f God" from the missionary; and being refused,
straightway, and for the only time it was known of him, delivered a
rumbling torrent of half-breed profanity, mixed with the unusual oaths
of the barracks. Then he walked away with great humility. There was no
swagger about Little Hammer. He was simply unquenchable and continuous.
He sometimes got drunk; but on such occasions he sat down, or lay down,
in the most convenient place, and, like Caesar beside Pompey's statue,
wrapped his mantle about his face and forgot the world. He was a
vagabond Indian, abandoned yet self-contained, outcast yet gregarious.
No social ostracism unnerved him, no threats of the H. B. C. officials
moved him; and when in the winter of 187 he was driven from one place
to another, starving and homeless, and came at last emaciated and nearly
dead to the Post at Yellow Quill, he asked for food and shelter as if it
were his right, and not as a mendicant.

One night, shortly after his reception and restoration, he was sitting
in the store silently smoking the Company's tabac. Sergeant Gellatly
entered. Little Hammer rose, offered his hand, and muttered, "How!"

The Sergeant thrust his hand aside, and said sharply: "Whin I take y'r
hand, Little Hammer, it'll be to put a grip an y'r wrists that'll stay
there till y'are in quarters out of which y'll come nayther winter nor
summer. Put that in y'r pipe and smoke it, y' scamp!"

Little Hammer had a bad time at the Post that night. Lounging
half-breeds reviled him; the H. B. C. officials rebuked him; and
travellers who were coming and going shared in the derision, as foolish
people do where one is brow-beaten by many. At last a trapper entered,
whom seeing, Little Hammer drew his blanket up about his head. The
trapper sat down very near Little Hammer, and began to smoke. He laid
his plug-tabac and his knife on the counter beside him. Little Hammer
reached over and took the knife, putting it swiftly within his blanket.
The trapper saw the act, and, turning sharply on the Indian, called him
a thief. Little Hammer chuckled strangely and said nothing; but his eyes
peered sharply above the blanket. A laugh went round the store. In an
instant the trapper, with a loud oath, caught at the Indian's throat;
but as the blanket dropped back he gave a startled cry. There was the
flash of a knife, and he fell back dead. Little Hammer stood above him,
smiling, for a moment, and then, turning to Sergeant Gellatly, held out