moved by the stirring spectacle, 
 and her blue eyes flashed and sparkled and roamed back and 
 forth to take in all the details of the lively panorama. For 
 the moment she was forgetting the filth and the annoyance and 
 was beholding only the barbaric grace of the riders, and the 
 pictorial rioting of colours. 
 
 Choke-cherry, the old wind-bag, now halted the long line and 
 rode from front to rear, pausing every rod to spout and roar 
 his orders, determined to live his brief authority to the limit. 
 He lectured them on the virtue of keeping their finery unsoiled, 
 
1 76 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 so as to do honour to their tribe. He exhorted them to carry 
 themselves carefully, so as to give no offence and spoil the peace. 
 He severely scolded a band of Mandans, who rode at one side 
 and out of line. Flat Mouth said the Mandans had to stand 
 much overbearing conduct from their allies, but added that, 
 aside from Le Borgne, no Minnetaree ventured beyond certain 
 limits. 
 
 Because of Choke-cherry's love for speech-making I feared we 
 would never make the camp and have the ceremony of adoption 
 done with, but fortunately a great war-chief of the Cheyennes 
 now dashed out to meet us on a white stallion and put an end 
 to our leader's mouthing. This man was a magnificent specimen. 
 He wore a blue coat, procured in trade with the Spaniards 
 through some of the southern tribes, and a gaily-striped blanket. 
 He all but rode us down and had his horse's hoofs pawing the 
 air over my head in a most disconcerting manner. 
 
 He shook hands with me and Miss Dearness, at whom he 
 stared overlong, and with the Pillager. Choke-cherry, who was 
 a few hundred feet behind us, now galloped up and fussily 
 took over the management of the situation. The chief shook 
 hands with him cordially, but his gaze alternated between the 
 girl's hair and the stern cold face of the Pillager with his wealth 
 of Sioux hair. The business of handshaking done with, he fell 
 back, and a large number of his men rode forward and mingled 
 with the Minnetarees and Mandans, shaking hands and shout 
 ing a welcome. 
 
 At a signal from their chief the Cheyennes fell into long lines 
 with a military precision and galloped to their camp. We fol 
 lowed at a sedate pace. When we arrived, the chief and several 
 of the older men rode back and forth through the camp, remind 
 ing their people that the Minnetarees were their friends, that 
 they were to be fed and protected from thieves. There were a 
 hundred leather tents in the camp, white as snow and set in a 
 horseshoe with the opening toward the north. The speech of the 
 Cheyennes is much more pleasing to the ear than that of the 
 Mandans or Minnetarees and reminded me much of our north 
 ern Crees. 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 177 
 
 Thus far all had gone smoothly. Then, like a bolt, a band of 
 Cheyennes darted from their camp and rode like mad along 
 our back trail. At first I supposed this to be one of their grace 
 ful manoeuvres, but quickly perceived by Choke-cherry's excite 
 ment that something unusual was up. He yelped to his warriors 
 and two-score wheeled their horses and started on a course 
 parallel to that of the Cheyennes. 
 
 I rode up a low hill to discover the trouble and beheld two 
 horsemen desperately riding to meet the Minnetarees before the 
 Cheyennes could get to them. Behind me both the Cheyenne 
 camp and the body of Minnetarees were in a boiling commotion. 
 The women accompanying our party were hurriedly getting the 
 horses to the rear. Choke-cherry was bleating madly. Flat 
 Mouth and Miss Dearness galloped to join me. 
 
 "Be ready! We may have to ride fast from here. If we do 
 we will strike for the Mouse without going back to the Mandan 
 village," said the Pillager. 
 
 I asked for an explanation. He pointed to the two horsemen, 
 now inside the double line of Minnetarees. I looked and recog 
 nized the head-dress of buffalo horns. 
 
 "Assiniboins !" I cried. "Why don't the Minnetarees kill 
 them?" 
 
 "They came into the village. They can not be harmed. The 
 Cheyennes are their deadly enemies. Knowing the Minnetarees 
 are stronger to-day than the Cheyennes, they foolishly followed 
 them out here. The Cheyennes want to kill them. The Minne 
 tarees say they shall not be hurt. Instead of peace we may have 
 a battle. If that happens we will ride for it." 
 
 Now the Minnetarees were returning, the two Assiniboins in 
 their midst. The Cheyennes shouted furiously and gesticu 
 lated with their weapons as they demanded the surrender of 
 the newcomers. Choke-cherry rode up to the Cheyenne chief 
 and asked him to call his young men back. The chief offered 
 ten of his best horses for the Assiniboins, and there was no 
 logical reason the dictates of humanity aside, of which the 
 Minnetarees knew nothing why the intruders should not have 
 been given up. But according to the Indian reasoning the two 
 
1 78 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 were safe once they entered the village and so long as they 
 remained in the village. As almost all the village had gone to 
 visit the Cheyennes the Assiniboins followed our road and 
 were held to be, theoretically, still in the village and entitled 
 to protection. 
 
 It was a curious example of the power of custom. The 
 Minnetarees were determined to protect the two hostile Indians 
 even if it cost them the friendship of the Cheyennes. The men 
 were finally brought well within our lines, thrust into a small 
 tent and told to keep out of sight. Next followed an hour of 
 vehement speech-making. At last the Cheyennes said they 
 would get their chance later. Choke-cherry was nervous and 
 uneasy and at once began preparing for the ceremony. 
 
 Miss Dearness became so deeply interested.in the Assiniboins 
 that I made some comment upon it. She replied: 
 
 "They were with those who drove us down here. They are 
 spies. They came to learn if we were here, and when we are 
 likely to go. Their main body is in hiding somewhere near." 
 
 "They must not go back to tell what they've learned," I said. 
 
 "Oh, not murder," she protested. 
 
 "Self-defence," I grimly qualified. 
 
 I turned to the Pillager and found him perfectly composed. 
 He said he had known the moment he beheld the two, that 
 their errand on the Kbife concerned us. 
 
 I said to the girl: 
 
 "It's very simple. I'll get word to the Cheyennes to watch 
 the two and bag them if they leave the village. Flat Mouth 
 shall tell them, as he talks the sign language." 
 
 "But the war-party outside waiting to catch us?" she mur 
 mured. 
 
 "Flat Mouth shall tell of that, too. The Cheyennes shall 
 go and drive them away." 
 
 I began to feel rather obliged to the two fellows for coming 
 in and revealing the unsuspected danger. 
 
 So far as I could observe, the wrangling over the Assiniboins 
 terminated without any obvious gain made by either side except 
 that the Minnetarees kept the two Indians alive. With the dis- 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 179 
 
 sension smoothed away, next came the ceremony of completing 
 the treaty. The terms were simple and accepted by both tribes. 
 The alliance was to wage war on the Sioux and their allies. 
 Choke-cherry, by formally adopting a Cheyenne youth as his 
 son, would be creating binding ties between the tribes. The 
 Cheyennes, however, were reluctant to proceed with the busi 
 ness. 
 
 Flat Mouth got hold of a Mandan and learned the Chey 
 ennes were angry that Le Borgne did not consider the treaty of 
 enough importance to be present. It had only needed the inci 
 dent of the Assiniboins to bring this resentment to the sur 
 face. The medicine tent was not up, nor had they formed a 
 smaller ceremonial horseshoe of the white leather tents. After 
 much arguing and oratory the medicine tent was finally erected. 
 
 Choke-cherry made a long-winded speech and called to him 
 Two Crows, a Minnetaree chief, and gave to him the long 
 pipe-stem he had so carefully guarded from being profaned by 
 touching his horse. This stem was adorned with feathers, and 
 Two Crows, in accepting it, danced grotesquely back and forth, 
 while two young Minnetarees beat on a drum and rattled ante 
 lope hoofs together. 
 
 After a certain amount of prancing, came the ceremonial visit 
 to the tent of the Cheyenne who was to be adopted. Two 
 Crows went ahead with his thudding dance-step, and behind 
 him danced the men with the drum and the hoofs. We fol 
 lowed with Choke-cherry. At Choke-cherry's command three 
 horses were brought along. Several pegs were pulled out, and 
 the flaps of the tent drawn back so that the horses could be led 
 inside. The three halters were placed in the hands of a very 
 sullen looking young man who was seated opposite the entrance. 
 Two Crows danced up and offered him the sacred stem. To 
 the consternation of Choke-cherry the stem was haughtily waved 
 aside. Choke-cherry tried to reason with him, but he would not 
 come out of his sulks. 
 
 The situation was growing serious. Flat Mouth gained the 
 side of the Cheyenne war-chief, who was sardonically watching 
 Choke-cherry's embarrassment, and talked rapidly with one 
 
i8o GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 hand masked by his robe. Only the chief could read his talk, 
 and, as he comprehended, his eyes darted fire. Striding to the 
 young man he spoke in his ear, whereat the stem was accepted. 
 Choke-cherry and Two Crows now took him by the arms and 
 led him to the medicine-tent and seated him beside some new red 
 strouds coarse blankets. Choke-cherry sat on his right and 
 Two Crows on his left. The musicians continued their efforts, 
 and a figure danced in with the head of a buffalo on his shoul 
 ders, the nostrils and mouth of which were stuffed with dried 
 grass. He placed the skull of a bull on the ground opposite the 
 Cheyenne. 
 
 Now came the gift-making, and again the Cheyennes held 
 back. Some of the Minnetarees brought ammunition and placed 
 it on the strouds, and the Cheyenne held the stem over it. Two 
 Crows rose and addressed the Cheyennes, urging them to bring 
 something to put under the stem. After much waiting three 
 warriors brought in a few robes and some dressed leather and 
 piled them on the ammunition. This encouraged the Minne 
 tarees, and they gave three guns. The Cheyennes came back 
 with three poor ponies. Choke-cherry growled and grunted in 
 great wrath, and his followers brought two more guns and some 
 corn and beans. This resulted in another sore-backed nag from 
 the visitors. 
 
 i Then did Choke-cherry explode and demand what the Chey 
 ennes meant by putting worthless creatures under the stem 
 when the Minnetarees were giving good guns and powder and 
 ball. The Cheyennes replied they would bring good horses 
 when more guns were put under the stem. 
 
 Choke-cherry forgot diplomacy and roundly accused the 
 Cheyennes of plotting to induce the Minnetarees to give up 
 their weapons so that they might be helpless before an attack. 
 This accusation of treachery was "immediately followed by the 
 Cheyennes hurrying back to the tents. We waited, thinking 
 they were gone to bring more ponies. Then the warriors out 
 side the medicine tent began calling out loudly, and we ran 
 after Choke-cherry and Two Crows and beheld the Cheyennes 
 striking their tents and preparing to ride off. 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 181 
 
 The young man who was to have been adopted galloped by 
 us, riding one of the gift nags, leading the others and carrying 
 the guns and ammunition. More than one bow was drawn 
 taut as he flew by, but Choke-cherry, although convulsed with 
 rage, knew better than to let war come while his brother was 
 absent, and his stern commands, liberally mixed with mention 
 of his brother's name, saved the young man's life. 
 
 The Cheyennes rode off in a body. The peace treaty had 
 fallen through because of the Assiniboins. Yet the Minne- 
 tarees did not seem to attribute any blame to them and treated 
 them kindly as we rode back to the village. Before arriving 
 at the huts Choke-cherry turned toward the river, a mile away. 
 On reaching it he directed Two Crows to bring a white buffalo 
 hide. Flat Mouth explained to me and the girl that Choke- 
 cherry feared he had handled the peace treaty badly and antic 
 ipated his brother's anger. To guard against this he now 
 proposed to sacrifice a precious white robe. Such a hide, as 
 I have remarked before, is the most highly valued by the Min- 
 netarees of all their possessions. I could understand how the 
 chief's brother was considerably worked up. 
 
 Two Crows came galloping back, not with a whole hide, for 
 that was a liberality that even the gods had no right to expect, 
 but a long strip. This seemed to answer perfectly, however, 
 and was soon placed in a deep hole in the river and weighted 
 down with rocks. Choke-cherry then made a long speech in 
 which he said he knew what w r as to blame for the Cheyennes' 
 behaviour, which he promised to duly report to his brother. 
 Having done all he could to placate his gods, he morosely led 
 the way home. 
 
 "You talked with the Cheyenne chief?" I murmured to Flat 
 Mouth. 
 
 "He is Red Arrow, a brave warrior. He will wait three 
 days to go with us to the Mouse." 
 
 "Why is he willing to do that ?" I curiously asked. 
 
 "He knows I will pay him. He will make a good trade," 
 was the evasive answer. 
 
 Choke-cherry halted at the first hut and, as we rode up, he 
 
182 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 glared at me viciously and shouted something. The Pillager 
 interpreted 
 
 "I know what stopped me from making peace with the Chey- 
 ennes." 
 
 "What was it?" I asked. 
 
 "Bad medicine." 
 
 "What was the medicine?" I knew what he would say before 
 he spoke. 
 
 "The hair of the white woman," he grunted, switching his 
 malignant gaze to Miss Dearness. 
 
 I warmly replied he was a fool and some other things, and 
 that no treaty would be made with the Minnetarees when they 
 took the Assiniboin snakes along with them. 
 
 "My brother is a very wise man. We shall see," he replied 
 as he rode away. 
 
 The girl had interpreted his look and had heard Flat Mouth's 
 Chippewa translation, and her hand was cold as ice as she rode 
 closer and placed it on mine and whispered 
 
 "It all comes back my fear." 
 
 "Don't you worry a bit," I soothed. "We'll get out of here 
 flying inside of twelve hours." 
 
 In my heart, however, a deadly chill was growing. 
 
 It was now dusk, and after leaving our ponies at the corral, 
 I escorted Miss Dearness to the hut and lighted some bark in 
 the fire-hole to drive away the gloom. Then I told her that 
 we had better remain where we were until morning as the ride 
 down the river would be dangerous. Surrounding the village 
 were innumerable pits, eight feet or more deep, which the women 
 filled with corn and beans each fall. These were all open, and 
 to get clear of the place at night was to risk a broken leg or 
 neck. 
 
 "But we must get away to-night," she fiercely insisted. "Any 
 danger but this." She waved her hand to encompass the whole 
 village. "You heard what he said about my medicine spoiling 
 the treaty. I care nothing for that, but there is another danger. 
 Oh, Mr. Franklin, you've been very good and patient with me 
 but get me out of here to-night !" 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 183 
 
 "Very well, we'll go tonight, but we can't return to the 
 Mandans. We must risk crossing the Missouri at the mouth 
 of the Knife and striking northeast. If we waited until to-mor 
 row and started from the Mandans we might find a band of 
 Cheyennes waiting to act as escort. The chief told the Pillager 
 he would see us to the Mouse." 
 
 "I'd rather start from here to-night and travel alone than 
 wait any longer/' she said. "Perhaps Flat Mouth could swing 
 to one side and pick up the Cheyennes. If not, then a ride for 
 it, and a clean, quick death at the worst." 
 
 "There must be no talk of death," I rebuked. "We'll go and 
 get through. I was only thinking of the difficulties in getting 
 the horses across the Missouri, but with a bull-boat we ought to 
 be able to tow them over, one at a time. Rest easy while I go 
 and find the Pillager and arrange for him to get the horses 
 from the corral." 
 
 I had passed through the door, closed it, and had heard the 
 heavy bar drop across it, when a terrific screech rang out a few 
 huts away and in the direction of the river. The cry was 
 caught up and repeated. I stood undecided, my thumb resting 
 on the hammer of my gun. The door opened back of me and 
 she was beside me, a hand resting on my shoulder, her head 
 tilted as she sought to read my face in the darkness. The 
 village was now in an uproar. 
 
 "The Cheyennes must be attacking in force," I muttered. 
 
 "It's something very serious," she whispered. "Do you 
 think you can manage to get the horses up here?" 
 
 "Stay inside! Let no one in," I said, stepping out and blun 
 dering between the huts, where the path in places was only a 
 foot in width. 
 
