.

Thar he was cached right ahead in the deadfall, for a front view, if I'd
known. But I thrashed with my stick in a panic, hitting his snout, so he
yelped. Then he lost his temper. He'd a "sorry, but-business-is-business"
expression on him. I ran at him, tripped on a stump, let out a yell, and
he lep' straight at my throat.

And in the middle of that came a gunshot, a bullet grazed my arm, and
went on whining. Another shot, and the Inspector ran. Then I was rubbing
whar the bullet hurt, sort of sulky, too, with a grievance, when I was
suddenly grabbed and nigh smothered in mother's arms. She'd come with
the team of huskies followin' me; she'd been gunning, too, and I sure
had a mighty close call.

She'd no tears left for father, so when I got through sobbin' we went to
the body, and loaded it in the komatik for home. Thar's things I don't
like to tell you.

It wasn't a nice trip exactly, with the Inspector superintending around.
When we got back to the tilt, we daresn't take out the huskies, or
unload, or even stop for grub. We had to drive straight on, mother and
me, down the tickle, past our old empty home, then up the Baccalieu all
night.

The sun was just clear of the ice when we made the Post, and we saw a
little ball jerk up the flag halyards, then break to a great red flag
with the letters H. B. C. It means Here Before Christ.

The air was full of a big noise, like the skirl of sea-gulls screaming
in a gale, and there was Mr. McTavish on the sidewalk, marching with his
bagpipes to wake the folk out of their Sunday beds. He'd pants down to
his heels, just as father said, and fat bacon to eat every day of his
life. He was strong as a team of bullocks, a big, bonny, red man, with
white teeth when he turned, smiling, in a sudden silence of the pipes.
Then he saw father's body, with legs and arms stiffened all ways, and
the number-four trap still gripped on broken bones. Off came his fur
cap.

Mother stood, iron-hard, beside the komatik.

"Factor," says she, "I've come to pay his debt."

"Nay, it's the Sabbath, ma'am. Ye'll pay no debts till Monday. Come in
and have some tea--ye puir thing."

"You starved his soul to death, and now I've brought his body to square
his debts. Will you leave _that_ here till Monday?"

Mr. McTavish looked at her, then whispered to me. "B'y," said he, "we
must make her cry or she'll be raving mad. Greet, woman, greet. By God,
I'll make ye greet!"

He marched up and down th