feast of the Peace Dance. Not long have the Nakonkirhirinons
traded their furs, living to themselves in their hills, and much credit
is due Quamenoka by whose word they come this year to his brothers on
the Assiniboine."

The chief paused impressively and raised his glance to the factor's
face.

McElroy nodded.

"Greatly does the heart of thy brother rejoice at such word, and a
present over and above that meant for him shall be given Quamenoka. Let
the talk go on. We listen."

But before the chief could speak again, Edmonton Ridgar had broken
silence:

"Negansahima is chief of that tribe and my Indian father, he having
adopted me with all ceremony once when I sojourned a year among them.
The sight of him will gladden my spirit."

Swift surprise spread on the factor's face, but he did not speak. There
was much in the checkered life of his friend that had not been set
before him, and each revelation was full to the brim of romance,
of daring, and of that excitement which attends a life spent in the
wilderness.

The Indian nodded and went on:

"And last of the news of forest and lake and river is word of the
meeting of canoes, the half of one-ten, laden with goods and going up
the river, which passed but few suns back. A sun-man sat in the first,
beautiful of face and with hair like light, who strove to barter. But
the Assiniboines come to their brothers. They heeded not his words,
though they were sweet with promise. I have spoken."

The chief fell silent, for the year had been told, and McElroy
spoke presently of his joy at their presence, their words, and their
friendship, as was the custom of the H. B. Company's factors on such
occasions; and Ridgar rose from the council to bid a young clerk, one
Gifford, bring forth the presents for the guests,--a coat with coarse
white lace and lining of vermilion, a hat of felt and a sash of many
colours for Quamenoka, and lesser glories for his four headmen. These
presented with due formality, and actually donned by the recipients
without loss of time, the ceremony of the opening council was over, save
for the triumphal march of the potentate, accompanied by McElroy and
Ridgar, back to the camp on the river bank.

As they passed out the factory door, they brushed by Maren Le Moyne,
where she had drawn aside, still wistfully watching the comers from the
wilderness.

The young factor's eyes went to her face and for a moment held her
glance.

Instantly, with that de