Classic Audiobook Collection - Conjuror's House, a Romance of the Free Forest by Stewart Edward White ~ Full Audiobook [romance]

Episode Date: May 19, 2023

Conjuror's House, a Romance of the Free Forest by Stewart Edward White audiobook. Genre: romance In the far northern Canadian wilderness, Conjuror's House stands as a lonely trading post where the Hudson Bay Company rules by distance, tradition, and fear. Virginia Albret has grown up inside that small, whitewashed outpost, the daughter of Galen Albret, the stern Factor who considers the forest, the river routes, and every competing trader to be under his control. Each brief summer brings a rush of brigades, voyageurs, and Indigenous families come to trade, and then the long winter closes in again. When a young free trader named Ned Trent arrives by canoe, he brings more than furs and bold talk: he challenges Albret's authority and awakens Virginia's hunger for a life beyond the post's rigid order. As rivalry flares between Company men and those who live by their own rules, the wilderness itself becomes an unforgiving judge, with perilous journeys, narrow margins of survival, and the constant threat of punishment known as the Long Traverse. Sweeping, atmospheric, and charged with romantic tension, Stewart Edward White's classic tale pits duty against desire and power against freedom at the edge of the known world. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:13:25) Chapter 02 (00:25:17) Chapter 03 (00:38:34) Chapter 04 (00:52:29) Chapter 05 (01:13:55) Chapter 06 (01:19:11) Chapter 07 (01:32:32) Chapter 08 (01:44:32) Chapter 09 (01:57:59) Chapter 10 (02:18:41) Chapter 11 (02:47:21) Chapter 12 (02:57:46) Chapter 13 (03:10:02) Chapter 14 (03:21:04) Chapter 15 (03:35:32) Chapter 16 (03:51:48) Chapter 17 (04:11:21) Chapter 18 (04:26:57) Chapter 19 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

conjurer's house a romance of the free forest by stuart edward white chapter one beyond the butternut beyond the maple beyond the white pine and the red beyond the oak the cedar and the beach beyond even the white and yellow birches lies a land and in that land the shadows fall crimson across the snow the girl stood in a bank above a river flowing north at her back crouched a dozen clean whitewashed buildings before her in interminable journey day after day league on league into remoteness stretched the stern northern wilderness untrodden saved by the trappers the indians and the beasts close about the little settlement crept the balsams and spruce the birch and poplar behind which lurked vast dreary muskegs a chaos of boulder splits the forest the girl had known nothing different for many years once a summer the sailing ship from england felt its frozen way through the hudson straits down the hudson bay to drop anchor in the mighty river of the moose once a summer a six-fathom canoe manned by a dozen paddles struggle down the waters of the broken abitabee once a year a little band of red-sashed voyageurs forced their exhausted sledge dogs across the ice from some unseen wilderness trail that was all before her eyes the seasons changed all grim but won by the very pathos of brevity sad in the brief luxuriant summer came the indians to trade their pelts came the keepers of the winter posts to rest came the ship from england bringing the articles of use or ornament she had ordered a full year before

within a short time all were gone into the wilderness into the great unknown world the snow fell the river and the bay froze strange men from the north glided silently to the factor's door bearing the meat and pelts of the seal bitter iron cold shackled the northland the abode of desolation armies of caribou drifted by ghostly under the aurora moose lordly and scornful stalked majestically along the shore wolves howled invisible or trotted dog-like in organized packs along the river banks. Day and night, the ice artillery thundered. Night and day, the fireplace's roared defiance to a frost they could not subdue, while the people of desolation crouched beneath a tyranny of winter. Then the upheaval of spring with the ice jams and terrors,

the moose roaring by, untamable. The torrents rising, rising, foot by foot to the very dooryard, her father's house. Strange spirits were abroad at night, howling, shrieking, cracking, and groaning in voices of ice and flood. Her Indian nurse told her of them all, of Manabosho the good, of Nina Bosho the evil, in her lisping Ojibwa dialect that sounded like the softer voices of the forest. At last the sudden subsistence of the waters, the splendid eager blossoming of the land into new leaves, lush grasses, an abandon of sweetbriar and hepatica. The air blew soft, a thousand singing birds sprang from the soil, the wild goose

cried in triumph. Overhead shone the hot sun of the northern summer. From the wilderness came the brigades, bearing their pelts, the hardy traders of the winter posts, striking hot the imagination through the mysterious and lonely allurement of their callings. For a brief season, transient as the flash of a loon's wing on the shadow of a lake, the post was bright with the thronging of many people. The Indians pitched their wigwams on the broad meadows below the bend. The half-breeds sauntered about, flashing bright teeth and wicked dark eyes at whom it might concern. The traders gazed stolidly over their little black pipes,

and uttered brief sentences through their thick black beards. Everywhere was gay sound, the fiddle, the laugh, the song. Everywhere was gay color, the red sashes of the voyagers, the beaded moccasins and leggings of the Métite, the Capotees of the brigade, the variegated costumes of the Crees and Ojibuas. Like the wild roses around the edge of the muskegs, this brief flowering of the year passed. Again the nights were long. Again, the frost crept down from the eternal snow.

Again, the wolves howled across barren wastes. Just now the girl stood ankle deep in green grasses, a bath of sunlight falling about her, a tingle of salt wind humming up the river from the bay's offing. She was clad in grey wool and wore no hat. Her soft hair, the color of ripe wheat, blew about her temples, shadowing eyes of fathomless black. The wind had brought to the light and delicate brown of her complexion,

a trace of color to match her lips, whose scarlet did not fade after the ordinary and imperceptible manner into the tinge of her skin, but continued vivid to the very edge. Her eyes were wide and unseeing. One hand rested idly on the breach of an ornamented bronze field gun. MacDonald, the chief trader, passed from the house to the store where his bartering with the Indians was daily carried on. The other Scotchman in the post, Galen Albert, her father, and the head factor of all this region, paced back and forth across the veranda of the factory, caressing his white beard. Up by the staccade, young Achilles Picard tuned his whistle to the

note of the curlew. Across the meadow from the church wandered Crane, the little church of England missionary, peering from short-sighted pale blue eyes. Beyond the Cooley, Sarnier and his Indians chock chocked away at the seams of the long coast trading baton. The girl saw nothing, heard nothing. She was dreaming, she was trying to remember. In the lines of her slight figure, in its pose, thereby the old gun over the old, old river, was the grace of gentle blood, the pride of caste. Of all this region her father was the absolute Lord, feared, loved, obeyed by all its human creatures. When he went abroad, he traveled in a state almost medieval in its magnificence. When he stopped at home, men came to him from the Albany,

the Kenogamy, the Missinabi, the Matagami, the Abitabi, from all the rivers of the north, to receive his commands. Way was made for him, his his lightest word was attended. In his house dwelt ceremony, and of his house she was the princess. Unconsciously she had taken the gracious habit of command. She had come to value her smile, her word, to value herself. The lady of a realm greater than the countries of Europe, she moved serene, pure, lofty amid dependence. And, And as the lady of this realm, she did honor to her father's guests, sitting stately behind the beautiful silver service, below the portrait of the company's greatest explorer,

Sir George Simpson, dispensing crude fare in gracious manner, listening silently to the conversation. Finally withdrawing at the last with a sweeping courtesy to play soft, melancholy, and world-forgotten airs on the old piano. brought over years before by the ladyhead, while the guests made merry with the mellow port and ripe manila cigars which the company supplied its servants, then coffee, still with her natural old-world charm of the Grand Dame. Such guests were not many, nor came often.

There was McTavish of Rupert's house, a three-day's journey to the northeast, Rand of Fort Albany, a week's travel to the northwest, Malt of Fort George, ten days beyond either, all grizzled in the company's service. With them came their clerks, mostly English and Scotch younger sons, with a vast respect for the company

and a vaster for their factor's daughter. Once in two or three years appeared the inspectors from Winnipeg, true lords of the north with their six-fathom canoes their luxurious furs their red banners trailing like gonfellons in the water then this post of conjurer's house feasted and danced undertook gay excursions discussed in public or private conclave weighty matters grave and reverend advices cautions and commands they went desoling desolation again crept in. The girl dreamed. She was trying to remember. Far off, half-forgotten visions of brave, courtly men,

of gracious, beautiful women, peopled the clouds of her imaginings. She heard them again, as voices beneath the roar of rapids, like far-away bells tinkling faintly through a wind, pitying her, exclaiming over her, she saw them dim and changing as wraiths of a fog as shadow pictures in a mist beneath the moon leaning to her with bright shining eyes full of compassion for the little girl who was to go so far away into an unknown land she felt them as the touch of a breeze when the night is still fondling her clasping her tossing her aloft in farewell one she felt plainly a gallant youth who held her up for all to see one she saw clearly a dewy-eyed lovely woman who murmured loving broken words one she heard distinctly a gentle voice that said god

love be with you little one for you have far to go and many days to pass before you see quebec again and the girl's eyes suddenly swam bright for the northland was very dreary she drew her palms out in a gesture of weariness then her arms dropped her eyes widened her head bent forward in the attitude of listening achille she called achille come here the young fellow approached respectfully mademoiselle he asked don't you hear she said faint between intermittent silences came the singing of men's voices from the south grasse adieu cried achille it is so it is that brigade He ran shouting toward the factory. End of Chapter 1. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 2 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 2 Men, Women, Dogs, Children, Spellors. sprang into action from nowhere and ran pell-mell to the two cannon gaelan albert reappearing from the factory began to issue orders two men set about hoisting on the tall flagstaff the blood-red banner of the company speculation excited and earnest arose among the men as to which of the branches of the moose this brigade had hunted the abitabee the metagomy or the misanais The half-breed women shaded their eyes.

Mrs. Cockburn, the doctor's wife, and the only other white woman in the settlement, came and stood by Virginia Albert's side. Wishkoban, the Achebwa woman from the South Country, and Virginia's devoted familiar, took her half-gealous stand on the other. "'It is the same every year, we always like to see them come,' said Mrs. Cockburn. in her monotonous low voice of resignation yes replied virginia moving a little impatiently for she anticipated eagerly the picturesque coming of these men of the silent places and wished to savor the pleasure undistracted me di mo ye car winnie she shin said wishcobin quietly ay replied virginia with a little laugh patting the woman's brown hand a shout arose around the bend shot a canoe at once every paddle in it was raised to a perpendicular salute then altogether dashed into the water with the full strength of the voyageurs wielding them

The canoe fairly leaped through the cloud of spray. Another rounded the bend. Another double row of paddles flashed in the sunlight. Another crew broke into a tumult of rapid exertion as they raced the last quarter mile of the long journey. A third burst into view, a fourth, a fifth. The silent river was alive with motion, glittering with color. The canoes swept onward, like racehorses streamed,

against the rider. Now the spectators could make out plainly the boatman. It could be seen that they had decked themselves out for the occasion. Their heads were bound with bright-colored fillets, their necks with gay scarves. The paddles were adorned with gaudy woolen streamers. New leggings of holiday pattern were intermittently visible on the bowsmen and steersmen as they half rose to give added force to their efforts. At first the men sang their canoe songs, but as the swift rush of the birch barks brought them almost to their journey's end, they burst into wild shrieks and hoops of delight.

All at once they were close to hand. The steersman rose to throw his entire weight on the paddle. The canoe swung abruptly for the shore. Those in it did not relax their exertions, but continued their vigorous strokes until within a few yards of apparent destruction. "'Hola! Holla!' they cried, thrusting their paddle straight down into the water with a strong backward twist. The stout wood bent and cracked.

The canoe stopped short, and the voyageurs leaped ashore to be swallowed up in the crowd that swarm down upon them. The races were about equally divided, and each acted after its instant. the Indian greeting his people quietly and stalking away to the privacy of his wigwam, the more volatile white catching his wife or his sweetheart or his child to his arms. A swarm of Indian women and half-grown children set about unloading the canoes. Virginia's eyes ran over the cruise of the various craft. She recognized them all, of course, to the last Indian packer, for in so small a community, the personality and doings of even the humblest members are well known to everyone.

