r Lacomb. On the gun-rack are old muskets and Indian masks and
scalp-locks, bringing back the days when Russian traders instigated a
massacre at this fort and when white traders flew at each other's
throats as Nor' Westers struggled with Hudson's Bay for supremacy in the
fur trade.

"Ah, oui, those white men, they were brave fighters, they did not know
how to stop. Mais, sacre, they were fools, those white men after all!
Instead of hiding in ambush to catch the foe, those white men measured
off paces, stood up face to face and fired blank--oui--fired blank! Ugh!
Of course, one fool he was kill' and the other fool, most like, he was
wound'! Ugh, by Gar! What Indian would have so little sense?"[40]

Of hunting tales, the Indian store is exhaustless. That enormous
bear-skin stretched to four pegs on the wall brings up Montagnais, the
Noseless One, who still lives on Peace River and once slew the largest
bear ever killed in the Rockies, returning to this very fort with one
hand dragging the enormous skin and the other holding the place which
his nose no longer graced.

"Montagnais? Ah, bien messieur! Montagnais, he brave man! Venez
ici--bien--so--I tole you 'bout heem," begins some French-Canadian
trapper with a strong tinge of Indian blood in his swarthy skin.
"Bigosh! He brave man! I tole you 'bout dat happen! Montagnais, he go
stumble t'rough snow--how you call dat?--hill, steep--steep! Oui, by
Gar! dat vas steep hill! de snow, she go slide, slide, lak' de--de gran'
rapeed, see?" emphasizing the snow-slide with illustrative gesture.
"Bien, donc! Mais, Montagnais, he stick gun-stock in de snow stop heem
fall--so--see? Tonnerre! Bigosh! for sure she go off wan beeg bang!
Sacre! She make so much noise she wake wan beeg ol' bear sleep in snow.
Montagnais, he tumble on hees back! Mais, messieur, de bear--diable!
'fore Montagnais wink hees eye de bear jump on top lak' wan beeg
loup-garou! Montagnais, he brave man--he not scare--he say wan leetle
prayer, wan han' he cover his eyes! Odder han'--sacre--dat grab hees
knife out hees belt--sz-sz-sz, messieur. For sure he feel her
breat'--diable!--for sure he fin' de place her heart beat--Tonnerre!
Vite! he stick dat knife in straight up hees wrist, into de heart dat
bear! Dat bes' t'ing do--for sure de leetle prayer dat tole him best
t'ing do! De bear she roll over--over--dead's wan stone--c'est vrai! she
no mor' jump top Montagnais! Bien, ma frien'! Montagnais, he roll over
too-