t. The governor will leave no stone unturned to seek out
and punish the murderers. I wish Lord Selkirk were here; he is the very
bones and sinews of the company. I understand that he contemplates an
early visit to the Canadas, and this outrage may hasten his arrival. And
now I must be going, Carew. When you have finished your breakfast--"

"One moment, sir," I interrupted. "I suppose there is no news of Captain
Rudstone? It is foolish to ask--"

"Oh, but there is! Bless me, I quite forgot to speak of it. Let me see;
there was a reference to the matter in the dispatch from Fort Charter.
What did he say? Wait--I have it!"

Running his finger down the page of thick yellow paper, covered with
scrawly writing, he read as follows:

"... and tell Mr. Carew that we made a further search the next week for
his friend Captain Myles Rudstone. A party set out under Tom Arnold and
were gone three days. But they found no trace of the unfortunate man,
and there can be no doubt that he perished in the storm, and is buried
deep under a drift."

"Poor fellow!" said I. "I hoped he might turn up, but there is no chance
of it now."

"It is a strange case," replied Macdonald. "I was familiar with Captain
Rudstone's name, but I can't recall every having met him."

With that the factor looked at his watch, gathered up his papers, and
hurried from the room. Left to ourselves, Flora and I discussed the
welcome tidings we had just heard, as well as some matters of a more
personal nature. Then, breakfast finished, I reluctantly departed to my
day's work, and a few moments later I was seated at a desk in the
clerk's quarters, with ink, quill, and paper before me; for I was
writing a detailed account of the siege and capture of Fort Royal, which
to be forwarded to the officials of the company at Quebec.

* * * * *

The breakfast room again; the time nine o'clock that same night. After
laborious toil with brain and hand, I was enjoying a well-earned rest.
Supper was over long since, and the ladies had retired a few minutes
before. A snugger, more cozy place could scarcely have been found in
Quebec itself. Two lamps shed a soft light, and a mighty fire roared in
the huge stove.

Macdonald and I sat in easy-chairs at opposite sides of a table that was
littered with books and papers, glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and a
canister of tobacco. He was smoking a long churchwarden, I a stubby and
blackened short one. A