Adventure, November 1915 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

The Posts It was plain that business of enormous magnitude was going on with Manikuagan the entrepdét, the last depot in the South from which to launch northward, the gate- way between the claimed land and the un- claimed. - Amid the straggle of long, low log build- ings rose one of loftier pretensions, and Du- bawni knew it for the headquarters of the depot, the abiding place of Hillaire Hel- baud. To this long log hall Lavergne stalk- ed straight across the flat rock-beach. As they dropped to the level of the river, the towering spruce shut out the westering sun, and the first shadows of evening touched the umber water. A bell rang in the long hall, and the relay of packers bound up the portage dropped their tump-lines and packs and swarmed into a side doorway. “Supper,” explained Lavergne tersely, as he flung open the front door. ‘The dining- hall is at the other end. This is Helbaud’s council-hall. Enter!’ CHAPTER V ULTIMATUM EFORE Dubawni and Masita stretch- ed a long, narrow room, papered with maps, decorated with gear and trophies of the North, with a great table at the farther end chaired about and heaped high with documents and a litter of paper of all kinds. At the head of the table sat Helbaud, tall, slender, a dandy of the woods compared to the uncouth packers in his train, with the polish of an old-world courtier and the domi- neering air of a Marquis. The uncommon swarthiness of his face be- trayed a mixed blood-strain, but he had- taken every pains in the matter of dress and toilet to proclaim the fact that he con- sidered himself French. This proclamation could be read in his sleek, black, carefully smoothed hair, in his ‘ clean-shaven, powdered cheeks, in the sharp-pointed, well-waxed mustache which tapered as fine as a cobbler’s sewing bristle and in a dozen other eccentricities of person and costume. If he had not been born French, he had studied the French, and none but those like Dubawni who knew = origin could have pierced his masquer- ade. “You son of a coureur de bois and a Mon- tagnais squaw,”’ roared Dubawni, as he of Pillage 107 came up the room at a half-run. ‘You rob- ber, you slime-born robber!” In-his rage he had forgotten Masita and the need of controlled parley. He sprang at Helbaud over the corner of the table, but he brought up against a solid ring of Hel- baud’s lieutenants, clerks, interpreters, post- keepers, gathered from the ends of the earth and sitting in conference with him. They ringed Helbaud ’round, and the latter, half- arisen, glared through their ranks into Du- bawni’s contorted face. The birth-taunt had bitten deeply, and all his vaunted polish, all the veneer he so assiduously assumed could barely. control the feline blood of him. His swarthy face worked convulsively, his eyes sprayed fire, and the wire-pointed mustache ends quiv- ered like the whiskers of a cat. “But—but you are a barbarian,” he grit- ted, as if excusing himself for not taking physical revenge, “a brute, Dubawni. For since you know not the force of polite words, you must be clubbed with rude. Sit down while I talk.” 7 He pointed out a chair for Dubawni and with a smirking bow indicated another for Masita. But Dubawni toed his chair across the room, and Masita’s eyes sparkled at the kick. “Good!” she exclaimed. “We sit not down with plunderers dnd thieves. By what right, Hillaire Helbaud, have you taken my father’s furs and interfered with him upon a traveled highway?”’ “Mon Dieu!” breathed Helbaud, running his bold eyes over her. ‘‘Need you ask?” He made a gallant sweep of his slender per- son. “And do you think my mind runs to furs when he carries greater wealth?” “Pah!’’ scorned Masita. And Dubawni crashed his fist down on the table among a muddle of papers and books. 3 “Have done!” he thundered. ‘TI will not have you speak to her. You will speak to me alone. And, by Heaven! You will talk man-talk, Helbaud, or I will break through your ring of curs!” “It is as ever,” observed Helbaud, wag- . ging his sleek head commiseratingly. “There is no diplomacy or subtlety in you. You must have things bare and blunt. I[ had negotiations planned out for you— amalgamation—absorption, but you must speak of robbery and hurl insults at large CORMELOOO S (C@) ofr ae 9S Hilal ASE ae