“Now, Captain McTavish, do you admit having had a personal encounter with this Indian not long since?
“I do.” And Donald detailed the incident, ending with this remark: “It would seem to me only ordinary common sense that Tom should go gunning for me, and not I for him.”
“Yes, but a great many people, when they know an Indian is on their trail, prefer to end matters themselves, rather than live in constant suspense and fear.”
“I have yet to live in suspense or fear of any man,” returned Donald significantly.
“Now, Captain McTavish,” the factor said, “will you please state what took you to the edge of the camp last night during a storm of such fierceness?”
“It was a private matter, solely, and I do not care to divulge it,” was the unsatisfactory reply.
“More may depend upon this than you think,” warned the factor, pawing at his beard with the old, familiar gesture. “I advise you to tell.”
“I refuse to do so, but give you my word of honor that I had no thought of Tom in mind. In fact, I had forgotten all about him. But I did hear the shot. It was not very distant, and I was not sure what the noise was. I waited for another, but none came.”
For another half-hour, the factor grilled his victim for further information. But in vain. Then, furious at his failure, he ordered McTavish placed under guard without parole, and in the next breath commanded a second log cabin to be built as a jail wherein to confine the prisoner.
“You have defied me long enough, McTavish,” he snarled, his eyes gleaming with an ugly light, “and, by the eternal, you shall pay for this. I'll make an example of you that the North country will not forget in years. Already, you deserve punishment for breaking out of Fort Severn; this is the last straw. We'll see whether the Company can be set at naught by every underling in its employ.”