 I passed between two huts and bumped into an Indian. His 
 hands struck my chest to push me aside. Then the Pillager's 
 voice was whispering 
 
 "So it is you. I knew the cloth." 
 
 "What is the trouble? You've been running?" 
 
 The last deduction was not because his breathing was beyond 
 
i84 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 normal, but because in clutching his wrists I felt his pulse 
 racing. 
 
 "The Assiniboin spies will not go back to tell what they 
 saw here," he hissed in my ear. 
 
 "Good God! You've killed them?" I muttered. 
 
 "Killed both. I promised the Cheyenne chief their scalps if 
 he would give us warriors to go with us to the Mouse. I told 
 you he would make a good trade." 
 
 "But they'll be after you !" I softly cried. 
 
 "Choke-cherry thinks the Cheyennes crept in and did it." 
 
 "It won't do for you to be seen. It might make them suspi 
 cious. Don't tell the white woman. Stand in front of the hut. 
 I will bring up the horses. We must cross the Missouri at the 
 mouth of the Knife and ride for it." 
 
 "The Cheyennes will be waiting near the Mandan village," 
 he protested. 
 
 "And it's impossible to go down the river. We would lose 
 too much time. If the Minnetarees chase us they will take that 
 direction/' 
 
 "Ho! Eshkebugecoshe, Chief of the Pillager Chippewas, 
 needs no help in saving the white woman except the white 
 woman's medicine." 
 
 He thumped his breast and might have broken into song if I 
 had not quieted him. 
 
 I Set off, making my way toward the centre of the pandemo 
 nium which seemed to focus around the corral. Lights were 
 now springing up in the open places, the naked children dancing 
 and piling on fuel and looking like so many devil's whelps. 
 
 Before I reached the corral the village was well illumined. I 
 met Choke-cherry, who bawled out something I could not have 
 understood even if I knew his language. But as he carried a 
 gun and had his mouth stuffed with balls, I assumed he was 
 expecting an attack from the Cheyennes. He caught my arm 
 and led me to the door of a hut and ordered the mob to stand 
 one side. As the command was obeyed I looked down a narrow 
 lane of humanity and beheld the two Assiniboins. They had 
 been killed with a knife, and both were scalped. 
 
AT THE MINNETAREE VILLAGE 185 
 
 I slashed my fingers across my wrist, the sign for the Chey- 
 ennes, and he nodded. He stopped to harangue the crowd and 
 I worked clear of the shambles and hurried on to the corral. 
 
 I reached the corral and was startled to behold a line of 
 mounted men riding down a slight rise and toward me, being 
 well within the light of the many fires. Although they were 
 continually descending the rise, the head of the line never 
 reached the corral. I watched for a minute, greatly puzzled. 
 Then a stentorian voice rose with such tremendous volume as 
 to carry a great distance. It was repeated several times and 
 was answered from the centre of the village. In another mo 
 ment several Indians came running by the corral, one of them 
 swinging a torch. I recognized Choke-cherry and the Pillager 
 in the group. 
 
 I called out to him and I knew he heard me, yet he kept on 
 with the others to find the man with the loud voice. Knowing 
 he would return when he had finished his errand, I proceeded 
 to pick out our animals. As I led them out of the enclosure 
 a warrior caught my arm and pointed interrogatively at the 
 nags. I pointed out toward the open plain and then made the 
 sign for Cheyenne and indicated I was taking the horses into 
 a hut. He nodded and hurried on. I started to lead them 
 away and a hand fell on my shoulder, and the Pillager was 
 wrenching the halter ropes from my hands and hurriedly driv 
 ing the ponies back into the corral. 
 
 "Why do you do that?" I demanded. 
 
 "Bad medicine at work," he gloomily answered. "Le Borgne 
 comes back from the hunt. Did you not hear his voice? When 
 he heard the noise in the village he knew something was wrong 
 and has thrown a hundred of his hunters around the village 
 with orders to shoot anyone trying to leave it. We must stay." 
 
 Without a word I followed him back through the excited 
 throngs. Some perverse agency seemed to be thwarting us. 
 Something of the girl's strange fear began to assail me. It 
 was not Le Borgne, for a ball from my double-barrel would 
 nicely eliminate him. It was, rather, that the whole village 
 
i86 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 stood for ruthless and brutal domination through physical 
 strength. When I came to the hut, tapped on the door, and 
 gave my name, I was confronting the hardest task I had ever 
 encountered. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 
 
 I HAVE met many savage chiefs, but none who ranked 
 with Le Borgne for brutality, implacable will power and 
 wisdom. Not only among his own people did he rule with 
 autocratic decisiveness and exhibit the power of an absolute 
 monarch, but among the Mandans also his word was law. His 
 great courage, his imperturbable calmness in the stress of danger, 
 made him an ideal leader against the Sioux and other hostile 
 tribes. In any disputes betwen the Minnetarees and their Man- 
 dan neighbours his promptness in acting the arbiter with a big 
 war axe made him supreme. 
 
 Despite his high quality of courage and emminent capacity for 
 leadership, he was, from the white man's point of view, bestial 
 with his women. They were his chattels and of no more 
 account than his dogs. If he were so inclined he would murder 
 them, and no one dared question the act. He had slain more 
 than one of his wives. He went even further and appropriated 
 any matron or maid that took his fancy, and this without pro 
 test from husband or parent, an acquiescence I never found in 
 any other Indian community. 
 
 I knew much of his character by reputation and from the 
 Pillager's gossip. What details of his grim history I lacked I 
 soon learned during my stay in the village. 
 
 Choke-cherry brought the word in the morning that Flat 
 Mouth and I were wanted by the chief. The Pillager, to make 
 himself fit for the audience, strung his Sioux scalps round his 
 neck and went naked except for his breech-clout. We left 
 our weapons in the hut with Miss Dearness, except that Flat 
 Mouth concealed a small knife in his clout. I counted the 
 
 187 
 
i88 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 scalps on his chest and was relieved to find he carried only the 
 Sioux's hair. I asked him in Chippewa, as we stood one side, 
 what he had done with the Assiniboin scalps, but he smiled 
 and said nothing. 
 
 Miss Dearness bore herself well, although she had passed a 
 miserable night pacing the hut and making, as her woman at 
 tendant fully believed, some very powerful medicine. Flat 
 Mouth and I had found quarters in a hut near-by and had joined 
 the girl with the first light. Now that she knew we were to meet 
 Le Borgne she was deeply troubled. Old Choke-cherry never 
 would have surmised it as she paced from one side of the big 
 hut to the other, her hair towering in a fiery mass above her 
 proud head. 
 
 "I send good thoughts with you," she murmured after fol 
 lowing us to the door. 
 
 "You have all of ours," I assured her. "Don't be afraid. 
 If an American can't help an English girl he must have very 
 weak medicine." 
 
 Flat Mouth caught the last word and gravely told her : 
 
 "The white woman's medicine makes me feel very strong. I 
 can throw a buffalo bull when her eyes watch me." 
 
 She forced a smile and we left her. 
 
 On entering Le Borgne's hut Choke-cherry accompanied us 
 only to the door. We found the chief seated at the left and 
 facing the fire-hole, gravely contemplating his medicine-log. He 
 sat on a couch raised a foot from the floor by willow mats and 
 several heavy robes. On the cottonwood log before him stood 
 two skulls of buffalo bulls, decorated with red earth. These 
 were his greatest treasures, personifying his manlto. Behind 
 the log hung his weapons of war and the chase, and the trophies 
 of battles, such as scalps. 
 
 He was alone, having cleared the hut of his women in antici 
 pation of our coming. He turned his head as we entered and 
 I was hard put to maintain my composure, for over his sightless 
 right eye was a white patch. He continued swinging his head, 
 and in the boring gaze of his left optic I found enough fire 
 to more than make up for his half sight. Like all the Minne- 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 189 
 
 tarees he had an extraordinary beak for a nose. His big mouth 
 was further widened by a habitual grin, his permanent expres 
 sion. When he was pleased he grinned. When he was con 
 sumed with rage he continued to grin. 
 
 That Choke-cherry stood in fear of him was shown by the 
 fashion in which the old rascal poked his head inside the door 
 to see if anything was wanted and then ducked back. I stood 
 in advance of Flat Mouth. Le Borgne's first words to me 
 were 
 
 "Ho! I like white men." 
 
 The Pillager interpreted this over my shoulder. Le Borgne's 
 lips writhed and twisted over his big teeth as he sought to give 
 his smile an amiable cast. From his medicine log he took a 
 long-stemmed, redstone pipe and filled it with Missouri tobacco. 
 Lighting the stuff, he took a whiff and puffed it towards the 
 heavens and passed the pipe to me and motioned for me to sit 
 beside him. Flat Mouth squatted on his heels beside me to 
 translate the chief's words. Our host began : 
 
 "I like white men. They bring me goods. We trade with 
 the Spaniards through the Cheyennes and southern tribes when 
 we are not at war with them. They say you come from a big 
 white chief on the Assiniboin, who is to send traders here." 
 
 "We come to make the road smooth for our traders, who 
 will bring many goods and guns," I replied. 
 
 "They say the daughter of the big chief comes with you. 
 They say she comes to be my wife." 
 
 With an effort I controlled my voice, making it careless in 
 tone as I responded : 
 
 "The white woman is a medicine woman. She can not marry. 
 If she did marry her medicine would kill her and her husband." 
 
 His brows drew down as he cogitated this, but his smile 
 continued. Being on his right side it was necessary for him to 
 turn his head to look at me. The effect was curious when the 
 white patch slowly moved to one side to allow his sound eye 
 to study me. Without commenting on my disclosure he said : 
 
 "They say your Chippewa is a very brave man and will live 
 
190 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 with my people. He has been here once before. We did not 
 know then he was such a great warrior." 
 
 The Pillager spoke up haughtily, announcing: 
 
 "Eshkebugecoshe, the Sioux Killer, has driven all the enemies 
 away from the land of his people and now looks round for a 
 brave people who need him in making war. They must be 
 very brave. They must be at war with the Sioux. I come here 
 with the medicine woman. After I have gone with her to her 
 father I will come back and see if the Minnetarees are good 
 fighters." 
 
 He fingered his necklace of scalps lovingly and stared boldly 
 into the smiling face of Le Borgne. 
 
 1 The Minnetaree gazed at him fixedly for some time, possibly 
 speculating on the advantage and disadvantage of having such a 
 pronounced fighter in his village. Shifting his gaze back to 
 me he asked 
 
 "You are Bosheittochresha (men who bring black cloth 
 English)? 
 
 "Manceechteet (long knife American)," I corrected. 
 
 "You work for the English?" 
 
 "I work for the big chief, father of the white medicine 
 woman," I replied. 
 
 "Your people are cowards." 
 
 "They are the bravest of the brave. They can come out 
 here and eat you up. 
 
 He laughed aloud and mocked 
 
 "And yet you work for the English." 
 
 "Because they want very brave men. The chief of the Pil 
 lager Chippewas works for me. Why? Because I need a very 
 brave man." 
 
 He ceased laughing aloud and pondered over my words seem 
 ing to find them logical, for he nodded his head slowly as if in 
 endorsement. Then he abruptly demanded 
 
 "Is she your woman?" 
 
 "She is no man's woman. She can be no man's woman." 
 
 "Why is she with you if she is not your woman ?" 
 
 "Her medicine helps me make good trades for her father." 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 191 
 
 "Why does she come here if not to be my woman?" he puz 
 zled, his grin now quite ghastly. 
 
 "Her medicine made my road smooth in coming here. The 
 northern Indians know her and run away when she is angry. 
 The Sioux grow blind when they see her hair." 
 
 This engaged him in thought for some minutes, for, although 
 one of the greatest of the plains Indians, he was yet a savage and 
 a victim of his superstitions. 
 
 "Is her medicine stronger than my manito f he asked, nod 
 ding at the buffalo heads. 
 
 "Much stronger," I promptly assured. "If she wanted to 
 become your wife your manito would be jealous. Your manito 
 would fight with her medicine and would be killed. You would 
 die when your manito died." 
 
 Again he was silent, his one eye focused on the two skulls. 
 Then he threw up his head and said : 
 
 "Let us see this mighty white woman." 
 
 He called out and Choke-cherry bounced in, his fat face 
 alive with fear. The chief ordered him to go and bring Miss 
 Dearness. 
 
 I affected a composure I was far from feeling. Flat Mouth's 
 hand rested on his hip near the little knife hidden in his clout, 
 while the war-fires sprang up in his small eyes. While we 
 waited, Le Borgne ended the silence by saying: 
 
 "I lost a wife while on the hunt. She was young and good 
 to look at." 
 
 "She died of the bad cough?" I politely inquired, knowing 
 many of the Indians were suffering from it. 
 
 He shook his head and the terrible grin widened and showed 
 his teeth far back. 
 
 "She is not dead yet," he said. I was nonplussed, and was 
 searching for some intelligent observation when he enlightened 
 me a bit by adding, "She went to live with a young man." 
 
 I decided from his low chuckling that he accepted her infidel 
 ity very philosophically. He remarked: 
 
 "I look about for another woman to take her place. They 
 
192 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 say the white woman is not like any woman ever seen in the 
 Indian's country." 
 
 Flat Mouth's hand touched my arm, but I had already heard 
 the sound of a light foot at the door. Choke-cherry threw 
 the door open, and the girl entered. Her sleepless night had 
 left an unusual pallor on her face. She wore her capote like a 
 hood and looked like a nun as she advanced. I rose and stood 
 beside her. 
 
 Le Borgne turned his head, tilted it and for fully a minute 
 glared into her white face, his grin tightening and growing 
 more wolfish. She met his gaze steadily, staring at him as 
 though she were looking through him and not at him. With 
 a snap of his strong teeth he muttered : 
 
 "She is very white. I never saw one like her. I never 
 knew women like her lived. Where is her medicine hair?" 
 
 As the Pillager interpreted the girl hesitated, then catching 
 my side glance she threw back her capote and allowed the glory 
 of her hair to show. A shaft of sunlight from the small window 
 opening back of the chief intensified the effect. Le Borgne 
 dropped his redstone pipe. Although he still grinned, his big 
 mouth was agape as he looked. Rising to his full six feet he 
 slowly approached her. She did not wince nor move, and red 
 and white fought the ancient battle of lust and denial for twice 
 sixty seconds. Then the chief gingerly extended his fingers to 
 touch her hair where the sunlight made it spun-gold. Her eyes 
 narrowed ominously. I darted out my left foot and disturbed 
 the balance of one of the buffalo heads. The noise caused the 
 chief to turn in time to see the skull gently rocking. I was 
 staring at the girl as if oblivious to the phenomenon. He drew 
 back his hand and rubbed his chin, studying the skull. Plainly 
 his manito was jealous and was warning him to keep his hands 
 from the strange woman. He glanced from the painted skull 
 to the blazing eyes and sun-crowned head of the girl. Then he 
 retreated to his robes, picked up his pipe and summoned Choke- 
 cherry. When his brother entered Le Borgne gave him an 
 order that caused Flat Mouth to frown. 
 
 Addressing Miss Dearness in Chippewa the Pillager said: 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 193 
 
 "He says for you to go. He said something in another tongue 
 I did not understand." 
 
 "I have my knife/' she murmured. 
 
 "You are perfectly safe," I spoke up in English. "The Pil 
 lager and I are still here. We will take you away very soon. 
 Remember, you must not show any fear." 
 
 Her head went high, and she gave me a smile as she bowed 
 to Le Borgne and followed the waiting Choke-cherry. Le 
 Borgne forgot his pipe in staring after her ; then he asked me 
 
 "Why do you come here and bring no presents?" 
 
 "The white woman's father will send many presents. He said 
 it was foolish for me to bother with a few. We were told to 
 come and ask you to tell where our trader is to live. Then 
 we were to return very quick. The Cheyennes are better robe- 
 makers than the Minnetarees, as they use beads and porcupine- 
 quills, but they are south of the Missouri and the white chief 
 does not want to go below the river." 
 
