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Show VALLEY ; WCv voices 'If, mWSfy GEORGE MARSH ( l4kJmm y AUTHOR. OF rfM?MWk $ " TOILERS OF THE TRAIL 'ft1 -V'wV K "THE WHELPS OF THE WOLF sfcRvicfe Vi.y- v COPYRIGHT by THE PENN PUBLISHING CO. i look. "Lafiamme, monsieur, can give you anything you wish Including .Scotch whisky." The girl's dark eyebrows contracted at the mention of the Ogoke trader's name. "So he's giving the Indians whisky, Is he?" said Steele. "You are surprised?" laughed the factor bitterly. "For Monsieur La-flamme La-flamme It seems that Canadian law does not exist. With his whisky he will soon have the fur trade of the whole district." "They said as much at Fort Hope. But the authorities why don't they act?" St. Onge shrugged eloquently. "I do not know. He is running things with a high hand has support of the strongest at Ottawa." Steele turned with a smile to David who had been an interested listener to the conversation. "I think that we shall have to pay Monsieur Laflamrae a visit, David." St. Onge and his daughter exchanged ex-changed glances. "Daveed like to Shake de han' of Mister Lafiamme," replied the Ojib-way, Ojib-way, dryly. "I pity Lafiamme when you do. He'll carry his arm in a sling for a month if he ever falls into that wolf-trap wolf-trap of yours. "You see, colonel, David Is under the impression that Lafiamme Is an old friend," Steele enlightened his host, whose face reflected acute interest. in-terest. "Sometimes in meeting old friends he forgets in his joy that his alchemy of taste, been fused Into a room a home. "I did not know there was a room like this north of Winnipeg, mademoiselle," made-moiselle," Steele said In frank admiration. ad-miration. "Oh, monsieur! would you have us live like the Indians? But you are laughing at our poor little home." "Please don't," he tegged. "It Is charming this room. And all the books !" "It was hard on our packers," broke in St. Onge, "but I insisted on having hav-ing the books If I was to be marooned up here in this valley. The winter would be long without them and the violin." "I envy you the winters here with that violin, sir," said Steele, smiling at his hostess. "I hope to hear it again, mademoiselle your superb playing." Her face brightened. "It was only a mood today at the rapids, monsieur. mon-sieur. I go there when lonely, to play to the troubled waters. You thought me sad I saw it in your face; but I was only homesick for Touraine. Tonight To-night we shall have something gay." But Steele felt that it was not lone-, liness which had driven Denise SL Onge to the restless waters. "Monsieur, you will wish to see your room. Our Ojlbway servant, Charlotte, Char-lotte, will bring you hot water." And St. Onge led Steele to a room on the second floor of the house, the capacity capac-ity of which was strained by a cot and washstand, whither a square-built, half-breed woman followed shortly with a steaming bucket. Steele was thankful that his duffle bag contained a change of clothes and moccasins. Hot water, a shave and fresh clothes speedily worked a miracle mira-cle in the tattered stranger who had startled Denise St Onge at the rapids. When Steele rejoined his hostess he felt more at ease. He even had a suspicion that she approved his changed appearance. At the thought, something like a thrill swept him to be followed by a shrug of annoyance. He had not seen an attractive woman in months and was paying the penalty. penal-ty. Yet, as he watched her pour the tea while her father dispensed caribou stew and fried trout, a quality rarer than mere comeliness ; an evident fineness of fiber, a savor of personality in this factor's daughter, which meant race and background impressed itself it-self upon him, and a strong curiosity to know the history of these people whom he had stumbled upon in the bad-lands south of the Albany to learn the cause of the fear and heartache heart-ache which this lonely girl had so ' poignantly revealed in the gorge, possessed pos-sessed him. "You are collecting Indian relics and utensils for the American museum?'' asked the Frenchman. "You are an ethnologist?" "Yes, I have been In the field four years for the museum." "You have found much of interest?" "Last year and this summer, I shipped by Hudson's Bay canoes considerable con-siderable stuff from Fort Hope and Henley House. Lake Makakiberan on the Albany has some remarkable burial places, uplike anything I've seen. And the Ojibways up there are still very wild and superstitious medicine men, sorcerers, fear of spirits spir-its and the WIndigo, and all that." The factor paused, fork in air. Slowly he replaced it on his plate, untouched un-touched ; then asked : "You have never been in this valley val-ley before?" "No," replied Steele, puzzled at his host's tense manner, "but what I heard on the Albany interested me. It seems to be Windigo country among the Albany Ojibways under a sort of taboo. It must be a serious handicap handi-cap to your trade, although the very fact that you're here proves that it is not generally considered haunted country by the Indians." The fine features of St. Onge stiffened. stif-fened. With a glance at his daughter who watched him with parted lips and wide eyes, as though fearful of what he was about to say, he replied bitterly bit-terly : "That is our problem, monsieur. The company rashly builds a post on this river which, for a hundred miles below the rapids here, is to the Ojibways Ojib-ways a place of spirits ; then sends me here to get the fur of the upper country. At .Albany, they laugh at this talk of Windigo and spirits keeping keep-ing the Indians from trading here. They even order me to send hunters to trap the valley below us when they have avoided it for generations." "They only betray their ignorance by belittling Indian superstition, sir. I was followed and shot at on the Albany Al-bany this summer for photographing some Ojibway children. They believed be-lieved the lens was an evil eye and that the children would be bewitched." be-witched." The factor has his troubles, evidently, and is worried by them. What is the true inwardness? in-wardness? (TO BE CONTINUED.) Ml THE FACTOR SYNOPSIS. With David, half-breed half-breed uido, Urent Steele, of the American Museum of Natural