trong in them, and it was the usual thing for young
fellows in distant, lonely posts to marry the daughters of chieftains.
In fact, there was not a post in all the Hudson Bay's territory of
which he had ever heard but what had a similar romance in its
records. And, while in Donald's generation the practise had fallen
off greatly, yet in those before, it had been considered nothing
out of the ordinary.

Pondering thus, at last the realization came that, although his
father had done these things, yet it was he, the son, who must pay
for them. Old Fitzpatrick would never dare beard the commissioner
in his high lair; if that had been his aim, he would have done it
long since. Why, then, had the factor withheld his bolt until now?

Because McTavish loved Jean? Possibly. That, at least, had brought
the matter to a head. But there was something else, deeper, and
this affair with the girl had given opportunity to strike.

Donald thought back. Now that he had a tangible motive in view,
his mind shook off its paralysis and worked more easily; he was
more his former self. He remembered that, when Fitzpatrick had
first gone to Fort Severn, the elder McTavish had soon followed as
factor at York. The former was the senior as regarded age, but the
latter was the bigger man in every way. Consequently, when promotion
came, McTavish had been elevated over the head of Fitzpatrick. As
was natural with any man in Fitzpatrick's position, there must have
been heart-burning and jealousy.

How much more so, if that man were narrow, choleric, and filled
with a blind sense of loyalty and service? Donald had no doubt now
that the old factor had hidden the gall of disappointment all these
years, letting it poison his vitals until he was venom to the very
marrow against the clan of McTavish. His sense of duty and reverence
for office had forbade his acting against the new commissioner,
personally. But, when the commissioner's son came out into the
calling of his ancestors, no barriers opposed the wreaking of his
long-delayed vengeance. For more than three years, Donald had been
in the present district. He was convinced that during all this time
Fitzpatrick had been rooting among the archives of his father's
past in an endeavor to unearth something he might use. The search
had been unsuccessful until late in the summer, when one of his
spying Indians had produced Maria and her claim from the far-off
Kaniapiskau section in Ungava.

Since then,