hunters. Not long
since, an otter skin equaled ten "beaver," twenty rabbit equaled
one "beaver," one marten equaled two and a half "beaver"; and so
on down, or up, the scale. ... This, from the Company's point
of view.

From that of the hunter, a "beaver" in trade (usually represented
by a stamped leaden counter), was worth so much in merchandise--a
large red handkerchief, or a hunting-knife, or a looking-glass.
Two "beaver" would buy an ax, twenty a gun of a certain quality,
and so on through the list of necessities.

When a hunter brings in his bales of fur, he takes them to the
warehouse, where they are assorted and appraised by the chief
trader, after much haggling. When the value is determined, the
trader pushes over the counter as many "beaver" (lead pellets), as
the furs are worth. The hunter takes these to the store, and, after
much travail and advice, exchanges them for winter supplies and
gewgaws that strike his fancy. In this primitive way is wrought
the gigantic trade that covers woman with fur, from queens with
their ermine to the shop-girl with her scraggly muskrat or rabbit.

As the talk went on around him, McTavish recognized the old story
of the free-traders, men who hunted and trapped without any definite
allegiance to one company or another, and disposed of their catch
to the best advantage. As he had known all his life, the "barrens"
about Hudson Bay remained the only country that had successfully
kept the independents at bay. There had been other attempts at
intrusion, many of them; but none so well organized or determined
in spirit as this present one. The old, inbred loyalty to the
Company told him that free-traders must be got out of the way. As
far as he was concerned, he hoped action would come quickly--he
did not wish too much time by himself to think.

Finally, Timmins yawned, and suggested that they turn in. But
McTavish was restless. He slipped on his snowshoes, declared he
would be back shortly, and left the tent. The nervous reaction of
all the excitement of the last day was in him, and he felt that he
needed the physical battling and buffeting of the storm to calm
the throbbing of his brain and settle him for the night. Drawing
his _capote_ close around his face, he bent to the blast, and
shuffled along. Suddenly, he felt the nearness of a presence, and
raised his head, just in time to prevent going full into the wall
of a log cabin. He recoiled with a muttered curse, for there wa