"I know he is an accomplished blackguard," I answered quietly, "and if you want to spoil your chances with the Little Statue, just prance round in his company."
The lad was too much surprised to speak.
"Where's Hamilton?" I asked.
"Find him for yourself," said he, going off in a huff.
I edged cautiously near enough the wounded man to see that he was not Hamilton. Near the litter was a group of clerks.
"They're fools," one clerk was informing the others. "Cameron sent word he'd have McDonell dead or alive. If he doesn't give himself up, this fort'll go and the whole settlement be massacred."
"Been altogether too high-handed anyway," answered another. "I'm loyal to my company; but Lord Selkirk can't set up a military despotism here. Been altogether better if we'd left the Nor'-Westers alone."
"It's all the fault of that cocky little martinet," declared a third.
"I say," exclaimed a man joining the group, "d' y' hear the news? All the chiefs in there—" jerking his thumb towards a side door—"are advising Captain McDonell to give himself up and save the fort."
"Good thing. Who'll miss him? He'll only get a free trip to Montreal," remarked one of the aggressives in this group. "I tell you, men, both companies have gone a deal too far in this little slap-back game to be keen for legal investigation. Why, at Souris, everybody knows——"