“Very likely,” assented Captain Rudstone. “I am glad you are pleased. Trouble has been brewing this long time, and the crisis can’t be far off. By the by, have you had news from Quebec later than the date of our sailing?”
“Not a word. The last mail, which brought me some London papers, left Fort Garry at the close of June.”
The factor sighed. He was fond of the life of towns and he had been buried in the wilderness for ten years!
“Gentlemen, fill your glasses,” he added. “Here’s to the prosperity of the company!”
“May it continue forever!” supplemented the captain.
I drank the toast, and then inquired what was the state of the lower country.
“There have been no open hostilities as yet,” the factor replied, “but there are plenty of rumors—ugly rumors. And that reminds me, Mr. Carew, a half-breed brought me a message from Griffith Hawke two days ago.”
“I rather expected to find him here,” said I, trying to hide my eagerness at the opening of a subject which I had wished to come to.
“He has abandoned that intention,” the factor stated. “He is afraid to leave at present. The redskins have been impudent in his neighborhood of late, and he thinks their loyalty has been tampered with by the Northwest people. He begged me to send you and Miss Hatherton on to Fort Royal at the first opportunity after your arrival, and there happens to be one open now.”
“How is that?” I asked.