Long since, she had identified the brigade. It was of the Missinabe, the great river whose headwaters rise a scant hundred feet from those that flow as many miles south into Lake Superior. It drains a wild and rugged country whose forests cling to boulder hills, whose streams issue from deep-riven gorges, where for many years the big gray wolves had gathered in unusual abundance. She knew by heart the winter posts, although she had never seen them. She could imagine the isolation of such a place, and the intense loneliness of the solitary man condemned to live through the dark northern winters,

seeing no one but the rare Indians who might come in to trade with him for their pelicans, She could appreciate the wild joy of a return for a brief season to the company of fellow men. When her glance fell upon the last of the canoes, it rested with a flash of surprise. The craft was still floating idly, its bow, barely caught against the bank. The crew had deserted, but amid ships, among the packages of pelts and duffel, sat a stranger. The canoe was that of the post at kettle portage. She saw the stranger to be a young man with a clean-cut face, a trim athletic figure dressed in the complete costume of the voyagers,

and thin brown and muscular hands. When the canoe touched the bank, he had taken no part in the scramble to shore, and so had sat forgotten and unnoticed, saved by the girl, his figure erect with something of the Indian stoical indifference. Then, when for a moment, he imagined himself free from observation, his expression abruptly changed. His hands clenched tense between his buckskin knees,

his eyes glanced here and there restlessly, and an indefinable shadow of something which Virginia felt herself obtuse in labeling desperation, and yet to which she discovered it impossible to fit a name descended on his features darkening them twice he glanced away to the south twice he ran his eye over the vociferating crowd on the narrow beach absorbed in the silent drama of a man's unguarded expression virginia leaned forward eagerly in some vague manner it was borne in on her that once before she had experienced the same emotion had come into contact with some one something that had affected her emotionally just as this man did now but she could not place it over and over again she forced her mind to the very point of recollection but always it slipped back again from the verge of attainment then a little movement some thrust forward of the head some nervous rapid shifting of the hands or feet some unconscious poise of the shoulders brought the scene flashing before her the white snow the still forest the little square pen trap the wolverine desperate but cool thrusting its blunt nose quickly here and there in baffled hope of an orifice of escape

somehow the man reminded her of the animal the fierce little woods marauder trapped and hopeless but scorning to cower as would the gentler creatures of the forest abruptly his expression changed again his figure stiffened the muscles of his face turned iron virginia saw that someone on the beach had pointed toward him his mask was on the first burst of greeting was over here and there one or another of the brigade members jerked their heads in the stranger's direction explaining low-voiced to their companions soon all eyes turned curiously toward the canoe a hum of low-voiced comment took the place of louder delight the stranger finding himself generally observed rose slowly to his feet picked his way with a sound of a small-voiced comment took the place of louder delight the stranger finding himself generally observed rose slowly to his feet picked his way with a certain exaggerated deliberation of movement over the duffel lying in the bottom of the canoe, until he reached the bow, where he paused, one foot lifted to the gun while just above the emblem of the painted star. Immediately a dead silence fell. Groups shifted, drew apart, and together again, like the slow agglomeration of sawdust on the surface of water, until at last they formed in a

semicircle of staring, whose center was the bow of the canoe and the stranger from kettle portage. The men scowled, the women regarded him with a half-fearful curiosity. Virginia Albert shivered in the shock of this sudden electric polarity. The man seemed alone against a sullen, unexplained hostility. The desperation she had thought to read, but a moment before, had vanished utterly, leaving in its place a scornful indifference and perhaps more than a trace of recklessness. He was ripe for an outbreak. She did not in the least understand, but she knew it from the depths of her woman's instinct, and unconsciously her sympathies flowed out to this man, alone without a

greeting where all others came to their own. For perhaps a full sixty seconds, the newcomer uncertain what he should do, or perhaps waiting for some word or act to tip the balance of his decision. One after another, those on shore felt the insolence of his stare, and shifted uneasily. Then his deliberate scrutiny rose to the group by the cannon. Virginia caught her breath sharply. In spite of herself, she could not turn away. The stranger's eye crossed her own. She saw the hard look fade into pleased surprise. Instantly his hat swept the gunwool of the canoe.

He stepped magnificently ashore. The crisis was over. Not a word had been spoken. End of Chapter 2. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 3 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline

Conjurer's House, A Romance of the Free Forest by Stuart Edward White Chapter 3 Galen Albrecht sat in his rough-hewn armchair at the head of the table, receiving the reports of his captains. The long, narrow room opened before him, heavy, raftered, massive, white, with a cavernous fire. fireplace at either end. Above him frowned Sir George's portrait. At his right hand and his left stretched the row of homemade heavy chairs, finished smooth and dull by two centuries of use.

His arms were laid along the arms of his seat. His shaggy head was sunk forward until his beard swept the curve of his big chest. The heavy tufts of hair above his eyes were drawn steadily together in a frown of attention. One after another the men arose and spoke. He made no movement, gave no sign, his short, powerful form blotted against the lighter silhouette of his chair, only his eyes and the white of his beard gleaming out of the dusk. Kern of Old Brunswick House,

Arshard of New, Kiwanee, the Indian of Flying Post. These and others told briefly of many things, each in his own language. To all, Galen Albert listened in silence. Finally, Louis Placid from the post at kettle portage got to his feet. He too reported of the trade. So many beaver of tobacco, of powder, of lead, of pork, of flour, of tea, given in exchange. So many mink, otter, beaver, ermine, Martin, and fisher pelts taken in return.

Then he paused and went on at greater length in regard to the stranger, speaking evenly but with emphasis. When he had finished, Galen Albert struck a bell at his elbow. Me and Gunn, the bowsman of the factor's canoe, entered, followed closely by the young man who had that afternoon arrived. He was dressed still in his cousin. costume of the Voyager, the loose blouse shirt, the buckskin leggings and moccasins, the long-tasseled red sash. His head was as high and as glance as free, but now the steel blue of his eye had become steady and wary,

and two faint lines had traced themselves between his brows. At his entrance a hush of expectation fell. Galen Albret did not stir, but the others hitched nearer the long, narrow table, and two or three leaned both elbows on it the better to catch what would ensue. Meengan stopped by the door, but the stranger walked steadily the length of the room until he faced the factor. Then he paused and waited collectively for the other to speak. This the factor did not at once begin to do, but sat impassive. apparently without thought, while the heavy breathing of the men in the room

marked off the seconds of time. Finally, abruptly, Galen Albert's cavernous voice boomed forth. Something there was strangely mysterious, cryptic in the virile tones issuing from a bulk so massive and inert. Galen Albert did not move, did not even raise the heavy-litted dull stare of his eyes to the young man who stood before him. Hardly did his broad arched chest seem to rise and fall with the respiration of speech,

and yet each separate word leaped forth alive, instinct with authority. Once at left foot lake, two Indians caught you asleep, he pronounced. They took your pelts and arms and escorted you to Sudbury. They were my Indians. Once on the upper Abidabee, you were stopped by a man named Herbert, who warned you from the country after relieving you of your entire outfit. He told you on parting what you might expect if you should repeat the attempt. Severe measures, the severest.

Herbert was my man. Now Louis Placid surprises you in a rapids near Kettle Portage and brings you here. During the slow delivering of these accurately spaced words, the attitude of the men about the long, narrow table, gradually changed. Their curiosity had been great before, but now their intellectual interest was awakened, for these were facts of which Louis Placid's statement had given no inkling. Before them, for the dealing, was a problem of the sort whose solution had earned for Galen Albert a reputation in the North country. They glanced at one another to obtain the sympathy of attention,

then back toward their chief in anxious expectation of his next words. The stranger, however, remained unmoved. A faint smile had sketched the outline of his lips when first the factor began to speak. This smile he maintained to the end. As the older man paused, he shrugged his shoulders. All of that is quite true, he admitted. Even the unimaginative men of the silent place.

has started at these simple words, and vouchsafe to their speaker a more sympathetic attention. For the tones in which they were delivered possessed that deep, rich throat timber, which so often means power, personal magnetism, deep from the chest, with vibrant throat tones suggesting a volume of sound, which may in fact be only hinted by the loudness the man at the moment sees fit to employ. Such a voice is a response of instrument on which emotion and mood play wonderfully seductive strains. All of that is quite true, he repeated after a second's pause. But what has it to do with me? Why am I stopped and sent out from the free forest?

I am really curious to know your excuse. This, replied Galen Albert, waitily, is my domain. I tolerate no rivalry here. "'You're right?' demanded the young man, briefly. "'I have made the trade, and I intend to keep it. "'In other words, the strength of your good right arm,' "'supplemented the stranger with the faintest hint of a sneer. "'That is neither here nor there,' rejoined Galen Albert. "'The point is that I intend to keep it.

"'I've had you sent out, but you have been too stupid "'or too obstinate to take the hint.' now i have to warn you in person i shall send you out once more but this time you must promise me not to meddle with the trade again he paused for a response the young man's smile merely became accentuated i have means of making my wishes felt warned the factor quite so replied the young man deliberately la long traversed At this unexpected pronouncement of that dread name, two of the men swore violently. The others thrust back their chairs and sat, their arms rigidly braced against the table's edge, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the speaker. Only Galen Albert remained unmoved.

"'What do you mean by that?' he asked calmly. "'It amuses you to be. ignorant, replied the stranger with some contempt. Don't you think this farce is about played out? I do. If you think you're deceiving me any with the show of formality, you're mightily mistaken. Don't you suppose I knew what I was about when I came into this country? Don't you suppose I had weighed the risks and had made up my mind to take my medicine if I should be caught? Your methods are not quite so secret as you imagine. I know perfectly well what happens to free traders in Rupert's land.

You seem very certain of your information. Your men seem equally so, pointed out the stranger. Galen Albert, at the beginning of the young man's longer speech, had sunk almost immediately into his passive calm, the calm of great elemental bodies, the calm of a force so vast as as to rest motionless by the very static power of its mass. When he spoke again, it was in the tentative manner of his earlier interrogatory, committing himself not at all, seeking to plumb his opponent's knowledge. Why, if you have realized the gravity of your situation, have you persisted after having been twice warned, he inquired?

Because you're not the boss of creation, replied the young man, bluntly. Galen Albret merely raised his eyebrows. I've got as much business in this country as you have, continued the young man, his tone becoming more incisive. You don't seem to realize that your charter of monopoly has expired. If the government was worth a damn, it would see to you, fellows. You have no more right to order me out of here than I would have to order you out.

Suppose some old husky up on Whale River should send you word that you weren't a trap in the Whale River district next winter. I'll bet you'd be there. You Hudson Bay men tried the same game out west. It didn't work. You ask your western men if they ever heard of Ned Trent. Your success does not seem to have followed you here, suggested the factor, ironically. The young man smiled. This long traverse, went on, Albert.

What is your idea there? I have heard something of it. What is your information? Ned Trent laughed outright. You don't imagine there is any secret about that, he marveled. Why, every child north of the line knows that. You will send me away without arms, and with but a handful of provision.

If the wilderness and starvation fail, your runners will not. I shall never reach the Tamiskaminga's alive. The same old legend, commented Galen Albert in apparent amusement. I heard it when I first came to this country. You'll find a dozen such in every Indian camp. Joe Bagnos, Morris Proctor, John May, "'William Jarvis,' checked off the young man on his fingers. "'Personal entity,' replied the factor.

He glanced up to meet the young man's steady, skeptical smile. "'You do not believe me?' "'Oh, if it amuses you,' conceded the stranger. "'The thing is not even worth discussion.' "'Remarkable sensation among our friends here for so idle a tale, Gil. Gail and Albert considered, "'You will remember that throughout you have forced this interview,' he pointed out. "'Now I must ask your definite promise to get out of this country and to stay out.'

"'No,' replied Ned Trent. "'Then a mean shall be found to make you,' threatened the factor, his anger blazing at last. "'Ah!' said the strange. softly. Galen Albert raised his hand and let it fall. The bronzed and godily bedecked men filed out. End of Chapter 3. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 4 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline.

Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. Romance of the Free Forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 4 In the open air the men separated in quest of their various families or friends. The stranger lingered undecided for a moment on the top step of the veranda, and then wandered down the little street, if street it could be called, where horses there were none. On the left ranged the square whitewashed houses with their door-yard, the old church,

the workshop. To the right was a broad grass plot, and then the moose, slipping by to the distant offing. Over a little bridge the stranger idled, looking curiously about him. The great trading-house attracted his attention, with its narrow picket lane leading to the door, the storehouse surrounded by a protective log fence, the fort itself, a medley of heavy timbered stockades and square block houses. After a moment he resumed his strolling. Everywhere he went, the people looked at him, ceasing their varied occupations. No one spoke to him, no one hindered him. To all intents and purposes, he was as free as the air. But all about the island flowed the barrier of the moose, and beyond frowned the wilderness, strong as iron bars to an unarmed man.

brooding on his imprisonment the free trader forgot his surroundings the post the river the forest the distant bay faded from his sight and he fell into deep reflection there remained nothing of physical consciousness but a sense of the grateful spring warmth from the declining sun at length he became vaguely aware of something else he glanced up Right by him he saw a handsome French half-breed sprawled out in the sun against a building, looking him straight in the face and flashing up at him a friendly smile. "'Hello!' said Achille Picard. "'You must ben sleep. I call you two-tree time!' The prisoner seemed to find something grateful in the greeting, even from the enemy's camp. perhaps it merely happened upon the psychological moment for a response hullo he returned and seated himself by the man's side lazily stretching himself in enjoyment of the reflected heat

you is come off kettle portage eh said achille i think so you has come trade those fur it is bad business disconge your house old man he no like that you trade those fur he's very hard dat old man yes replied the stranger he has got to be i suppose this is the country of la long traverse i believe you responded achille cheerfully what you call him your name ned trent me achilly achille achille picard i capitan of those dogs on that winter brigade it is a hard post the winter travel is pretty tough i believe you better to take la long traverse in summer huh la long traverse he's not matter when you take him right you are have there been men sent out since you came here bah wi one two three i don't remember i tink joe banyo nobody he don't know but that old man and he's courer dubois he is one ver grete man nobody knows what he will do i'm due to hit that trail myself i suppose said ned trent "'I have tink so,' acknowledged Achilles, still with the tone of most engaging cheerfulness. "'Shall I be sent out at once, do you think?'

