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Updated: May 2, 2025
He stood, still holding Galen Albret immovably in the chair, looking steadily and angrily into the Factor's eyes, driving each word home with the weight of his contained passion. The girl touched his arm. "Hush! oh, hush!" she cried in a panic. "Do not anger him further!" "When you forbade me to make love to her," he continued, unheeding, "I laughed at you."
On the morning of the fourth day he left for a fort some miles to the eastward, and on the night before an incident happened which I must not forget to mention. We were sitting in the factor's room after supper the captain and I and he was reading an English paper that had come up with the last mail.
Entering the Square of the enclosure he looked nonchalantly about him. Two men, half-breeds, were sitting on a roughly-made bench outside the store, smoking and talking. Inside the store a tall Indian was bartering with a white man, whom he easily guessed to be the factor, and as he looked round from the open door of the factor's house, emerged a white woman whom he divined was the factor's wife.
Instead of that, she was deliberately pulling down the barrier of rank and social position which should exist between Lady Bridget O'Hara and the Factor's son, the Out-Back squatter Colin McKeith.
Every dog at the post dashed in with bristling hair and clamping jaws to overawe the strangers. Amid the hubbub of shouting men, women, and children, the cracking of whips, and the yelping of dogs, the packet was removed from the overturned sled and hustled into the Factor's office, where it was opened, and the mail quickly overhauled.
For two or three days he had been upon the lookout for a favourable opportunity to ask whether or not he was to go, and was thinking about it one Friday morning as he worked at the wood-pile, when "Secretary Bayard" hailed him: "Hey, there, Bob! The boss wants you." This was auspicious, and Bob hurried over to the factor's inner office, where he found Mr. MacPherson waiting for him.
One of his sources of income was the Mentor, a famous London weekly paper, which seemed to visitors to be taken in by every person of position in Thrums. It was to be seen not only in parlors, but on the armchair at the Jute Bank, in the gauger's gig, in the Spittal factor's dog-cart, on a shoemaker's form, protruding from Dr. McQueen's tail pocket and from Mr.
Then he paused and went on at greater length in regard to the stranger, speaking evenly but with emphasis. When he had finished, Galen Albret struck a bell at his elbow. Me-en-gan, the bowsman of the Factor's canoe, entered, followed closely by the young man who had that afternoon arrived.
Then Granger told him how, in the summer of every year, the outposts of the Hudson Bay Company send in their winter's catch of furs to the head fort of their district, which in this case was God's Voice, where the skins are baled and graded, and dispatched to the London headquarters which, being the most important duty of a factor's year, meant that Robert Pilgrim would have to return in order to superintend.
He was gone an hour. Lerue and the others were puzzled. It was not often that Marie came into the store. It was not often that they saw her at all. She remained hidden in the factor's log house, and each time that he saw her Lerue thought that her face was a little thinner than the last, and her eyes bigger and hungrier looking. In his own heart there was a great yearning.
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