old Nor'-Wester was tempting the
silly boy to take more by drinking his health with fresh bottles. But
while Louis Laplante gulped down his rum, becoming drunker and more
communicative, the tempter threw glass after glass over his shoulder and
remained sober. The Nor'-Wester motioned me to keep behind the Frenchman
and I heard his drunken lips mumbling my own name.

"Rufush--prig--stuck-up prig--serve him tam right!
Hamilton's--sh--sh--prig too--sho's his wife. Serve 'em all tam right!"

"Ask him where she is," I whispered over his head.

"Where's the gal?" demanded the trader, shoving more liquor over to
Louis.

"Shioux squaw--Devil's wife--how you say it in English? Lah Grawnd
Deeahble," and he mouthed over our mispronunciation of his own tongue
"Joke, isn't it?" he went on. "That wax-face prig--slave to Shioux
Squaw. Rufush--a fool. Stuffed him to hish--neck. Made him believe
shmall-pox was Hamilton's wife. I mean, Hamilton's wife was shmall-pox.
Calf bellowed with fright--ran home--came back--'tamme,' I say, 'there
he come again' 'shmall-pox in that grave,' say I. Joke--ain't it?" and
he stopped to drain off another pint of rum.

"Biggest joke out of jail," said the Nor'-Wester dryly, with meaning
which Louis did not grasp.

"Ask him where she is," I whispered, "quick! He's going to sleep." For
Louis wiped his beard on his sleeve and lay back hopelessly drunk.

"Here you, waken up," commanded the Nor'-Wester, kicking him and shaking
him roughly. "Where's the gal?"

"Shioux--_Pays d'En Haut_," drawled the youth. "Take off your boots!
Don't wear boots. _Pays d'En Haut_--moccasins--softer," and he rolled
over in a sodden sleep, which defied all our efforts to shake him into
consciousness.

"Is that true?" asked the Nor'-Wester, standing above the drunk man and
speaking across to me. "Is that true about the Indian kidnapping a
woman?"

"True--too terribly true," I whispered back.

"I'd like to boot him into the next world," said the trader, looking
down at Louis in a manner that might have alarmed that youth for his
safety. "I've bagged H. B. dispatches anyway," he added with
satisfaction.

"What'll we do with him?" I asked aimlessly. "If he had anything to do
with the stealing of Hamilton's wife----"

"He hadn't," interrupted the trader. "'Twas Diable did that, so Laplante
says."

"Then what shall we do with him?"

"Do--with--him," slowly repeated the Nor'-Wester in a low, vibrating
voice. "Do--wit