He had killed men for selling whiskey to his Indians.  And those of his own people who drank the whiskey, he had flogged with dog-whips—­floggings that had been administered in no half-hearted or uncertain manner, and that had ceased only upon the tiring of his arm.  And many there were among his Indians who could testify that the arm was slow to tire.

To this little colony, upon the fourth day after his departure from Chloe Elliston’s school on the Yellow Knife, came LeFroy with his freighted canoe.  And because it was not his first trip among them, all knew his mission.

It so happened that at the time MacNair left for the barren grounds, Sotenah, the leader of the young men, the orator who had lauded MacNair to the skies and counselled a summary wiping out of Chloe Elliston’s school, chanced to be laid up with an injury to his foot.  And, as he could not accompany the hunters, MacNair placed him in charge of the fort during his absence.  Upon his back Sotenah carried scars of many floggings.  And the memory of these remained with him long after the deadly effects of the cheap whiskey that begot them had passed away.  And now, as he stood upon the shore of the lake surrounded by the old men, and the boys who were not yet permitted to take the caribou trail, his face was sullen and black as he greeted LeFroy.  For the feel of the bite of the gut-lash was strong upon him.

“B’jo’! B’jo’! Nitchi!” greeted LeFroy, smiling into the scowling face.

“B’jo’!” grunted the younger man with evident lack of enthusiasm.

“Kah MacNair?”

The Indian returned a noncommittal shrug.

LeFroy repeated his question, at the same time taking from his pocket a cheap clasp-knife which he extended toward the Indian.  The other regarded the knife in silence; then, reaching out his hand, took it from LeFroy and examined it gravely.

“How much?” he asked.  LeFroy laughed.

“You ke’p,” he said, and stepping to the canoe, threw back the blanket, exposing to the covetous eyes of the assembled Indians the huge pile of similar knives, and the hatchets, and the bolts of gay-coloured goods.

A few moments of adroit questioning sufficed to acquaint LeFroy with
MacNair’s prices for similar goods; and the barter began.

Where MacNair and the Hudson Bay Company charged ten “skins,” or “made beaver,” for an article, LeFroy charged five, or four, or even three, until the crowding Indians became half-crazed with the excitement of barter.  And while this excitement was at its height, with scarcely half of his goods disposed of, LeFroy suddenly declared he would sell no more, and stepping into the canoe pushed out from the bank.

He turned a deaf ear to the frantic clamourings of those who had been unable to secure the wonderful bargains, and ordering his canoemen to paddle down the lake some two or three hundred yards, deliberately prepared to camp.  Hardly had his canoe touched the shore before he was again surrounded by the clamouring mob.  Whereupon he faced them and, striking an attitude, harangued them in their own tongue.