of that discipline which, working in a
great industrial organization, begets qualms as to extreme courses.

He looked reflectively at the leaden pot and said in reply: "I'd never
believe in anything where that Ingolby is concerned till I had it in
the palm of my hand. He's as deep as a well, and when he's quietest it's
good to look out. He takes a lot of skinning, that badger."

"He's skinned this time all right," was Marchand's reply. "To-morrow'll
be the biggest day Manitou's had since the Indian lifted his wigwam and
the white man put down his store. Listen--hear them! They're coming!"

He raised a hand for silence, and a rumbling, ragged roar of voices
could be heard without.

"The crowd have gone the rounds," he continued. "They started at
Barbazon's and they're winding up at Barbazon's. They're drunk enough
to-night to want to do anything, and to-morrow when they've got sore
heads they'll do anything. They'll make that funeral look like a
squeezed orange; they'll show Lebanon and Master Ingolby that we're to
be bosses of our own show. The strike'll be on after the funeral, and
after the strike's begun there'll be--eh, bien sur!"

He paused sharply, as though he had gone too far. "There'll be what?"
whispered the other; but Marchand made no reply, save to make a warning
gesture, for Barbazon, the landlord, had entered behind the bar.

"They're coming back, Barbazon," Marchand said to the landlord, jerking
his head towards the front door. The noise of the crowd was increasing,
the raucous shouts were so loud that the three had to raise their
voices. "You'll do a land-office business to-night," he declared.

Barbazon had an evil face. There were rumours that he had been in gaol
in Quebec for robbery, and that after he had served his time he had
dug up the money he had stolen and come West. He had started the first
saloon at Manitou, and had grown with the place in more senses than one.
He was heavy and thick-set, with huge shoulders, big hands, and beady
eyes that looked out of a stolid face where long hours, greed and vices
other than drink had left their mark. He never drank spirits, and was
therefore ready to take advantage of those who did drink. More than one
horse and canoe and cow and ox, and acre of land, in the days when land
was cheap, had come to him across the bar-counter. He could be bought,
could Barbazon, and he sold more than wine and spirits. He had a wife
who had left him twice because of his