ned, to gamble and to
drink bad whiskey.

The latter was a strange concoction, manufactured on the spot, to take
the place of the limited supply of whiskey which had been brought in
from the outside. It was known generally as "hootch," though some
called it "Forty-rod whiskey," from its supposed power of killing at
that distance. It was formed of a large quantity of sugar of molasses,
with a small percentage of dried fruit for flavouring, while ordinary
sourdough was used for fermentation. When ready for use it was poured
into an empty kerosene tin, and served hot or cold according to the
taste of the customer.

This nearness of the miners was a severe test of the Indians' loyalty.
At first they kept much aloof from the newcomers, and remained firm to
their absent teacher and pastor. But at length several weakened and
were enticed into the saloon, where ere-long they were imitating the
pernicious ways of the white men. Most of them, however, held their
ground, especially the older ones, who stood faithfully by Amos in the
time of trial.

The catechist was much grieved to see the young men drifting into such
evil habits. He pleaded earnestly with them and induced a number to
leave for their winter hunting grounds. But with others he had no
influence; he had lost his control entirely.

Every night, however, at the appointed hour the mission bell rang out
its full, clear summons, and the faithful few never failed to meet
together in the little church. Then Amos would read the prayers in the
rhythmical Indian dialect, and give a brief address of exhortation.

One night, before closing his remarks, he said to them, "To-morrow, I
go to visit my traps, and to track a moose which I know is near. I may
be a little late in getting back, so I ask Paul Nitsi to build the
fire, ring the bell, and have everything ready when I come."

This was received with nods of approval, and after a few more words
they separated.

That same night a very different scene was being enacted in Perdue's
store. Cards and drinks formed the order of the evening.

"Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Ding, dong," sounded out the little bell.

"D--n that bell!" cried Bill Pritchen, a stranger, bringing his fist
down upon the table with a bang. "I wonder you men stand it."

"How can we stop it?" asked Tim Murphy, cutting a wad from a plug of
tobacco.

"Stop it? Why, I'd stop it d--n soon," returned Pritchen.

"Anyway, what good would it do?"