the shores of Hudson Bay and knew the speech of every
tribe, from the almost extinct Nepisingues, of the Nepigon, to the
far-away Ouinebigonnolinis on the sea coast. His hair was thickly
silvered from the years he had spent in the service of the H. B. C., and
his heart was full of knowledge gathered from the four winds. Therefore,
his worth was above price and he would have been factor of a post of his
own, instead of chief trader for young Anders McElroy.

"We greet our brother," gravely replied Quamenoka as he stepped from his
canoe, gathering his blanket around his body with a practised sweep.

Swiftly four headmen disembarked from the first four canoes of the
half-moon which closed in with scarce a paddle dip, so deft were the
braves with their slender, shining blades of white ash, and stood
behind.

Side by side, conversing in a few sentences, the trader and the chief
entered the post, followed by the headmen and proceeded to the factory,
where McElroy stood to welcome them in the open door.

They entered, to the ceremony of the pipe, the speech, and the bargain,
while those without made a great camp two hundred strong all along the
bank of the stream, beached the canoes, stacked the beaver packs, set up
the tepees of the seventeen sticks, and built the little fires without
which no camp is a camp.

In a little space the quiet shore was all a-bustle and activity reigned
where the silence of the spring morning had lain, dew-heavy.

Among those most eager who peered at the gate, and who presently
ventured forth to the better view the bustling concourse of braves and
squaws, was Maren Le Moyne, her dark eyes wide, soft lips apart, and
face all a-quiver with keen enjoyment of the scene.

These were the first she had ever seen of those Indians who came from
the west. Who knew? Perhaps those moccasined feet had trod the virgin
forest of her dreams, those sombre eyes looked upon the Whispering
Hills, those grave faces been lifted to the sweet wind that sang from
the west and whose caress she felt even now upon her cheeks.

Perhaps,--perhaps, even, some swift forest-runner among them, far on his
quest of the home of the caribou or with news of some friendly tribe,
had come upon a man, an old man rugged of frame and face, with blue eyes
like lakes in his swarthy darkness, and muscles that bespoke the forge
and hammer.

Who knew?

Maren's strongly modelled chin twitched a bit while the little flame of
tenderness