“Well, for one thing he has a tribe of Indians completely under his thumb. Those are the Slavis, the most ignorant and primitive race of them all. Once they covered this whole country, but have gradually been pushed back by the Crees and other tribes. They have some other name, but I don’t know what it is. All the other Indians call them Slavis. Well, Blackburn has got this people penned up in his own country, where no whites can communicate with them. He deliberately trades on their ignorance and superstition. He has persuaded them that I am a devil and that black magic is worked at this Post, and no power under Heaven can persuade them to come within fifty miles of me.”
Ogilvie laughed. “Not bad,” he said. “Why don’t you outbid him for fur? That might work a miracle.”
“I have tried it,” said Gault grimly. “He is willing to go higher than the company is willing to let me go.”
“But surely a year or two of that, with his ruinously expensive transport would break him,” said Ogilvie.
“Blackburn is as rich as Crœsus,” said Gault bitterly; “and he’d risk every cent of it to beat me. What is more, he is entirely independent of transport. When they run out of food over there, he sends his cheaper furs to me for flour, and I have to take them, because I need the fur. Blackburn trades horses for fur. He has in the triangle between his river, the foothills and the Mud River, a vast natural range for horses. God knows how many thousands of head he has. The fame of them has spread all over the country. He can afford to sell them cheap since they cost him nothing. The Sikannis Indians bring their fur all the way from British Columbia to trade for horses. The Indians from Wabiscaw and eastward cross the river here right under my nose, carrying their fur to Blackburn for horses.”
“You say you are awaiting your opportunity,” said Ogilvie; “how will you know when that comes?”
“I have a spy at Blackburn’s Post,” said Gault. “It wasn’t easy to find him, because nobody can speak their damned language but Blackburn. This man, Etzooah, is the son of a Cree father and a Slavi mother, and is able to mix with the Slavis as one of themselves.”
“What good do you expect that to do you?”
“Etzooah talks to the Slavis in my interest. However, that is not what I am counting on.” Gault smiled disagreeably. “Blackburn is a headstrong, passionate man, and a hard drinker. He treats the Slavis like dogs. He believes there is nobody to call him to account. Some day he will go too far. Then I’ll have the law on him. He runs his whole show single-handed. Won’t tolerate a white man near him. Consequently if he were removed, even for a while, the whole thing would fall into confusion. That will be my chance.”
“I have heard there was a daughter,” said Ogilvie idly.