"'I don't know. "'Sometimes that old man very quick. "'Some time he very slow. "'One day, Injun make him very mad. "'He'd let him go and shut that engine right off. "'Nother time he get mad on one voyager, but he don't kill him quick. He bring him here, make him stay in those warm room, feed him those plenty grub. Pretty soon those voyagers get fat, his go soft.

He no good for those trail. Old man, he make him go very far off. Most to whale river. It is plenty coal. That voyageur, he frees to his inside. They tell me he fix him like. Like that. Achille, you haven't got anything against me.

Do you want me to die? The half-breed flashed his white teeth. Ban no, he replied carelessly. For what I want that you die? I think you bus up bad. Vos avee fortune. Listen, I have nothing with me. But out at the front I am very rich.

I will give you a hundred. if you will help me to get away. I can't do it, smiled Picard. Why not? Old man, he find that out. He is one devil, that old man. I like first-rate help you. I like that hundred dollar.

On the Ojibway country, they make his name Wargosh. That mean fox. He know everything. I'll make it two hundred. 300, 300. What you want me do? Hesitated Achilles Picard at the last figure. Get me a rifle and some cartridges.

The half-breed rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and inhaled a deep breath. I can't do it, he declared. I can't do it for a thousand dollar, ten thousand. I don't think you find anyone. in this settlement what can dare do it. He is one devil. He's count all the carabine on de post, and when he is miss one,

he find out pretty quick who has taken. Steal one from someone else, suggested Trent. He find out just same, objected the half-breed, obstinately. You don't know him. He make you give yourself away, when he like do that. the smile had left the man's face this was evidently too serious a matter to be taken lightly well come with me then urged ned trent with some impatience a thousand dollars i'll give you with that you can be rich somewhere else

but the man was becoming more and more uneasy glancing furtively from left to right and back again in an evident panic lest the conversation be overheard although the nearest dwelling-house was a score of yards distant hush he whispered you mustn't talk like dat does old man find you out you can't hide away from him old time long ago pier cahdott is stole fifteen skis of the otter, the sea otter, and he has sold him in Winnipeg. He has got about thousand beaver, five hundred dollars. Then he has made those long voyage west, very far west, on de Peace River. He has make him those cabin, where he has lived long time with one man of Mackenzie. He is call it his name Dick Henderson. I is meet Dick Henderson on Winnipeg last year, when I make paddle on them factor brigade and those high commissionaire. He has told me one night pretty late, he wake up all the quick he can when he is here

one noise in this cabin, and he has seen one engine, like phantom against the moon to the door. Dick Henderson, he is sleep, so he don't know what he must do. Thus engine is very soft and go on bunk of Piercadot. piercadot has made a big cry dick henderson say he no seed o's injun no more and he find the door shut bah piercadot she's got dead he has make one big hole in his chest some enemy some robber frightened away because the henderson man woke up probably suggested ned trent the half-breed laid his hand impressively on the other's arm and leaned forward until his bright black eyes were within a foot of the other's face when dos injun is stand him in the moonlight dick henderson sees his face dick henderson is no all dos injun he has told me that engine is not peace river engine dick henderson has said those engine is ojibwa engine ojibwa engine two thousand miles west on pice river dat's That's curious.

I was tell you another story, went on Akeel after a moment. Never mind, interrupted the traitor. I believe you. Maybe, said Akeel cheerfully, you stand somehow, not much, if he send you out pretty quick. Those small pedreous young and those duck. Maybe you has catch them. Maybe you has killed him with bow and arrow. That's not big chance.

You must give those courer du bois To sleep when you arrive. Voila, I give you my knife. He glanced rapidly to right and left, Then slipped a small object into the stranger's hand. Ba, I think does old manis know that. I think he keep you here till time when those pedri and ducks is all grown up big enough so he can fly.

i'm not watched said the young man in eager tones i'll slip away to-night dat no good objected picard what you do suppose you do dat those kudur kill you too sweet they is have good excuse and you is have nothing to make the fight you sleep away and those old man is sent out plenty injun dey dey dey is fine you sure bah if he sent you out then he send only two injun maybe you fight them i don't know no mon ami if you's wan get away when those old man he don't know it you must have those carbine "'Then you will have one little chance. "'But if you is not having those carbine, "'you must need those little grub he give you, "'and not plenty injun follow you, only two. "'And I cannot get the rifle.

"'And those old man is don't send you out till it is too late "'to make the grub on the forest. "'That's what I think. "'That is not funny for you.' Ned Trent's eyes were almost black with thought. Suddenly he threw his head up. "'I'll make him send me out now,' he asserted confidently. "'How you make it him?'

"'I'll talk turkey to him till he's so mad he can't see straight. Then maybe he'll send me out right away.' "'How you make him so mad?' inquired Picard, with mild curiosity. "'Never you mind. I'll do it.' "'Bah, we,' ruminated Picard. "'He is get mad pretty quick. "'I think perhaps that plan he'd go all right. "'You was get him mad plenty easy.

"'Then maybe he'll send you out, too sweet. "'Maybe he'll shoot you. "'I'll take the chances, my friend.' "'Bah, we!' shrugged Achille Picard. card. Eadies one chance. He commenced to roll another cigarette. End of Chapter 4. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 5 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the Free Forest. This Libravox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 5. Having sat buried in thought for a full five minutes after the traders of the winter posts had left him, Galen Albert thrust back his chair and walked into a room, long, low, and heavily raftered, strikingly unlike the council room. Its floor was overlaid with dark rugs. A piano of ancient model filled one corner. Pictures and books broke the wall. the lamps and the windows were shaded. A woman's work-basket and a tea-set occupied a large table.

Only a certain barbaric profusion of furs, the huge fireplace, and the rough rafters of the ceiling differentiated the place from the drawing-room of a well-to-do family anywhere. Galen Albrecht heavily into a chair and struck a bell. A tall, slightly stooped English servant, with correct, side-whiskers and incompetent, watery blue eyes answered. To him said the factor, I wish to see Miss Albert. A moment later, Virginia entered the room. Let us have some tea, oh, me, me, requested her father. The girl moved gently about, preparing and lighting the lamp, measuring the tea, her fair head bowed gracefully over her

task, her dark eyes pensive and but half following what she did. Finally, with a certain air of decision, she seated herself on the arm of a chair. "'Father,' said she. "'Yes?' "'A stranger came to-day with Louis Placid of Kettleportage.' "'Well?' "'He was treated strangely by our people, and he treated them strangely in return. Why is that?

Who can tell? What is his station? Is he a common trader? He does not look it. He is a man of intelligence and daring. Then why is he not our guest? Galen Albrecht did not answer. After a moment's pause, he asked again for his tea.

The girl turned away impatiently. here was a puzzle neither the voyagers nor wishkobin her nurse nor her father would explain to her the first had grinned stupidly the second had drawn her shawl across her face the third asked for tea she handed her father the cup hesitated then ventured to inquire whether she was forbidden to greet the stranger should the occasion arise he is a gentleman replied her father she sipped her tea thoughtfully her imagination stirring again her recollection lingered over the clear bronze lines of the stranger's face something vaguely familiar seemed to touch her consciousness with ghostly fingers she closed her eyes and tried to clutch them at once they were withdrawn and then again when her attention wandered they stole back plucking appealingly at the hem of her recollections. The room was heavily curtained, deep embrasured, for the house, beneath its clapboards, was of logs. Although out of doors, the clear spring sunshine still flooded the valley of the moose. Within, the shadows had begun with velvet

fingers to extinguish the brighter lights. Virginia threw herself back on a chair in the corner. Virginia, said Galen Albert suddenly. Yes, father. You are no longer a child, but a woman. Would you like to go to Quebec? She did not answer him at once, but pondered beneath close-knit brows. Do you wish me to go, father? she asked at length.

You are eighteen. It is time you saw the one. world, time you learned the ways of other people. But the journey is hard. I may not see you again for some years. You go among strangers. He fell silent again. Motionless he had been, except for the mumbling of his lips beneath his beard.

It shall be just as you wish, he added a moment later. At once a conflict arose in the girl's mind between her restless dreams. and her affections. But beneath all the glitter of the question, there was really nothing to take her out. Here was her father, here were the things she loved. Yonder was novelty and loneliness.

Her existence at Conjurer's house was perhaps a little complex, but it was familiar. She knew the people, and she took a daily and unwearying delight in the kindness and simplicity of their bearing toward herself. Each detail of life came to her in the round of habit,

wearing the garment of accustomed use. But of the world, she knew nothing except what she had been able to body forth from her reading, and that had merely given her imagination something tangible with which to feed herself distrust. Must I decide at once? she asked. If you go this year, it must be with the Abitabee Brigade. You have until then.

Thank you, father, said the girl, sweetly. The shadows stole their surroundings one by one until only the bright silver of the tea service, and the glitter of polished wood, and the square of the open door remained. Galen Albert became an inert, dark mass. Virginia's gray was lost in that of the twilight. time passed the clock ticked on faintly sounds penetrated from the kitchen and still more faintly from out of doors then the rectangle of the doorway was darkened by a man peering uncertainly the man wore his hat from which slanted a slanted a slender heron's plume his shoulders were square his thighs slim and graceful

against the light one caught the outline of the sashes tassel and the fringe of his leggings are you there gaelan albert he challenged the spell of twilight mystery broke it seemed as if suddenly the air had become surcharged with the vitality of opposition what then countered the factor's heavy deliberate tones true i see you now rejoined the visitor carelessly as he flung himself across the arm of a chair and swung one foot. I do not doubt you are convinced by this time of my intention. My recollection does not tell me what messenger I sent to ask this interview. Correct, laughed the young man a little hardly. You didn't ask it. I attended to that myself. What you want doesn't concern me in the least.

What do you suppose I care what or what not any of this crew wants? I'm master of my own ideas anyway. Thank God. If you don't like what I do, you can always stop me. In the tone of his voice was a distinct challenge. Galen Albreit, had seemed, chose to pass it by. True, he replied somberly, after a barely perceptible pause to mark his tacit. displeasure.

It is your hour. Say on. I should like to know the date at which I take La Long Traverse. You persist in that nonsense. Call my departure whatever you want to. I have the name for it. When do I leave?

I have not decided. And in the meantime? Do as you please. ah thanks for this generosity cried the young man in a tone of declamatory sarcasm so artificial as fairly to assent the elocutionary to do as i please here now there is a blessed privilege i may walk around where i want to talk to such as have a good word for me punish those who have not but do i err in concluding that the state of your game law is such that it would be useless to reclaim my rifle from the engaging plesied you have a fine instinct approved the factor it is one of my valued possessions rejoined the young man insolently he struck a match and by its light selected a cigarette i do not myself use tobacco in this room suggested the older speaker i am curious to learn the limits of your forbearance replied the younger proceeding to smoke

he threw back his head and regarded his opponent with an open challenge daring him to become angry the match went out virginia who had listened in growing anger and astonishment unable longer to refrain from defending the match went out virginia who had listened in growing anger and astonishment unable longer to refrain from defending the the dignity of her usually autocratic father, although he seemed little disposed to defend himself, now intervened from her dark corner on the divan. "'Is the journey then so long, sir?' she asked composedly, "'that it at once inspires such anticipations and such bitterness?' In an instant the man was on his feet, hat in hand, and the cigarette had described a fiery curve into the empty hearth. I beg your pardon sincerely, he cried.

I did not know you were here. You might better apologize to my father, replied Virginia. The young man stepped forward, and without asking permission, lighted one of the tall lamps. The lady of the guns, he marveled softly to himself. he moved across the room looking down on her inscrutably while she looked up at him in composed expectation of an apology and galen albert sat motionless in the shadow of his great arm-chair but after a moment her calm attention broke down something there was about this man that stirred her emotions whether of curiosity pity indignation or a slight defensive fear she was not yet a slight defensive fear she was not introspective enough to care to inquire.

