Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

64 up the Saskatchewan over the lessening flood and threw a dispatch bag upon Carlisle’s desk. “You are Flaming Torch from the bay post of York Factory,” identified Carlisle, scanning him keenly, “but you have not come from the bay by canoe. I know that.” “No,” explained Flaming Torch, “TI came by dog-team. The trail was slow with the melting snows, and the floods caught me at the Pas. I had to wait for the ice torun. Then I came on with a canoe from the post.” “Stay here,” Carlisle directed him. “I may have a message to send back right away.” He knew Wayne and Andrews were out somewhere along the swollen river, so he took the dispatches over to his house to have privacy while reading them, but when he opened the council room door Joan sat there. “What is it, Paul?” she asked, looking up from the book she was reading. “Dispatches,” he replied with satisfac- tion. “I’ve looked for them a long time. Don’t let me disturb you, though. Go on with your reading. Ill just glance over them and get the news.” Most of them were documents of the ordinary post routine, things that would come under the jurisdiction and execution of Galt and his clerks, but finally he came to one of greater import. The sweeping chirography he recognized as the governor’s own handwriting, and it was addressed: Chief District Factor Carlisle, Cumberland House, Cumberland District, via Norway House. Also it was marked Important, and Carlisle tore it open with eager hands. It was written in con- versational style, and the body of it ran: All the Upper Country is a hell of smallpox! Between that and trade war, all of the Free-Trade and the majority of the Northwest posts are wiped out. As far as the latest dispatches by runners point out, the Northwest posts of James and Rod- erick McKenzie, McLeod, McDougall, Todd, Mc- Gillivray and Sager are the only ones left. These posts are very strong, as many of the other posts. evacuated and fell in on them. I have temporarily closed all our posts in the infected districts and freighted out the fur by the Churchill River, using dog teams for the purpose be- fore the river broke. The Northwesters have made no move, and beyond a doubt the McKenzies and the rest wil try to come down the Saskatchewan as usual in the Spring. You must stop them. They must not go through. father’s posts. Adventure I hope you are strong enough as you stand and have escaped the plague. If not, I can perhaps get you reinforcements up in time. Everything here on the bay is much the same. The past Winter has been a severe one, and it may be I shall not endure an- other. My health is failing greatly, and I think I may ask for a change in the Spring. Let me know your prospects by the runner who carries this!” As Carlisle raised his eyes from his reading he caught the gaze of Joan bent upon him across the table. “What is the news, Paul?” she asked earnestly. ‘‘Is it betraying confidences or trade secrets to tell me?”’ “No, Joan, there’s nothing in it you shouldn’t know about,” he assured her, handing the dispatch over the _ board. “You may read it for yourself. I’m sorry it confirms our worst news about your Soaring Eagle’s words were true. They’re all gone, it seems. The Northwesters fared somewhat better.” Joan quickly read the dispatch, and Carlisle saw the soft gleam of commisera- tion spring into her eyes. “T was afraid—so dreadfully afraid!’ she exclaimed. “‘Now I know. I know what I haven’t the heart to tell him. But it doesn’t make any mention of Richelieu, Paul. Do you think he’ll have reached any of these posts that remain unaffected?” “He has certainly reached one of them,” Carlisle emphatically declared. ‘He had the very best of dogs, and it wouldn’t take him long to reach, say, Todd’s post.” “Then perhaps he’ll warn them not to come down the Saskatchewan. Perhaps they'll try some other ruse or else hold their furs over for another year.” Carlisle shook his head. “They won’t do that,” he prophesied. “Furs held over are not so profitable as if marketed at once. Then, they have to go to Grande Portage for next year’s sup- plies. Besides, Richelieu is a bully and a fighter, no coward whatever. Nobody need warn him off, and he won’t warn anybody else off. “Even if any of the other partners object and want to play a safer game, he’ll smash their objections. JI know Simon Richelieu. He’ll come, and he’ll have all the North- west brigades under his command. Further than that, Joan, don’t you realize how much depends on my scattering his brigades here? If I should lose——” “Don’t, Paul, don’t mention that pos- sibility!’ cried Joan. MICLOO© SCO)