 "No trade can cross this part of the Missouri unless I say 
 it can," informed Le Borgne. "The Cheyenne? are bad. They 
 would not put presents under the stem and make peace with 
 us. I will carry the pipe against them soon. I will call a coun 
 cil of my old men and give you an answer about your trader." 
 
 He rose to terminate the interview. 
 
 "We are in great haste to go back. Can the council be held 
 to-day?" I asked. 
 
 "Soon to-day another day sometime." 
 
 It was useless to seek to improve this most unsatisfactory 
 reply. Rugged and conscienceless, inexorable in moods; thor 
 oughly self-dependent because of his brute strength, the man 
 typified the muddy river which was even now carving new chan 
 nels for itself and clawing banks and cottonwoods into its swol 
 len waters. Just as the very country seemed to possess a savage 
 personality unlike the Red River country, so did this savage 
 despot differ widely from our northern chiefs. When he stood 
 up to dismiss us I supposed his act was a bit of perfunctory 
 courtesy. Not so, nor would it have been in keeping with his 
 egotism. He proposed to walk with us and, as we set forth, he 
 
194 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 picked up a heavy war-axe and idly swung it by its rawhide 
 thong. 
 
 The Pillager glanced at the axe and shifted to the man's blind 
 side, and I noted my friend carried one hand gracefully on his 
 hip, near the haft of the hidden knife. Walking thus between 
 us he kept up a running fire of comments upon the white men 
 whom he said he loved as brothers and added some mild criticism 
 of the absent H. B. agent, at the Mandan village, whom we 
 were to oppose, but never once did he refer to Miss Dearness. 
 I grew uneasy, thinking he intended to proceed to the guest 
 hut. Did he do that I should look for his savage whim to 
 prompt him to peremptorily demand possession of the girl. To 
 my great relief he halted when some distance from the hut, and, 
 stepping aside to a porch, informed 
 
 "The wife I lost is in here." 
 
 He did not request us to tarry, but as we walked on we 
 glanced back. He stood in the doorway, loudly calling his 
 woman by name. She did not appear and he entered the hut. 
 We halted and saw him emerge, dragging a woman after him. 
 Wearing the same grin and moving as deliberately as if light 
 ing his pipe he struck the poor creature over the head with his 
 axe, and she fell lifeless in front of the hut of her lover. Then, 
 swinging his axe by the thong, the chief calmly walked back 
 to his hut, with never a backward glance at the pitiable shape 
 he had murdered. 
 
 " him !" I whispered, weak and sick. 
 
 "He is very bad," grunted the Pillager, his fingers twitching 
 nervously at his girdle in search of the axe he had left beside 
 my gun. Had he found it, I have no doubt but that either 
 the Minnetarees or the Pillager Chippewas would have lost a 
 great warrior. In a minute he had a grip on himself and was 
 stoically saying 
 
 "We have the white woman to think about." 
 
 So we went on while the curious slowly gathered, while the 
 relatives of the murdered woman timidly removed the remains. 
 Nor did I hear a voice raised against the assassin, nor witness 
 a single gesture of rage. The tragedy taught me a world of 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 195 
 
 truth as to the man's merciless character and unlimited power. 
 He had no more compunction about taking the woman's life 
 than he had in killing a buffalo. Then and there I knew Miss 
 Dearness must follow one of two paths were she to escape him : 
 death, or a play upon his superstitious fears. Superstition, the 
 curse of the ages, the mighty barrier to human progress, now 
 became a blessed thing. It was a chink in the armour through 
 which the bloody devil might be reached. 
 
 The Pillager was in no wise so deeply concerned as to Miss 
 Dearness's fate as I. He firmly believed the girl's red hair was 
 a mighty medicine. While eager to do a man's work in rescu 
 ing her, he was upheld by knowing her manito stood by to help 
 her. Wishing to regain my composure before meeting the girl's 
 sharp eyes, I turned aside and proposed a walk toward the river. 
 
 "The village is very still. The killing has frightened them," 
 I remarked. 
 
 "It seems still, as no dogs and children follow us," explained 
 the Pillager. 
 
 For the first time, I observed, we were left undisturbed. No 
 children swarmed about us with their impish tricks and amateur 
 larcenies. No dogs rushed out to mangle us. We had Le Borgne 
 to thank for this much. Even though he murdered a woman, 
 he was invariably hospitable to white men. 
 
 As we passed the hut where the two Assiniboins had died 
 I asked about them, and Flat Mouth said they had been secretly 
 buried in one of the empty corn-cellars. The village as a unit 
 took it for granted the Cheyennes had sneaked in and killed 
 them. It was hoped to keep the news of their death from their 
 tribe until Le Borgne could bring about a peace with the Chey 
 ennes, or call in a large war-party of his old allies, the Crows. 
 
 "The knife they found by the bodies was a Cheyenne knife," 
 gravely added the Pillager. 
 
 "I saw you talk with the Cheyenne chief, but I did not see 
 him give you the knife," I said. 
 
 "He is a very brave man. His brother is a medicine man 
 who knows much magic. When we leave the village for the 
 Red River I will stretch their hair on hoops." 
 
I 9 6 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Throw them away!" I urged. "If they should be found 
 we will all be killed." 
 
 "I have promised them to the Cheyennes. A Pillager chief 
 does not keep the hair of dogs, but to throw them away now 
 would show I was afraid. That would spoil my medicine. 
 I will make old Tabashaw grunt when I sing my new song." 
 
 The scalps were another danger added to our list. Did the 
 Minnetarees so much as suspect the Pillager was the slayer 
 there would be no mercy shown him. Even a Sioux was safe 
 if he succeeded in entering the village. What happened to him 
 when he started for home was another matter. However, it 
 was useless to argue with the Pillager. As profitable to ask a 
 fanatic to forsake his religion as to expect an Indian to do what 
 he believed would spoil his medicine. 
 
 "We must get away to-night," I said. 
 
 "Le Borgne said something to Caltahcota in the Crow tongue. 
 I could not understand it," mused Flat Mouth, halting and 
 staring toward the river. 
 
 "What has that to do with our getting away tonight?" 
 
 "Who knows? My manito? If so he has not told me. 
 Perhaps the Medicine Hair knows. The buffalo head in Le 
 Borgne's hut could tell if our ears could hear." 
 
 His words made me uneasy. I pressed him to speak more 
 literally, but he persisted in remaining silent. He had strong 
 doubts as to our immediate departure. Le Borgne's aside to 
 Choke-cherry, spoken in the Crow tongue, was behind his 
 doubts, although he had not caught the war-chief's words. I 
 decided I did not need to walk farther and turned back to the 
 village. A group of men approached and turned aside in A 
 desire to avoid us. One of them I recognized as being promi 
 nent in the fiasco at the Cheyenne camp. I asked Flat Mouth 
 to name him. 
 
 "He is Aharattanamokshe, or Chief of the Wolves, the oldest 
 son of Caltahcota." 
 
 "Speak to him. Let us learn how the tribe feels toward 
 us. If Le Borgne feels friendly, his men will show it." 
 
 Flat Mouth greeted the young man pleasantly and asked 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 197 
 
 some questions. Chief of the Wolves stared enviously at the 
 scalps on the Pillager's breast and was very respectful in his 
 attitude as he replied to the queries. After an exchange of a 
 few sentences the warrior turned back to his companions while 
 we resumed our walk to the village. 
 
 "I asked him if the men went to swim," explained Flat 
 Mouth. "He said the Minnetarees are such great swimmers 
 they will go to the Missouri and not to the Knife when they 
 wish to swim. Then he told me they went to look for willows 
 and small cottonwoods." 
 
 "You should have asked him if the people think the white' 
 woman's medicine had anything to do with the Cheyennes* re 
 fusing the treaty, and if he said 'yes/ you should have told him 
 it was a lie. Choke-cherry has told his brother the white 
 woman is to blame for the Cheyennes' riding away." 
 
 "They go to find willows and small cottonwoods strong 
 enough to use in making a new hut," said Flat Mouth. 
 
 "That is stuff for women and children to listen to," I said. 
 
 "There is much to be found out when they talk of making a 
 new hut," said the Pillager. "Who is to live in it?" 
 
 I waited and as he kept silent I was forced to ask: 
 
 "Well, what did you find out? Who is to live in it?" 
 
 "They did not say. But no new people have come to the 
 village except a white man, a brave Pillager Chippewa and a 
 mighty medicine woman." 
 
 "By heavens! They build the hut for us. They expect us 
 to stay here!" I cried in English. 
 
 My emotion gave him his cue, rather than any knowledge of 
 English, although he was able to pick up words here and there. 
 
 "They let men sleep in the big hut or where they will," he 
 said. "A new hut means a new wife for a big chief. I have 
 said it. Let the white woman use her medicine now if she 
 would go back to the Red River." 
 
 His frankness left me nonplussed and frightened. I rallied 
 finally and managed to make light of the warning. Le Borgne 
 was a wise man. If his Indian nature would permit him to 
 defy the medicine of the girl and this I could scarcely believe 
 
198 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 his astuteness would restrain him from killing what he believed 
 was a chance for a permanent post in the village. The great 
 advantage of having an N. W. trader constantly supplying him 
 with arms and ammunition would greatly outweigh his lust 
 for a woman, whether she be red or white. War came first; 
 women next. I spoke this aloud and told it over to myself. The 
 Pillager listened and watched me closely. Then he spoke, his 
 words exploding all my false hopes : 
 
 "Le Borgne is not like other Indians. He has his own way 
 more than other chiefs. He thinks his manito is very strong 
 stronger than any other manito f for has he not always had his 
 own way? When he wants anything he is like a child; he 
 wants it and can think of nothing else. He killed a woman 
 before our eyes. Many chiefs would be afraid her people might 
 try to wash out her death with his blood. But he wanted to kill 
 her ; he could think of only that. 
 
 "He believes the white woman's medicine is strong, but he 
 believes his is stronger. If he takes her to a new hut as his 
 woman he will show that his manito is stronger. Then he will 
 boast he has tamed her medicine and that it will work for him. 
 With the two medicines working for him he will believe the 
 big white chief we have told about will be glad to build a post 
 here." 
 
 "I'll shoot him before he shall take the woman!" I gritted. 
 
 "I am chief of the Pillagers. It is my right to wear two 
 eagle feathers in my hair for every enemy I have scalped in 
 battle. It is through me the white woman's medicine will 
 work," he haughtily retorted. 
 
 We talked no more but hurried back to the guest-hut, for I 
 was foolish enough to think my presence might protect her. The 
 door was open, which surprised me, as Miss Dearness was 
 quick to close it when we went out. We entered and I called 
 her name. Our two guns and ammunition stood where we had 
 left them but the girl was gone. That she should attempt to 
 walk about the village was unthinkable. I snatched up the gun, 
 made sure it was loaded, and would have dashed out had not 
 Flat Mouth seized me by the arm and cautioned: 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 199 
 
 "Walk softly. Waft for me." 
 
 He slipped on his robe, slung his bow and arrows over his 
 shoulder and picked up his gun. Then he circled the hut and 
 spent some moments at the skin couch before the fire-hole. 
 
 "We kill much time," I impatiently warned. 
 
 "Is this medicine talk for you ?" he called back. 
 
 I joined him and he pointed to some words scrawled with a 
 charred stick on the rocks forming the rim of the fire-hole. 
 The message read: 
 
 They take me to another hut, they say. Find me, American. 
 
 I read it to Flat Mouth who was highly pleased with this 
 proof of the girl's power to communicate with me. But when I 
 would have commenced a precipitate search he restrained me, 
 saying: 
 
 "We shall get an axe stuck in our heads. The white woman 
 will be left with her medicine to fight alone. It is no time to 
 run like a badger after game. We must be the fox. Le 
 Borgne will kill us if we hurry." 
 
 He stood before me, his powerful form blocking my path 
 until I had regained an appearance of composure. Then, nod 
 ding in approval, he stepped aside for me to pass. As we reached 
 the door I paused and filled and lighted my pipe to show my 
 lack of concern. This was well played, as Flat Mouth quietly 
 informed me two men, spies, were watching us from the porch 
 of the next hut. By an effort I forced myself to laugh, and the 
 grim features of the Pillager took on a smile. We sauntered 
 carelessly from the hut, the Pillager murmuring : 
 
 "She is still in the village. Le Borgne would place her in 
 his brother's hut, I think." 
 
 This was logical, and in a roundabout way we finally arrived 
 at Choke-cherry's abode. The old villain was seated on the 
 porch, puffing mightily to make his Missouri weed burn in his 
 long pipe. Several of his women were removing some earthen 
 pots and copper kettles to the next hut. I expressed concern for 
 his difficulty in getting a smoke and generously gave him an 
 
200 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 inch of tobacco and waited for him to fill and light up. Flat 
 Mouth touched my elbow. I turned and, under a pretext of 
 addressing him, observed the direction of his staring gaze. He 
 was looking intently at the wall of the hut. Taking my time, I 
 discovered a piece of bark hanging on the wall. On it was 
 writing. 
 
 To Choke-cherry, through the Pillager, I said 
 "Where did you get the medicine that drives evil spirits 
 away?" And I stepped closer to the writing. 
 Between puffs the old reprobate proudly said : 
 "It is very big medicine. It will bring me many ponies. It 
 will keep the spotted sickness (small-pox) from my hut." 
 I scarcely heard the Pillager's translation, for I was reading : 
 
 I know the worst. It shall never happen. The woman tells me 
 in the sign language there is to be a big feast in two days. Don't 
 run any risks for me. You have done too much already. I am very 
 brave. It will not be hard. 
 
 "A very good medicine," I said, stepping back and feeling the 
 cold sweat standing on my forehead. "But it is the woman part 
 of the medicine. There is a man part that makes it whole. I 
 will give you the man part because you are the brother of the 
 mighty chief and will open his ears to what I say about a 
 trading post here." 
 
 While the Pillager told him this, I picked up a bit of charcoal 
 from a dead fire and rapidly wrote : 
 
 It shall not happen. Be ready to-night We can do nothing in the 
 daytime. If not to-night, then to-morrow night. Remember, it shall 
 not happen. 
 
 Then to the deeply interested Choke-cherry I explained: 
 
 "The medicine is now whole. When the sun is overhead 
 take it inside and hang it over the place for medicine." 
 
 As it was near noon I knew the girl would soon see it. I had 
 not ventured to call out to the girl and address her, as her 
 writing hinted at a command for silence from Le Borgne. 
 
 We leisurely continued our stroll until we were at the hut 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 201 
 
 of the chief. Like his brother he was outside enjoying the sun, 
 his one eye gleaming evilly. The Pillager and I stood our guns 
 against the upright of the long platform, now loaded with 
 driftwood, and I greeted the chief with an amiable smile and 
 produced my tobacco. Taking his pipe I filled and lighted it 
 and sent a puff towards the heavens. Handing it to him and 
 recharging my own, I said 
 
 "When the white man's post is here the greatest of all war 
 chiefs will smoke good tobacco all the time." 
 
 He sucked in the smoke with huge content, but eyed me suspi 
 ciously for a moment. Turning his head aside so only the dead 
 eye showed, he remarked : 
 
 "The white woman asked for a new hut. She said her medi 
 cine was cold where she was. My men will build her a new 
 hut. Until it is ready she will live in the hut of my brother, 
 Caltahcota, who has moved his wives and children to another 
 hut." 
 
 "The big white chief will thank you with many presents for 
 your kindness to his daughter," I warmly assured. "His friends 
 told him to build his post among the Sioux but the woman's 
 medicine told him to build it here. The post will make the 
 Minnetarees the greatest and strongest of all Indians so long 
 as they do not wrong the white chief." 
 
 "I will brain the man or woman who touches his goods," 
 declared Le Borgne, toying with the axe he had so recently 
 used in murdering the woman. 
 
 "He will come soon with many white men and many guns," 
 I added. 
 
 "Why does he bring many men and many guns when he 
 comes to his friends?" asked Le Borgne, jerking his head about 
 to bring his one eye to bear upon me. 
 