And yet the sensation was not altogether unpleasant, and as at the guns this afternoon, a certain portion of her consciousness remained in sympathy with whatever it was of mysterious attraction he represented to her. In him she felt the dominant, as a wild creature of the woods instinctively senses the master and drops its eyes. resentment did not leave her, but over it spread a film of confusion that robbed it of its potency. In him, in his mood, in his words, in his manner, was something that called out in direct appeal the more primitive instincts hitherto dormant beneath her sense of maidenhood,

so that even at this vexed moment of conscious opposition, her heart was ranging itself on his side. overpoweringly the feeling swept her that she was not acting in accordance with her sense of fitness she knew she should strike but was unable to give due force to the blow in the confusion of such a discovery her eyelids fluttered and fell and he saw and understanding his power dropped swiftly beside her on the broad dive-in you must pardon me monoiselle he begun his voice sinking to a depth of rich music singularly caressing to you i may seem to have small excuses but when a man is vouchsafed a glimpse of heaven only to be cast out the next instant into hell he is not always particular in the choice of words all the time his eyes sought hers which avoided the challenge and the strong masculine charm of magnetism which he possessed in such vital abundance overwhelmed her unaccustomed consciousness galen albrett shifted uneasily and shot a glance in their direction the stranger perceiving this lowered his voice in register and tone and went on with almost exaggerated earnestness surely you can forgive me a desperate man almost anything i do not understand said virginia with a palpable effort ned trent leaned forward until his eager face was almost at her shoulder perhaps not he urged i cannot ask you to try but suppose mademoiselle you were in my case

suppose your eyes like mine have rested on nothing but a howling wilderness for dear heaven knows how long you come at last in sight of real houses real grass real grass real Real dooryard gardens just ready to blossom in the spring. Real food. Real beds. Real books. Real men with whom to exchange the sensible word. And something more, mademoiselle. A woman such as one dreams of in the long forest nights under the stars.

And you know that while others, the lucky ones, may stay to enjoy it all, you, the unfortunate, are condemned to leave it at any moment for La Long Traverse. Would not you too be bitter, mademoiselle? Would not you two mock and sneer? Think, mademoiselle, I have not even the little satisfaction of rousing men's anger. I can insult them, as I will, but they turn aside in pity, saying one to another, let us pleasure him in this poor fellow, for he is about to take La Long Traverse. That is why your father accepts calmly from me what he would not from another.

Virginia sat bolt upright on the divan, her hands clasped in her lap, her wonderful black eyes looking straight out before her, trying to avoid her companion's insistent gaze. His attention was fixed on her mobile. and changing countenance, but he marked with evident satisfaction Galen Albert's growing uneasiness. This was evidenced only by a shifting of the feet, a tapping of the fingers, a turning of the shaggy head. In such a man, slight tokens are significant. The silence deepened with the shadows drawing about the single lamp,

while Virginia attempted to maintain a breathing advantage above the flood-upes. of strange emotions which the personality of this man had swept down upon her. "'It does not seem,' objected the girl in bewilderment. "'I do not know. Men are often out in this country for years at a time. Long journeys are not unknown among us. We are used to undertaking them.' "'But not, la long traverse,' insisted the young man, somberly. La Long Traverse, she repeated in sweet perplexity. Sometimes called the journey of death, he explained.

She turned to look at him in the eyes, a vague expression of puzzled fear on her face. She has never heard of it, said Ned Trent to himself, and aloud. Men who undertake it leave comfort behind. They embrace heart. hunger and weariness, cold and disease. At the last, they embrace death, and are glad of his coming. Something in his tone compelled belief. Something in his face told her that he was a man by whom

the inevitable hardships of winter and summer travel, fearful as they are, would be lightly endured. She shuddered. "'This dreadful thing is necessary?' she asked. asked. "'Alas, yes.' "'I do not understand.' "'In the north, few of us understand,' agreed the young man, with a hint of bitterness seeping through his voice.

"'The mighty order, and so we obey.' But that is beside the point. I have not told you these things to harrow you. I have tried to excuse myself for my actions. "'Does it touch you a little? "'Am I forgiven?' "'I do not understand how such things can be,' she objected in some confusion. "'Why such journeys must exist.

"'My mind cannot comprehend your explanations.' The stranger leaned forward abruptly, his eyes blazing with the magnetic personality of the man. "'But your heart?' he breathed. It was the moment. My heart, she repeated, as though bewildered by the intensity of his eyes. My heart! Ah, yes! Immediately the blood rushed over her face and throat in a torrent.

She snatched her eyes away and cowered back in the corner, going red and white by turns, now angry, now frightened, now bewildered. until his gaze, half masterful, half pleading, again conquered hers. Galen Albert had ceased tapping his chair. In the dim light he sat, staring straight before him, massive, inert, grim. I believe you, she murmured hurriedly at last.

I pity you. She rose. Quick as light he barred her peering. passage. Don't, don't, she pleaded. I must go. You have shaken me. I, I do not understand myself. I must see you again, he whispered eagerly. Tonight, by the guns. No, no, tonight, he insisted. She raised her eyes to his, this time naked of defense, so that the man saw down through their depths into her very soul. Oh, she begged, quivering.

Let me pass. Don't you see? I'm going to cry. End of Chapter 5. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 6 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Malene. conjurer's house a romance of the free forest by stuart edward white chapter six for a moment ned trent stared through the darkness into which virginia had disappeared then he turned a troubled face to the task he had said himself for the unexpectedly pathetic results of his fantastic attempt had shaken him twice he half turned as though to follow her then shaking his shoulders he bent his attention to the old man in the shadow of the chair he was given no opportunity for further speech however for at the sound of the closing door galen albert's impassivity had fallen from him

he sprang to his feet the whole aspect of the man suddenly became electric terrible his eyes blazed his heavy brows drew spasmodically toward each other his whole aspect of the man suddenly became electric terrible his eyes blazed his heavy brows drew spasmodically toward each other his jaws worked twisting his beard into strange contortions his massive frame straightened formatively and his voice rumbled from the arch of his deep chest in a torrent of passionate sound by god young man he thundered you go too far take heed i will not stand this do not you presume to make love to my daughter before my eyes and ned trent just within the dusky circle of lamplight where the bold sneering lines of his face stood out in relief against the twilight of the room threw back his head and laughed it was a clear laugh but low and in it were all the devils of triumph and of insolence where the studied insult of words had failed this single catchination succeeded the trader saw his opponent's eyes narrow for a moment he thought the factor was about to spring on him then with an effort that blackened his face with blood gaelan albert controlled himself and fell to striking the call-bell violently and repeatedly with the palm of his hand after a moment matthews the english servant came running in to him the factor was at first physically unable to utter a syllable then finally he managed to ejaculate the name of his bowsman with such violence of gesture that the frightened servant comprehended by sheer force of terror and

ran out again in search of Miengan. This supreme effort seemed to clear the way for speech. Galen Albert began to address his opponent hoarsely, in quick, disjointed sentences, a gasp for breath between each. You revived an old legend, La Long Traverse, the myth. It shall be real, to you, I will make it so. By God, you shall not defraverse. You shall not defraverse. You shall not defy me. Ned Trent smiled. You do not deceive me, he rejoined, coolly. Silence, cried the factor. Silence! You shall speak no more. You have said enough.

May Engon glided into the room. Galen Albert at once addressed him in the Ajibwa language, gaining control of himself as he went on. Listen to me well, he said, commanded. You shall make account of all rifles in this place at once. Let no one furnish this man with food or arms. You know the story of La Long Traverse. This man shall take it. So, inform my people. I, the factor, decree it so. Prepare all things at once. Understand? At once. Trent waited to hear no more, but sauntered from the room whistling gaily a boatman song.

His point was gained. Outside, the long northern twilight with its beautiful shadows of crimson was descending from the upper regions of the east. A light wind breathed upriver from the bay. The free trader drew his lungs full of the evening air. Just the same, I think she will come. said he to himself la long traverse even at once is a pretty slim chance but this second string to my bow is better i believe i'll get the rifle if she comes end of chapter six recording by roger maline chapter seven of conjurer's house a romance of the free forest this librovoc's recording is in the public domain recording by

Roger Maline Conjurer's House, A Romance of the Free Forest By Stuart Edward White Chapter 7 Virginia ran quickly up the narrow stairs to her own room, where she threw herself on the bed

and buried her face in the pillows. As she had said, she was very much shaken, and, too, she was afraid. She could not understand. Heretofore she had moved among the men around her pure, lofty, serene. Now, at one blow, all this crumbled. The stranger had outraged her finer feelings. He had insulted her father in her very presence. For this she was angry. He had insulted herself, for this she was afraid. He had demanded that she meet him again,

but this, at least in the manner he had suggested, should not happen. and yet she confessed to herself a delicious wonder as to what he would do next and a vague desire to see him again in order to find out that she could not successfully combat this feeling made her angry at herself and so in mingled fear pride anger and longing she remained until wishkobin the indian woman glided in to dress her for the dinner whose formality she and her father consistently maintained. She fell to talking the soft Ojibwa dialect, and in the conversation, forgot some of her emotion and regained some of her calm. Her surface thoughts, at least, were compelled for the moment to occupy themselves with other things. The Indian woman had to tell her of the silver fox brought in by Mujikan, an Indian of her own tribe. Of the retort Achille Picard had made when Maclean had taunted him, of the forest fire that had declared itself

far to the east, and of the theories to account for it where no campers had been. Yet underneath the rambling chatter, Virginia was aware of something new in her consciousness, something delicious, but as yet vague. In the gayest moment of her half-gesting, half-affectionate gossip with the Indian woman, she felt its uplift catching her breath from beneath, so that for the tiniest instant she would pause as though in readiness for some message which nevertheless delayed. A fresh delight in the present moment held her, a fresh anticipation of the immediate future, though both delight and anticipation were based on something without her knowledge. That would come later. the sound of rapid footsteps echoed across the lower hall a whistle ran into an air sung gaily with spirit jay perdu ma maitress sans lavoire merite

for a bouquet de roses that i'll rejuise lily a long time that i t'em jame jean tubliree she fell abruptly silent and spoke no more until she did descended to the council-room where the table was now spread for dinner two silver candlesticks lit the place the men were waiting for her when she entered and at once took their seats in the worn rude chairs white linen and glittering silver adorned the service galen albret occupied one end of the table virginia the other on either side were doctor and mrs cockburn mcdonald the churchyard the churchman chief trader, Richardson, the clerk, and Crane, the missionary of the Church of England. Matthews served with rigid precision in the order of importance, first the factor, then Virginia, then the doctor, his wife, MacDonald, the clerk, and Crane in due order. On entering a room, the same precedence would have held good. Thus these people, six hundred miles as the crow flies from the nearest settlement maintained their shadowy hold on civilization the glass was fine the silver massive the linen dainty matthews waited faultlessly

but overhead hung the rough timbers of the wilderness post across the river faintly could be heard the howling of wolves the fair was rice curry salt pork potatoes and beans for at this season the game was poor and the fish hardly yet running with regularity throughout the meal virginia sat in a singular abstraction no conscious thoughts took shape in her mind but nevertheless she seemed to herself to be occupied in considering weighty matters when directly addressed she answered sweetly much of the time she studied her father's face She found it old. Those lines were already evident, which, when first noted, bring a stab of surprised pain to the breast of a child, the droop of the mouth, the wrinkling of the temples, the patient weariness of the eyes.

Virginia's own eyes filled with tears. The subjective passive state into which a newly born but not yet recognized love had cast her, inclined her to gentleness. she accepted facts as they came to her for the moment she forgot the mere happenings of the day and lived only in the resulting mood of them all the newcomer inspired her no longer with anger nor sorrow attraction nor fear her active emotions in abeyance she floated dreamily on the clouds of a new estate this very aloofness of spirit disinclined her active emotions in abeyance she floated dreamily on the clouds of a new estate this very aloofness of spirit disinclined her for the company of the others after the meal was finished the factor closeted himself with richardson the doctor lighting a shrewt took his way across to his infirmary mcdonald crane and mrs cockburn entered the drawing-room and seated themselves near the piano virginia hesitated then threw a shawl over her head and stepped up to her head and stepped up to her own.

out on the broad veranda. At once the vast, splendid beauty of the northern night broke over her soul. Straight before her, gleamed and flashed and ebbed and palpitated the aurora. One moment its long arm shot beyond the zenith, the next it had broken and rippled back like a brook of light to its arch over the great bear. Never for an instant was it still. its restlessness stole away the quiet of the evening, but left it magnificent. In comparison with this coruscating dome of the infinite, the earth had shrunken to a narrow black band of velvet, in which was nothing distinguishable until suddenly the skyline broke in calm silhouettes of spruce and furs.

