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Because of the storm, shed-tents had been set up, and the men were gathered under them for the night. Entering that of the trappers with whom he had camped the night before, Donald comfortably lighted his pipe, and started in to satisfy his curiosity in regard to the campaign that had already been carried on against the Free-Traders' Brotherhood. His companions, one of whom was Timmins, a clerk in the Company's store at Fort Severn, and the other a trader at the warehouse, enlightened him. "For a week now," said Timmins, spitting into the fire contemplatively, "there hasn't been much doing. But, before that, shots popped around here considerable. Fitzpatrick thought, and still thinks, I guess, that the only way to nip this free-trader business in the bud was to go at it in the old-fashioned way, with bullets. So, as soon as we had a camp here, we started after those fellows. But they were ready for us, and, when it was all over, three or four of our men were wounded, and nothing was accomplished. The factor got a touch himself, as you know, and, since that, there hasn't been much doing. The old bear is trying to work out a scheme that'll finish things once and for all." "I expect there'll be action pretty soon, won't there?" Donald asked. "Yes, I reckon there will. Now that you've brought Miss Jean back, and the old man's mind is easy, I imagine he'll have a brand new way for us to die worked out in a short while." "What are these fellows free trading for, anyhow? Don't we treat them right?" Donald questioned, with loyal indignation. "Aw, sure we do," drawled Buxton, the trader; "too right, I guess. If they had the old discipline in force, I guess they'd know who was good to them. These fellers have got a grand idea of their own importance, that fellow Seguis especially, and they've bargained with a French fur company, as far as I can gather. The Frenchies have been successful in the Rockies and on the Mackenzie, and they're figuring on starting a post or so in this territory. Of course, they offer better terms than we do--more tobacco and flour and truck for a 'beaver' of fur--but I don't think they can make headway--at least, not against old Fitzpatrick. He's as set as a hill, as tough as an old oak limb, and as cussed as a stoat." From time immemorial in the fur trade, all bartering has been carried on in terms of "beaver." That is, a prime beaver skin is the unit of currency between the Company and its
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