For some time there was no response, for although those inside had not yet gone to bed, they were all so engrossed in drinking, smoking, talking, or gambling that they did not hear him. At last a rough voice was heard demanding in a surly tone: 'What do you want? Who are you?'
'I want to see the Governor of the Fort,' replied Mr. Macrae, in a tone that had no uncertain sound about it.
'He no see you now. He busy,' was the growling reply, as the speaker turned to go away.
'But I maun see him, and that richt awa,' retorted Mr. Macrae, and at his signal the whole party fell to smiting the gate with their heavy pistol butts. This thundering tattoo evidently impressed the man inside, for he came back to the gate, and, in a slow, sulky fashion, proceeded to unfasten the stout bars that held it. Opening it a couple of inches, he peered suspiciously at the importunate callers, but the latter gave him no time to scrutinize them; for, led by Mr. Macrae, they threw themselves upon the heavy gate, forced it wide open, and charged through ere the bewildered Metis realized their purpose.
There was no difficulty in distinguishing the factor's residence, for it fairly blazed with light, and thither the group of stern, stalwart men directed their steps, Dour, satisfied that they knew what they were about, keeping close at his master's heels.
The door of the house stood wide open, but Mr. Macrae did not attempt to enter without first rapping in a proper manner. His summons brought out a young lad, evidently from Scotland, who showed a very different spirit from the surly half-breed at the gate. 'Ye wad hae a word wi' the Governor, eh?' he asked, with a pleasant smile. 'Just bide ye there, an' I'll gie him yer message.'
He disappeared into the room at the right, and Mr. Macrae prepared himself to address the important official he had asked for. But he was not to have that privilege in a hurry. The minutes went by without the Governor appearing, or the young Scotsman returning, and, in rising wrath, Andrew Macrae was just about to knock on the inside door, when suddenly it opened, and there stood before him a thick-set, shaggy-haired personage, whose deeply flushed features showed that he had been dining not wisely but too well. 'What is it?' he demanded brusquely. 'Why do you bother me now? Why can't you wait until the morning?'
In a firm, yet respectful, tone, Hector's father stated the reason of his coming. 'Tut! Tut!' growled the man. 'I can't attend to that to-night. Come back to-morrow,' and he was about to close the door, when Mr. Macrae, with a quick movement, thrust his foot against it, and at the same moment he laid his hand firmly upon the factor's arm.
'It's ma ain bairn I'm seeking, and I shall na leave here until I find him.' As he spoke, his companions pressed close behind him, shoulder to shoulder.
The factor's bloodshot eyes went from one stern, intent face to another. Manifestly, these were not men to be trifled with. Obscured by strong drink as his brain was, enough sense remained to understand that. With an oath he flung the door open, and said sneeringly: 'Do ye expect to find him in here?'