And always the mighty river of the moose, gleaming, jeweled, barbaric, in its reflections slipped by to the sea. So rapid and bewildering was the motion of these two great powers, the river and the sky, that the imagination could not believe in silence. It was as though the earth were full of shoutings and of tumults, and yet in reality the night was as still as a tropical evening. The wolves and the sledge dogs answered each other undisturbed.

the beautiful songs of the white throats stole from the forest as divinely instinct as ever with the spirit of peace virginia leaned against the railing and looked upon it all her heart was big with emotions many of which she could not name her eyes were full of tears something had changed in her since yesterday but she did not know what it was the faint wise stars the pale moon just sinking the gentle south breeze could have told her for they are old old in the world's affairs occasionally a flash more than ordinarily brilliant would glint one of the bronze guns beneath the flagstaff then virginia's heart would glint too she imagined the reflection startled her she stretched her arms out to the night embracing its glories sighing in sympathy with its meaning which she did not know she felt the desire of restlessness yet she could not bear to go but no thought of the stranger touched her for you see as yet she did not understand then quite naturally she heard his voice in the darkness close to her knee it seemed inevitable that he should be there part of the restless glorious night part of her mood she gave no start of surprise but half closed her eyes and leaned her fair head against a pillar of the veranda he sang in a sweet undertone an old chanson of voyage par derriere she mon per volle mon cur vol par derriere she mon pair

liya t'n pomiere du ah lady lady mine broke in the voice softly the night too is sweet soft as thine eyes will you not greet me the girl made no sign after a moment the song went on toa fil d'un prince vol mon cure vol t'ra fil d'un prince son't endormis des will not the princess leave her sister of dreams whispered the voice fantastically will she not come virginia shivered and half opened her eyes but did not stir it seemed that the darkness sighed then became musical again la plu jane s'erraverier vol mon cure vol la plu jean se revoir my sir voila le jour the song broke this time without a word of pleading the girl opened her eyes wide and stared breathlessly straight before her at the singer no ce ne'n't an etoile vol mon cur vol no ce ne'n'te'n etoile que clare nos amour the last word rolled out through its passionate throat tones and died into silence come repeated the man again this time almost in the accents of command she turned slowly and went to him her eyes childlike and frightened her lips wide her face pale. When she stood face to face with him, she swayed and almost fell.

"'What do you want with me?' she faltered with a little sob. The man looked at her keenly, laughed, and exclaimed in an everyday, matter-of-fact voice, "'Why, I really believe my song frightened you. It is only a boating song. come let us go and sit on the gun carriages and talk oh she gasped a trifle hysterically don't do that again please don't i do not understand it you must not he laughed again but with a note of tenderness in his voice and took her hand to lead her away humming in an undertone the last couplet of his song No, se ne'est an etoile, that clear no's amour. End of Chapter 7.

Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 8 of Conjurer's House, A Romance of the Free Forest. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurers' House, a romance of the Free Forest, by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 8 Virginia went with this man passively to an appointment which but an hour ago she had promised herself she would not keep.

Her inmost soul was stirred, just as before. Then it had been few words, now it was a little common song. But the strange power of the man held her close, so she realized that for the moment at least she would do as he desired. In the amazement and consternation of this thought, she found time to offer up a little prayer. Dear God, make him kind to me. They leaned against the old bronze guns, facing the river. He pulled her shawl about her, masterfully, yet with gentleness. And then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world,

he drew her to him until she rested against his shoulder. And she remained there, trembling, in suspense, glancing at him quickly, in bird-like pleading glances, as though praying him to be kind. He took no notice after that, so the act seemed less like a caress than a matter of course. He began to talk half-humorously, and, little by little, as he went on, she forgot her fears, even her feeling of strangeness, and fell completely under the spell of his power. my name is ned trent he told her and i am from quebec i am a woods runner i have journeyed far i have been to the uttermost ends of the north even up beyond the hills of silence

and then in his gay half-mocking yet musical voice he touched lightly on vast and distant things he talked of the great saskatchewan of peace river and the delta of the mackenzie of the winter journeys beyond great bear lake into the land of the little sticks and the half-mythical lake of yambatou he spoke of life with the dog-ribbs and yellow knives where the snow falls in midsummer before her eyes slowly spread like a panorama the whole extent of the great north with its fierce hardy men its dreadful journeys by canoe and sledge its frozen barrens its mighty forests its solemn charm all at once this post of conjurer's house a month in the wilderness as it was seemed very small and tame and civilized for the simple reason that death did not always compass it about. It was very cold, then, said Ned Trent, and very hard. Le Grand Frat of winter had come. At night we had no other shelter than our blankets,

and we could not keep a fire because the spruce burned too fast and threw too many coals. For a long time we shivered, curled up in our snow-shoes, then fell heavily asleep, so that even the dark, fighting over us did not awaken us. Two or three times in the night we boiled tea. We had to thaw our marcusons each morning by thrusting them inside our shirts. Even the Indians were shivering and saying,

Edsa! Yazi Edsa! It is cold, very cold. And when we came to Ray, it was not much better. A roaring fire in the fireplace could not prevent the ink from freezing on the pen. This went on for five months. Thus he spoke, as one who says common things.

He said little of himself, but as he went on in short, curt sentences, the picture grew more distinct, and to Virginia the man became more and more prominent in it. She saw the dying and exhausted dogs, the frost-rimmed, weary men, She heard the quick, crunch, crunch, crunch of the snow-shoes hurrying ahead to break the trail. She felt the cruel torture of the Maldraquette, the shriveling bite of the frost,

the pain of snow-blindness, the hunger that yet could not stomach the frozen fish nor the hairy black caribou meat. One thing she could not conceive, the indomitable spirit of the men. She glanced timidly up at her companion's face. "'The company is a cruel master,' she sighed at last, standing upright, then leaning against the carriage of the gun. He let her go without protest, almost without thought, it seemed. "'But not mine,' said he. She exclaimed in astonishment,

"'are you not of the company?' i am no man's man but my own he answered simply then why do you stay in this dreadful north she asked because i love it it is my life i want to go where no man has set foot before me i want to stand alone under the sky i want to show myself that nothing is too big for me no difficulty no hardship nothing why did you come here then here at least are forests so that you can keep warm this is not so dreadful as the copper mine and the country of the yellow knives did you come here to try la longue traverse of which you spoke to-day he fell suddenly somber biting in reflection at his lip no yes why not he said at length "'I know you will come out of it safely,' said she. "'I feel it. You are brave and used to travel. Won't you tell me about it?'

He did not reply. After a moment she looked up in surprise. His brows were knit in reflection. He turned to her again, his eyes glowing into hers. Once more the fascination of the man grew big, overwhelmed her. She felt her heart flutter, her consciousness swim, her old terror returning. "'Listen,' said he, "'I may come to you to-morrow and ask you to choose between your divine pity

and what you might think to be your duty. Then I will tell you all there is to know of La Long Traverse. Now it is a secret of the company. You are a factor's daughter. You know what that means.' dropped his head. Ah, I am tired, tired with it all, he cried in a voice, strangely unhappy. But yesterday I played the game with all my old spirit. Today the zest is gone. I no longer care. He felt the pressure of her hand.

Are you just a little sorry for me? he asked. Sorry for a weakness you do not understand? you must think me a fool i know you are unhappy replied virginia gently i am truly sorry for that are you are you indeed he cried unhappiness is worth such pity as yours he brooded for a moment then threw his hands out with what might have been a gesture of desperate indifference suddenly his mood changed in the whimsical bewildering fashion of the man. Ah, a star shoots, he exclaimed gaily. That means a kiss. Still laughing, he attempted to draw her to him. Angry, mortified, outraged, she fought herself free and leaped to her feet.

Oh, she cried in insulted anger. Oh, she cried in a red shame. Oh, she cried in sorrow. Her calm broke. She burst into the violent sobbing of a child and turned and ran hurriedly to the factory. Ned Trent stared after her a minute from beneath scowling brows.

He stamped his moccasined foot impatiently. Like a rat in a trap, he jeered at himself. Like a rat in a trap, Ned Trane. the fates are drawing around you close you need just one little thing and you cannot get it bribery is useless force is useless craft is useless this afternoon i thought i saw another way what i could get no other way i might get from this little girl she is only a child i believe i could touch her pity ah ned trent ned trent can you ever forget her frightened white face begging you to be kind he paced back and forth between the two bronze guns with long straight strides like a pant her aid is mine for the asking but she makes it impossible to ask I could not do it better try la longue traverse than take advantage of her pity she'd surely get into trouble

what wonderful eyes she has she thinks I am a brute how she sobbed as though her little heart had broken well it was the only one way to destroy her interest in me. I had to do it. Now she will despise me and forget me. It is better that she should think me a brute than that I should be always haunted by those pleading eyes. The door of the distant church house opened and closed. He smiled bitterly. To be sure, I haven't tried that, he acknowledged. Their teachings are singularly apropos. my case, mercy, justice, humanity, yes, and love of man. I'll try it. I'll call for help on the love of man, since I cannot on the love of woman. The love of woman. Ah, yes. He set his feet reflectively

toward the chapel. End of Chapter 8. Recording by Roger Maline. Nine of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 9. After a moment he pushed open the door without ceremony and entered. He bent his brows, studying the Reverend Archibald Crane, while the latter, looking up startled, turned pink. He was a pink little man anyway, the Reverend Archibald Crane,

and why, in the inscrutability of its wisdom, the church had sent him out to influence strong, grim men, the church in its inscrutable wisdom only knows. He wore at the moment a cambric English boating hat to protect his bald head from the draft, a full clerical costume as far as the trousers, which were of lavender, and a pair of beaded moccasins faced with red. His weak little face was pink, and two tufts of side-whiskers were nearly so. A heavy, gold-headed cane stood at his hand. When he heard the door open, he exclaimed, before raising his head, "'My, these first flies of the season do bother me so,' and then look startled.

Good evening, greeted Ned Trent, stopping squarely in the center of the room. The clergyman spread his arms along the desk's edge in embarrassment. Good evening, he returned reluctantly. Is there anything I can do for you? The visitor puzzled him, but he was dressed as a voyeur. The Reverend Archibald immediately resolved to treat him as such. I wish to introduce myself as a man. as Ned Trent, went on the free trader with composure,

and I have broken in your privacy this evening, only because I need your ministrations cruelly. I am rejoiced that in your difficulties you turn to the consolations of the church, replied the other, in the cordial tones of the man who is always ready. Pray, be seated. He whose soul thirsteth need offer no apology to the keeper of the spiritual fountains.

quite so replied the stranger dryly seating himself as suggested only in this case my wants are temporal rather than spiritual they however seem to me fully within the province of the church the church attempts within limits to aid those who are materially in want assured crane with official dignity our resources are small but to the truly deserving we are always ready to give in the spirit of true giving. I am rejoiced to hear it, returned the young man, grimly. You will then have no difficulty in getting me so small a matter as a rifle and about forty or fifty rounds of ammunition? A pause of astonishment ensued. Why really?

Ejaculated Crane. I fail to see how that falls within my jurisdiction in the slightest. You should see our trader, Mr. McDonald, in regard to all such things. Your request addressed to me becomes extraordinary. Not so much when you know who I am. I told you my name is Ned Trent, but I neglected to inform you further that I am a captured free trader, condemned to La Long Traverse,

and that I have in vain tried to procure elsewhere the means of escape. Then the clergyman understood. The full significance of the intruder's presence flashed over his little pink face in a trouble of uneasiness. The probable consequences of such a bit of charity, as his visitor proposed, almost turned him sick with excitement. "'You expect to have them of me?' he cried, getting his voice at last. Certainly, assured his interlocutor, crossing his legs comfortably. Don't you see the logic of events forces me to think so? What other course is open to you?

I am in this country entirely within my legal rights as a citizen of the Canadian Commonwealth. Unjustly, I am seized by a stronger power and condemned unjustly to death. Surely you admit the injustice. well of course you know the customs of the country it is hardly an abstract question stammered crane still without grasp on the logic of his argument but as an abstract question the injustice is plain resumed the free trader imperturbably and against plain injustice it strikes me there is but one course open to an acknowledged institution of abstract and concretely and against plain injustice it strikes me there is but one course open to an acknowledged institution of abstract and concordial Crete morality. The church must set itself against immorality, and you, as the church is representative, must get me a rifle.

You forgot one thing, rejoined Crane. What is that? Such an aid would be a direct act of rebellion against authority on my part, which would be severely punished. Of course, he asserted with conscious romewerect. righteousness. I should not consider that for a moment as far as my own personal safety is concerned, but my cause would suffer. You forget, sir, that we are doing here a great and good work. We have in our weekly congregational singing over forty regular attendance from the Aborigines.