 "Because he brings many presents and much goods, and knows 
 the Assiniboins would kill and rob a small party." 
 
 The chief smiled and frowned, his one eye glowing like a 
 demon's. 
 
 "The Assiniboins are dogs," he softly muttered. "Two were 
 killed by Cheyennes in this village last night. The Cheyennes 
 
202 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 are very brave men. They have fine horses. My brother was 
 a fool not to make peace with them. He says the medicine 
 of the white woman spoiled the peace." 
 
 "He lies. He was afraid his brother, the big war chief, would 
 be angry with him for his foolishness. He tries to blame it on 
 the woman." 
 
 He did not resent my blunt characterization of his brother 
 and continued: 
 
 "He was a fool to hold the Assiniboins when they t came to 
 the camp. They had come to the village and left it. After 
 they left it anyone could kill them. They are dogs. My brother 
 should have taken the ten ponies for them. I have offered a 
 wife, three horses and a hundred skins for one of their ponies, 
 and they would not trade." 
 
 "If the white woman's medicine is not made angry, it can get 
 you many Cheyenne ponies," I said. "I will see her and talk 
 about it." 
 
 "She says she wants to be alone," he replied, swinging his 
 left eye about and darting a challenge at me. 
 
 "If she says it, it is so. Those who make her- medicine angry 
 will surely follow the broad trail to the west, where stand the 
 many huts of the dead." 
 
 "She asks to be my woman," he announced, his right hand 
 dropping on the handle of the big axe. 
 
 "If she asks it, it is good," I managed to reply; but only the 
 fact that my gun was beyond my reach prevented me from blow 
 ing the devil's head off. "But if you take her for a wife and 
 her medicine says, 'No !' then the Minnetarees will name a new 
 war-chief in your place." 
 
 "Ho!" he rumbled, rising and folding his muscular arms 
 across his broad chest. "A medicine man tells me my manito 
 is stronger than hers. It shall be a fight between them. If my 
 manito is a liar, or a coward, or weak, he will be whipped. But 
 while they fight I will have the woman, a mystery woman, a 
 woman with hair like red fires." 
 
 As the Pillager interpreted this, it was only his bearing that 
 sobered me and kept me from insanely jumping for my gun. 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 203 
 
 His cold face showed the utmost unconcern. After he'd fin 
 ished repeating the chief's boast he stepped close to Le Borgne 
 and taunted: 
 
 "Fool ! An evil spirit draws you to your death and you 
 do not know it. I, chief of the Pillager Chippewas, wearer of 
 many eagle feathers for the men I have scalped in battle, say it. 
 An evil spirit, sent by the Sioux's great manito, tells you to 
 take the white woman. So be it." 
 
 Le Borgne's smile twisted his lips convulsively, and for a 
 moment I believed he was to grapple with my friend. But Flat 
 Mouth's boldness appealed to him. The warning about the 
 Sioux manito laying an ambush and baiting him with the girl 
 also registered deeply. 
 
 "You are a brave man," he said to the Pillager, "or you 
 would be a dead man under my axe. I love brave men even 
 when they are my enemies." 
 
 "I am not your enemy. I tell you the truth. That makes 
 me your friend," said Flat Mouth. 
 
 "You shall stay to the feast I give after two sleeps. Then 
 you must go away, for the Minnetaree village is too small for 
 two brave men. The white man may stay, but you must go." 
 
 "And be followed by your warriors who will try to kill me 
 after I get away from the village," sneered Flat Mouth. 
 
 "No!" passionately cried Le Borgne, and I was convinced he 
 spoke sincerely. "Le Borgne, the Blind, will never wish to 
 kill the Sioux Killer. Go and kill more of our enemies. After 
 another snow come to me and smoke some of the trader's to 
 bacco. To-day there is a little cloud over the sun. Sometime 
 it will go away and we shall feel warm towards each other." 
 
 We left him, having learned for a certainty how much time 
 we had to work in. On the surface the case seemed hopeless. 
 The girl was isolated and not permitted to see us. We might 
 kill the chief and a few others, but we could not expect to fight 
 our way clear of the village. The Pillager would consider it 
 an ideal exit to go to his happy hunting-grounds in defence of 
 the girl's medicine. We were three sentenced to death, and 
 death it must be after two sleeps, unless a miracle rescued us. 
 
204 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 As we skirted the village and gave ourselves to thought, I 
 found death to be very impersonal. It meant nothing to me 
 beyond a keen disappointment. There were so many things I 
 had intended to experiment in and to accomplish before I died. 
 The adventure had opened up a desire to know more about the 
 girl. Destiny had purposed that I should succeed, else why had 
 she come into my life ? Then there was my disappearance from 
 the Pembina post. Would the truth ever be known, or would 
 the gentlemen of the North write me down as a deserter? 
 Would any thieving on Black Chabot's part be blamed on me? 
 Altogether, an abrupt finish would leave many loose ends which 
 an orderly fate would have gathered up. The grim irony of it 
 all, that I, a Northman, should perish by the ferocious fancy of 
 a savage chief. 
 
 "My friend's face should be filled with suffshine," grunted 
 Flat Mouth reproachfully. 
 
 I simulated a genial expression and looked up to find the 
 reason for his warning. Chief of the Wolves and his friends 
 were returning from the river, and with them rode an Indian 
 on a pony whose appearance testified to rough and fast travel. 
 He was the centre of the group and the target for many que 
 ries. As they drew abreast of us, the horseman noticed Flat 
 Mouth and stared at him and his string of scalps and talked 
 hurriedly with Chief of the Wolves. Then he jumped from 
 his pony and ran to us seizing the Pillager's hand and shaking 
 it warmly, crying: 
 
 "They say you are the Chippewa chief who killed the Sioux. 
 They say the scalps you wear came from Sioux heads. Your 
 name is heard throughout the Sioux country. The Sioux chiefs 
 call you a great warrior and make medicine to get your skull 
 as a drinking-dish. I, White Snake, a Minnetaree and their 
 prisoner, heard them tell these things." 
 
 "I am a mighty warrior," readily agreed Flat Mouth. "The 
 Snake's medicine was strong to help him get away." 
 
 "I have been with them for many moons. I went to hunt 
 buffalo with them. Then runners came with stories of what 
 they had seen. The hunting party broke up, and I got away." 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 205 
 
 Chief of the Wolves now impatiently reminded: 
 
 "My uncle, the Blind, is waiting for you to bring him a talk. 
 It is not good to keep him waiting." 
 
 "The White Snake brings good news?'' asked Flat Mouth, 
 as the escaped warrior turned to mount his pony. 
 
 "Strangers come. It is good or bad," retorted the Snake. 
 "My medicine let me get away while the Sioux were riding 
 to meet the strangers. If they are friends of the Sioux they 
 will come here to kill us." 
 
 Chief of the Wolves ran ahead and looked back, and the 
 Snake remembered it was not good to keep Le Borgne waiting. 
 The Pillager and I ruminated over the man's story. There did 
 not seem to be much to it. The Sioux were much excited over 
 some strangers. The Snake had failed to reveal who, or what 
 they were. My first thought was of some formidable war-party 
 from the far south. Flat Mouth disagreed with me, insisting 
 the Snake had said nothing to suggest fear or warlike prepara 
 tions on the part of the Sioux. If it had been a war-party 
 the scouts would have brought word to that effect. After we 
 had argued it back and forth without getting anywhere he 
 dismissed it by simply stating 
 
 "It is the medicine of the white woman working to let her 
 go free." 
 
 Such was his faith in the girl's powers that his black eyes 
 glittered with hope and he walked with a springy, confident 
 step. He had thrown aside all cares and worries. Being an 
 Indian it was good logic, for what is the use in believing in 
 medicine and good-luck if your faith fails to help in an emer 
 gency? Only I did not possess the Pillager's child-like trust. 
 We two men were the chosen instruments for liberating Miss 
 Dearness. Her medicine was as strong and resourceful as we 
 were, and we were helpless. 
 
 "Eshkebugecoshe, there is but one way. I will go to Le 
 Borgne's hut to-night. While I am there you must get the 
 girl from the hut, take her to the corral, get ponies and ride 
 north to the Missouri." 
 
 He promptly shook his head in refusal. 
 
206 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Where will my white brother be if I do get the girl 
 away?" 
 
 "I will follow you." 
 
 "The trail you will follow will lead far from the Missouri. 
 Even if I, chief of the Pillagers, could do this thing, the Medi 
 cine Hair would not. It is poor medicine you plan to make. 
 The white woman's man'ito is strong enough to let us all get 
 away. We will wait. The feast is not for two sleeps. Many 
 things can happen in two sleeps." 
 
 His optimism did not cool off the little hell in which I 
 lived. Desperation often begets a ferocious courage. Then 
 there is such a thing as rinding great relief in learning the 
 worst. I was impatient to have the climax over with. I 
 wanted to take my double-barrel gun and make an end of the 
 situation by sending a heav)^ buffalo charge through Le 
 Borgne's head. A new situation would instantly bob up, but 
 it would have the virtue of being different from the present 
 horror. Flat Mouth slipped his arm through mine, as if fear 
 ing I might race off and do something rash. As he induced 
 me to walk back to the village, he talked softly, saying: 
 
 "If her medicine grows weak we will go down like brave 
 men, taking her with us. To strike now would be as foolish 
 as to lay an ambush and then shoot at the first warrior to ap 
 proach it, instead of waiting till the game was well trapped. 
 Wait! My manito whispers that many things will happen 
 if we wait. Would Le Borgne sell the white woman?" 
 
 "We have nothing to trade," I sullenly reminded. "He 
 wants guns, but we have none. He is bad." 
 
 "He is a great warrior. He wants the white woman for his 
 wife. Why shouldn't he? My white brother would take her 
 as his wife if he could." 
 
 Had he struck me in the face I could not have been more 
 startled, for his confident assertion instantly set strange fancies 
 in motion. I pictured a home-loving woman, busy with do 
 mestic tasks, wearing the wonderful hair of Mis? Dearness and 
 glorified by the happiness of wifehood. The contrast between 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 207 
 
 this picture and her probable fate was appalling. I strove in 
 vain to dismiss it. 
 
 During all our perils no sentiment had had time to lodge 
 with me. Each hour had brought new hardships and dangers, 
 and we were rushed from one dilemma to another with the 
 stage ever set with climaxes.* It was grotesque that now, in 
 the supreme peril, I should hark back to the tantalizing mood 
 which was responsible for my seeking her up the river. Her 
 manner of caressing my hand had not encouraged soft thoughts. 
 It was simply her way of thanking me. From the begin 
 ning it had been difficult to imagine her in the role of a sweet 
 heart, although her peril accentuated her womanliness. 
 
 "Buy her from Le Borgne," continued Flat Mouth, ig 
 norant of the turmoil he had stirred up within me. 
 
 "With what?" I angrily countered. 
 
 "The white robes. They are very big medicine with the 
 Minnetarees. Even Le Borgne does not own five such as you 
 have, down in the Mandan hut. The skin of the calf is worth 
 more than the big robes to these Indians. They believe a white 
 calf-skin is mighty medicine." 
 
 Here was the nucleus of an idea. In the white robes and 
 calfskin I held a value equivalent to many hundreds of skins 
 to many ponies. It was such a trade that was seldom, if ever, 
 offered to a Minnetaree. Ordinarily it required a syndicating 
 of property to purchase one robe. The bargain was made as 
 soon as suggested to an ordinary war-chief. He not only 
 would sell a prospective bride, but he would throw in all his 
 wives and daughters for good measure. 
 
 But no one could ever foresee what Le Borgne would do. 
 His tenacity of purpose, especially in his lusts, would not stay 
 him from murdering a kinsman, if such a homicide be neces 
 sary to his gaining the woman he fancied. Still it was an 
 idea. To begin with, he was a savage; therefore he possessed 
 many simple traits. He was subtle and cunning; he was 
 childishly direct in his technique; he was a mass of contra 
 dictions. At times the devil couldn't guess his mind; again 
 he was transparent as rain-water. He lived with whims and 
 
208 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 usually surrendered to his moods. If his mood required as 
 tuteness, he stood head and shoulders above the average savage. 
 If it required the simple reaching forth and taking, a dog after 
 a bone could not be more precipitate in action and obvious in 
 purpose. If his yearning for good luck, as symbolized by the 
 robes, should outweigh his animalism, he would sell the girl. 
 If his lust for her was the dominating thought when I came to 
 make a trade, all the white robes on the plains would fail. 
 
 I do not think the idea revived my hopes to any great 
 extent, but I did lose something of my melancholia, of my 
 fatalistic belief that the girl and I had found death in com 
 ing across the Coteau du Missouri. 
 
 Now whether I would have experienced even this slight 
 change of heart if the Pillager's idea of the robes had not been 
 preceded by the suggestion that I wanted the girl for myself, 
 I can not say. At that time I do not even know that I wished 
 her for my wife. She was too marvellous and fascinating to 
 be relegated to any one plane. She was wonderful and seemed 
 to stand aloof. She was one to keep a man's mind topsy 
 turvy, did he think of her fondly. My manito knows I had 
 had scant time for soft imaginings from that moment when she 
 broke through the bushes on the east side of Red River and I 
 began my efforts of helping her to escape. I needed a clear 
 head to see the thing through. I must think only of Le 
 Borgne and his moods. But should one picture her in love, 
 what a tornado of passion his fancy would be compelled to 
 paint. She was not a half-way woman. She was all ice or 
 all fire. 
 
 "Ride to the Mandan village and bring the robes. See they 
 are wrapped securely so no one will know what they are," I 
 commanded as we entered the village near the corral. 
 
 "Little birds sing in my ears and tell me our medicine is 
 making," said the Pillager as he brought his pony from the cor 
 ral. 
 
 Some Indians gathered around us, and Le Borgne strode 
 through the group, his one eye gleaming questions, his wide 
 mouth twisted sardonically. 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 209 
 
 "The great chief of the Chippewas goes out to kill more 
 Sioux?" he asked. 
 
 "He is tired of staying penned up in the village," gravely 
 replied the Pillager. "He will ride out and look for signs of 
 an enemy war-path. The Pillager Chippewas never wait for 
 their enemies to come to them." 
 
 Le Borgne's smile persisted, but there was murder in his eye 
 as he caught this taunt. Speaking very low he said : 
 
 "After the big feast when I have had the white medicine- 
 woman for a wife, I will go with the Chippewa, and we will 
 see who will ride the farthest in search of the enemy, and who 
 will kill the most. We shall ride so far and fight so hard that 
 one of us must die in battle before the other can come back. 
 My village is not big enough for two such men to return to." 
 
 "Le Borgne is a great man, but he is not a Pillager Chip 
 pewa," Flat Mouth insolently retorted, springing on his pony. 
 
 Le Borgne ever loved a brave man. If he had any religion 
 besides the usual Indian belief in good and bad luck it con 
 sisted of a worship of courage. Therefore Flat Mouth's in 
 sult raised him in the war-chief's esteem. 
 
 "Don't get killed so you can not go on the war-path with 
 me," he warned. 
 
 The Pillager waved his hand and galloped towards the 
 north. I knew he planned swinging east and crossing the 
 Missouri at the mouth of the Knife, risking an encounter with 
 any loitering Assiniboins as he made for the lower Mandan 
 village. He courted grave hazards in pursuing this course, 
 but I could appreciate his desire to leave Le Borgne in igno 
 rance of his true purpose. Had he set forth on the road we 
 had come over, the Minnetaree chief might have forbidden 
 his departure, fearing some trick. 
 
 As I walked into the village Le Borgne kept beside me. 
 We could not talk for the lack of an interpreter, yet I sensed 
 a change in the chief. I got the impression something was 
 troubling him. He carried his axe and swung it in short vi 
 cious circles. Knowing my success in trading white robes for 
 the girl depended on the particular mood he might be in, I took 
 
210 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 heart enough to believe his thoughts were for war and not for 
 women. His talk with Flat Mouth evidenced a desire to go 
 to battle. It was possible the White Snake's news about the 
 strangers had aroused the warrior in him. 
 
