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