cursing like
a medicine-man, she searched blindly for a rifle until Rainy took
that also away from her, and shut her in the cabin. Meanwhile,
the thrashing of Tom went methodically on, until he was unable to
rise from the snow, and could scarcely bawl an apology between his
swollen, bleeding lips.

Such is the discipline of a region where law is a remote thing,
and the mention of a name must carry terror for thousands of miles.

McTavish, as he punished Indian Tom with merciless severity, was
no longer McTavish. He was the Company; he was discipline; he was
the "inevitable white man." And, by the same token, Tom was the
conquered race that had dared to doubt the power of its conqueror.
This battle in the snow enacted the drama of America's Siberia as
it has been enacted for two hundred years.

Tom not only delivered himself of an apology at Donald's demand,
but expressed a willingness, even a desire, to atone for his
wrong-doing by telling the truth of the matter that had given rise
to the trouble. Having the situation well in hand, the Hudson Bay
man set Peter to making the camp outside, while he entered the
cabin with Tom.

"Where is the factor's daughter?" he fiercely demanded.

"She left us two days ago," mumbled the Indian.

"And you will never see her again," snarled Maria, crouching before
the fire.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ha, ha! She is in good company. She has a man now--a good man--a
man such as a woman ought to love," croaked the venomous crone,
glaring.

"In heaven's name, speak out, old woman! Who's she with?"

"Charley Seguis. He is a good man. The women all love him." And
she rocked herself to and fro, like some horrible old witch. Donald
stared at her, wild-eyed.

"When did he get her?" he groaned. "How? Where?"

"Two days ago, at the other cabin," broke in Tom, hastily. "We
waited for him there, and he came and got her."

"Was there anyone with him, or did he come alone?"

"Two others, an Indian and a French trapper," was the answer.

"Where did they go?" The little, close cabin seemed to reel about
the distraught lover.

"To Sturgeon Lake."

"The truth!" cried Donald, frantically. "Tell me the truth, or, by
heaven, I'll break every bone in your body!" With hands opening
and closing convulsively, he advanced upon Tom.

But the latter had had enough, and he cowered away from his
interrogator, protesting his good faith. So genuine were his
terrified protestations that the