Connie Morgan in the Fur Country Part 16

An hour later as they were finishing their supper, an Indian stepped abruptly out of the darkness, and stood blinking at them just within the circle of light from the little fire. He was the Indian they had seen lurch from the dwelling.

"h.e.l.lo," said Connie, "what do you want?" The Indian continued to stare, and Connie tried jargon. "_Iktah mika tika?_" But still the man did not answer so the boy turned him over to 'Merican Joe who tried out several dialects and gave it up. The Indian disappeared as abruptly as he had come, and a few moments later stepped again into the firelight. This time he carried a large beaver skin which he extended for inspection.

Connie pa.s.sed it over to 'Merican Joe.

"Is it a good skin?" he asked.

"Good skin," a.s.sented 'Merican Joe, "Wan' ver' big beaver ..."

"How much?" asked Connie, making signs to indicate a trade.

The Indian grunted a single word. "_Hooch!_"

"Oh--ho, so that's it!" cried the boy. "I knew it when I saw him the first time. And I knew that trail we've been following this afternoon didn't look right. I had a hunch!"

He handed the Indian his skin and shook his head. "No got _hooch_." It took the man several minutes to realize that there was no liquor forthcoming, and when he did, he turned and left the fire with every evidence of anger. Not long after he had gone, another Indian appeared with the same demand. In vain Connie tried to question him, but apparently he knew no more English or jargon than the first.

"We've got to figure out some scheme to gum that dirty pup's game!"

cried the boy. "I just wish I was back in the Mounted for about a week!

I'd sure make that bird live hard! But in the Mounted or out of it, I'm going to make him quit his whiskey peddling, or some one is going to get hurt!"

'Merican Joe looked puzzled. "W'at you care 'bout dat? W'at dat mak' you mad som' wan sell Injun de _hooch_?"

"What do _I_ care! I care because it's a dirty, low-lived piece of work!

These Injuns need every bit of fur they can trap to buy grub and clothes with. When they get _hooch_, they pay a big price--and they pay it in grub and clothes that their women and children need!"

'Merican Joe shrugged philosophically, and at that moment another Indian stepped into the firelight. It was the man who had insisted upon their staying with him, and who Connie remembered had spoken a few words of English.

"You looking for _hooch_, too?" asked the boy.

The Indian shook his head vigorously. "No. _Hooch_ bad. Mak' Injun bad.

No good!"

Connie shoved the teapot into the coals and motioned the man to be seated, and there beside the little fire, over many cups of strong tea, the boy and 'Merican Joe, by dint of much questioning and much sign talk to help out the little English and the few words of jargon the man knew, succeeded finally in learning the meaning of the white man's trail in the snow. They learned that the Indians were Dog Ribs who had drifted from the Blackwater country and settled in their present location last fall because two of their number had wintered there the previous year and had found the trapping good, and the supply of fish and rabbits inexhaustible. They had done well with their traps, but they had killed very few caribou during the winter, and the current of the river had taken many of their nets and swept them away under the ice. The rabbits were not as plentiful as they had been earlier in the fall, and there was much hunger in the camp.

They traded as usual, and had gotten "debt" at Fort Norman last summer before they moved their camp. Later in the summer two men had come along in a canoe and told them that they would come back before the mid-winter trading. They said they would sell goods much cheaper than the Hudson's Bay Company, or the Northern Trading Company, and that they would also have some _hooch_--which cannot be obtained from the big companies.

Yesterday one of these men came into the camp. He had a few bottles of _hooch_ which he traded for some very good fox skins, and promised to return in six days with the other man and two sled loads of goods. He told them that they did not have to pay their debt to the companies at Fort Norman because everything at the fort had burned down--all the stores and all the houses and the men had gone away down the river and that they would not return. The Indians had been making ready to go to the fort to trade, but when they heard that the fort was burned they decided to wait for the free traders. Also many of the young men wanted to trade with the free traders because they could get the _hooch_.

The Indian said he was very sorry that the fort had burned, because he did not like the free traders, and he wanted to pay his debt to the company, but if there was n.o.body there it would be no use to make the long trip for nothing.

When he finished Connie sat for some time thinking. Then, producing a worn notebook and the stub of a pencil from his pocket he wrote upon a leaf and tore it from the book. When he spoke it was to 'Merican Joe.

"How long will it take you to make Fort Norman travelling light?" he asked.

"'Bout fi', six, day."

"That will be ten or twelve days there and back," figured the boy, as he handed him the note.

