turbed and puzzled me. He motioned to
a chair and I sat down awkwardly.

"All quiet?" he asked. "You have omitted no precautions?"

I told him what I had done, and he and the captain nodded approval.

"A bad storm has set in?" the latter said interrogatively.

"The worst kind of a one," I replied. "The wind is high, and the snow
will drift heavily. The Indians are not likely to attack us in such
weather."

"I wish I could feel sure of that," Griffith Hawke said doubtfully. "By
the way, Denzil, I have reason to believe that white men are among the
savages."

"I am pretty certain that Cuthbert Mackenzie is with them," said I.

"And others," broke in Captain Rudstone. "I heard more than one English
voice when I was fighting and running for my life yonder."

"Northwest men!" exclaimed the factor. "By sir, I tell you I am right.
To-day's events amount to an open declaration of war."

Captain Rudstone blew a thick cloud of smoke and smiled grimly through
it.

"I don't agree with you," he said, in the tone of one who knows his
ground. "The Northwest Company will pot come to open hostilities--they
are too crafty for that; but they are at the bottom of this trouble.
Their agents have persuaded the Indians to rise, are fighting with them,
and Mackenzie is determined to take the fort. Whether he fails or
succeeds, his participation will not be proved. The blame will be thrust
on your shoulders, Hawke, because of the Indian you shot this
morning."

"That was an unfortunate accident," the factor admitted uneasily, "and
it may serve the purpose you suggest. But I am not afraid that the fort
will fall; we can hold out against big odds."

"You'll have them," said the captain. "I've no doubt there will be five
hundred redskins before the stockade within a day or two, and then
they'll give you sharp work. And a drifting snowstorm will be in their
favor."

"I don't see it," replied Griffith Hawke. "What do you mean?"

The captain shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing in particular," he answered
evasively. "By the way, Hawke, when are you to marry Miss Hatherton?"

As he spoke he jerked one arm toward the priest, who was still talking
by the fire, and then gave me a swift glance of amused contempt. The
factor also turned his eyes upon me, and I felt my face grow hot.

"I am to be married to-morrow," he replied half-sadly. "At least, that
is the present arrangement. But I have been thinking of late--"

He was interrupted, to