unexpected attack, had not moved. "Shake hands, Bob, an' call it
square. I was hot with anger an' didn't know what I was doin'. We
won't quarrel."

Bob, acting upon the motto his mother had taught him--"Be slow to
anger and quick to forgive," took the outstretched hand with the
remark,

"'Twere a mighty kick I gave ye, John, an' enough t' anger ye, an' no
harm's done."

Big Dick Blake would not have it so at first, and invited the
half-breed outside to take a "licking" at his hands. But the others
soon pacified him, the trouble was forgotten and dancing resumed as
though nothing had happened to disturb it.

As soon as attention was drawn from him Micmac John, unobserved,
slipped out of the door and a few moments later placed some things in
a canoe that had been turned over on the beach, launched it and
paddled away in the ghostly light of the rising moon.

The dancing continued until eleven o'clock, then the men lit their
pipes, and after a short smoke and chat rolled into their blankets
upon the floor, Mrs. Black and the girls retired to the bunks, and,
save for a long, weird howl that now and again came from the wolf dogs
outside, and the cheery crackling of the stove within, not a sound
disturbed the silence of the night.

As has been intimated, Douglas Campbell was a man of importance in
Eskimo Bay. When a young fellow he had come here from the Orkney