"These two. Pierre Bonnet Rouge I have known for a good many years. He's a good Indian. An' this other—he come in a while back with his pardner from over on the Yukon side. His pardner is a white man, an' about as likely a lookin' lad as I've seen. He's over there now on the trail of the free traders an' aimin' to stand between them 'an the Indians till someone comes with authority to arrest them."
"Who is this party, an' what's he doin' over in that country himself?"
"He's just a lad. An' him an' his pardner, here, are trappin'. Name's Morgan, an——"
Big Dan McKeever's two feet hit the floor with a bang, and he strode rapidly forward. "Morgan, did you say? Connie Morgan?"
'Merican Joe nodded vehemently. "Yes, him Connie Mo'gan! Him wan skookum tillicum."
The big inspector's fist smote the counter and he grinned happily. "I'll say he's skookum tillicum!" he cried. "But what in the name of Pat Feeney is he doin' over here? I heard he'd gone outside."
"D'ye know him?" asked McTavish, in surprise.
"Know him! Know him, did you say? I do know him, an' love him! An' I'd rather see him than the Angel Gabriel, this minute!"
"Me, too," laughed McTavish, "I ain't ready for the angels, yet!"