look of withering contempt, "as I
don't accept your favours, I don't thank you for them, so you may take
yourself off as soon as you please."

He waited for no reply but turned abruptly on his heel and walked away,
while Redding, with a face of scarlet, strode down the beach and leaped
into his boat.

Not a word did he utter to his astonished men beyond ordering them to
pull back to the fort. Apparently the rate of rowing was not fast
enough to please him, for in a few minutes he ordered Michel to take the
helm, and himself seized the oar, which he plied with such vigour that,
as Michel afterwards averred, the rudder had to be kept nearly hard
a-port all the time to prevent the boat being pulled round even though
Le Rue was working like a steam engine and blowing like a grampus!

Towards the afternoon this exercise, coupled with reflection, cooled
Reginald Redding's spirit while it warmed his body, and at last he
deemed it right to pause for the purpose of letting the men have a pipe
and a mouthful of food. While they were busy refreshing themselves he
leant over the stern, gazed down into the water, and brooded over his
supposed wrongs.

Whether it was the clearness of the still water, through which he could
see the little fish and crabs floating and crawling placidly among the
pebbles at the bottom, or the soothing influence of the quiet afternoon,
or the sedative effect of a reflective condition of mind, we know not,
but it is certain that, before the pipes were smoked out, he fur-trader
observed that his reflected visage wore a very unpleasant-looking frown,
insomuch that a slight smile curled his lips. The contrast between the
frowning brows and the smiling lips appeared so absurd that, to prevent
the impropriety of becoming too suddenly good-humoured, he turned his
eyes towards his men, and encountered the perplexed gaze of Le Rue, as
that worthy sat with his elbows on his knees in the calm enjoyment of
his pipe.

Redding at once resumed his frown.

"Francois," said he, "did you have much conversation with McLeod before
he dismissed you on the way down?"

"Oui, Monsieur, we had ver moche conversatione."

"Can you remember what it was about?"

"Oh oui. 'Bout a'most all tings. I tell him de mos' part of my
histoire,--me fadder, me moder, broder, sister, an' all dat, 'bout vich
he seem not to care von buttin. Den ve convarsatione 'bout de
fur-trade, an' de--"

"Well well," interrupted Redding, "bu