"Look heem Bla'k Bevair Lak," advised Louis Placide; "I t'ink dose
Ojibway mak' heem lots marten, mink la bas."

"Lads," said Kern, the trader at Old Brunswick House, "if you're going
up th' Missináibie just cast an eye on my _cache_ at Gull Lake, and see
that the carcajaus have let her be."

Young Herbert was curious. "Where are you headed, boys?" he inquired.

But Ki-wa-nee, the trusty, the trader at Flying Post, the only Indian in
the Company's service holding rank as a commissioned officer, grunted in
contempt at the question, while Achard, of New Brunswick House, motioned
warningly toward the groups of Indian trappers in the background. "Hush,
boy," said he to Herbert, "news travels, and in the south are the Free
Traders to snatch at a new country."

By now the voyageurs had turned their canoe over, slid it into the
water, and piled the duffle amidships.

But before they had time to step aboard, came Virginia Albret, then
seventeen years old and as slender and graceful as a fawn. The daughter
of the Factor, she had acquired a habit of command that became her well.
While she enunciated her few and simple words of well-wishing, she
looked straight out at them from deep black eyes. The two woodsmen, awed
into a vast respect, fumbled their caps in their hands and noted, in the
unconscious manner of the forest frequenter, the fresh dusk rose of her
skin, the sharply defined red of her lips, the soft wheat colour of her
hair. It was a gracious memory to carry into the Silent Places, and was
in itself well worth the bestowal. However, Virginia, as was her habit,