they bearing the message that he would make the Great Fish River and come
down by Great Slave Lake to Fort Providence. That was nine months ago. He
has not come here, nor to any other of the forts, so far as is known, nor
has any word been received from him. His wife, backed by the H.B.C.,
urges that a relief party be sent to look for him. They and she forget
that this is the arctic region, and that the task is a well-nigh hopeless
one. He ought to have been here six months ago. Now how can we do
anything? Our fort is small, and there is always danger of trouble with
the Indians. We can't force men to join a relief party like this, and who
will volunteer? Who would lead such a party and who will make up the
party to be led?"

The brown face of Jaspar Hume was not mobile. It changed in expression
but seldom; it preserved a steady and satisfying character of
intelligence and force. The eyes, however, were of an inquiring, debating
kind, that moved from one thing to another as if to get a sense of
balance before opinion or judgment was expressed. The face had remained
impassive, but the eyes had kindled a little as the factor talked. To the
factor's despairing question there was not an immediate reply. The eyes
were debating. But they suddenly steadied and Jaspar Hume said
sententiously: "A relief party should go."

"Yes, yes, but who is to lead them?"

Again the eyes debated.

"Read her letter," said the factor, handing it over. Jaspar Hume took it
and mechanically scanned it. The factor had moved towards the table for
his pipe or he would have seen the other start, and his nostrils slightly
quiver, as his eyes grew conscious of what they were seeing. Turning