Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 31: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Ambush and storm on the lakes. But we are here at last.” “Ae, you are here, and it is good that your flag should float.” With his own hands, Galt took the stream- ing gonfalon from the stern of the canoe. It was soiled with river water, ripped by snags, scorched from the breath of forest fire, but these scars on the silk but lent it greater prestige. Proudly the chief trader carried it into the stockade ground, and ordered the post banner lowered. Quickly he fastened the gonfalon on and bade the Indians haul away on the halyard. pac AS HE emerged again the two ban- | + ay * ners rose to the staff tip, Com- —=— pany’s flag and Factor’s flag flying side by side. Another cheer rang from the palisade, and as Galt waved his hand the guns up-pointed and blazed in salute. “Factor,” spoke the chief trader in the ’ oratorical manner of his mother’s people, “YT hand you over the post.” Carlisle drew himself up proudly upon the shore. The flesh wound in his leg had practically healed. He stood straight and strong. “T take it from good hands, Galt,”’ he ac- cepted. “You I choose to retain as my chief trader. Eugene Drummond is my brigade leader, and it is news of Drummond I want to hear now. Have you seen any- thing of him?” “Three days ago Drummond came, he and other Hudson’s Bay men I did not know, as prisoners among the crews of Wayne the Free-Trader. I had orders not to bother anybody till you came. I knew something had gone wrong, but I obeyed my orders.” An exclamation of joy burst from Joan. She seized Carlisle’s arm with a little hysterical laugh, though the tears were in her eyes. ‘“‘He is here, Paul—he is here!’”’ she ex- ulted. “Richelieu didn’t catch him after all. But I was so fearful, even though you were so sure!”’ “Yes, it’s good news for you,” smiled Carlisle. ‘I thought Richelieu could hardly match him for woodcraft. And Richelieu himself, Galt,’’ addressing his chief trader again, “‘what about him?” “Four days ago the Northwester came,” answered Galt pointing where a scarce half- mile away Richelieu’s post flying the North- west flag showed vaguely in the deepening 29 dusk. ‘In June he took the Sturgeon Lake brigades down to Grande Portage with furs. Now he comes with the Winter supplies.” “T know,” Carlisle laughed grimly. “TI met him myself at Grande Portage, also on the way into the Pays d’en Haut. And he arrived first,eh? A day ahead! You hear that, Joan? Your father gave Richelieu the slip by leaving the river as I imagined.”’ “Ves, yes, but take me to him at once,”’ Joan pleaded. ‘You know he thinks I’m dead.” “In amoment,” assented Carlisle. ‘Galt, order the men of the post to stand to their _arms in case of trouble and you yourself go on and give the peace sign at Fort Wayne. Pll take my crew as bodyguard although I don’t suppose that is hardly necessary. Ha—you, Father Andrews! Like an un- grateful boy I was almost forgetting you. Go on inside, Father, and take the freedom of Cumberland House till I come back.” “No, Paul, I'll go with you,” decided the priest. “TI like to be by your side in case of trouble to add my influence to your own.” “Allright then, Father! Go ahead, Galt!” Wayne’s post stood as close to Cumber- land House as Richelieu’s. It, too, was less than half a mile away, although, close as the posts were together, it was no mystery that Carlisle had never seen Joan till he set eyes on her at Grande Portage. It was many years since he was here with Thompson, and Wayne at that time was es- tablishing other posts on the Saskatche- wan’s branches in territory far removed from Pine Island Lake. His Pine Island Lake post, only a trader’s cabin in the be- ginning, had grown as his trade grew, and he had added to it piece by piece, warehouse, fur house, spacious dwelling-house, all of logs, till his independent post under the Free-Trade flag was as large as that of either the Hudson’s Bay Company’s or the North- westers’. Only lately had he deemed it necessary to protect it in any material sense, increasing friction with both companies compelling the erection of the palisade against which Galt now hammered. ‘““Who’s that?’”’ demanded the gatekeeper, peering through the gloom. ‘You, Galt? What d’ye want?” But Galt, his open palm held out in the peace sign, was forestalled by the eager, excited Joan. ‘Open the gate, Murdock, open the gate!”’ COnmnicloo S (C@