lenty to do, and keep 'em
orderly. I'll handle the canoemen and pick up the fur, and then I've
got to drop down the river and run in the supplies. I'll run in some
rifles, and some of the _stuff_, too."

LeFroy looked at his chief in surprise.

"Vermilion--she got ten keg on de scow--" he began.

Lapierre laughed.

"Vermilion, eh? Do you know where Vermilion is?"

LeFroy shook his head.

"He's in hell--that's where _he_ is--I dismissed him from my service.
He didn't run straight. Some others went along with him--and there are
more to follow. Vermilion thought he could double-cross me and get
away with it." And again he laughed.

LeFroy shuddered and made no comment. Lapierre continued:

"Make out your list of supplies, and if I don't show up in the mean
time, meet me at the mouth of the Slave three weeks from today. I've
got to count days if I get back before the freeze-up. And remember
this--you are working for Miss Elliston; we've got a big thing if we
work it right; we've got MacNair where we want him at last. She thinks
he's running in whiskey and raising hell with the Indians north of
here. Keep her thinking so; and later, when it comes to a
show-down--well, she is not only rich, but she's in good at
Ottawa--see?"

LeFroy nodded. He was a man of few words, was LeFroy; dour and
taciturn, but a man of brains and one who stood in wholesome fear of
his master.

"And now," continued Lapierre, "break camp and load the canoes. I must
pull out tonight. Pick out your men and move 'em at once into the
barracks. You understand everything now?"

"_Oui_," answered LeFroy, and stepping from the tent, passed swiftly
from fire to fire, issuing commands in low guttural. Lapierre rolled a
cigarette, and taking a guitar from its case, seated himself upon his
blankets and played with the hand of a master as he sang a love-song of
old France. All about him sounded the clatter of lodge-poles, the thud
of packs, and the splashing of water as the big canoes were pushed into
the river and loaded.

Presently LeFroy's head thrust in at the entrance. He spoke no word;
Lapierre sang on, and the head was withdrawn. When the song was
finished the sounds from the outside had ceased. Lapierre carefully
replaced his guitar in its case, drew a heavy revolver from its
holster, threw it open, and twirled the cylinder with his thumb,
examining carefully its chambers. His brows drew together and his lips
twisted int