l with you an' your rantin', dog-eared redskins!" cried Rea.
"I've run agin a man of my own kind, a man of my own country, an' I'm
goin' with him."

With this he thrust aside some encroaching, gaping Indians so
unconcernedly and ungently that they sprawled upon the grass.

Slowly the crowd mounted and once more lined the bank.

Jones realized that by some late-turning stroke of fortune, he had
fallen in with one of the few free-traders of the province. These
free-traders, from the very nature of their calling, which was to defy
the fur company, and to trap and trade on their own account--were a
hardy and intrepid class of men. Rea's worth to Jones exceeded that of
a dozen ordinary men. He knew the ways of the north, the language of
the tribes, the habits of animals, the handling of dogs, the uses of
food and fuel. Moreover, it soon appeared that he was a carpenter and
blacksmith.

"There's my kit," he said, dumping the contents of his bag. It
consisted of a bunch of steel traps, some tools, a broken ax, a box of
miscellaneous things such as trappers used, and a few articles of
flannel. "Thievin' redskins," he added, in explanation of his poverty.
"Not much of an outfit. But I'm the man for you. Besides, I had a pal
onct who knew you on the plains, called you 'Buff' Jones. Old Jim Bent
he was."

"I recollect Jim," said Jones. "He went down in Custer's last charge.
So you were Jim's pal. That'd be a recommendation if you needed one.
But the way you chucked the Indian overboard got me."

Rea soon manifested himself as a man of few words and much action. With
the planks Jones had on board he heightened the stern and bow of the
boat to keep out the beating waves in the rapids; he fashioned a
steering-gear and a less awkward set of oars, and shifted the cargo so
as to make more room in the craft.

"Buff, we're in for a storm. Set up a tarpaulin an' make a fire. We'll
pretend to camp to-night. These Indians won't dream we'd try to run the
river after dark, and we'll slip by under cover."

The sun glazed over; clouds moved up from the north; a cold wind swept
the tips of the spruces, and rain commenced to drive in gusts. By the
time it was dark not an Indian showed himself. They were housed from
the storm. Lights twinkled in the teepees and the big log cabins of the
trading company. Jones scouted round till pitchy black night, when a
freezing, pouring blast sent him back to the protection of the
tarpaulin. When he got