dangerously ill," said Colina.

"Ah!" said Strange. "Yes, the farmers are waiting."

Colina said clearly: "The price is to be one-fifty per bushel."

"That's what I thought," said Strange. "I will tell them." He went.

"Ah, Colina!" cried Ambrose brokenly.

She left the room slowly, as if he had not been there.

Ambrose could not have told how he got out of the house.

CHAPTER XIV.

SIMON GRAMPIERRE.

Ambrose lay in his tent with his head hidden in his arms, trying not to
think. Job licked his hand unheeded. A hail from the river forced him
to rouse himself. As he crawled out he instinctively cast a glance at
the sun. It was mid-afternoon.

Tole Grampierre landed on the stones. "You are seeck!" he exclaimed,
seeing Ambrose's face.

Though life loses all its savor, it must be carried on with a good air.
"_Mal de tete_!" said Ambrose, making light of it. "It will soon pass."

Tole accepted the explanation. He told Ambrose that he had come that
morning and found him gone. He had come back to tell him what the
white man already knew--that, though Gaviller had been laid low by a
mysterious stroke, he had sent word from his sick-bed that he would pay
no more than one-fifty for wheat.

"The men are moch mad," Tole went on in his matter-of-fact way. "They
not listen to my fat'er no more. Say he too old. All come to meet to
our house to-night. There will be trouble. My fat'er send me for you.
He say maybe you can stop the trouble."

"I stop it?" said Ambrose, laughing harshly. "What the devil can I do?"

Tole shrugged. "My fat'er say nobody but you can stop it."

It was clear to Ambrose that "trouble" signified danger to Colina.
"I'll come," he said apathetically.

"Where is your dugout?" asked Tole.

Ambrose explained.

"Bring all your things," said Tole. "You stay at our house now till
you go back. My mot'er got good medicine. She cure _mal de tete_."

Ambrose reflected bitterly that Mrs. Grampierre's simples could hardly
reach his complaint. Nevertheless, he was not anxious to be left
alone--he was not one to nourish a sorrow. He packed up what remained
of his outfit, and Tole stowed it in the dugout.

The Grampierre house was a mile and a half above the Company's
establishment on the other side of the river. The two young men had,
therefore, a three-mile paddle against the current.

Landing, Ambrose saw before him a low, wide-spreading house built of
squared logs and w