He was always good to us, and gave
us large presents for our best skins. But he is one of the Hudson
Bay men, and, therefore, something must be done. It must be done
quickly. We are in council; each man shall have his say."

Donald's eyes had become more and more accustomed to the dimness
in the huge room. Now, looking about, he saw great bales of pelts
piled indiscriminately, thousands and thousands of dollars' worth.
So, these were free-traders! This was the magnet that had drawn
the hardy trappers from their allegiance to the Hudson Bay! He
shrugged his shoulders. Whatever happened to him, it was they who
would suffer in the end, for this mighty, intangible thing, the
Company, did not look kindly upon free-traders. Ever since 1859,
when the monopoly legally expired, free-traders had been at war
with the great concern, and in the Northwest had established a
brisk and growing competition.

But here, in the vast district between Labrador and the west shore
of the bay, their invasions had, without exception, met with failure.
More than that, those brave men who had undertaken to beard this
lion in his iron wilderness had very rarely returned to tell the
tale of the bearding. Warned once or twice, the more timid retired,
baffled and unsuccessful. Persistent, the trader fell a victim to
gun "accidents," canoe "upsets," or even starvation carefully
engineered by unseen, but competent, agents.

All these things were traditions of the Company, and McTavish had
been brought up on them. He had never taken part in such doings,
but he was certain in his own mind that they were not all fiction,
for such fictions do not spring to life miraculously in regions
where emotions are naked and primitive, and existence is pared down
to the raw.

Here were men who had evidently banded themselves into a Free-Traders'
Brotherhood. How many had enlisted in its ranks besides those in
this room, he had no idea; perhaps there were hundreds. It had
evidently been well organized, for it had taken shape with amazing
swiftness and certainty.

Jean had been right. This was more important, vastly more important,
than the pursuit of a renegade half-breed... But that half-breed
was himself at the head of the organization.

"That's what half an intelligence will do for a man!" said McTavish
to himself, with contempt. "This fellow is just bright enough to
be better than his class. He therefore immediately sets himself up
as a leader to buck the C