demanded roughly. "This is not the way to
the trading house. You have no business in this part of the fort."

The brave's only reply was a guttural "Ugh!" Folding his blanket closer
about him, he began to stride off. This did not suit my purpose.

"Stop!" I cried. "I want to know what you were doing here."

"Indian mean no harm," he replied. "Heap nice fort--white man build many
houses."

The moment he spoke the last ray of doubt fled from my mind, for to my
trained ear the fellow's voice and accent were but feeble imitations of
what they ought to be, and I fancied I could detect a little trick of
mannerism I had observed in Cuthbert Mackenzie. It was time for me to
show the iron hand, and I did not hesitate a second.

"You may be telling the truth," I said, "but you must give an account of
yourself to the factor. Don't make any disturbance. Come along with me
quietly or--" I finished the sentence by displaying a pistol which I had
dexterously slipped from my belt.

I had expected some resistance, and was prepared for it. The Indian's
eyes gleamed with anger, and from under his blanket he whipped out a
knife. As quickly struck the weapon from his hand and grappled with him.
He gave a shrill cry, and I followed it with a loud shout for help.

What happened next, though it proved to my discomfiture, was as neat and
swift a thing as I have ever seen done. From the front of the trading
house, and from the inside of the building the Indians came dashing in a
body. They made no use of any weapons, but by sheer muscular force they
wrested my captive from me and beat me cruelly on the head.

The thing was over before a man could come to my assistance, though
plenty were within sight and hearing. Rising dizzily to my feet--I had
been knocked down and trampled upon--I saw the daring band of savages
swarming toward the open gates, taking with them the disguised spy,
their sledges of furs, and the powder and shot they had just purchased.

"Help--help!" I shouted, running in pursuit. "Stop them! Don't let them
get away!" With shrill cries, the redskins pushed on, and the single
sentry at the gates deserted his post and fled. I heard an outcry behind
me, and turning I saw that the factor and half a dozen others had come
up. Griffith Hawke was the only armed man among them.

"What is the trouble?" he demanded.

"A spy!" I shouted incoherently. "A Northwest man in the fort, disguised
as an Indian! I am certain it was Mackenz