NNERS

The late winter dawn had not yet broken when the little camp on the
outskirts of the Indian village was struck and two dog teams drawing
lightly loaded toboggans slipped silently into the timber. When out of
sight and sound of the village the two outfits parted.

Connie Morgan, accompanied by an Indian named Ton-Kan, swung his great
lead-dog, Leloo, to the eastward, crossed the river, and struck out on
the trail of the free trader; while 'Merican Joe with Pierre Bonnet
Rouge, the Indian who had told them of the free trader's plans, headed
north-west in the direction of Fort Norman.

It was nearly noon six days later that they shoved open the door of the
trading post and greeted McTavish, the big bewhiskered Scotchman who was
the Hudson's Bay Company's factor.

"What are ye doin' back here--you? An' where is the lad that was with
ye? An' you, Pierre Bonnet Rouge, where is the rest of your band? An'
don't ye ken ye're two weeks ahead of time for the tradin'?"

"_Oui, M's'u,_" answered the Indian. "But man say----"

He was interrupted by 'Merican Joe who had been fumbling through his
pockets and now produced the note Connie had hastily scribbled upon a
leaf of his notebook.

McTavish carried the scrap of paper to the heavily frosted window and
read it through slowly. Then he read it again, as he combed at his beard
with his fingers. Finally, he laid the paper upon the counter and
glanced toward a man who sat with his chair tilted back against the
bales of goods beyond the roaring stove.

"Here's something for ye, Dan," he rumbled. "Ye was growlin' about
fightin' them ice _bourdillons_, here's a job t'will take ye well off
the river."

"What's that?" asked Dan McKeever--_Inspector_ Dan McKeever, _now_, of N
Division, Royal Northwest Mounted Police. "It better be somethin'
important if it takes me off the river, 'cause I'm due back at Fort
Fitzgerald in a month."

"It's important, all right," answered McTavish, "an lucky it is ye're
here. That's one good thing the rough ice done, anyhow. For, if it
hadn't wore out your dogs you'd be'n gone this three days. D'ye mind I
told ye I'd heard they was a free trader over in the Coppermine country?
Well, there's two of 'em, an' they're workin' south. They're right now
somewheres south of the big lake. They've run onto the Dog Ribs over
near Ste. Therese, an' they're tradin' em _hooch_!"

"Who says so?" asked the Inspector, eying the two Indians doubtfully.

"T