Lords of the North

by Agnes C. Laut

Instantly he squared round throwing the torchlight on my face.

"Had him in your power—knew what he'd done—and—and—didn't?"

"And didn't," said I. "But you almost make me wish I had. What do you take traders for?"

"You're young," said he, "and I take traders for what they are——"

"But I'm a trader and I didn't——" Though a beginner, I wore the airs of a veteran.

"Benedicite!" he cried. "The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher!"

"Benedicite!" he repeated. "May ye keep as clean a conscience in this land as you've brought to it."

"Amen, Father!" said I.

"Here we are," exclaimed Frances Sutherland as we emerged from the reeds to the brink of the river, where a skiff was moored. "Go, be quick! I'll stay here! 'Twill be better without me. The Hudson's Bay are keeping close to the far shore!"

"You can't stay alone," objected Father Holland.