d out of her tree
like a bear; Seguis and Donald (both carried in), the commissioner,
Angus Fitzpatrick, delirious with fever half the time, and Peter
Rainy, gaunt with his record-breaking journey of fourteen hundred
miles in four weeks. The day before, there had been a fervent, but
quiet, reunion of the old Indian and his young master, in which
the banter of the wounded man was barely removed from tears of
gratitude. Now, he sat on the edge of Donald's pile of skins, and
smoked his vile pipe with complete contentment.

It was a strange company. Angus Fitzpatrick, in the deserted camp
of the Hudson Bay Company, had risen from his bed, the old loyalty
and discipline urging him on, and, in the face of death itself,
had come down at the command of his hated enemy and superior. To
the last, he was the uncompromising disciplinarian, more severe
with himself than with the meanest underling. The commissioner
thought it best to secure Fitzpatrick's story while he yet retained
his reason, and addressed him first.

"When did you first learn of this scandal concerning me, Fitzpatrick?"
he demanded. "No, lie down!" he commanded, as the other attempted
to rise.

"In the middle of last summer, sir. Maria, the squaw, came to me
with certain proof that made the evidence incontrovertible."

"What proof?"

"A signed statement by a well-known missionary, declaring that he
had united you in marriage."

For an instant, there was the absolute silence of amazed horror,
in which, presently, broke the snorting and chuckling of Maria,
who rocked herself back and forth on her haunches, like some witch
muttering over an evil brew.

"Where is that statement?" demanded the commissioner.

"Maria had it the last time I knew of its whereabouts." Fitzpatrick
closed his eyes, wearily.

"Maria!" The commissioner's voice was sharp with command and disgust.
The withered squaw suddenly stopped her rocking, and opened her
little, fire-shot eyes steadily for a moment.

"Douglas!" she said, pronouncing his first name with careless
familiarity.

Fitzpatrick, at this breach of ceremony, rose, furious, on his pile
of blankets, inarticulate.

But McTavish waved him back.

"Where is that certificate?"

"I have it," replied Maria, sullenly.

"Let me see it." Not many people resisted that tone of McTavish's.

"I refuse," she said.

"You refuse, eh?" The blue eyes darkened to ominous black. "If you
repeat that, old woman, you start with me for