e post so far north that it has been
abandoned now by the Company. Your grandfather was in charge there,
and, when I was old enough, I went out with him, and learned to
hunt. Then, later, when I was a man, I was put in charge of another
little post on the Whale River, one of those spots where a solitary
white man lives for all the winter months alone, only visited
occasionally by a passing Indian in need of supplies. Oh, if I had
only realized then what I know now, that one's mistakes and
wrong-doings bear their fruit in time! Well, at the fort, when the
_brigade_ went up in the spring, I saw an Indian girl, descendant
of a chief. You will understand me when I say that I turned away
from the advances she made. Our family isn't that kind--I would
marry no Indian. My mother was white, all our McTavish women are
white. I would have nothing to do with her. But then, that lonely
winter post! You've never known it, Donald, that awful solitariness!
The first winter I had a couple of papers a year old, and, when
the _brigade_ went up to the fort, I could almost repeat them
verbatim. That's how lonely it was!

"When I thought about that, perhaps I pushed matters a little
myself. The girl's parents were dead, and she was knocked around
considerably by an old hag who hadn't the heart either to let her
starve or to treat her kindly. Well, we fixed it up. I left the
fort when the time came, and she followed a week later--and that
winter I wasn't alone. It was so for three winters. Then, she began
to get shrewish and lose her looks, so I gave her money enough to
make her independent (my father had left me something), and we
separated with mutual satisfaction... That's the story, Donald."

"It's a hard story, father," said the young man, soberly. "There
isn't much kindness in it; it's pure selfishness. Understand, I'm
not preaching against the immorality of the thing; people up here
are frankly either one or the other, and it's nobody's business
much, except the missionary's. But, in the light of what has happened
this winter, we would all be happier if you hadn't done it."

"I know it, my boy, I know it." The hardness of the commissioner's
voice broke. "And, so far as I can see, we aren't out of the
trouble yet. This man, Seguis, and old Maria may force us to the
wall yet. I wonder if I could bribe them off?" He looked pleadingly
at his son.

"I don't think so. The old woman is so ambitious for Seguis that
she won't take anythi