 When we came to Choke-cherry's hut he halted, and I 
 did the same. Chief of the Wolves and his two younger broth 
 ers and the White Snake were posted at regular intervals at 
 the front of the hut. To learn if they were sentinels, I boldly 
 entered the porch and placed my hand on the door. Chief of 
 the Wolves sprang forward and pushed me back. I glanced 
 at Le Borgne and he motioned me to step back. Speaking 
 loudly in English for the girl's benefit, I told Chief of the 
 Wolves to keep his hands off me or I would shoot him. She 
 heard me, and her voice called out 
 
 "Oh, American! I'm afraid !" 
 
 Le Borgne thrust forward his head, his one eye glittering 
 like a piece of broken glass in the sunlight. He was suspicious. 
 He forgot I did not talk his lingo and shot out some query 
 which I guessed to be a demand to know what the white 
 woman had said. I made spiral lines with my index finger high 
 above my head, the sign token for medicine and, as one over 
 awed, softly withdrew from inside the porch. He followed 
 me, and I called out: 
 
 "Don't be afraid. We'll get you out of this." 
 
 With a grunt of rage Le Borgne clapped his hand over my 
 lips. With my left hand I repeated the medicine sign, and with 
 my right I drew my gun the full stretch of my arm until 
 the two muzzles rested under his chin. It was a language he 
 readily understood and he stepped clear of me. 
 
 To demonstrate he was not angry he patted my shoulder 
 and called out to his men, evidently telling them I was a 
 brave man. I remained a while before the hut, but the girl 
 did not attempt to address me again, nor did I speak to her. 
 I was interested in watching Le Borgne whenever he glanced 
 at White Snake. It was then that the hint of worry showed 
 between his eyes. Gradually the conviction formed in my 
 mind that he was uneasy over the Snake's budget of news, and 
 
LE BORGNE PLANS A FEAST 211 
 
 was wondering who the strangers might be whose coming so 
 excited his deadly enemies, the Sioux. Or perhaps White 
 Snake had told him who they were. He was not angry at the 
 Snake, and yet the sight of him brought the troubled lines in 
 his forehead. It was refreshing to think something besides 
 amorous thoughts were inside that savage brain-pan. 
 
 I turned away to go to my hut, and behind me sounded the 
 girl's clear voice raised in her indescribable song of the woods 
 and the rivers. The effect on the Minnetarees was pro 
 nounced. The guards glided away from the hut and betrayed 
 agitation. Le Borgne stood with folded arms, glaring at the 
 rawhide door as though some hostile medicine were challenging 
 him to open it. The voice rippled on, and I knew its pur 
 pose was to tell me she had not lost heart, that she believed 
 and depended on the Pillager and me. Le Borgne remained 
 rigid for a few moments, then took a step forward. I shifted 
 the gun over my left arm, and, did he touch the door, I was 
 ready to let him have the right barrel. But with one foot 
 inside the porch he halted. The voice of the singer climbed 
 to shrill heights, then cascaded down to a low colourful tone 
 which was sadly sweet and infinitely pathetic. The chief drew 
 back his foot and with an explosive grunt hastened away. I 
 dropped the gun to my side. 
 
 "Don't be afraid," I called out to her as she ceased her sing 
 ing. This time no one attempted to stop my speaking to her. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF*S TAIL 
 
 THE village was quiet and I remained in my hut until 
 near sundown, then ventured forth, anxious for the re 
 turn of Flat Mouth. If he had had no mishaps with 
 hostile Indians he should make the trip to the lower Mandan 
 village quickly. The men of the village, as was their custom, 
 were lounging on top of their huts, smoking and bragging. 
 Their arrogance was almost past belief. They believed them 
 selves infinitely superior to the white race. They had seen 
 but few whites, and these they looked upon as partly demented 
 because of their willingness to give guns and ammunition for 
 such worthless things as hides and robes. 
 
 But this sleepy calm was destroyed as I strolled towards 
 Choke-cherry's hut in hopes of getting a word of encourage 
 ment to the girl. One moment all was peace with even the 
 cur dogs silent, the next shrill screams were splitting the air 
 and warriors were dropping from their huts, snatching up 
 weapons and rushing ahead to investigate. The savage's first 
 thought was a surprise attack. I ran with the group that was 
 making for Le Borgne's hut. We came to an abrupt halt and 
 beheld a strange spectacle. An Indian woman with blood 
 streaming from her arms and breast, with her hair matted over 
 her face, stood under the porch of the chief's hut and was 
 pouring out what I took to be a bitter tirade. 
 
 The warriors with me instantly began falling back, betray 
 ing every symptom of fear. I held my ground, curious to learn 
 more. The woman clenched her fists and swung her arms 
 and shrieked out her words in a steady stream until the door 
 flew open and Le Borgne stepped out, his axe in his hand. 
 
 212 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 213 
 
 He was smiling, but his long mane of black hair was much 
 dishevelled. He stood before the woman, and I fully expected 
 to witness another murder. She ran to him and hissed and 
 spat like a cat, even attempting to claw his face. He jumped 
 away from her and walked towards the corral ; but swift as a 
 wild thing she was at his side, then ahead of him, screaming, 
 clawing his face and even bringing blood to his brawny chest. 
 
 He wheeled to one side to avoid her, and her talons ripped 
 down his arm, leaving red streaks. Undoubtedly it was the 
 first time Le Borgne was ever blooded without striking back. 
 His face was a study in rage and fear. Whichever way he 
 turned she was at his side or before him, her tongue never 
 silent, her claws ripping at his arms and chest. Knowing his 
 people were watching him, he would not depart from his dig 
 nity and run for it. 
 
 Never once did he threaten violence, even to the extent of 
 pushing her away. He held his head high to escape her hooked 
 fingers, but beyond f that he did not try to defend himself. 
 Superstition was his master, and he knew the woman was de 
 mented and believed that most woful would be his fate did he, 
 in anger, lay the weight of a finger on one touched by the 
 Great Spirit. 
 
 He began working his way back to his hut, jumping from 
 side to side, but never increasing his pace beyond a brisk walk. 
 Then she slipped in some filth and fell, and he seized the 
 opportunity to gain his hut. She was at his heels when he 
 entered, but the door slammed before she could follow him. 
 She beat on the door with her fists and head and yelled in fury. 
 
 None of the warriors ventured to remove her. They had re 
 turned to their roofs and were eager spectators of the scene. 
 I pitied the poor thing and finally took it upon myself to go 
 to her. As I touched her on the shoulder she wheeled on 
 me like a mad wolf, but the sight of a white instead of a red 
 man seemed to calm her. She made no resistance when I took 
 her arm and gently led her away. She went willingly enough, 
 but the gaze she fastened on my face was not that of a sane 
 person. 
 
2i 4 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 I walked with her through the village at random, taking 
 pains to widen the distance between us and the chief's hut. At 
 last some women furtively stole from cover and relieved me of 
 her. It was horrible to hear her heart-broken moaning, and 
 I lost no time in getting it out of my ears. In my haste to 
 escape I found I had returned to Le Borgne's hut, and I 
 waited for him to come out. He preferred, however, to be 
 alone. Perhaps he was busy rubbing buffalo tallow on his 
 wounds. 
 
 Feeling faint and remembering I had not eaten anything 
 for hours, I sought out the hut where Choke-cherry was tem 
 porarily housed, gave him an inch of tobacco and motioned 
 for food. He gave some order to his women and they began 
 overhauling ancient meats. I insisted on fresh meat, for one 
 end of the hut was covered with buffalo meat, the hunting party 
 had brought in. This had not had time to spoil, and, after 
 the Minnetaree and Mandan custom, was thrown down to 
 grow tainted. I picked out a piece and put it in a copper 
 kettle and the women proceeded to cook it. Then, selecting a 
 fillet, I broiled it and directed a woman to take it to Miss 
 Dearness. On a small stick I scratched : 
 
 Fresh meat. Cooked it myself. Keep up your courage. 
 
 FRANKLIN. 
 
 This message I sent along with the fillet. I knew Choke- 
 cherry and all his wives were despising me for my tastes in 
 insisting on fresh meat, but I remained there and watched 
 the kettle until some of it was done and I could begin eating. 
 When I finished I had had the only satisfying meal since reach 
 ing the Missouri. 
 
 Quitting the hut I walked towards the Knife and was re 
 joiced to behold Flat Mouth coming on the gallop. He dis 
 mounted, removed the pack of robes and led his pony to the 
 corral. It was now growing dark, and all the warriors had 
 followed their chief's example and were inside their huts for 
 the night. As we carried the pack to our hut, I briefly nar 
 rated the actions of the demented woman. 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 215 
 
 "She is the mother of the woman Le Borgne killed," he 
 informed. "They talk about the girl's death in the lower 
 village as her mother was a Mandan. No matter what she 
 says or does, neither Le Borgne nor any of his men would 
 dare touch her so long as she is under the protection of the 
 great manito. But others had better keep out of his way, for 
 only blood will satisfy him after her talk. Now I have a big 
 talk for you." 
 
 We entered the hut, put our guns aside and I urged him to 
 proceed. First he lighted his pipe and extending it to me, 
 held it while I took several whiffs, this little attention being 
 the height of courtesy. Then, after puffs to sky and earth and 
 the four wind-gods, he said 
 
 "The strange men the Sioux talk about are white men." 
 
 "White men? Then they must be Hudson Bay men," I 
 exclaimed, for I did not believe the N. W. or the X. Y. could 
 be sending men to the Missouri, although the H. B. already 
 had done so. 
 
 "Not traders. They carry a big flag. They have guns. 
 The lower village was told about them by White Snake. Le 
 Borgne now knows white men are coming up the river." 
 
 "What do you think about them?" 
 
 "The white woman's medicine brought them," he promptly 
 declared. "It will be a long time before they get here " 
 
 "Then how can they help us," I broke in, a rude breach of 
 etiquette with an Indian. 
 
 He smoked in silence for a good five minutes, then coldly 
 resumed : 
 
 "A long time in getting here, but Le Borgne has his village 
 here and can not change it. He will be here when they come. 
 He fears they are friends of the Sioux. Big medicine for 
 Medicine Hair." 
 
 This time I waited to make sure he had finished, then 
 asked 
 
 "How?" 
 
 With the utmost gravity he replied: 
 
 "The white woman will say the big white chief, her father,. 
 
2i6 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 comes with many white men. Her medicine will tell her in 
 a dream, she shall say. She will tell it to the Minnetarees. Le 
 Borgne thinks only he and White Snake and the Mandans 
 in the lower village know about the white man. He will think 
 it big medicine if she dreams it and tells him." 
 
 "Good !" I cried, deeply pleased at the deception Flat Mouth 
 had so adroitly suggested. "It may give us a fighting chance. 
 Le Borgne is in a bad mind." 
 
 "That is good! He will not have time to think of a new 
 wife. He will be afraid bad luck is trailing him. He will be 
 ripe for our trade." 
 
 "Is that all Eshkebugecoshe has to tell?" 
 
 "On riding to the village I met a scout of the Cheyennes. 
 They have crossed the river in hope of falling on some hunting 
 party before going home. We talked in the sign-language. I 
 sent a sign-talk to the Cheyenne chief, saying we would leave 
 here with the medicine woman after this one sleep. I said I 
 would bring the Assiniboin scalps and he and his warriors must 
 be ready to go with us to the Mouse. That was the trade we 
 made when they were putting presents under the stem." 
 
 This would make it the following night. Well, we either 
 would go or we wouldn't. I wrote on a strip of bark: 
 
 There are white men far down the river. Le Borgne is much 
 concerned. He does not know whether they are allies of the Sioux or 
 not. You must have a dream to-night that the white men are led by 
 your father, the big white chief, that they are coming here with 
 many guns, that worse than death will be the fate of anyone who 
 interferes with your liberty, let alone seeking you as a wife. Flat 
 Mouth will interpret it to Le Borgne. 
 
 I read it to Flat Mouth and he smiled appreciatively and 
 declared my "mystery talk" was very big medicine. I asked 
 him if he had met any Minnetarees on his return by the river 
 road. He shook his head, and I decided that for twenty-four 
 hours at least Le Borgne would not know he had been to the 
 lower village. Thus the girl's announcement concerning the 
 .strangers down the river would come in the nature of a dream- 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 217 
 
 revelation and make a profound impression on the savage chief. 
 Whatever the supernatural powers had to report to their red 
 children was revealed through the medium of dreams. You 
 could never make Le Borgne believe that the visions seen in 
 sleep were not veritable views of the unseen world wherein 
 all earthly affairs were ordered and the future of every man 
 foreseen. 
 
 Taking our guns we made our way through the darkness 
 to Choke-cherry's hut and after much bother got him to open 
 the door. We would have proceeded direct to the girl's hut 
 if not for the guards on duty there. For two inches of to 
 bacco I bribed him to make one of his women take a bowl of 
 fresh water and bowl of corn to the girl. I explained to him 
 that the piece of bark I placed on the corn was a medicine 
 to make her hungry. 
 
 The Pillager and I followed the woman until we heard her 
 explain her errand to one of the guards and the door open 
 and close upon her. This was about all we could do and, as 
 the morrow promised to tax our strength, we went back to our 
 hut and turned in for a few hours' sleep. 
 
 With the first grey light the Pillager aroused me. He had 
 procured fresh meat from some of the hunters and hurriedly 
 broiled it over the fire. As fast as a portion was cooked 
 enough to be edible he cut it off for me and took the next 
 slice, practically raw, for himself. In this fashion we made 
 a hearty meal and set out to see if Miss Dearness had com 
 plied with my directions. As we came in sight of her prison 
 I knew she had acted promptly, for the guards, four of them, 
 were grouped before something hanging on the outside wall 
 and were staring at it curiously. 
 
 The savages gave way sullenly as we advanced to read her 
 message. They were in half a mind to order us back, but 
 Flat Mouth was too forbidding to be hustled about. His 
 statement that I was the only one who could tell what was in 
 the mystery talk afforded them an excuse for permitting us the 
 freedom of the porch. 
 
218 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 Miss Dearness had written on the reverse side of my piece 
 of bark: 
 
 People of the Minnetaree, and the Blind One, their chief: 
 
 In the night dream medicine came to me. I saw many white men 
 with many guns far down the Missouri coming to these villages of 
 the Mandans and the Minnetarees. I saw the big white chief, the 
 greatest of all traders, leading the white men. I saw the Sioux 
 begging him to stop with them. He is too strong for them to rob or 
 kill. I heard him tell the Sioux he was coming here to build a post 
 because the white woman, Medicine Hair, is here. I heard him tell 
 the Sioux he would return and build a post in their country if he was 
 not treated well by the Minnetarees, or if the white woman had not 
 been treated well. The Sioux begged him to give them some of his 
 many guns, and he told them they should have them if the white 
 woman was troubled in any way by Le Borgne or his people. Le 
 Borgne, the Blind One, the dream means you will bring the Sioux 
 against you, every warrior carrying a gun, if you do not let the white 
 woman come and go as she wishes, and if you do not tell your people 
 there will be no feast, no new hut. 
 
 I translated it hastily to the Pillager, and his eyes glistened 
 as he pronounced it good. I noticed in the writing what, per 
 haps, he did not. She did not refer to herself as being the 
 daughter of the mythical big white chief. I had made much 
 of the relationship, taking my cue from Flat Mouth. She 
 had acquiesced in it. Now, apparently, she could not do it, 
 though Red Dearness would be the last to object to his 
 daughter using any subterfuge to cheat an Indian. 
 
 Flat Mouth was for bringing out the robes and placing them 
 on sale at once. I advised waiting until we could learn the 
 chief's mood. Flat Mouth then asked if we should take the 
 writing to the chief now. Again I was for delay. To my 
 way of thinking the girl's "dream" should be announced to Le 
 Borgne at a psychological moment, at some time during the 
 sale of the robes. I knew the fellow well enough to realize 
 that he could not be forced into any decision. The pressure 
 must be applied gradually; the effect must be accumulative; 
 then, if we could bring him to a pitch where he wavered, the 
 girl's revelation should be used as the last straw. The Pil 
 lager was good enough to proclaim my reasoning sound, only 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 219 
 
 he destroyed all compliment in his speech by adding that it 
 was the white woman's medicine working through my tongue. 
 
