Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 174: what you’re looking at

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

156 now, when he knew that Joe Moon was back again, he hesitated to notify the mounties. It would mean days of delay, perhaps weeks before Joe Moon could be apprehended, and even if his rival were brought to book at last, it would be too late to save Munroe. >t “DAT Injun, Mike, up on Spruce wb Lake, he tell me he sell Joe Moon ten beaver, eight marten, t’ree fox, for two bottle of booze, ”” went on Zotique. “T tell him he one big fool. He say he know dat now, but after he drink a leetle he sell everyt’ing he got for more whisky. Same way wit’ all de oders.” Munroe nodded. He remembered the In- dian, Mike, up on Spruce Lake. The red- skin had come to Wakina last break-up with a few beaver and mink, and a collection of muskrat skins which Joe Moon had refused to buy, and all else he had to show for his winter’s trapping had been penitent coun- tenance and some empty bottles. The furs had not paid his debt to the trading post for the food and:supplies which he had brought up into the bush with him the previous fall, he had lived in rank poverty all summer and was in deeper debt than ever to the com- pany when he set out again. There had been other Indians in a similar plight, with the exception of some fortunate souls whom Joe Moon had somehow over- looked and who had, accordingly, lived in the lap of luxury all summer, the envy of their crestfallen and repentant fellows. Munroe remembered giving the Indian from Spruce Lake a severe lecture and he had been duly shamed and admitted his folly. Like the others, he had promised to stay clear of Joe Moon’s blandishments in future, and trade only for money or goods, but it was as Zotique said— “After he drink a leetle he sell everyt’ing he got for more whisky.”’ That was where Joe Moon had the edge. Had he been an independent trader, in legitimate competition, he would not have been dangerous, but the liquor altered everything. “And you think it’]l be the same old story, eh, Zotique?” said Munroe. ‘The Indians will come down here in the spring without enough furs to make it worth while dealing with them.” “Same t’ing as last year,” grunted Zo- tique, tapping his pipe on the edge of his chair and reaching for the can of tobacco Adventure near by. ‘‘Mebbe a lot of dem Injuns not even pay deir debt. Next fall dey want more supply an’ want for you trust dem.” “T know. They’ll want us to trust them for supplies so they can go up and trap more furs for Joe Moon, and we lose our money. They don’t mean to do it, but once Joe Moon heaves in sight with his booze they — forget us altogether.” ‘An’ if you not give dem Injuns debt next fall, what can dey do? Dey jus’ move away somewhere else and you get no trade at all.” ‘‘He gets us coming and going.” ‘Bot’ ways.” Truly, Joe Moon held the upper hand. The full realization of this was beginning to dawn upon the factor. Through no fault of his own, he was being slowly and inevi- tably brought face to face with defeat, all by an enemy he had never seen, an enemy whom, it appeared, he could not fight. ‘What can we do about it, Zotique?” The French Canadian shrugged his shoul- ders. The factor’s problems were not his, It was not for him to suggest or advise. He was sorry for Munroe, for he had a shrewd inkling of the consequences to the factor should the season’s trade fail again, but so far as he was concerned he could not see that there was anything else to do but sit tight and hope that the gods of the wilderness saw to it that Joe Moon happily froze to death some bitter night or otherwise met a swift and sudden doom which would automatically solve the problem. Munroe did not expect a reply. He tapped the arm of the chair with his fingers and looked moodily at the ceiling, while Zotique puffed away at his pipe. He seemed utterly helpless. Up in the fur country Joe Moon was making away with the pelts, spring and another failure at the post were drawing nearer, and all he could do was sit there and await the in- evitable. ‘He wondered if he dared fight Joe Moon at his own game, go up the Missabi and buy from the Indians direct; he wondered if it would be of any use. For he could not stoop to the methods of Joe Moon, there could be no trading in Jiquor; he would have to rely on cash purchases. Would it be worth the risk, he asked him- self? For there would be risk. He would be dismissed from the service were it known that he deserted the post in midwinter, no matter how high his motives or how GOMIGOOO (©