they did not get
anything in the shape of gratuities, while it was notorious that the
Indians in other districts did, and that they did not get enough of
goods in advance, on credit of their future hunts.

Mr Whyte heard the old man to the end in silence; then, without
altering his position, he looked round on the assembly with a frown, and
said, "Now listen to me; I am a man of few words. I have told you over
and over again, and now repeat it, that you shall get no gratuities
until you prove yourselves worthy of them. I shall not increase your
advances by so much as half an inch of tobacco till your last year's
debts are scored off, and you begin to show more activity in hunting and
less disposition to grumble. Hitherto you have not brought in anything
like the quantity of furs that the capabilities of the country led me to
expect. You are lazy. Until you become better hunters you shall have
no redress from me."

As he finished, Mr Whyte made a step towards the door by which he had
entered, but was arrested by another chief, who requested to be heard.
Resuming his place and attitude, Mr Whyte listened with an expression
of dogged determination, while guttural grunts of unequivocal
dissatisfaction issued from the throats of several of the malcontents.
The Indian proceeded to repeat a few of the remarks made by his
predecessor, but more concisely, and wound up by explaining that the
failure in the hunts of the previous year was owing to the will of the
Great Manito, and not by any means on account of the supposed laziness
of himself or his tribe.

"That is false," said Mr Whyte; "you know it is not true."

As this was said, a murmur of anger ran round the apartment, which was
interrupted by Misconna, who, apparently unable to restrain his passion,
sprang into the middle of the room, and confronting Mr Whyte, made a
short and pithy speech, accompanied by violent gesticulation, in which
he insinuated that if redress was not granted the white men would
bitterly repent it.

During his speech the Indians had risen to their feet and drawn closer
together, while Jacques and the three young men drew near their
superior. Redfeather remained apart, motionless, and with his eyes
fixed on the ground.

"And, pray, what dog--what miserable, thieving cur--are you, who dare to
address me thus?" cried Mr Whyte, as he strode, with flashing eyes, up
to the enraged Indian.

Misconna clinched his teeth, and his fingers worked