The Land of Frozen Suns: A Novel by Bertrand W. Sinclair
CHAPTER XIII--A FORETASTE OF STRONG MEASURES
Thus thrown upon my own resources, I betook myself to the roomy cabinwhere the cook reigned supreme. Thence, with breakfast disposed of, tothe store. I found there a small, bewhiskered man bowed over a ledger,and a dozen husky packers stowing goods on the shelves. The clericalperson gazed at me over a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles in acolorless, uninterested sort of way. I took him to be the bookkeepingmachine of the concern, and such proved to be the case. And when I askedfor "George," prudently refraining from mention of surnames he told meprimly that "Mr. Barreau" had gone up the river, leaving word that I wasto make myself at home in the meantime. Having delivered himself of thismessage, he resumed his task. So I continued my round of the post untilI located old Ben Wise. What between chatting with Ben, and sundry gamesof seven-up with one or two of the others whom I knew, and long spellsof sitting alone in the cabin smoking over the fire, I managed to murdertime for three days. At the end of which period Barreau returned.
He did not come alone, but at the head of a veritable flotilla ofbirch-bark canoes, laden with a picturesque mixture of Indians, squaws,round-faced pappooses, sharp-nosed dogs, and the household goodspertaining to these. By the appearance of things I inferred that he hadbeen out to jog up the natives who had signified willingness to tradewith the house of Montell. They beached the canoes, and pitched theirlodges along the river bank, a little way from the stockade. In the twohours of daylight following the arrival of the vanguard other littleparties came slipping quietly around the curve of the Sicannie, pitchedtheir camps, and set about cooking food. The flat was speckled withtwinkling dots of fire when dark vanquished the long twilight.
Barreau was tired, and had little to tell. I had come by a new deck ofcards through favor of the colorless Mr. Cullen, and we played a silentgame or two of euchre that night before turning in. By dawn we hadbreakfasted and were at the store, and the copper-skinned men of thelodges began to come in and cast their eyes upon such things as theydesired.
All forenoon I watched this silent outfitting of the hunters, saw thisone and that stand wrapped to the ears in his gaudy blanket, seeming notto see or to be conscious of aught that transpired. Then of a sudden hewould point abruptly to a certain article, a trap or two, maybe, a caddyof tea, a flask of powder, and emit a guttural sound that Barreauinterpreted to Cullen, who would solemnly make an entry in his notebook.When the red brother had reached his trading limit, his squaw took theburden of his purchases on her back, and he strode forth wrapped in adignity even more striking than his blanket, she following meekly at hisheels.
"How do you manage to keep track of them all?" I asked Barreau, as wesat at dinner. "Suppose these Indians that you outfit now don't show upagain? Can you trust them so absolutely? For my part I can hardly tellone from another."
"You'd find out that they have distinct individual characteristics,"Barreau replied, "if you were with them long. I know most of thesefellows well enough to pick them out of a crowd. In fact, a good many ofthem won't trade except with me--which is one strong hold I have over myslippery partner. And so far as trusting them, an Indian's word is goodas gold. For every dollar's worth of stuff we let them have this fallthey'll bring ten dollars' worth of pelts next spring--unless it is anextraordinary winter. Anyway, we don't stand to lose a great deal onwhat we trust them for. Where we will make money will be in the springtrade. They'll have plenty of furs left after their debt is paid, andthey'll want guns and more powder, flour and tea for the summer,tobacco, and clothes and gew-gaws for the women and pappooses. If thewinter is normal we're going to have a big trade; bigger even than Ithought. I wouldn't mind," he concluded, with a short laugh, "if Montellhad to go clear to Benton, and got snowed in there. That would eliminateone dangerous factor. But that's too much to hope for."
"It's a long trip," I reflected. "He can't get to the Missouri in timeto send his daughter down on the last boat, even. The river will freezeany day now. Benton would be a dreary place for her to stay alone, Ishould think. He may stay there with her."
"Not likely," Barreau contended. "As it happens, she knows one or tworather nice families who are wintering at Benton, and she'll be apt tostay with them. He has been altogether too keen to have his finger inthis winter's pie--when it wasn't needed there. No, the old fox hassomething up his sleeve--something that he's been leading up to eversince we left Benton. He'll be back, if he has to come on his hands andknees."
Barreau was right. Montell did come back, and the date of his return wasonly something more than forty-eight hours from the time of thatconversation. We were stretched upon our respective bunks, I listeningto Barreau's talk of long-dead traders who had undertaken to buck theHudson's Bay Company, when some one tapped on the door; and at Barreau'slaconic "come in," who but Montell himself should enter! He shut thedoor carefully behind him, and waddled to a seat. Barreau raised on oneelbow.