"All right. You start in the morning, and you go with him," he added, turning to the Indian.

"That white man lied! There has been no fire at the fort. He wants to get your skins, and so he lied. You go and see for yourself. The rest of them here won't believe me if I tell them he lied--especially as the young men want the _hooch_. I have written McTavish to send someone, back with you who has the authority to arrest these free traders. I'm going to stay to get the evidence. In the meantime you send your hunters on our back trail and they will find many caribou. Divide the meat we have on the sleds among the people--the women and the children. It will last till the men return with the meat. I am going to follow the free traders to their camp."

It took time and patience to explain all this to the Indian but once he got the idea into his head he was anxious to put the plan into effect.

He slipped away and returned with two other Indians, and the whole matter had to be gone over again. At the conclusion, one of them agreed to accompany Connie, and the other to distribute the meat, and to lead the caribou hunt, so after unloading the sleds and making up the light trail outfits, they all retired to get a few hours' sleep for the strenuous work ahead. How well they succeeded and how the free traders--but, as Mr. Kipling has said, that is another story.

CHAPTER XIII

AT THE CAMP OF THE _HOOCH_-RUNNERS

The late winter dawn had not yet broken when the little camp on the outskirts of the Indian village was struck and two dog teams drawing lightly loaded toboggans slipped silently into the timber. When out of sight and sound of the village the two outfits parted.

Connie Morgan, accompanied by an Indian named Ton-Kan, swung his great lead-dog, Leloo, to the eastward, crossed the river, and struck out on the trail of the free trader; while 'Merican Joe with Pierre Bonnet Rouge, the Indian who had told them of the free trader's plans, headed north-west in the direction of Fort Norman.

It was nearly noon six days later that they shoved open the door of the trading post and greeted McTavish, the big bewhiskered Scotchman who was the Hudson's Bay Company's factor.

"What are ye doin' back here--you? An' where is the lad that was with ye? An' you, Pierre Bonnet Rouge, where is the rest of your band? An'

don't ye ken ye're two weeks ahead of time for the tradin'?"

"_Oui, M's'u,_" answered the Indian. "But man say----"

He was interrupted by 'Merican Joe who had been fumbling through his pockets and now produced the note Connie had hastily scribbled upon a leaf of his notebook.

McTavish carried the sc.r.a.p of paper to the heavily frosted window and read it through slowly. Then he read it again, as he combed at his beard with his fingers. Finally, he laid the paper upon the counter and glanced toward a man who sat with his chair tilted back against the bales of goods beyond the roaring stove.

"Here's something for ye, Dan," he rumbled. "Ye was growlin' about fightin' them ice _bourdillons_, here's a job t'will take ye well off the river."

"What's that?" asked Dan McKeever--_Inspector_ Dan McKeever, _now_, of N Division, Royal Northwest Mounted Police. "It better be somethin'

important if it takes me off the river, 'cause I'm due back at Fort Fitzgerald in a month."

"It's important, all right," answered McTavish, "an lucky it is ye're here. That's one good thing the rough ice done, anyhow. For, if it hadn't wore out your dogs you'd be'n gone this three days. D'ye mind I told ye I'd heard they was a free trader over in the Coppermine country?

Well, there's two of 'em, an' they're workin' south. They're right now somewheres south of the big lake. They've run onto the Dog Ribs over near Ste. Therese, an' they're tradin' em _hooch_!"

"Who says so?" asked the Inspector, eying the two Indians doubtfully.

"These two. Pierre Bonnet Rouge I have known for a good many years. He's a good Indian. An' this other--he come in a while back with his pardner from over on the Yukon side. His pardner is a white man, an' about as likely a lookin' lad as I've seen. He's over there now on the trail of the free traders an' aimin' to stand between them 'an the Indians till someone comes with authority to arrest them."

"Who is this party, an' what's he doin' over in that country himself?"

"He's just a lad. An' him an' his pardner, here, are trappin'. Name's Morgan, an----"

Big Dan McKeever's two feet hit the floor with a bang, and he strode rapidly forward. "_Morgan_, did you say? _Connie Morgan?_"

'Merican Joe nodded vehemently. "Yes, him Connie Mo'gan! Him wan _skook.u.m tillic.u.m_."

The big inspector's fist smote the counter and he grinned happily. "I'll say he's _skook.u.m tillic.u.m_!" he cried. "But what in the name of Pat Feeney is he doin' over here? I heard he'd gone outside."