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Updated: June 9, 2025
But he was not prepared for the contents: DEAR: Come to me at once. Come directly to the house. I am in great trouble. Ambrose, hastening back to Gaviller's house with a heart full of anxiety, came upon Gordon Strange as he rounded the corner of the company store. The breed was at the door. Evidently he harbored no resentment, for his face lighted up at the sight of an old friend.
He was relieved by the breed's news; he had feared worse. To be sure, it was terribly hard on Colina, but on his own account he could not feel much pain of mind over a sickness of Gaviller's. The half-breed girl who admitted him showed a scared yellow face. Evidently the case was a serious one. She ushered him into the library.
The stairs were thickly carpeted. Gaining the top his strained ears detected the whisper of a sound that suggested the closing of Gaviller's door. He knew the room. It was over the drawing-room, and cut off from the other rooms of the house. To reach the door one had to pass around the rail of the upper landing. Arriving at the door he did indeed find it closed.
But John Gaviller's absolute sway at the post had sapped the lesser men's initiative. He was not able to be present, and they were helpless. It was decided to send for help to police headquarters at Caribou Lake. They could not despatch the big steam-boat which had been dismantled for the winter, but the launch was available.
There is the crew of the steamboat, and the men who work for wages, maybe fifteen natives, not more." "What sort of a man is Greer?" asked Ambrose. "A lad; full of fun and jokes; a good machinist." "Where does he sleep at the Fort?" "He has a room in the old quarters. Gaviller's old house." "Does he sleep alone?" "He does."
"Do you know the reason for this attack?" demanded Ambrose. Several voices answered "No!" "All the flour was stored in Michel Trudeau's shack. Some wretch set fire to it and destroyed it all. Naturally they thought it was done by John Gaviller's orders. This is their reprisal." "You dared to think we would stoop to such a thing!" cried Colina.
At the head offices of the Northwest Fur Company it was given out this morning that the resignation of John Gaviller, the Company's trader at Fort Enterprise, had been accepted to take effect immediately. Duncan MacDonald, general manager of the Company, said, when asked for a further statement: "Mr. Gaviller's resignation was requested for the good of the service.
I haven't read many books either. I guess that's all guff, anyway. I didn't know how the thing ought to be carried through. But something told me if I knuckled under to you the least bit it would be all day with Ambrose." They laughed together. John Gaviller's step sounded on the porch outside. They sprang up aghast. They had completely forgotten his existence. "Oh, Heavens!" whispered Colina.
Gaviller's health was largely restored, but the old assurance was lacking, perhaps he would never be quite the same man again. He was prompted by Gordon Strange. Colina was not present. Ambrose had not seen her upon landing. The hearing was merely a perfunctory affair. All the prisoners were remanded to Prince George for trial.
He will not die of the shot. I can't tell yet what may develop." Ambrose halted at the open door of Gaviller's room. The windows looked out over the river, and the cooling northwest wind was wafted through. The hospital-like bareness of the room evinced a simple taste in the owner. The gimcracks he loved to make were all for the public rooms below. The head of the bed was toward the door.
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