"You!" he said sharply. "Back here already? What has happened now?"
Montell took off his hat and threw it petulantly on the floor. Theexpression on his face was sour as curdled milk.
"We couldn't make it, that's all," he growled. "I guess the H. B. C.'sgettin' busy all at once. Anyhow, we got headed off."
"How?" Barreau demanded.
Montell flung out his hands expressively.
"Easiest way in the world," he sputtered wrathfully. "Some feller with agood eye just trailed us up, and killed off our stock--shot 'em one byone. Finally we was afoot. So we turned back. Couldn't walk clear toMacLeod. Damn 'em, anyway!"
"No one hurt?" Barreau asked quietly.
"Barrin' blistered feet--no," Montell snapped.
His gaze involuntarily travelled to his own broad, shapeless feet, and asmile flickered across Barreau's countenance. There was a momentarylull.
"What are you going to do now?" Barreau inquired next.
"I'm goin' to take eight men, by God! and a string of mules, and hit itin the mornin'," Montell exploded. "I ain't goin' to have that girlwinter here, if I know it. And I ain't goin' to be headed off fromnothin' by the Hudson Bay or any other damned outfit. I'll show thembushwhackin' parties a trick or two. They'll find old Montell ain't soslow. I just come over here to let you know I was back, George, so's youwouldn't be gettin' into the foreground to-morrow mornin' when we'refixin' to start. You might just as well be accommodatin'."
"Oh, to be sure. As a favor from one gentleman to another," Barreauobserved sarcastically. "Anything to oblige. But if I were you I shouldnot try it again--not till you can take the outfit lock, stock, andbarrel. You may find it only a waste of mules, if not worse. Evidentlythe Company is minded to pen the lot of us here, and teach us a lesson."
"Just so the girl's out of it," Montell muttered defiantly, "they got mypermission to go ahead with their teachin'. We've held our own for quitea spell. But I got to get her clear. So I'm goin' to tackle it again."
"Very well," Barreau said indifferently. "But you had better take a fewpair of snowshoes. You may need them."
"Maybe so," Montell returned. "But I bet I get a scalp or two if they goto settin' us afoot _this_ trip." And he gathered up his hat and leftthe cabin.
Barreau lay back on his bed a long time without remark. Then he saidaloud, apropos of nothing in particular:
"I shouldn't be surprised if that was the way of it."
I looked over at him, and catching my interrogative gaze, he went on.
"I've simply been doing a bit of inductive reasoning. Taking things asthey are in this country what more natural than that the Hudson's BayCompany should have become alarmed lest we grow to a formidablecompetitor, and have simply made up their minds that we must be ousted,by hook or by crook. They have a way of keeping posted, you know. Ishouldn't be surprised if one or two of the men on our payroll wereCompany spotters. Here is Montell and his daughter, and myself. Theymight reason that by driving him back and intimidating him, forcing himto winter here, and then harassing us in every conceivable way tillspring, they may
"How does it come," I asked, in some surprise, "that they haven't donethat before, if they know that George Barreau, the fur-trader, isSlowfoot George of the MacLeod country?"
"For the very good reason that they want no Mounted Policemen in thisneck of the woods," he said decidedly. "They don't want to establish aprecedent. They have lorded it in the North for generations, and so longas they continue to do so the Canadian government will permit it. Oncethe Police begin to come here, the Company authority is at an end. Alsotheir monopoly--for a Mounted Police post up here would mean opencountry, and a swarm of free traders. Of course, what I said, is meretheory, but I might be on the right track. If I am, we may look formerry times here this winter, and you and I may have to take to the deepsnows before spring."
"Suppose--while we're theorizing," I ventured, "that Montell had an ideahe could get along without you--if he wants to settle your chances ofsharing in the profits, as you think--why mightn't he give the Police aquiet hint, if he gets through?"
"I can very well imagine him doing that," Barreau respondedthoughtfully. "But he can't make it go without me; at least, not justyet. And I do not think he will get through, for all his determination."
I kept Barreau's prophecy in mind. Days of busy outfitting slipped by; Ikept no track of the hunters who indebted themselves to the post, butthey came and went by scores. The days merged into a week. At the end ofit a black ruck of clouds came scudding out of the west. Thick andlowering they gathered over head, and one day at noon, while Barreau andI stood in the doorway of the store, watching a great multitude of dampsnowflakes come eddying down through the still air, Montell, hisdaughter, and the eight men, came plodding afoot to the gate of thestockade.