e fiddle bewhiles.
Then he said without lookin' at me,--'It is the spirit of the White
Valley and the Hills of the Mighty Men; of which all men shall know, for
the North will come to her spring again one day soon, at the remaking of
the world. They thought the song would never be found again, but I have
given it a home here.' And he bent and kissed the strings. After, he
turned sharply as if he'd been spoken to, and looked at someone beside
him; someone that I couldn't see. A cloud dropped upon his face, he
caught the fiddle hungrily to his breast, and came limpin' over to
me--for there was somethin' wrong with his fut--and lookin' down his
hook-nose at me, says he,--'I've a word for them at Fort Luke, where
you're goin', and you'd better be gone at once; and I'll put you on your
way. There's to be a great battle. The White Hands have an ancient feud
with the Golden Dogs, and they have come from where the soft Chinook
wind ranges the Peace River, to fight until no man of all the Golden
Dogs be left, or till they themselves be destroyed. It is the same north
and south,' he wint on; 'I have seen it all in Italy, in Greece, in--'
but here he stopped and smiled strangely. After a minute he wint on:
'The White Hands have no quarrel with the Englishmen of the Fort, and I
would warn them, for Englishmen were once kind to me--and warn also the
Golden Dogs. So come with me at once,' says he. And I did. And he walked
with me till mornin', carryin' the fiddle under his arm, but wrapped in
a beautiful velvet cloth, havin' on it grand figures like the arms of
a king or queen. And just at the first whisk of sun he turned me into a
trail and give me good-bye, sayin' that maybe he'd follow me soon, and,
at any rate, he'd be there at the battle. Well, divils betide me! I got
off the track again; and lost a day; but here I am; and there's me story
to take or lave as you will."

Shon paused and began to fumble with the cards on the table before him,
looking the while at the others.

The Chief Factor was the first to speak. "I don't doubt but he told you
true about the White Hands and the Golden Dogs," he said; "for there's
been war and bad blood between them beyond the memory of man--at least
since the time that the Mighty Men lived, from which these date their
history. But there's nothing to be done to-night; for if we tell old
Wind Driver, there'll be no sleeping at the Fort. So we'll let the thing
stand."

"You believe all this popp