 We stepped clear of the porch and were about to return to 
 the hut and our pack of robes, when again I heard that fear 
 ful screaming. The guards scurried to less exposed positions; 
 even the Pillager betrayed concern. The screaming grew 
 louder and the Pillager, too proud to run and hide, flattened 
 himself against the wall of the hut and stared uneasily at the 
 pitiable figure now appearing from between two huts. 
 
 Le Borgne's demented mother-in-law was a sorry sight as she 
 passed us, tossing her hands and tearing at her hair. Since her 
 last appearance she had slashed herself with a knife, for she 
 was bleeding from several fresh wounds. She walked with 
 her head thrown far back, yet she neither stumbled nor fell 
 nor wandered from the middle of the narrow way. This to 
 the Pillager was simply another proof that she was under the 
 direct control of the great manito. She was making straight 
 to Le Borgne's hut. As soon as she passed a hut the inmates 
 would emerge and climb to the roof, none daring to follow her. 
 I followed her, however, and for this reason the Pillager fol 
 lowed too. 
 
 We halted on coming in sight of Le Borgne's porch and 
 were just in time to see the war-chief duck inside. The wo 
 man, with her head still flung back and her gaze directed to 
 the heavens, gave an ear-splitting shriek and ran forward. 
 How she saw him, or knew he had retreated into the hut was 
 a mystery to me. Nevertheless she did know and, with a 
 maniacal cry, ran on to the porch and attempted to open the 
 door. 
 
 After several minutes of furious efforts she backed away and 
 began cursing him : 
 
 "Oh, one-eyed killer of women! May your medicine turn 
 to water ! May the Sioux tear out your heart and give it to the 
 dogs!" she screamed. 
 
 The Pillager was so deeply impressed by her terrible prayer 
 that he interpreted only patches of it. For some minutes she 
 
220 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 carried on in this violent fashion, then, with a despairing 
 shriek, she turned and fled swiftly between the huts. 
 
 "It is bad to have such words spoken against you," gravely 
 said the Pillager. "Le Borgne may say he doesn't care, but 
 inside he is very much afraid." 
 
 The more frightened the Minnetaree became, the better the 
 day looked for us, and, feeling almost optimistic, I led the 
 way to Choke-cherry's hut and cooked some meat and sent it 
 to Miss Dearness. Despite his hearty meal at our hut the 
 Pillager broiled for himself several slices of meat and de 
 voured them voraciously. When he had finished I said I was 
 ready to offer the robes. To my surprise he objected. 
 
 "The white woman's medicine is working through the mad 
 woman," he insisted. "Let the medicine work. We will wait. 
 We have until the sun goes down. My blood tells me some 
 thing is in the air that will make this day remembered among 
 the Minnetaree." 
 
 "Do you think the woman's people she being a Mandan 
 will make trouble for Le Borgne?" 
 
 He smiled grimly. 
 
 "They are dogs. They do not dare lift their heads when 
 he looks at them. They will say she took a Minnetaree man 
 and now belongs to that tribe; that the daughter, the dead 
 woman, is a Minnetaree. We will climb on a hut and watch 
 what comes next." 
 
 This we did, selecting the hut we were in. Some thirty 
 warriors were already there. They respectfully made way for 
 the Pillager, and we took a position facing Le Borgne's hut. 
 
 We sat there but a few minutes, smoking our pipes and 
 watching the curious groups dotting the surrounding roofs, 
 when we observed, off to our left, a commotion among the 
 spectators. They were swarming to the south side of the 
 roofs, craning their necks and keeping very quiet. 
 
 "She is coming again," whispered Flat Mouth, putting up 
 his pipe. "She is like a ghost that can not find sleep." 
 
 As the guttural chatter on the roofs subsided, I heard her 
 voice wailing in a low-pitched key as she once more was im- 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 221 
 
 pelled to make the rounds of the village. We could trace her 
 progress by watching the people on the roofs. Then the moan 
 ing undertone leaped high like heat-lightning as she flayed Le 
 Borgne, using terms that would bring death to any other in the 
 five villages. 
 
 She denounced him as a stealer of women, as a killer of 
 women. These accusations, especially the first, might be easily 
 overlooked, even accepted as something complimentary. But 
 when she added he was a coward, that the sight of a man's 
 blood made him sick, that he dared not leave his hut unless 
 surrounded by many braves, the effect was quickly registered 
 inside the hut. He began bellowing in terrible rage, and the 
 warriors on the roofs began shifting their positions so they 
 might not be so prominent when he showed himself. Those re 
 maining on the ground scurried to climb up on the huts, or 
 ran for the outskirts of the village. 
 
 Flat Mouth breathed with a hissing sound, as he read these 
 signs of fear, and whispered 
 
 "They are afraid to meet their chief when he comes out!" 
 
 For fully ten minutes the woman kept up her vilification, 
 her tongue never ceasing, her bitterness never losing its acid 
 edge ; then, as she had done before, she turned and ran swiftly 
 away. Some women darted from a hut, seized her and induced 
 her to go with them. Chief of the Wolves dropped from a 
 roof and ran to his uncle's hut announcing her departure. 
 The door flew open with a smash, and the chief jumped out. 
 Chief of the Wolves disappeared between two huts after one 
 glance at the man's face. 
 
 Le Borgne was frightful to behold. To me he seemed to be 
 as insane as the woman. He had thrown aside his cloak and 
 wore only his breech-clout, his long coarse hair enveloping him 
 like a shaggy cloak. His gigantic body trembled and shook. 
 Standing before his porch, he crouched low and began jerking 
 his axe up and down by the wrist-thong, all the time twisting 
 his head back and forth to rake the village with his baleful 
 glance. Then straightening and lifting his arms above his head, 
 he emitted a bull-like roar and smashed his axe against the 
 
222 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 long platform filled with driftwood. He was praying for an 
 enemy to appear someone he could vent his blood-lust upon. 
 
 "He goes mad like the woman," murmured the Pillager, 
 his hands twitching as he crouched on the edge of the hut 
 and glared down at the chief. He reminded me of a Red River 
 lynx on a bough about to leap on its prey. 
 
 "He asks his manito to send him something he can fight and 
 kill. It would be a good coup to take his scalp !" 
 
 "It would mean death for the white woman and for us," I 
 sternly rebuked, fearing lest he seek to test his strength against 
 Le Borgne's. 
 
 "Not if it is her medicine working through him as it is work 
 ing through the woman," he muttered, licking his lips wolf- 
 ishly and craning his neck to watch the movements of the chief. 
 
 Le Borgne roared even more loudly and without cessation. 
 It was just a bestial cry with no words in it. As he howled 
 his horrible yearning for battle his arms kept up a violent gestic 
 ulation, and the men on the huts crept to the opposite sides so 
 as to remain unseen. The Pillager and I remained where 
 we were. 
 
 "Ho!" grunted the Pillager, smiling savagely. "Very soon 
 I must fight that man because he will have it so. They say 
 he can fight good. I will wear a painted hand on my arm 
 after we get back to the Red River to show I dodged under his 
 axe and struck him with my empty hand on the arm before 
 killing him." 
 
 "Are you going mad? Are you a foolish man?" I cried. 
 "You say it is the woman's medicine working; then let it work. 
 It has not asked you to do anything." 
 
 "Watch !" hissed the Pillager, balancing on the edge of the 
 roof. What I saw gave me hope that the grim pantomime was 
 ended, for Le Borgne suddenly darted back into his hut. 
 
 "He will stay hidden until the woman comes and makes 
 him a madman again," I said. 
 
 But the Pillager seemed abnormally contented as he kept his 
 eyes fastened on the closed door; his hands no longer twitched. 
 Before I had time to wonder at this marked change in his 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 223 
 
 demeanour, the door of the hut flew open again and now Le 
 Borgne was wearing his robe. The Pillager gathered his heels 
 under him and slipped his hand through the noosed thong of 
 his war-axe. He said 
 
 "Watch!" 
 
 Stalking a few rods from his hut, Le Borgne raised his 
 mighty voice in a war-cry and, catching the robe with his left 
 arm, he swung it round his head and hurled it aside. It 
 opened and caught the wind and fluttered like some monster 
 moth to the ground. 
 
 "He has cast his robe! The white woman's medicine has 
 made him cast his robe," softly rejoiced the Pillager. "Now 
 he is under vow to his manito to kill the first person he meets, 
 man, woman, or child, that doesn't belong to his tribe. All 
 the village knows it, and the Minnetarees will stay in hiding, 
 although his vow does not mean he will kill any of them. You 
 and the chief of the Pillager Chippewas are not of his tribe." 
 
 Now the muscles of his arms and legs were knotting in 
 bunches, then relaxing and rippling smoothly as he prepared 
 to leap to the ground and have at the brute. 
 
 I grasped his arm and warned: 
 
 "You must not do it. The white woman's medicine does 
 not call you to fight him." 
 
 Le Borgne raised his war-cry and began stalking the empty 
 spaces between the huts in search of a victim to satisfy his vow. 
 Doors slammed throughout the village and the men on the 
 roofs lay flat and hidden from view, although a Minnetaree 
 should have had no cause for fear. Le Borgne doubled over 
 and shook out his hair and danced from side to side, the silence 
 of the people permitting the thud-thud of his stamping mocca 
 sins to be plainly audible. 
 
 "He has said it! He cries for blood! He dances for death! 
 The Medicine Hair's manito makes him do it. Her manito 
 pushes me to him. I will go and kill him!" snarled the Pil 
 lager, striving to cast off my grip. 
 
 "You will kill us all," I cried, feeling my hold breaking. 
 
 "I'll kill Le Borgne who has cast his robe," panted the Pil- 
 
224 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 lager. Then he raised the war-cry of his tribe and, wrenching 
 loose, dropped to the ground. 
 
 I stood up intending to follow him and make sure with my 
 gun that Le Borgne died did he fight with my friend, when I 
 observed the Minnetaree chief had shifted his course so as to 
 place our hut between him and the Pillager. I looked down 
 on the Pillager, and he, thinking Le Borgne was all but upon 
 him, was shaking out his Sioux scalps and engaging in a little 
 ceremonial dance of his own, brandishing his axe most adeptly. 
 I looked back after Le Borgne and saw the mad woman run 
 ning towards him. 
 
 It was a tense situation. Le Borgne, bowed low and intent 
 on his grotesque steps, did not see the fury approaching him. 
 The Pillager, with a segment of the hut between him and his 
 man, was conducting his advance with close attention to ritual, 
 never dreaming of the woman's presence. The first that Le 
 Borgne knew of the woman was when she grabbed him by the 
 hair. With a roar he straightened, swinging her feet off the 
 ground and raising his axe. She screamed vituperations and fell 
 back to the ground with both hands filled with hair. Le Borgne 
 recognized her in time to save himself from a hideous crime 
 the killing of one under the Great Spirit's protection. 
 
 With a shout of rage and fear he leaped back. She was at 
 his face again, and, for a second, I believed he would brain 
 her. Then his arms dropped to his*side and he turned his 
 back on her. She caught his long hair and began tearing it out, 
 making terrible animal cries as she did so. He paid no atten 
 tion to her and did not seem to sense her presence, but swung 
 his axe and hurled it high over the nearest hut, and then strode 
 rapidly to his own hut with the woman worrying his neck and 
 hair. She released him as he reached his porch. He went inside 
 and closed the door. 
 
 I looked about for the Pillager and beheld him standing 
 with folded arms, disgustedly . watching the anti-climax. I 
 dropped down beside him and exclaimed 
 
 "He didn't kill her!" 
 
 "He could not kill her," he growled. "She has been touched 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 225 
 
 by the big manito. No one can hurt her, no matter what she 
 does. Her coming was bad medicine for my coup. Had I seen 
 her, I would have reached him first ; then his heart would have 
 been glad and his axe would have sang a song as it hissed against 
 mine. Yet it could not kill her, although she is not of his peo 
 ple" and he made the spiral sign with his finger "so his 
 vow is broken. He cast his robe for nothing, and that is very 
 bad medicine for him, but not so bad as if he stuck his axe in 
 the woman's head. A strong medicine has shown him he can 
 not always do as he promises. But it is very bad not to keep 
 a vow. It will hurt him with his people unless he can get 
 some good-luck medicine. The medicine of the white woman 
 works against him all the time." 
 
 "He must have seen you, yet he did not offer to fight you," 
 I said. 
 
 "Why should he fight me?" asked the Pillager in surprise. 
 "He had no fight with me except as my coming let him make 
 good his promise. When the woman reached him first his vow 
 was spoiled ; he had no promise left, so he threw away his axe 
 to tell everyone the vow was dead. But it is very bad for 
 him." There was almost a touch of sympathy in the Pillager's 
 voice as he said the last. 
 
 "How long must we wait before we show the robes and 
 offer to trade?" I asked. 
 
 "Now is a good time. Le Borgne knows bad luck is biting 
 his heels. He is afraid that everything is against him. He 
 needs a strong medicine. He is not thinking of feasts and a 
 new wife." 
 
 It was pleasant to get into action again. As we passed the 
 girl's hut I called out to her, and she opened the door a crack 
 and spoke 
 
 "Can we do it to-night?" 
 
 Owing to the fear and confusion over Le Borgne's behaviour 
 we could have done it then if we had had her at the corral. 
 The guards about her hut were still in hiding. 
 
 "It must be to-night if I fail in what I'm about to try. I 
 am going to offer to buy you first." 
 
226 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "Buy me?" she faintly repeated. "But you have no goods." 
 
 "If I fail we will get away to-night," I comforted. "When 
 I call your name step to the door and touch the writing on the 
 bark, then get back out of sight." 
 
 At this point Chief of the Wolves ran up and reminded 
 that we were not to talk with the white woman. However, 
 he was very civil about it and displayed no arrogance. His 
 gaze rested on the Pillager with a sort of worshipful admira 
 tion, and he added : 
 
 "I saw the Chippewa chief drop to the ground. I thought 
 he was about to drop into Le Borgne's arms. What a battle 
 that would have been !" 
 
 "Not a long battle just a cracked skull and the Minne- 
 tarees would have to look for a new war-chief," calmly retorted 
 the Pillager. 
 
 Now old Choke-cherry came trotting up, his broad face pic 
 turing deep trouble. 
 
 "I have been to see my brother," he whispered. "Bad spirits 
 are around him. Never before has a Minnetaree chief cast his 
 robe and not done as he said." 
 
 "He needs new medicine," I advised. 
 
 "He will give many ponies for a new medicine," eagerly 
 cried Choke-cherry. "Has the white man some magic he will 
 trade for ponies?" 
 
 "I have some medicine I will trade," I replied. "I don't 
 know whether I will trade for ponies, or robes, or something 
 else. It is a very strong medicine and will kill all bad luck, but 
 I will not trade it for poor ponies. I want ponies such as the 
 Cheyennes have." 
 
 Choke-cherry's face showed great fear. If he told this to 
 his brother, the chief would bitterly upbraid him for not turning 
 over the two Assiniboins to the Cheyennes for the ten ponies 
 offered. 
 
 "We have many good robes," he cried. "Let the white man 
 bring out his medicine. I will tell the village to be ready to 
 trade. If the medicine is new and strong and will help the 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 227 
 
 heart of Le Borgne to grow stout again, and his head to grow 
 clear again, we will give every robe in the five villages." 
 
 "We will see," I carelessly answered, walking away. 
 
 "Now is the time," muttered Flat Mouth as I hurried to 
 get the pack. 
 
 "The best of times," I rejoiced. "Le Borgne is afraid his 
 buffalo manito has lost its strength. He cast his robe and made 
 himself a foolish man. The villages will think his war medi 
 cine is spoiled. He must get good-luck medicine, or else there 
 will be a new war-chief. 
 