Next year I hope to build a church at Whale River, thus reaching the benighted inhabitants of that distant region. All of this is a vital matter in the service of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. You suggest that I endanger all this in order to write a single instance of injustice. Of course we are told to love one another, but—' he paused. You have to compromise, finished the stranger for him. "'Exactly,' said the Reverend Crane. Thank you. It is exactly that. In order to accomplish what little good the Lord vouchsafes to our poor efforts, we are obliged to overlook many things. Otherwise, we should not be allowed to stay here at all.

That is most interesting, agreed Ned Trent with a rather biting calm. But is it not a little calculating? My slight familiarity with religious history and literature, has always led me to believe that you are taught to embrace the right at any cost whatsoever, that if you give yourself unreservedly to justice, the Lord will sustain you through all trials. I think at a pinch I could even quote a text to that effect. My dear fellow, objected the Reverend Archibald in gentle protest. You evidently do not understand the situation at all. I feel I should be most untrue to my trust if I were to endanger in any way the lifelong labor of my predecessor.

You must be able to see that for yourself. It would destroy utterly my usefulness here. They'd send me away. I couldn't go on with the work. I have to think what is for the best. There is some justice in what you say, admitted the stranger, if you persist in looking on this thing as a business proposition. But it seems to my confessedly untrained mind that you missed the point.

Trust in the Lord, saith the prophet. In fact, certain rivals in your own field hold the doctrine you expound, and you consider them wrong. To do evil that good may come, I seem to recognize as a tenant of the Church of the Jesuits. "'I protest. I really do protest,' objected the clergyman, scandalized. "'All right,' agreed Ned Trent, with good-natured contempt. "'That is not the point. Do you refuse?'

"'Can't you see?' begged the other. "'I'm sure you are reasonable enough to take the case on its broader side.' "'You refuse?' insisted Ned Trent. It is not always easy to walk straightly before the Lord, and my way is not always clear before me. But—' You refuse, cried Ned Trent, rising impatiently. The Reverend Archibald Crane looked at his catechizer with a trace of alarm. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I must, he apologized. The stranger advanced until he touched the desk on the other side of the other side of the

side of which the Reverend Archibald was sitting, where he stood for some moments looking down on his opponent, with an almost amused expression of contempt. "'You are an amusing little beast,' he drawled, and I've seen a lot of your kind in my time. Here you preach every Sunday to whomever will listen to you, certain cut and dry doctrines you don't believe practically in the least. Here, for the first time, you have had a chance to apply them literally, and you hide behind a lot of words. And while you're about it, you may as well hear what I have to say about your kind. I've had a pretty wide experience in the North, and I know what I'm talking about.

Your work here among the Indians is rot, and every sensible man knows it. You coop them up in your log-built houses. you force on them clothes to which they are unaccustomed until they die of consumption. Under your little tin-steepled imitation of civilization, for which they are not fitted, they learn to beg, to steal, to lie. I have traveled far, but I have yet to discover what your kind are allowed on earth for. You are narrow-minded, bigoted, intolerant, and without a scrap of real humanity. to ornament your mock religion.

When you find you can't meddle with other people's affairs enough at home, you get sent where you can get right in the business, and earn salvation for doing it. I don't know just why I should say this to you, but it sort of does me good to tell it. Once I heard one of your kind tell a sorrowing mother that her little child had gone to hell because it had died before he, the smug hypocrite,

had sprinkled its little body with a handful of water. There's humanity for you. It may interest you to know that I thrashed that man then and there. You are all alike. I know the breed. When there is found a real man among you, and there are such, he is so different in everything, including his religion, as to be really of another race i came here without the slightest expectation of getting what i asked for as i said before i know your breed and i know just how well your two thousand-year-old doctrines apply to practical cases there is another way but i hated to use it you'd take it quick enough i dare say here is where i should receive aid i may have to get it where i should not

you a man of god why you poor little insect i can't even get angry at you he stood for a moment looking at the confused and troubled clergyman then he went out End of Chapter 9. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 10 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurers' House, a romance of the free forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 10.

Almost immediately the door opened again. You, Missette. Albert, cried Crane. What does this mean? demanded Virginia, imperiously. Who is that man? In what danger does he stand? What does he want a rifle for? I insist on knowing. She stood straight and tall in the low room, her eyes flashing, her head thrown back in the assured power of command.

The Reverend Crane tried to temporize, hesitant. hesitating over his words. She cut him short. "'That is nonsense. Everybody seems to know but myself. I am no child. I came to consult you, my spiritual advisor, in regard to this very case. Accidentally I overheard enough to justify me in knowing more.' The clergyman murmured something about the company's secrets. Again, she cut him short. Company's secrets? Since when has the company confided in Andrew LaVuillette, in Wischkoban, in you? Possibly you would better ask your father, said Crane, with some return of dignity.

It does not suit me to do so, replied she. I insist that you answer my questions. Who is this man? Ned Trent, he says. I will not be put off in this way. Who is he? What is he? He is a free trader, replied the Reverend Crane, with the air of a man who throws down a bomb and is afraid of the consequences. To his astonishment, the bomb did not explode.

What is that? she asked, simply. The man's jaw dropped, and his eyes opened in astonishment. Here was a density of ignorance in regard to the ordinary affairs of the post which could by no stretch of the imagination be ascribed to chance. If Virginia Albert did not know the meaning of the term, and all the tragic consequences it entailed, there could be but one conclusion. Galen Albert had not intended that she should know. She had purposely been left in ignorance, and a politic man would hesitate long before daring to enlighten her, the reverend crane in sheer terror became sullen a free trader is a man who trades in opposition to the company said he cautiously what great danger is he in the girl persisted with her catechism none that i am aware of replied crane suavely he is a very ill-balanced and excitable young man

virginia's quick instincts recognized again the same barrier which with the people with wishcobin with her father had shut her so effectively from the truth her power of femininity and position had to give way before the man's fear for himself and of galen albert's unexpressed wish she asked a few more questions received a few more evasive replies and left the little clergyman to recover as best he might from a very trying evening out in the night the girl hesitated in two minds as to what to do next she was excited and resolved to finish the affair but she could not bring her courage to the point of questioning her father that the stranger was in antagonism to the company that he believed himself to be in danger on that account that he wanted succour she saw clearly enough. But the whole affair was vague, disquieting. She wanted to see it plainly, know its reasons. And beneath her excitement, she recognized, with a catch of the breath, that she was afraid for him. She had not time now to ask herself what it might mean, she only realized the presence of the fact. She turned instinctively in the direction of Dr. Cocker,

Coughburn's house. Mrs. Cockburn was a plain little middle-aged woman with parted gray hair and sweet faded eyes. In the life of the place, she was a non-entity, and her tastes were homely and commonplace, but Virginia liked her. She proved to be at home, the doctor still at his dispensary, which was well. Virginia entered a small log room, passed through it immediately to a larger papered room and sat down in a musty red armchair. The building was one of the old regime, which meant that its floor was of wide and rather uneven painted boards, its ceiling low, its windows small,

and its general lines of an irregular and sagging rule-of-thumb tendency. The white wallpaper evidently concealed square logs. The present inhabit. being possessed at once of rather homely tastes and limited facilities, had overfurnished the place with an infinitude of little things. Little rugs, little tables, little knit doilies, little racks of photographs, little china ornaments, little spidery what-nots, and shelves for books. Virginia seated herself and went directly to the topic.

mrs cockburn she said you have always been very good to me always ever since i came here as a little girl i have not always appreciated it i am afraid but i am in great trouble and i want your help what is it dearie asked the older woman softly of course i will do anything i can i want you to tell me what all this mystery is about the man who is who today arrived from kettleportage, I mean. I have asked everybody. I have tried by all means in my power to get somebody somewhere to tell me. It is maddening, and I have a special reason for wanting to know.

The older woman was already gazing at her through troubled eyes. "'It is a shame and a mistake to keep you so in ignorance,' she broke out, and i have said so always there are many things you have the right to know although some of them would make you very unhappy as they do all of us poor women who have to live in this land of dread but in this i cannot dearie virginia felt again the impalpable shadow of truth escaping her baffled confused she began to lose herself control a dozen times to-day she had reached after this thing and always her fingers had closed on empty air she felt that she could not stand the suspense of bewilderment a single instant longer the tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks unheeded oh mrs cockburn she cried please you do not know how dreadful this thing has come to be to me just because it has made so mysterious why has it been kept from me alone it must have something to do with me and i can't stand this mystery this double dealing another minute if you won't tell me nobody will and i shall go on imagining Oh, please have pity on me.

I feel the shadow of a tragedy. It comes out in everything, in everybody to whom I turn. I see it in Wish Coben's avoidance of me, in my father's silence, in Mr. Crane's confusion, in your reluctance, yes, in the very reckless insolence of Mr. Trent himself, her voice broke slightly. If you will not tell me, I shall go direct to my father, she ended with more firmness. Mrs. Cockburn examined the girl's flushed face through kindly but shrewd and experienced eyes.

Then with a caressing little murmur of pity, she arose and seated herself in the arm of the red chair, taking the girl's hand in hers. I believe you mean it, she said, and I. I am going to tell you myself. There is much sorrow in it for you, but if you go to your father, it will only make it worse. I am doing what I should not. It is shameful that such things happen in this nineteenth century, but happen they do. The long and short of it is that the factors of the post tolerate no competition in the country, and when a man enters it for the purpose of trading with the Indians, he is stopped and sent out.

"'There is nothing very bad about that,' said Virginia, relieved. "'No, my dear, not in that. But they say his arms and supplies are taken from him, and he is given a bare handful of provisions. He has to make a quick journey and to starve at that. Once when I was visiting out at the front, not many years ago, I saw one of those men. They called him Joe Bagnoe, and his condition was pitiable, pitiable.

But hardships can be endured, a man can escape. Yes, almost whispered Mrs. Cockburn, looking about her apprehensively. But the story goes that there are some cases when the man is an old of or especially determined or so prominent as to be able to interest the law no one breathes of these cases here but he never gets out what do you mean cried virginia harshly one dares not mean such things but they are so the hardships of the wilderness are many the dangers terrible what more natural than that a the man should die of them in the forest. It is no one's fault. What do you mean?

repeated Virginia. For God's sake, speak plainly. I dare not speak plainer than I know, and no one ever really knows anything about it, excepting the Indian who fires the shot or who watches the man until he dies of starvation, whispered Mrs. Cockburn. but but cried the girl grasping her companion's arm my father does he give such orders he

no orders are given the thing is understood certain runners whose turn it is shadow the free trader your father is not responsible no one is responsible it is the policy and this man it has gone about that he is to take la longue traverse he knows it himself it is barbaric horrible it is murder my dear it is all that but this is the country of dread you have known the soft bright side always the picturesque men the laugh the song if you had seen as much of the harshness of wilderness life as a doctor's wife must you would know that when the storms of their great passions rage it is well to sit quiet at your prayers the girl's eyes were wide fixed staring at this first reality of life a thousand new thoughts jostled for recognition suddenly her world had been swept from beneath her the ancient patriarchal kindly rule had passed away and in its place she was forced to see a grim iron bond of death laid over her domain and her father no longer the grave kindly old man had become the ruthless tyrant all these bright laughing voyageurs playmates of her childhood were in reality executioners of a savage blood-law and she could not adjust herself to it she got to her feet with an effort thank you mrs cockburn she said in a low voice

i-i do not quite understand but i must go now i must-i must see that my father's room is ready for him she finished with the proud defensive instinct of the woman who has been deeply touched you know i always do that for myself good night dearie replied the older woman understanding well the girls desired a shelter behind the commonplace she leaned forward and kissed her god keep and guide you i hope i have done right yes cried virginia with unexpected fire yes you did just right i ought to have been told long ago they've kept me a perfect child to whom everything has been bright and carefree and simple i-i feel that until this moment i have lacked my real womanhood she bowed her head and passed through the log-room into the outer air her father her father had willed this man's death and so he was to die that explained many things the young fellow's insolence his carefree recklessness his passionate denunciation of the reverend crane and the reverend crane's religion he wanted one little thing the gift of the gift of the reverend crane's religion he wanted one little thing the gift of a rifle wherewith to assure his subsistence should he escape into the forest and of all those at conjurer's house to whom he might turn for help some were too hard to give it to him and some too afraid he should have it she the daughter of her father would see to it that in this one instance her father's sin should fail

suddenly in the white heat of her emotion she realized why these matters stirred her so profoundly and she stopped short and gasped with a shock of it it did not matter that she thwarted her father's will it would not matter if she should be discovered and punished as only these harsh characters could punish for the brave bearing the brave jest the jaunty facing of death the tauty facing of death the two tender, low voice, the gay song, the aurora-lit moment of his summons. All these had at last their triumph. She knew that she loved him, and that if he were to die, she would surely die too. And, oh, it must be that he loved her! Had she not heard it in the music of his voice from the First? The passion of his tones? The dreamy, lyrical swing of his talk by the old bronze guns? Then she staggered sharply and choked back a cry. For out of her recollections leaped two sentences of his. The first, careless, imprudent, unforgivable, the second pregnant with meaning.

