have people think he is a cross old bear—and bears must growl."
Corporal Downey grinned at the twinkle that appeared in old Molaire's eyes, and the game proceeded until Neseka called them to supper. MacFarlane paused at the counter and raised the fox skin to the light. And as he did so, a very small, heavy object rolled from its soft folds and thudded upon the boards. Slowly MacFarlane laid down the skin and, picking up the object, carried it close under the swinging lamp, where he held it in his open palm. Curiously the others crowded about and stared at the dull yellow lump scarcely larger than the two halves of a split pea. For a long moment there was silence and then MacFarlane turned to Corporal Downey: "What was it you said," he asked, "about sticking to my job until I saw an Injun with some gold?"
III
The north wind moaned and soughed about the eaves of the low log trading post on Lashing Water. Old Molaire rose from his place by the stove, crossed the room, and threw open the door. Seconds passed as he stood listening to the roar of the wind in the tree tops, heedless of the fine powdering of stinging snow particles that glistened like diamond points upon his silvery hair and sifted beneath his shirt collar. Then he closed the door and returned to his
chair beside the stove. Corporal Downey watched in silence while the old man filled his pipe. He threw away the match and raised his eyes to the officer: "It was a year ago, d'ye mind, an' just such a storm—when that squaw came bringin' her black fox skin, and her nugget of damned gold."
"It would be about a year," agreed Downey, gravely nodding his head. "I made this patrol in February."
"It's just a year—the thirteenth of the month. I'll not be forgetting it."
"An' have you had no word?"
The old factor shook his head: "No word. They left in May—with the rivers not yet free of running ice. Two light canoes. Margot could handle a canoe like a man."
"You'll prob'ly hear from 'em on the break-up this spring. Maybe they'll give it up an' come back."