es
this mean? Where are you taking me, you damned spies?" he roared.

Beresford politely gave him information. "To the penitentiary, I hope,
Mr. West, for breaking Her Majesty's revenue laws."

CHAPTER XV

KISSING DAY

All week Jessie and her foster-mother Matapi-Koma had been busy
cooking and baking for the great occasion. Fergus had brought in a
sack full of cottontails and two skunks. To these his father had added
the smoked hindquarters of a young buffalo, half a barrel of dried
fish, and fifty pounds of pemmican. For Angus liked to dispense
hospitality in feudal fashion.

Ever since Jessie had opened her eyes at the sound of Matapi-Koma's
"Koos koos kwa" (Wake up!), in the pre-dawn darkness of the wintry
Northern morn, she had heard the crunch of snow beneath the webs of
the footmen and the runners of the sleds. For both full-blood Crees
and half-breeds were pouring into Faraway to take part in the
festivities of Ooche-me-gou-kesigow (Kissing Day).

The traders at the post and their families would join in the revels.
With the exception of Morse, they had all taken Indian wives, in
the loose marriage of the country, and for both business and family
reasons they maintained a close relationship with the natives. Most of
their children used the mother tongue, though they could make shift
to express themselves in English. In this respect as in others the
younger McRaes were superior. They talked English well. They could
read and write. Their father had instilled in them a reverence for the
Scriptures and some knowledge of both the Old and New Testaments. It
was his habit to hold family prayers every evening. Usually half
a dozen guests were present at these services in addition to his
immediate household.

With the Indians came their dogs, wolfish creatures, prick-eared and
sharp-muzzled, with straight, bristling hair. It was twenty below
zero, but the gaunt animals neither sought nor were given shelter.
They roamed about in front of the fort stockade, snapping at each
other or galloping off on rabbit hunts through the timber.

The custom was that on this day the braves of the tribe kissed every
woman they met in token of friendship and good-will. To fail of
saluting one, young or old, was a breach of good manners. Since
daybreak they had been marching in to Angus McRae's house and gravely
kissing his wife and daughter.

Jessie did not like it. She was a fastidious young person. But she
could not es