Ah, a star shoots, he had said. that means a kiss and again to the clergyman i came here without the slightest expectation of getting what i asked for there is another way but i hate to use it she was the other way she saw it plainly he did not love her but he saw that he could fascinate her and he hoped to use her as an aid to his escape she threw her head up proudly then a man swung into view across the northern light virginia pressed back against the palings among the bushes until he should have passed it was ned trent returning from a walk to the end of the island he was alone and unfollowed and the girl realized with a sudden grip at the heart that the wilderness itself was sufficient safeguard against a man unarmed and unequipped it was not considered worth while even to watch him should he escape unarmed as he was sure death by starvation awaited him in the land of dread as he entered the settlement he struck up an air le fie de roi sen va chasin roland a boule with his grand fusil d'arge roule roulin ma bull roulan almost immediately a window slid back and an exasperated voice cried out o la dere what one time damn fool you for makin de sing so late

the voice went on imperturbably with son gran fusil d'arjean en roulein ma boule vis a le noir to a le blan roulea roulea sacre shrieked the inhabitant hello johnny frenchman called ned trent in his acid tones that you be more polite or i'll stand here and sing you the whole of it the window slammed shut ned trent took up his walk again toward some designated sleeping-place of his own his song dying into the distance vis a de noir tu halle ma boule o fi de ruas du rae tu e mechante ruly roule ma boule roulan and he can sing cried the girl bitterly to herself At such a time! Oh, my dear God, help me, help me! I am the unhappiest girl alive. End of Chapter 10.

Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 11 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the Free Forest. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest, by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 11 Virginia did not sleep at all that night. She was reaching toward her new self. Heretofore she had ruled those about her proudly, secure in her power and influence.

Now she saw that all along her influence had not in one jot exceeded that of the winsome girl. She had no real power at all. They went mercilessly on in the grim way of their fathers, dealing justice even-handed, according to their own crude conceptions of it, without thought of God or man. She turned hot all over, as she saw herself in this new light, as she saw those about her indulgently smiling at her airs of the mistress of it. It angered her, though the smile might be good-humored, even affectionate, and she shrank into herself with utter loathing when she remembered Ned Trent. There, indeed, her woman's pride was hard-stricken. She recalled with burning cheeks how his intense voice had stirred her, how his wishes had compelled her. She

shivered pitifully as she remembered the warmth of his shoulder, touching carelessly her own. If he had come to her honestly and asked her aid, she would have given it. But this underhand pretense said love. It was unworthy of him, and it was certainly most unworthy of her. What must he think of her? How he must be laughing at her, and hoping that his spell was working, so that he could get the coveted rifle and the forty cartridges. I hate him, she cried to herself, the backs of her long, slender hands pressed against her eyes. She meant that she loved him. but for the purposes in hand one would do as well as the other at earliest daylight she was up bathing her face and throat in cold water and hastily catching her beautiful light hair under a cap she slipped downstairs and out past the stockade to the point there she seated herself a heavy shawl about her and gave herself up to reflection she had approached silently

her moccasins giving no sound presently she became aware that some one was there before her looking toward the river she saw on the next level below her a man seated on a boulder and gazing to the south his very soul was in his eyes virginia gasped at the change in him since she had last seen him the gay mocking demeanor which had seemed an essential part of his very flesh and blood had fallen away from him from him, leaving a sad and lofty dignity that ennobled his countenance. The lines of his face were stern, of his mouth pathetic. His eyes yearned. He stared toward the south with an almost mesmeric intensity, as though he hoped by sheer longing to materialize a vision. Tears sprang to the girl's eyes at the subtle pathos of his attitude.

He stretched his arms wearily over his head and sighed deeply and looked up. His eyes rested on the girl without surprise. The expression of his features did not change. Pardon me, he said simply. Today is my last day of plenty. I am up enjoying it. Virginia had anticipated the usual instantaneous transformation of his manner when he should catch sight of her.

Her resentment was dispelled. In face of the vaster tragedies, little considerations gave way. "'Do you leave today?' she asked in a low voice. "'Tomorrow morning, early,' he corrected. "'Today I found my provisions packed and laid at my door. It is a hint I know how to take.' "'You have everything you need?' asked the girl with an assumption of indifference. he looked at her in the eyes for a moment everything he lied calmly virginia perceived that he lied and her heart stood still with a sudden hope that perhaps at this eleventh hour he might have repented of his unworthy intentions toward herself

she leaned to him over the edge of the little rise have you a rifle for la long traverse she inquired with meaning he stared at her a little the harder why why surely he replied in a tone less confident nobody travels without a rifle in the north she dropped swiftly down the slope and stood face to face with him listen she began in her superb manner i know all there is to know you are a free trader and you are to be sent to your death it is murder and it is done by my father she held her head proudly but the notes of her voice were straining i knew nothing of this yesterday i was a foolish girl who thought all men were good and just and that all those whom i knew were noble my eyes are open now i see injustice being done by my own household and tears were trembling near her lashes but she blinked them back and i am no longer a foolish girl you need not try to deceive me you must tell me what i can do for i cannot permit so great a wrong to be done by my father without attempting to set it right this was not what she had intended to say but suddenly the course was clear to her the influence of the man had again swept over her drowning her will filling her with the old fear which was now Now, for the moment, turned to pride by the character of the situation.

Who told you? he demanded, harshly. Then, without waiting for a reply, it was that little preacher. I'll have an interview with him. No, no, protested the girl. It was not he. It was a friend. I had the right to know. You had no right, he cried vehemently.

you and life should have nothing to do with each other there is a look in your eyes that was not in them yesterday and the one who put it there is not your friend he stood staring at her intently as one who ponder's what is best to do then very quietly he took her hands and drew her to a place beside him on the boulder i am going to tell you something little girl said he and you must listen quietly to the end perhaps at the last you may see more clearly than you do now this old company of yours has been established for a great many years back in old days over two centuries ago it pushed up into this wilderness to trade for its furs that you know and then it explored even farther to the west and the north until its servant stood on the shore of the Pacific and the stretches of the Arctic Ocean, and its servants loved it, enduring immense hardships cut off from their kind, outlining dimly with the eye of faith the structure of a mighty power, they loved it always. Thousands of men were in its employ, and so loyal were they that its secrets were safe and its prestige was defended, often to a

lonely death. I have known the company and its servants for a long time, and if I had leisure, I could instance a hundred examples of devotion and sacrifice, beside which mere patriotism would seem a little thing. Men who had no country cleave to the desolate posts, her lakes and rivers and forests, men who had no home ties, felt the tug of her wild life at their hearts, men who had no God bowed in awe before her power and grandeur. The company was a living thing. Rivals attempted her supremacy, and were defeated by the steadfastness of the men who received her meager wages

and looked to her as their one ideal. Her explorers were the bravest, her traders the most enterprising and single-minded, her factors and partners the most capable and potent in all the world no country no leader no state ever received half the worship her sons gave her the fierce norwesters the traders of montreal the company of the x y astor himself had to give way for although they were bold or reckless or crafty or able they had not the ideal which raises such qualities to invincibility and little girl nothing is wrong to men who have such an ideal before them they see but one thing and all means are good that help them to assure that one thing they front the dangers they overcome the hardships they crush the rivals bloody wars have taken place in these forests ruthless deeds have been done but the men who accomplished them held the deeds good so for two hundred years aided by the charter from the king they have made good their undisputed right

then the railroad entered the west the charter of monopoly ran out through the nipissing the athabasca the edmonton came the free traders men who traded independently. These, the company, could not control, so it competed, and to its credit, its competition has held its own. Even far into the northwest, where the trails are long, the free traders have established their chains of supplies, entering into rivalry with the company for a barter it has always considered its right. The medicine has been bitter, but the servants of the company have adjusted themselves to the new conditions and are holding their own. But one region still remains cut off from the outside world by a broad band of unexplored waste. The life here at Hudson's Bay, although you may not know it, is exactly the same today

than it was 200 years ago, and here the company makes it stand for a monopoly. At first it worked openly, but in the case of Guillaume Sayer, a daring and pugnacious Métis, it got into trouble with the law. Since that time it has wrapped itself in secrecy and mystery, carrying on its affairs behind the screen of 500 miles of forest. Here it still has the power. No man can establish himself here, and even travel. here without its consent for it controls the food and the Indians the free trader enters but he does not stay for long the company servants are mindful of their old fanatical ideal nothing is ever known no orders are ever given but something happens and the man never ventures again if he is an ordinary maytee or canadian he emerges from the forest Starved, frightened, thankful.

If his story is likely to be believed in high places, he never emerges at all. The dangers of wilderness travel are many. He succumbs to them. That is the whole story. Nothing definite is known. No instances can be proved. Your father denies the legend and calls it a myth.

The company claims to be ignorant of it, perhaps its greater officers really are but the legend holds so good that the journey has its name la long traverse but remember this no man is to blame unless it is he who of knowledge takes the chances it is a policy a growth of centuries an idea unchangeable to which the long services of many fierce and loyal men have given substance a factor cannot change it if he did the thing would be outside of nature something not to be understood i am here i am to take la long traverse but no man is to blame if the scheme of the thing is wrong it has been so from the very beginning from the time when king charles set his signature to the charter of unlimited authority the history of a thousand men gives to the first of the time when king charles set his signature to the charter of unlimited authority the history of a thousand men gives the tradition power gives it insistence it is bigger than any one individual it is as inevitable as that water should flow down hill he had spoken quietly but very earnestly still holding her two hands and she had sat looking at him unblinking from eyes behind which passed many thoughts when he had finished a short pause followed at the end of which she asked unexpectedly last evening you told me that you might come to me and asked me to choose between my pity and what i might think to be my duty what are you going to ask of me

nothing i spoke idle words last evening i overheard you demand something of mr crane she pursued without commenting on his answer When he refused you, I heard you say these words. Here is where I should have received aid. I may have to get it where I should not. What was the aid you asked of him? And where else did you expect to get it? The aid was something impossible to accord, and I did not expect to get it elsewhere.

I said that in order to induce him to help me. A wonderful light sprang. to the girl's eyes, but still she maintained her level voice. You asked him for a rifle with which to escape. You expected to get it of me. Deny it if you can. Ned Trent looked at her keenly a moment, then dropped his eyes. It is true, said he. And the pity was to give you this weapon. And the duty was my duty to my father's house. It is true, he repeated, dejectedly.

And you lied to me when you said you had a rifle with which to journey la longue traverse. That too is true, he acknowledged. When next she spoke, her voice was not quite so well controlled. Why did you not ask me as you intended? Why did you tell me those lies? The young man hesitated. looked her in the face, turned away, and murmured,

I could not. Why, persisted the girl. Why? You must tell me. Because, said Ned Trent, because it could not be done. Every rifle in the place is known. Because you would be found out in this, and I do not know what your punishment might not be.

You knew this before. before, insisted Virginia, stonily. Yes. Then why did you change your mind? When first I saw you by the gun, began Ned Trent in a low voice, I was a desperate man, clutching at the slightest chance. The thought crossed my mind then that I might use you. Then, later I saw that I had some influence over you,

and I made my plan. But last night— Yes, last night, urged Virginia softly. Last night I paced the island, and I found out many things. One of them was that I could not. Even though this dreadful journey— I would rather take my chances. Again there was silence between them.

It was a good lie, then said Virginia gently, a noble lie. And what you have told me to comfort me about my father has been nobly said, and I believe you, for I have known the truth about your fate.' He shut his lips grimly. "'Why, why did you come?' she cried passionately. "'Is the trade so good? Are your needs then so great that you must run these perils?'

my needs he replied no i have enough then why she insisted because that old charter has long since expired and now this country is as free for me as for the company he explained we are in a civilized century and no man has a right to tell me where i shall or shall not go does the company own the indians and the creatures of the woods something in the tone of his voice brought her eyes steadily to his for a moment is that all she asked at length he hesitated looked away looked back again no it is not he confessed in a low voice he confessed in a low voice he hesitated he confessed in a low voice no it is not he confessed in a low voice it is a thing i do not speak of my father was a servant of this company a good true servant no man was more honest more zealous more loyal i am sure of it said virginia softly but in some way that he never knew himself he made enemies in high places the cowards did not meet him man to man and so he never knew who they were if he had he would have killed them but they worked against him always he was given hard posts inadequate supplies scant help and then he was held to account for what he could not do finally he left the company in disgrace undeserved disgrace he became a free trader in the the days when to become a free trader was worse than attacking her grizzly with cubs.