 The Pillager well understood the method of offering a white 
 robe for sale and undertook charge of the arrangements. Two 
 upright stakes were placed before the door of the hut facing 
 Miss Dearness's prison. Across these supports he placed a 
 third stake. The open space before the hut was packed. The 
 roofs of the surrounding huts were covered with the curious. 
 The Pillager took advantage of the opportunity to indulge in 
 oratory. By his touching his axe and the Sioux scalps I knew 
 he was declaiming his greatness, and, as all must have known 
 of his willingness to fight Le Borgne, he was heard with the 
 deepest respect and attention. But when he reached behind him 
 and fumbled with the cords of the pack and continued his talk 
 his audience smiled skeptically. 
 
 He paused and said to me in Chippewa : 
 
 "I have told them we never bother to trade in anything but 
 white robes. I have said we carry a pack of them with us 
 wherever we go but never offer to trade unless we see some 
 thing we want very much. These dogs think my tongue is 
 crooked." Then, picking up the robe, he flung it over the cross- 
 piece. 
 
 A shout of amazement greeted the appearance of the robe. 
 Choke-cherry exclaimed 
 
 "The Sioux-killer spoke with a straight tongue!" 
 
 Flat Mouth angrily cried out 
 
 "Did you think a chief of the Pillager Chippewas, wearer 
 of many eagle feathers, would come to the Missouri to tell 
 lies to hut Indians?" 
 
228 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 "It is a fine robe. We will buy it," declared Chief of the 
 Wolves. 
 
 Ignoring him, Flat Mouth reached into the pack and drew 
 out another robe and threw it over the first. Choke-cherry 
 was inarticulate for several minutes. Admiration, awe, and 
 covetousness were reflected in the disjointed outcries of the 
 Minnetarees. When Choke-cherry recovered speech it was to 
 proclaim hoarsely: 
 
 "Better medicine was never brought to a Minnetaree village 
 in my day. Chippewa, Sioux-killer, set your price. We will 
 buy the robes." 
 
 "They are not mine to sell," informed Flat Mouth, drag 
 ging forth the third robe and draping it over the others so 
 the three tails hung in a row. 
 
 "They are common robes coloured with white earth," accused 
 Chief of the Wolves, crowding forward and clutching roughly 
 at the top robe. But as his fingers encountered the fleece and 
 his suspicious gaze failed to find any trace of a deception, his 
 jaw grew slack and he stared stupidly at the treasure. "My 
 uncle speaks true," he faltered. "We will buy them if it takes 
 all the robes in all the villages." 
 
 Through the Chippewa I repeated what I already had said 
 to Choke-cherry; namely, that while I did not care to take 
 the white robes with me on leaving the village, I had seen 
 nothing yet for which I would trade. Whatever it was it 
 must be of the best. I was not even prepared to say I would 
 take robes, ponies, dressed leather, or a combination of such 
 goods in payment. I would display the robes and see what the 
 Minnetarees had to offer. If I found something to my liking 
 I would trade. 
 
 "So be it!" howled old Choke-cherry. "Take what you 
 will. We can get more. But never was such a chance to get 
 medicine robes. I will give my medicine-pipe. It is a great 
 mystery very strong medicine." 
 
 "Yet it could not make the Cheyennes lead their ponies under 
 the stem," sneered Flat Mouth. 
 
 "The village shall buy them and give them to our chief, 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 229 
 
 so his bad luck may grow red again," said Chief of the 
 Wolves. 
 
 "The Blind needs much medicine to make him open his 
 one eye," ironically remarked Flat Mouth. 
 
 No one heeded this derisive speech, for a mighty trade had 
 come to the Missouri and must be completed. Grunts and 
 yelps arose when the Pillager produced the fourth and last 
 of the robes and hung it in place. 
 
 "It is magic!" faltered Choke-cherry, edging backward. 
 "The white man can make the Sioux-killer find white robes 
 all day." 
 
 "If it is magic then the robes will turn brown after they 
 have gone away," said Chief of the Wolves. 
 
 The Pillager smiled scornfully, saying 
 
 "You talk like foolish men." 
 
 Raising a hand in silence and attention, he dipped into the 
 pack for the last time and reverently lifted up the small calf 
 skin, all white but for the black border round the right eye. 
 This he exhibited to the astounded mob and then gently laid it 
 on the robes. The calfskin was much more valuable than the 
 robes. 
 
 The deep silence which followed this climax was broken by 
 the Pillager announcing 
 
 "This is all we bring this time." 
 
 "You said you had nothing to trade," gasped Choke-cherry. 
 
 "I always have something to trade when I think there is 
 something worth trading for," I corrected. "My medicine 
 has told me in my sleep that I could make a good trade here. 
 I am waiting to see what my medicine meant." 
 
 Men darted away to inform Le Borgne of the powerful 
 medicine. Others scoured the village to round up property. 
 A scene of amazing activity followed. In a short time seven 
 horses were brought up, each loaded with robes, dressed leather, 
 moccasins and embroidered leggings. Without bothering to 
 glance at this, the first bid, the Pillager shook the calf's tail 
 as a sign of refusal. 
 
 Choke-cherry dashed frantically among the men and hooted 
 
230 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 long-winded speeches to which no one seemed to pay any atten 
 tion. He was exhorting them to greater efforts in syndicating 
 their goods. As proof of his own desire to help win the miracle 
 for the good of the village, he brought out his medicine-pipe, 
 newly decorated with feathers and hairs. The horses and truck 
 were left at one side, and the warriors separated to round up 
 more collateral. 
 
 A warrior returned from Le Borgne's hut saying the chief 
 wished the robes to be bought in with no delay and delivered 
 to him. After receiving them he would come out and see his 
 people. I fancied that in each mind was the fear that unless 
 the robes were delivered, per request, he would come out any 
 way, to see his people, and would come with his wrist thrust 
 through the loop of his war-axe. Seven more horses were 
 brought forward, this time the pick of the herd, and in addi 
 tion to the robes were many of their copper kettles. As their 
 superstition forbade them cooking meat in their earthen pots, 
 the offer of the kettles was conclusive proof of their determi 
 nation to procure the robes. 
 
 Again Flat Mouth shook the tail. Again the Minnetarees 
 scattered for more goods. Chief of the Wolves, I noted, darted 
 away toward his uncle's hut, and with my gun in my lap I 
 thereafter kept an eye out. It was while the savages were 
 collecting their third batch of goods that Le Borgne came hur 
 rying toward us, his nephew walking behind him. The chief 
 carried his axe. He had been told the robes were not to be 
 bought in a hurry and he was very angry, a sullen rage that 
 burned on top of his former wrath when he was compelled to 
 violate his vow. He wore his robe. 
 
 The Pillager gave me a quick look, and I patted my gun 
 and smiled grimly. If Le Borgne attempted to get the robes by 
 casting his robe again and slaying the first alien he met, he 
 would never more than get started in lifting his axe. The Pil 
 lager, who was naked to his clout, picked up his robe and threw 
 it over his shoulder. I followed his example, borrowing one 
 hanging inside the porch were I sat. 
 
 Le Borgne grasped the significance of our action and surr 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 231 
 
 veyed us in silence for several moments through, his smoldering 
 eye, his ghastly grin making him look like a death's head. 
 
 "The day is warm," he boomed, slipping off his robe and 
 giving it to Chief of the Wolves to hold. 
 
 "It is very warm in the sun," agreed the Pillager, dropping 
 his robe to the ground. I was glad to throw mine off. 
 
 With this unspoken agreement that there should be no casting 
 of robes, the chief took time to sweep his eye over the horses 
 and goods and the white robes and, more precious than all, the 
 calfskin. His voice was unsteady as he asked 
 
 "Where did the white man get these medicine robes and the 
 hide?" 
 
 "Far from here," I briefly replied. 
 
 Le Borgne turned on his people and warned: 
 
 "This is no time to bring a few ponies. This is a big medi 
 cine sale. It must end quickly. Mighty medicine does not 
 like to be hung out in the sun waiting for a buyer " Then to 
 me, the Pillager interpreting "Go to all the Minnetaree huts 
 and take all you find, save only that one hut." And he pointed 
 to where the girl was imprisoned. 
 
 He was practically offering all movable property in the vil 
 lage. I have no doubt but that he would have thrown in the 
 huts if we had had a way to take them with us. I shook my 
 head. The Pillager reached down and wagged the tail. 
 
 My refusal threw the chief into a paroxysm of rage, yet he 
 restrained himself and said: 
 
 "Go to all the Minnetaree huts! Go to all the Mandan huts 
 on the Missouri ! Take what you will all the ponies you will. 
 If any Mandan tries to stop you, tell him I sent you !" 
 
 "My medicine tells rne it is not robes and kettles and ponies 
 I want," I replied. "I can get kettles among the white 
 people. I can get better ponies and robes among the Chey- 
 ennes." 
 
 "What do you want?" he fiercely demanded. 
 
 "Miss Dearness!" I called. The words meant nothing to 
 him, but at the sound of her name, the girl began singing, and 
 the door of her hut opened. She stood there, wrapped in her 
 
232 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 capote, long enough to touch the piece of bark hanging on the 
 wall. Then she retired and closed the door. 
 
 "My medicine tells me that is what I will buy with my 
 robes," I said to Le Borgne. 
 
 Le Borgne swung his axe and roared a refusal. 
 
 The Pillager spoke to Choke-cherry, who timidly procured 
 the piece of bark containing the girl's writing and brought it to 
 me. I motioned for Le Borgne to give heed, and proceeded to 
 read the message very slowly, the Pillager interpreting and, of 
 course, embellishing it somewhat. Le Borgne listened atten 
 tively, after the first few words, and his strong face grew 
 uneasy as he heard the girl's "dream." 
 
 She had seen the white men, many of them, with many guns, 
 coming up the Missouri to the Mandans and the Minnetarees. 
 The whites were too strong for the Sioux to trouble. It jolted 
 him when he was told the leader of the whites was the big 
 white chief we had talked so much about since reaching the 
 river. His face lighted when he was told the white chief would 
 build a post in the village because Medicine Hair, the white 
 woman, was there. And it grew dark as night when he was 
 warned what would happen if he troubled the white woman, 
 or limited her coming and going. 
 
 "I have never wanted a woman I did not take," he roared. 
 
 "If her father, the big chief, is coming with many guns and 
 men I do not need to buy her," I carelessly said, shifting the 
 position of the calfskin so Le Borgne would observe the black 
 markings round the right eye. 
 
 He had not noticed this peculiarity before, and for the mo 
 ment it drove all thoughts of the woman out of his head. It 
 was his right eye that was dead. The right eye of the medicine 
 calf was circled with black, denoting death. If ever a manito 
 sent a particular medicine to a great warrior, surely thus was 
 the skin sent to Le Borgne. 
 
 "You want this woman for your woman?" he demanded. 
 Of course the girl heard the Pillager repeat it in Chippewa, 
 as he talked loudly. 
 
 "I do. That is why I offer to make a trade for her." 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 233 
 
 "You can go back and get other white women. There are 
 some more?" he asked. 
 
 "Many of them more than there are Indian women." 
 
 He laughed aloud at such an exaggeration. 
 
 "Why do you want this one when you can get so many? I 
 want her. She is the only white woman I have seen. If there 
 were many of them here I would sell her for a pony." 
 
 "If there were many of them here you could not get the 
 medicine robes," I retorted, forced to play the game according 
 to his savage viewpoint and hold it strictly to the level of barter 
 and trade. 
 
 "I will not sell her," he growled. His brother made to im 
 plore him to change his mind, but did not dare go beyond a few 
 faltering words. The warriors looked glum, and more than 
 one angry glance was cast at Miss Dearness's hut. They 
 wanted to see their chief in possession of the robes. To murder 
 us and appropriate the robes would be a violation of their 
 etiquette besides being sure to bring down retribution upon 
 them in some way, such as the loss of a trading-post. Afraid 
 as they were of their leader, I could see some of them thought 
 he was paying too high a price for his whim. If his medicine 
 suffered, then the whole tribe suffered. 
 
 I spoke to the Pillager. He gathered up the robes and the 
 skin and repacked them, with the calfskin on top, the black eye 
 showing. While Le Borgne had refused the trade, I had not 
 lost hopes of buying the girl. His refusal was to prove his 
 independence, and, perhaps, had been incited by a glimpse of 
 the girl's white face. 
 
 Le Borgne stood and glared at us, his hands fingering his big 
 axe, his eye observing the double-barrelled gun across my left 
 arm. 
 
 Deep in the village rose a dismal chanting. The mother of 
 the murdered girl was abroad again. The effect on Le Borgne 
 was immediate. His eye flickered with fear. The woman was 
 getting on his nerves. He wished himself back in his hut with 
 the door barred, as shown by his instinctive glance in that direc 
 tion. Yet he could not spend the rest of his life in a hut. It 
 
234 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 was intolerable to anticipate months and perhaps years of the 
 woman's nagging her accusations of cowardice. Let even a 
 mad woman repeat a thing long enough, and he would lose 
 something of his standing in the tribe. While he must not 
 touch her, he should be protected by his medicine. If his 
 medicine was spoiled he must renew it. The chanting grew 
 louder and clearer. Miss Dearness also heard it, for she now 
 sang out to me: 
 
 "Choke-cherry's wife, when bringing me meat, said the crazy 
 Mandan woman is going back to her people in the lower 
 village." 
 
 I picked up the calfskin and said to Le Borgne : 
 
 "I think you are a foolish man, but I am not to blame for 
 that. I am angry because Chief of the Wolves spoke evil of 
 my medicine robes and skin. I will prove to you that the 
 medicine is strong in this skin. You shall hold it in your hands 
 until the crazy woman comes and goes. Then you shall give it 
 back to me, and I will take my pack elsewhere and trade." 
 
 He seized it greedily and I stood aside and waited. I smoked 
 and tried to show the unconcern I did not feel. I had acted on 
 an impulse set in motion by Miss Dearness's words. I also 
 believed I could detect a new tone in the poor woman's lament, 
 the quality of sadness and resignation. The people stood very 
 quietly, all eyes turned to where the Mandan woman would 
 emerge from among the huts. If the sight of the chief should 
 inflame her mad rage, the trade value of the white calfskin 
 would greatly depreciate. In that event we would make a 
 good fight of it that night. 
 
 Now the woman appeared, her head bowed low, her chanting 
 weirdly depressing. The stage was well set for her coming. 
 The Minnetarees fell back to give her clear passage and no one 
 spoke nor moved. The chief and I stood a little in advance of 
 the people, he standing like an image, holding the white calf 
 skin in his two hands, his axe dangling from his wrist, his one 
 eye fixed on the woman. 
 
 She drew close and I believed she was to pass by without 
 lifting her head, but the steady impact of Le Borgne's gaze 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 235 
 
 caused her to look up. For a moment I believed she was going 
 to fly at him, for she halted and stared in his face. Still, there 
 was a sane light in her eyes now. She recognized the powerful 
 medicine he was holding. The silence of the people was im 
 pressive. The whole affair smacked of the ritualistic. Per 
 haps she realized she had a leading part in it, and must not 
 destroy the symmetry of the whole. Or the poor thing may 
 have been just heartbroken and only anxious to get back to her 
 people in the lower village. Whatever the influence that kept 
 her subdued, she gazed for a moment into the brute's face, then 
 dropped her head, resumed her chanting and walked on toward 
 the river road. 
 
 I plucked the skin from Le Borgne's hand rather briskly and 
 tossed it to the Pillager to replace in the pack. 
 
 "White man, wait!" hoarsely cried Le Borgne. "Give it 
 back to me!" 
 
 "You will trade?" 
 
 "Take the white woman ! Give me the robes and the skin !" 
 
 "Miss Dearness!" I called out. "Don't come to the door 
 till I give the word. Then be ready to ride. I've bought 
 you !" 
 