History, His-tory, is traveling in northern Canada. By a stream he hears Denise, daughter of Col. Hilaire St. Onse, factor at Wailing River, play the violin superbly. He introduces in-troduces himself and accepts an Invitation to make the post his home during his stay. CHAPTER I Continued 2 In front of the trade-house, in conversation con-versation with David, stood a tall, military-looking man, with Iron-gray hair and mustache. Around the door lounged a group of curious company Indians. Advancing and gripping the newcomer's hand, the factor of Wailing Wail-ing River exclaimed : "Bon jour, Monsieur Steele 1 Welcome Wel-come to Walling River! My daughter and David have told me of our good . fortune." As the old soldier continued, with a slight French accent, Steele was aware of being secretly appraised by the keen eyes of the other. "You are to be our guest for as long as you will honor us. In this valley, for a man of science, there Is much of interest." ' "You are very good to a stranger, sir. David and I have been out from Neplgon since May. We need supplies and my stuff should also be overhauled. over-hauled. Some of it got wet bucking this river of yours." "Too bad! You found It a hard river to pole and track?" "We certainly did. David has a nose for quick water as keen as a mink's for fish, but we took too long a chance in the big white-water." At the mention of the rapid the face of St. Onge hardened. He leaned eagerly toward the speaker. "The Devil's mile! It got you too?" "Oh, we pulled out of it with a wetting. You see, I was with the best bow-man on the Neplgon, so we saved the canoe and our own skins as well." Slowly the Frenchman shook his head ; then suddenly asked : "You saw nothing on your way up-river up-river nothing peculiar, no signs of a canoe?" Steele wondered at the question as he answered : "No, we met no one. I imagine the Indians don't travel It, too much strong water, and then there's the taboo they're shy of the lower river, aren't they?" At the words, the narrowed eyes of St. Onge shifted to the ground. -He made no answer to the man who watched his set face, wondering, as it vitally affected the trade, why the factor avoided this subject of the Indians' In-dians' fear of the Windigo. Presently St. Onge broke his silence. "You will pardon me, Monsieur Steele, I am a poor host. If you were in the water you spoiled your flour you are hungry?" Steele glanced at the grinning David who plaintively placed a sinewy hand on his stomach. "Yes, we lost our flour and we saw no game, had to fish our way up the river, so, colonel, we are a bit hungry." Snapping his fingers with impatience impa-tience at his seeming lack of hospitality, hospital-ity, the factor called to the loungers at the trade-house door: "Michel! Tete-BoiUe! Bring up Monsieur Steele's stuff from the foot of the portage; and, Michel, David here will esr with you. See that there's plenty of caribou stew for supper. sup-per. He's starved out." Turning to Steele, the factor added : "My daughter daugh-ter is now overseeing the cooking 01 our dinner, monsieur. I trust yo'i will find It to your taste." "You are mighty kind to a couple of bush-battered strangers. Colonel St. Onge. We are not exactly starved, you know. We travel with a net, but a straight diet of pike and trout grows a bit tiresome. Yon can sell us supplies sup-plies to take us through to NepigonT" "You will not need to outfit for Neplgon," the factor's eyes grew bitter. bit-ter. "You will pass Luflamme's post at Lake Ognke." "Monsieur Steele will desire to be shown his room, father, before we dine," called a woman's voice. Turning. Turn-ing. Steele saw, opening the gate In the dog-stockad? surrounding the factor's fac-tor's quarters. Denise St. Onge, trim In white serge. Casting an embarrassed embar-rassed '00k at his frayed jeans, his hand snoight bis unshaven chin as she joined them. "Veloomt. ngaln, to Walling Kiver, monsieur," she said cordially, giving him her hand. "My daughter seems to need no Introduction. In-troduction. She has told me of your meeting at the river. Denise, Monsieur Mon-sieur Steele Is bound for the Neplgon by the Ogoke trail." The eyes of father fa-ther and daughter met in a significant Steele Was Thankful That His Duffle Bag Contained a Change of Clothes and Moccasins. hand-shake is famous from Nepigon to Norway House. In this case, David," he added grimly, "you'll have to remember that we're not on the Nepigon and must not mistake Monsieur Mon-sieur Laflamme's throat for his hand." Steele smiled inwardly as St. Onge's eyes shifted to meet those of his daughter, then focused quizzically on the grinning face of the half-breed. If the situation ut Wailing ltiver was a source of mystification to St. Onge's guest, Steele was satisfied that the guests had now balanced the score, to the truth of which surmise the face of the Frenchman patently testified. "But come, I forget my manners, monsieur. We have a room and bed for you as long as you will honor us. Jly head man, Michel, will take Cure of David." "Thank you, sir!" And picking up the bag containing his personal Belongings, Be-longings, Steele followed his host. The house of the factor of Walling River was built of square-hewn spruce logs, carefully chinked against the January winds of the Height-of-Land country. In front, a roofed porch of hewn slabs commanded a view of the river which here gave no intimation of the swift metamorphosis which, a third of a mile below, turned It into a riot of white rapids. Beside the porch a bed of violets and wood anemone were now bloomless, but beyond, be-yond, in their second flower.ng, white Canadian violets and the blue of fringed gentian and harebells against a background of northern golden rod bore gay witness to the care of one who loved flowers. Familiar with the bare and uninviting uninvit-ing interiors of the houses at the fur posts, often presided over by an Indian In-dian or half-breed, wife of the factor, the living-room Steele now entered bore resemblance to those he had seen solely in Its huge sheet-iron stove. The rough walls hung sparingly with small French etchings framed In white birch, the rustic furniture shaped from spruce and cedar poles, the shelves of books, and the rugs of moose and bear and wolf, had, by the |