trade on their master's account.
A pretty cheat for the Company!"

The end of it was, M. Radisson invited me to join his ships. "A
beaver-skin for a needle, Ramsay! Twenty otter for an awl! Wealth for
a merchant prince," he urged.

But no sooner had I grasped at this easy way out of difficulty than the
Frenchman interrupts: "Hold back, man! Do you know the risk?"

"No--nor care one rush!"

"Governor Frontenac demands half of the furs for a license to trade,
but M. de la Barre, who comes to take his place, is a friend of La
Chesnaye's, and La Chesnaye owns our ships----"

"And you go without a license?"

"And the galleys for life----"

"If you're caught," said I.

"Pardieu!" he laughed, "yes--if we're caught!"

"I'd as lief go to the galleys for fur-trading as the scaffold for
witchcraft," said I.

With that our bargain was sealed.

PART II

Now comes that part of a life which deals with what you will say no one
man could do, yet the things were done; with wonders stranger than
witchcraft, yet were true. But because you have never lived a
sword-length from city pavement, nor seen one man holding his own
against a thousand enemies, I pray you deny not these things.

Each life is a shut-in valley, says the jongliere; but Manitou, who
strides from peak to peak, knows there is more than one valley, which
had been a maxim among the jonglieres long before one Danish gentleman
assured another there were more things in heaven and earth than
philosophy dreamed.

CHAPTER VI

THE ROARING FORTIES

Keen as an arrow from twanging bowstring, Pierre Radisson set sail over
the roaring seas for the northern bay.

'Twas midsummer before his busy flittings between Acadia and Quebec
brought us to Isle Percee, at the mouth of the St. Lawrence. Here
Chouart Groseillers (his brother-in-law) lay with two of the craziest
craft that ever rocked anchor. I scarce had time to note the bulging
hulls, stout at stem and stern with deep sinking of the waist, before
M. Radisson had climbed the ship's ladder and scattered quick commands
that sent sailors shinning up masts, for all the world like so many
monkeys. The St. Pierre, our ship was called, in honour of Pierre
Radisson; for admiral and captain and trader, all in one, was Sieur
Radisson, himself. Indeed, he could reef a sail as handily as any old
tar. I have seen him take the wheel and hurl Allemand head-foremost
from the pilot-house when that spon