 I nodded to the expressionless-faced Pillager and he handed 
 the pack over to Le Borgne, who started hurriedly for his hut, 
 hugging his new medicine close. Old Choke-cherry yowled in 
 joy, and assured me such a medicine feast would be given that 
 night as never was before enjoyed by the Willow Indians, as 
 the Minnetarees call themselves. I did not seek to discourage 
 him, but so soon as the Pillager brought the horses I purposed 
 to start for the Mouse River. Already the Pillager was 
 making for the corral. 
 
 Now the Minnetarees had a despicable custom in trade of 
 agreeing to a bargain, exchanging goods, pronouncing them 
 selves perfectly well satisfied, and, after an hour or so, coming 
 back and demanding that their property be returned to them, 
 leaving the purchase price "on the ground" as they say. Flat 
 Mouth had told me about these trade tricks by which they 
 hoped to induce the trader to increase the price first agreed 
 
236 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 upon. Not once, but as often as the victim will endure this 
 insolent disregard of the bargain, will they come back and ask 
 for their property or an increase in goods. 
 
 Whether Le Borgne would act in this fashion in an ordinary 
 trade I did not know. I was inclined to believe he would 
 trade fair, but, with the girl as the stake, the temptation would 
 be great, once he got over his first enthusiasm in owning the 
 robes. He might be cunning enough to believe that the white 
 skin had already sent the Mandan woman from his village, and 
 that she had seemed to be the source of his annoyance and 
 trouble. That his murder of the younger woman was back of 
 it all would never appeal to him. 
 
 Soon the Pillager came back with the horses, riding one with 
 his gun held high, his bow and quiver of arrows over his 
 shoulder, and his other hand clutching the two halter ropes. 
 He was closely followed by a crowd of men, women, and chil 
 dren. Chief of the Wolves was very active in getting in 
 front of his horse and causing the chief to rein in. I stepped 
 to Miss Dearness's hut and spoke her name. She opened the 
 door and came out, her head closely muffled, her face very 
 pale, and her blue eyes blinking at the sun. 
 
 "I saw it all," she whispered. "I cut a hole through the 
 hide-door. It was brave of you, wise of you. I'm so glad you 
 bought me!" 
 
 A commotion in the crowd attracted my attention. Chief 
 of the Wolves, sensing our purpose and seeking to delay us, had 
 crossed in front of the Pillager's mount once too often. Struck 
 by the horse's shoulder, he had been hurled to one side. An 
 angry murmur arose. Flat Mouth brought the two horses to 
 the porch and, as I took charge of them, he backed his horse 
 violently, splitting the mob into two sections. Then he brought 
 his animal about, faced the savages and, with his axe held out 
 to one side, he leaned forward and cried 
 
 "Do you want to see a Pillager Chippewa cast his robe?" 
 
 Old Choke-cherry urged the men to give us room and not 
 to crowd round us like foolish children. Chief of the Wolves 
 crawled to his feet and glared murder at the Pillager's back. 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 237 
 
 Then he glimpsed me with the double-barrel, and slunk aside. 
 
 "Make a hole through them, Eshkebugecoshe !" I called out, 
 slapping the girl's mount and sending her after the chief. 
 
 Flat Mouth's horse commenced prancing and bolting from 
 side to side as though unmanageable, and the crowd broke and 
 scattered, some diving into doorways, some running in between 
 huts, and, as the way cleared, the Pillager advanced with the 
 girl close behind him. I came last with my gun half raised, 
 watching the tops of the huts as well as the ground. No one, 
 however, made any active demonstration against us. We 
 avoided Le Borgne's hut and struck north for the Missouri. 
 In my last glimpse of the Minnetarees I beheld Chief of the 
 Wolves running towards Le Borgne's hut with old Choke- 
 cherry bobbing after him. 
 
 We soon made the Missouri, and Flat Mouth quickly found 
 a bull-boat. I paddled Miss Dearness across, and he swam 
 over with her horse in tow. Leaving my gun with her, the 
 Indian and I went back. I remained in the boat and towed my 
 mount over, while my friend repeated his feat of swimming. 
 
 Flat Mouth said three days of ordinary travel would take us 
 to the Coteau du Missouri, the high ridge separating the waters 
 of the Missouri and the Mouse, but believed we should make it 
 easily in a bit less than that as we had no pack animals and 
 were sacrificing everything for speed. 
 
 He set the course for Miss Dearness and me to follow while 
 he rode down the river to pick up the Cheyennes. The girl and 
 I had not gone far before he came after us with twenty war 
 riors. They would go with us to the Coteau, he said, but no 
 farther, as our line of flight was along the western edge of 
 the Sioux territory. When I asked him where the rest of the 
 Cheyennes were, he said they had crossed the river to go home, 
 being afraid of the Sioux. 
 
 Before sundown our escort abruptly bid us good-bye and gal 
 loped madly back to the Missouri. Perhaps it was better that 
 way, for while the twenty horsemen gave us a brave appear 
 ance, they also furnished a large target for a Sioux ej^e. It 
 would be necessary for them to delay and kill meat, and our 
 
238 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 pace would be much slower than when we rode alone. That 
 night Flat Mouth used his bow and arrows with good effect, 
 and we had fresh meat. 
 
 For two days more we pushed on, watching for the Assini- 
 boins on the west and ahead of us, for the Sioux on the east 
 and ahead of us. Then we struck the ridge and beheld a high 
 hill which Flat Mouth called the Dog's House. What was 
 most encouraging was to behold the banks of the Mouse. 
 
 That night as we sat in the smoke of a smudge to protect 
 ourselves from the mosquitoes and wearing dressed-leather 
 hoods over our heads as an additional protection, Miss Dear- 
 ness coughed and choked and at last managed to say 
 
 "The X. Y. will pay you for the robes and skin you paid 
 for me." 
 
 "Never," I imperilled my lungs by replying. "It's the only 
 trade I ever made I was satisfied with. I've only one thing to 
 regret." 
 
 She nodded for me to explain, and I said 
 
 "Since we started from the Missouri you've been so wrapped 
 and bundled up I've forgotten what the color of your hair is." 
 
 Instantly the hood flew off, the capote fell back, and, in de 
 fiance to the millions of mosquitoes, the red glory of her hair 
 was revealed. With a yelp of protest I leaned forward to aid 
 in adjusting the hood and the capote and, losing my balance, 
 would have made clumsy work of it had she not caught my 
 elbow and steadied me for a second. 
 
 Flat Mouth, who had been with the horses to see that the 
 torture inflicted by the mosquitoes did not stampede the ani 
 mals, now drew up to our fire, the horses crowding in behind 
 him to get into the smoke. I wanted to talk with the girl 
 to have her talk to me, and yet I was glad he came. I fired 
 questions at him to keep my mind from her. 
 
 We learned our course now would be down grade and over 
 a pleasant country with no obstacles to speak of. The land was 
 dotted with small hillocks and these usually were covered with 
 buffaloes. If it had not been for the mosquitoes, the trip would 
 have been very comfortable. Of course we must forever be on 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 239 
 
 the watch against the Assiniboins and Sioux and also against 
 a pursuing party of the Minnetarees. The latter we expected 
 to discover at any time, swarming down on us to give back our 
 robes and reclaim the girl. Not until we reached the ridge 
 did we cast them out of our fears. 
 
 The first night after quitting the ridge, when a fresh wind 
 had blown the mosquitoes away and we were bowing our heads 
 over our cooking, some uncontrollable impulse seized me and 
 mastered me, and shortly I awoke to the astounding fact that I 
 had kissed the girl. 
 
 She made no move of resentment, nor said any word, but 
 put on her dressed-leather hood and glanced at me reproach 
 fully. I jumped to my feet and strode off in the darkness, 
 cursing myself. She was under my protection, and I had not 
 supposed my three years in the wilds had so entirely wiped out 
 my training. I can see now I was unnecessarily harsh with 
 myself, that I was young and meant no harm. Still I took 
 myself to task seriously enough that night. When I went back 
 and found her, still hooded, a pathetic and lonely little figure, 
 I had no fine words. I kicked the turf and did manage to 
 blurt out : 
 
 "That won't happen again. Don't bake your face with that 
 hood." With that I went over by the horses and threw myself 
 down. 
 
 Her cold voice cut like a knife as it followed me, saying 
 
 "Having bought me, I suppose you believed you owned me." 
 
 I groaned and dug my fingers into my ears. Before I slept 
 that night I knew I loved her and had spoiled everything by 
 my unpardonable action. 
 
 The Mouse was conquered and we passed down the Assini- 
 boin in two canoes obtained from Fort Assiniboin. I pad 
 dled one, and she and Flat Mouth paddled the other. I had 
 attempted to renew our old footing as though nothing had hap 
 pened, but the glance she gave me told me how hopeless it was. 
 After that I met her only as we landed to make a camp at 
 night, and then only as we ate our fish and meat. She no longer 
 eyed me coldly, but stared at me without seeming to see me. 
 
2 4 o GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 At the Forks we passed the camp of some H. B. men from 
 the Albany factory. I waved my hand but did not turn in to 
 join them. I had no heart for companionship. It was not 
 until I was some miles up the Red that I observed the absence 
 of the girl's canoe. It came in sight just as I had finished 
 cooking and eating a fish and was resuming my journey. I 
 knew she and the Pillager had turned in at the H. B. fire. 
 
 I forced myself to think of old Tabashaw and to wonder if 
 the old rascal had succeeded in bullying and coaxing all the 
 rum from Probos. I repeatedly framed my report to the Gen 
 tlemen of the North, trying to excuse my absence from my post 
 and explain why the spring hunt had resulted in a failure. 
 
 Then it came over me and nauseated me homesickness. To 
 remain there through the summer, fall and winter, and to see 
 no white man's smoke until the next summer seemed to be 
 more than I could endure. All the way up the river I fought 
 it over with myself. Then I realized how silly it was to try 
 to keep the girl from my thoughts. I loved her. I would 
 tell her so. At least she should know that much of the truth, 
 even though she laughed at me. I believed I would feel better 
 if I humiliated myself to her. 
 
 So, when I reached the stretch below the X. Y. post on the 
 Scratching, where poles must be used instead of paddles, I 
 stayed in camp and killed time until she and the Pillager came 
 up. I thought she wanted him to go on, but seeing me, he was 
 eager to land. I greeted her and she eyed me blankly. I 
 fidgeted and waited. Then I could not endure it longer. The 
 Indian was some rods away, roasting some meat. I made sure 
 of my position in my canoe, then turned to her and said : 
 
 "That time back there I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't 
 loved you." 
 
 "Don't mention it," she politely replied, turning and walking 
 to the fire. 
 
 "I won't again," I called after her, cursing myself for an 
 addle-headed lout. 
 
 I sent my canoe into the stream and pitted my strength and 
 sleepless mood against the river and the hours. More of a 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 241 
 
 ghost than a man, I at last crawled ashore at the Pembina 
 post at the edge of evening. 
 
 The old familiar drunken howls saluted me from the fort. 
 I picked up two oak axe-helves, where some of the drunken 
 beggars had thrown them, and tucked them under my arm. 
 When I reached the stockade gate I heard old Tabashaw mak 
 ing a drunken speech and exhorting his tribesmen to enter the 
 fort, find Probos and drag him from his hiding place and cut 
 his throat. I glanced up at the fort windows and saw Probos's 
 fat, greasy face flabby with terror. Leaning my gun against 
 the stockade, I took an oak helve in each hand and quietly 
 stole upon the gathering. 
 
 Then did I put the fear of the manito into their souls. I 
 waded back and forth cracking heads and upbraiding them for 
 worthless dogs and concluded by getting old Tabashaw by the 
 neck and kicking him outside the stockade. Probos, with tears 
 running down his flaccid face, told me the Indians had grown 
 to be very insolent ; that his life was threatened every day. No 
 trade had been brought in, as none of the hunters had gone 
 out. It was believed the Sioux had killed me and the girl and 
 the Pillager. On the morrow Tabashaw had proposed to raid 
 the X. Y. post down the river and secure the supply of liquor. 
 Then he proposed to burn all posts on the river. 
 
 Next morning I sent Probos back to the Reed River and had 
 the Indian women clean up the fort. I assessed every hunter in 
 the camp with a debt of fifty skins to pay for the rum he had 
 consumed, and told them they would not get any more until 
 they squared their debts. For two weeks I worked with the 
 devil riding me. I hated the thought of night and invented 
 excuses to keep up and busy. The gardens had been sadly ne 
 glected and the women were kept at work tending these. The 
 hunters were gradually cleared from the fort and the grounds 
 until I had nothing to do but sit down and hate myself and the 
 country. The Pillager had been but a poor companion after he 
 joined me. He spent most of his time hunting buffaloes, and 
 when we met he made no reference to Miss Dearness. I 
 wouldn't ask him about her or affairs at the X. Y. post for 
 
242 GENTLEMEN OF THE NORTH 
 
 anything, and he had no talk except concerning how fat the 
 cows were and the like. 
 
 One day I walked down to the river, thinking to take my 
 canoe and paddle upstream and kill time. As I stood, trying 
 to decide whether I really would go or not, a canoe rounded the 
 bend down stream and I could scarcely believe my eyes as I be 
 held the flaming torch of hair. I would not go upstream as 
 she was going in the same direction. She continued in the 
 middle of the river, fighting the full force of the current. I 
 stared straight ahead. She came abreast of me but did not 
 appear to see me. Then, with a vicious cut of the paddle, she 
 turned inshore and before I knew it was pulling her canoe up 
 on the beach. 
 
 "You're not very neighbourly," she quietly remarked, looking 
 up into my face. 
 
 "I'm poor company," I replied. 
 
 "Well, I'm going away. I've brought you the keys to the 
 post. Angus will stay there till you come to take over things." 
 
 "You going " I whispered, feeling this was the end of the 
 world. 
 
 "Going back east," she pleasantly explained. "The coalition 
 doesn't seem to interest you." 
 
 I must have looked my stupidity, for she patiently explained : 
 
 "The N. W. and the X. Y. have joined forces. I'm to 
 turn over everything to you." 
 
 "When did you learn this?" I cried. 
 
 "When I stopped at the H. B. camp at the Forks and found 
 an X. Y. express there. He was on his way to me with a 
 message from the X. Y. headquarters. Simon McTavish is 
 dead. Sir Alexander MacKenzie is now willing to combine. 
 There is no X. Y. company. It's the Northwest company 
 now." 
 
 This was astounding and most welcome news. It would 
 make it possible for N. W. Northmen to bring the Indians 
 back to their senses. I said "When do you go?" 
 
 "Soon. In a day or so. There's a summer brigade coming 
 
THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF'S TAIL 243 
 
 down the Assiniboin. The Pillager is to paddle me to the 
 Forks." 
 
 I rubbed my head and forced myself to reason a bit. Then 
 I knew what had puzzled me and I asked 
 
 "If you knew about the coalition when you reached the 
 Forks, why did you keep on to the X. Y. post and wait two 
 weeks before telling me?" 
 
 She turned away abruptly, with more of her aloofness, I as 
 sumed. I stepped out on the strip of sand and picked up the 
 paddle she had dropped. Then, turning, I surprised her steal 
 ing a glance at me. Never could a Sioux knife in grating 
 through my ribs give me such a pang as did sight of the two 
 tears rolling down her cheeks. 
 
 I gaped, then seized her hand and waited a second to make 
 sure my medicine was right. She did not offer to draw away. 
 Very slowly I drew her to me. 
 
 "What made it wrong the other time was because you 
 
 hadn't first told me that you loved me," she whispered. 
 
 ******* 
 
 A brown river rushed over the southern horizon, dotted with 
 the brown carcasses of its shaggy victims, bringing the breath 
 of menace from the country of the Sioux where the opportune 
 coming of the Lewis and Clark expedition up the Missouri 
 gave me my chance to help the English girl. She always held 
 it was not right the way the fur trade was conducted. And 
 I always sat silent and let her have her own way of thinking. 
 As I grew older I realized it was a beautiful way she had of 
 thinking. Being a Northman, I didn't agree with her in my 
 thoughts. But now, since she's gone away on the river that is 
 always calling, I wonder. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 
 GARDEN CITY, N. Y.