Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 128: what you’re looking at

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

IIo leaders, and as a result the entire band fol- lowed him down the west shore a short dis- tance beyond the medicine place. They were happy to behold Carcajou and a large pile of goods. Carcajou was impatient to complete his venture before some caprice on the part of Durantaye’s savages compelled the “army” to return to the point, or before the Ottawas and Hurons shook off their sickness and discovered the trade being offered. Yet the bush loper betrayed nothing of his worry and took time to address the hunters and to explain that all the posts on the Upper Lakes were closed to trade until the Iroquois had been whipped. By the especial favor of Onontio, he told them, he was permitted as a favorite son to supply the Saulteurs with guns and powder and lead and goods at the Montreal prices. The Saulteurs, raised from despondency to great joy, patted him and called him brother, and the trade was opened. Whereas he had been deliberate in his talk and ap- peared almost reticent to begin the actual trading, he was soon working desperately fast. He curtailed much of the Indians’ enjoyment of lengthy bargaining. La Blanche, also uneasy, watched against an interruption from the strait or the Indian villages. The price of a trade gun was as many beaver, laid flat and pressed down, as would reach to the muzzle of the long weapon. Being a veteran at the work, he piled and tied the packs and marked them with Perrot’s name as fast as they could be assembled. Then he paid the Saulteurs a twenty-five pot keg of rum to carry the packs to the fort. The sentinel in the stockade gate was astounded to behold the long line of Indians coming in single file, each bowed beneath a heavy burden. Pausing only to advise the Saulteurs to carry their liquor back to the Sault before opening it, he further amazed the man on guard by announcing: “By order of M’sieur Nicolas Perrot; some of his trade he wishes to leave here till he can remove it.”’ “But M’sieur Perrot is not here!” cried the sentinel. “TI am not asking you to shelter m’sieur; only to shelter his beaver,” Carcajou re- minded him. The goods were admitted and placed in the storeroom, and Carcajou successfully insisted on a receipt for the number of Adventure bales. Once this was in his possession the moody expression vanished from his brown face and he became as boisterous as a boy. He ran to the edge of the water and capered and danced until a man at the fort told his companions: “That man is crazy. They say he has lived in the woods so long he can talk to animals.” “There is evil in him,” readily said an- other. ‘‘His eyes are bad. They say he can bewitch the fur off an animal’s back, and that when he hunts, one or more wol- verenes lead him to honest men’s traps.” “He can call wolverenes to him in the woods and make them catch animals and bring them to him,’ muttered a third. “If you should shoot him dead now, he would change back into a wolverene and run away.” ‘Papa La Blanche, who had gone along with the Sault Indians to see that they did not open their keg in the Ottawa village, finally came back and found his friend sprawled on his back, staring up at the blue sky. “Big ox!’ mumbled La Blanche. ‘Men are saying you have help from the evil one.” “You are half drunk without being happy. It’s a waste of good liquor to pour it down your scraggly throat. What do I care what those pigs say? I stole the English goods from under their drunken eyes and have traded for a fat profit within a mile of the fort. They don’t know enough to ask each other where I got the goods.” ‘“‘They are not so simple as all that, my little one,”’ corrected La Blanche. ‘“‘You’d find yourself tied up to a post if Old Papa wasn’t near to make a talk for you. I told them you got the goods from the sick Ot- tawas.”’ “Then they’re doubly stupid,’ laughed Carcajou. ‘The Ottawas and MHurons spoiled most of their goods while drunk. See here, Old Nonsense, you’ve disgraced me. You’re drunk. Your eyes look like holes burned in a new blanket.” La Blanche remained standing and stared out over the strait, slowly shifting his gaze to the West. “Bah! you blind old owl. Lie down and sleep off your wickedness,” sleepily advised Carcajou. “TI feel as restful as a child.” “To rest is good,’ muttered La Blanche, shading his eyes. It was past the meridian CORnNICLO© (©