gate.

As the canoe neared the beach the swart _voyageurs_, conscious of their
Cree and Esquimo audience, put on a brave burst of speed. At each lunge
of the narrow Cree blades, swung in unison with a straight arm, the
craft buried its nose, pushing out a wide ripple. On they came spurred
by the shouts from the shore, then at the order of the man in the bow,
the crew raised their paddles and bow and stern men deftly swung the
boat in to the Whale River landing amid the cheers of the Indians.

"How ar' yuh, Gillies?" said Wallace, stepping from the canoe; and,
looking past the factor to a woman's figure on the high shore, waved his
cap.

"Well, well, Mr. Wallace; we hardly expected to see you at Whale River
so early," answered Gillies, drily, smiling at the eagerness of Wallace.
"Anything happened to the steamer?"

"Oh, no! The steamer is all right. She'll be here on time. I thought I'd
run up the coast during the trade this year."

Gillies winked surreptitiously at McCain. It was most peculiar for the
Inspector of the East Coast to arrive before the accounts of the spring
trade were made up.

"How has the famine affected the fur with you, Gillies?" asked Wallace,
as they proceeded up the cliff trail to the post clearing. "The Fort
George and East Main people were hit pretty hard, a number of families
wiped out."

"Yes, I expected as much," said Gillies. "A few of our people were
starved out or died of disease. Nine, all told, have been reported, four
of them old and feeble. It was a tough winter with both the rabbits and
the caribou gone; we have done only fairly well with the trade,
considering."

"What's this I hear about a murder by one of your Frenchmen?" Wallace
suddenly demanded. "We met a canoe at the mouth of the river and heard
that the bodies of two half-breeds who had met foul play were found this
spring and that you have the third man here now?"

"That's pure Indian talk, Mr. Wallace," Gillies protested forcibly. "I
will give you the details later. A half-breed killed one of his partners
and attempted to kill the other, Jean Marcel, the son of Andre Marcel;
you remember Andre, our old head man. You saw Jean here last summer. He
is one of our best men. In fact, I'm going to take him on here at the
post, although he's only a boy. He's too valuable to keep in the bush."

"Oh, yes! I remember him; friend of Father Breton. But we've got to put
a stop to this promiscuous murder, Gillies. There's too m