the Company's stores, and again there was a distinct improvement in the
giant's spirits. Here at least he could be himself, he thought, here no
one should say him nay. As if nerved by the idea, he plunged at once into
boisterous raillery of the Chief Trader. "Oh, ho," he began, "me
freebooter, me captain av the looters av the North!" The Trader snarled
at him. "What d'ye mean, by such talk to me, sir? I've had enough--we've
all had enough--of your brag and bounce; for you're all sweat and
swill-pipe, and I give you this for your chewing, that though by the
Company's rules I can't go out and fight you, you may have your pick of
my men for it. I'll take my pay for your insults in pounded flesh--Irish
pemmican!"

Macavoy's face became mottled with sudden rage. He roared, as, perhaps,
he had never roared before: "Are ye all gone mad-mad-mad? I was jokin'
wid ye, whin I called ye this or that. But by the swill o' me pipe, and
the sweat o' me skin, I'll drink the blood o' yees, Trader, me darlin'.
An' all I'll ask is, that ye mate me to-night whin the rest o' the pack
is in front o' the Fort--but not more than four o' yees at a time--for
little scrawney rats as y'are, too many o' yees wad be in me way." He
wheeled and strode fiercely out. Pierre smiled gently.

"He's a great bully that, isn't he, Trader? There'll be fun in front of
the Fort to-night. For he's only bragging, of course--eh?"

The Trader nodded with no great assurance, and then Pierre said as a
parting word: "You'll be there, of course--only four av ye!" and hurried
out after Macavoy, humming to himself--

"For the King said this, and the Queen said that,
But he walked away with their army, O!"