In three years he was killed. But when I grew to be a man, he clenched his teeth. By God, how I have prayed to know who did it! He brooded for a moment, then went on. Still, I have accomplished something. I have traded in spite of your factors in many districts. one summer i pushed to the copper mine in the teeth of them and traded with the yellow knives for the robes of the musk-ogues and they knew me and feared my rivalry these traders of the company no district of the far north but has felt the influence of my bartering the traders of all districts fort olyard la pierre's house fort ray eil alacrosse portage la loche la loche la loch la

La Beech, Jasper's House, the house of the Touchwood Hills. All these, and many more, have heard of Ned Trent. Your father, you knew him well? No, but I remember him, a tall, dark man, with a smile always in his eyes and a laugh on his lips. I was brought up at a school in Winnipeg under a priest. Two or three times in the year my father used to appear for a few days. I remember well the last time I saw him. I was about thirteen years old. You are growing to be a man, said he. Next year we will go out on the trail.

I never saw him again. What happened? Oh, he was just killed, replied Ned Trent, bitterly. the girl laid her hand on his arm with an appealing little gesture i am so sorry said she i have no portrait of him continued the free trader after an instant no gift from his hands nothing at all of his but this he showed her an ordinary little silver match safe such as men use in the north country they brought that to me at the last the indians who came to tell my priest the news and the priest who was a good man gave it to me i have carried it ever since virginia took it reverently to her it had all the largeness that envelops the symbol of a great passion after a moment she looked up in surprise why she exclaimed this has a name carved on it yes he replied but the name is graham stewart of course i could not bear my father's name in a country where it was well known he explained of course i could not bear my father's name in a country where it was well known he explained of course

she agreed. Impulsively she raised her face to his, her eyes shining. To me, all this is very fine, said she. He smiled a little sadly. At least you know why I came. Yes, she repeated. I know why you came, but you are in trouble. The chances of war. and they have defeated you after all. I shall start on La Long Traverse, singing Rullin'Roulon. It's a small defeat, that. Listen, said she rapidly.

When I was quite a small girl, Mr. McTavish, of Rupert's house, gave me a little rifle. I have never used it because I do not care to shoot. That rifle has never been counted, and my father has long since forgotten all about it. You must take that and escape tonight. I will let you have it on one condition, that you give me your solemn promise never to venture into this country again. Yes, he agreed, without enthusiasm nor surprise. She smiled happily at his gloomy face and listless asses.

attitude. But I do not want to give up the little rifle entirely, she went on with dainty presiosity, watching him closely. As I said, it was a present, given to me when I was quite a small girl. You must return it to me at Quebec in August. Will you promise to do that? He wheeled on her swift as light, the eagerness flashing back into his face. "'You are going to Quebec?' he cried. "'My father wishes me, too. I have decided to do so. I shall start with the Abitabee Brigade in July.' He leaped to his feet. "'I promise,' he exulted. "'I promise. Tonight, then. Bring the rifle in the cartridges

and some matches and a little salt. You must take me across the river in a canoe, for I want them to guess at where I strike the woods. I shall cover my trail, and with ten hours start, let them catch Ned Trent, who can. She laughed happily. Two night, then.

At the south of the island there is a trail, and at the end of the trail a beach. I know, he cried. Meet me there as soon after dark as you can do so without danger. He threw his hat into the air and caught it, his face boyishly upturned. Again that something, so vaguely familiar, plucked at her with its ghostly appealing fingers. She turned swiftly and seized them, and so found herself in possession of a memory out of her far-off childhood. "'I know you!' she cried.

I have seen you before this.' He bent his puzzled gaze upon her. "'I was a very little girl,' she explained. "'And you but a lad. It was at a party, I think. A great and brilliant party. For I remember many beautiful women and fine men. You held me up in your arms for people to see,

because I was going on a long journey. I remember, of course I do, he exclaimed. A bell clanged, turning over and over, calling the company's men to their day. Farewell, she said hurriedly. Tonight. Tonight, he repeated. She glided rapidly through the grass, noiseless in her moccasined feet. And as she went, she heard his voice humming soft and low.

Isabot si promen Le Long de Saint-Gardin On de Saint-Gardin On the board of the hill Le Long de Saint-Gardin How could he help singing? M murmured Virginia fondly. Ah, dear heaven,

But I am the happiest girl alive. Such a difference can one night bring about? End of Chapter 11 Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 12 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest by Stuart Edward White.

Chapter 12 The day rose and flooded the land with its fuller life. All through the settlement the post-Indians and half-Indians, and half-breed set about their tasks. Some aided Sarnier with his cocking of the bateau. Some worked in the fields. Some mended or constructed in the different shops. At eight o'clock the bell rang again, and they ate breakfast.

Then a group of seven, armed with muzzle-loading trade guns bound in brass, set out for the marshes in hopes of geese. for the flight was arriving, and the Hudson Bay man knows very well the flavor of goose flesh, smoked, salted, and barreled. Now the voyagers began to stroll into the sun. They were men of leisure. Picturesque, handsome, careless, debonair, they wandered back and forth, smoking their cigarettes, exhibiting their finery. Indian women, wrinkled and careworn, plotted patiently about on various businesses.

Indian girls, full of fun and mischief, drifted here and there and arm-locked groups of a dozen, smiling, whispering among themselves, ready to collapse toward a common center of giggles, if addressed by one of the numerous wood-dandies. Indian men stalked singly, indifferent, stolid. Indian children of all sizes and degrees of nakedness darted back and forth, playing strange games. The sound of many voices rose across the air. Once the voices moderated, when McDonald, the chief trader, walked rapidly from the barracks

building to the trading store. Once they died entirely into a hush of respect, when Galen Albert himself appeared on the broad veranda of the factory. He stood for a moment, hulked broad and black against the whitewash, his hands clasped behind him, gazing abstractedly toward the distant bay. Then he turned into the house to some mysterious and weighty business of his own. The hubbub at once broke out again. Now, about the mouth of the long picketed lane leading to the massive trading store,

gathered a silent group bearing packs. These were Indians from the more immediate vicinity, desirous of trading their skins. After a moment, MacDonald appeared in the doorway, a hundred feet away, and raised his hand. Two of the savages, and two only, trotted down the narrow picket lane, their packs on their shoulders.

McDonald ushered them into a big square room, where the bales were undone and spread abroad. Deftly, silently, the trader sorted the furs, placing to one side or other the primes, seconds, and thirds of each species. For a moment he calculated. Then he stepped to a post whereon hung long strings of pierced wooden counters,

worn smooth by use. Swiftly he told the strings over. to one of the indians he gave one with these words mohikun my brother here be pelts to the value of two hundred beaver behold a string then of two hundred casters and in addition i give my brother one fathom of tobacco the indian calculated rapidly his eye abstracted he had known exactly the value of his catch and what he would receive for it in casters, but had hoped for a larger present, by which the premium on the standard price is measured. Aha! he exclaimed finally, and stepped to one side. Sakwisu, my brother, went on, McDonald. Here be peltz to the value of three hundred beaver.

Behold a string, then, of three hundred casters, and because you have brought so fine a skin of the otter, behold also a fathom of tobacco and a half-sack of flour. Good! ejaculated the Indian. The trader then led them to stairs, up which they clambered to where Davis, the assistant trader, kept store. There, barred by a heavy wooden grill from the airy loft filled with bright calicoes, sashes, pails, guns, blankets, clothes and other ornamental and useful things, Sakuisu and Mujican made their choice,

trading in the worn wooden casters on the string. So much flour, so much tea, so much sugar and powder and lead, so much in clothing. Thus were their simple needs supplied for the year to come. Then the remainder they squandered on all sorts of uselessness. things, beads, silks, sashes, bright handkerchiefs, mirrors. And when the last wooden castor was in, they went downstairs and out the picket lane,

carrying their lighter purchases, but leaving the larger as debt to be called for when needed. Two of their companions mounted the stairs as they descended, and two more passed them in the narrow picket lane. So the trade went on. At once, Sakwisu and Mujikun were surrounded. In detail, they told what they had done. Then in greater detail, their friends told what they would have done, until, after five minutes of bewildering advice,

the disconsolate pair would have been only too glad to have exchanged everything, if that had been allowed. now the bell rang again. It was smoke time. Everyone quit work for a half hour. The sun climbed higher in the heavens. The laughing crews of idlers sprawled in the warmth, gambling, telling stories, singing.

Then one might have heard all the picturesque songs of the far north, A la Claire Fontaine, Maboul Roulaire, par derriere she my pair he's a-beau si promen petit chanton l'eron laurette chanty rossignor chanty the ever popular malbrook c'est la belle francoise alouette or the beautiful and tender la violette dandine they had good voices these voyagers with the french artistic instinct and it was fine to hear them at noon the squaws set out to gather canoe gum on the mainland they sat huddled in the bottom of their old and leaky canoe reaching far over the sides to dip their paddles irregularly placed silent mysterious they did not paddle with the unison of the men but each jabbed a little short stroke as the time suited her so that always some paddles were rising and some falling. Into the distance, thus they flapped like wounded birds,

then rounded a bend and were gone. The sun swung over and down the slope. Dinner time had passed. Smoke time had come again. Squaws brought the first whitefish of the season to the kitchen door of the factory, and Matthews raised the hand of horror at the price they asked. Finally, he bought six of about three pounds each, giving in exchange tea to the approximate value of twelve cents. The Indian women went away, secretly pleased over their bargain. Down by the Indian camp suddenly broke the roar of a dogfight. Two of the sledge Gide had come to teeth, and the friends of both were assisting the cause. the idlers went to sea laughing shouting running impromptu races they sat on their haunches and cheered ironically and made small bets and encouraged the frantic old squaw hags who at imminent risk were trying to disintegrate the snarling rolling mass

over in the high log stockade wherein the company's sledge animals were confined other wolf-dogs howled mournfully desolated at missing the fun and always the sun swung lower and lower toward the west until finally the long northern twilight fell and the girl in the little white bedroom at the factory bathed her face and whispered for the hundredth time to her beating heart night has come End of Chapter 12. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 13 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline.

Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 13. That evening, at dinner, Virginia studied her father's face, again. She saw the square, settled line of the jaw under the beard, the unwavering frown of the heavy eyebrows, the unblinking purpose of the cavernous, mysterious eyes. Never had she felt herself very close to this silent, inscrutable man, even in his moments of more affectionate expansion. Now a gulf divided them. And yet, strangely enough, she experienced. no revulsion, no horror, no recoil even.

He had merely become more aloof, more incomprehensible, his purposes vaster, less perceptible to the grasp of such as she. There may have been some basis for this feeling, or it may have been merely the reflex glow of a joy that made all other things seem insignificant. As soon as might be after the meal, Virginia slipped away, carrying the rifle, the cartridges, the matches, and the salt. She was cruelly frightened. The night was providentially dark. No Aurora threw its splendor across the dome, and only a few rare stars peeped between the light cirrus clouds. Virginia left behind her the buildings of the post. She passed to

in safety the tin-steepled chapel and the church house, there remained only the Indian camp between her and the woods trail. At once the dogs began to bark and howl, the fierce guide, lifting their pointed noses to the sky. The girl hurried on, swinging far to the right through the grass. To her relief, the camp did not respond to the summons. An old crony or so appeared in the flap of a tepee, eyes dazzled, to throw uselessly a billet of wood or a volley of cre abuse at the animal's nearest. In a moment, Virginia entered the trail. There was no light at all. She had to proceed warily, feeling with her moccasins for the beaten pathway, to which she returned with infinite caution whenever she trod on grass or leaves. Though her

sight was dulled, her hearing was not. A thousand scurrying noises swirled about her. A multitude of squeaks, whistles, snorts, and wines attested that she disturbed the forest creatures at their varied businesses, and underneath spoke an apparent dozen of terrifying voices which were in reality only the winds and the trees. Virginia knew that these things were not dangerous, that daylight would show them to be only deer mice, hares, weasels, bats, and owls. Nevertheless, they had their effect.

For about her was cloying velvet blackness, not the closed-in blackness of a room, where one feels the embrace of the four walls, but the blackness of infinite space through which sweep mysterious currents of air. After a long time, she turned sharp to the left. After a long time more, she perceived a faint, opalescent glimmer in the distance ahead. This she knew to be the river.

She felt her way onward, still cautiously. Then she choked back a scream and dropped her burden with a clatter to the ground. A dark figure seemed to have risen mysteriously at her side. "'I didn't mean to frighten you,' said Ned Trent in guarded tones. "'I heard you coming. I thought you could hear me.' He picked up the fallen articles, running his hands over them rapidly. "'Good,' he whispered. "'I got some moccasins today, traded a few things I had in my pockets for them.

I'm fixed.' have you a canoe she asked yes here in the beach he preceded her down the few remaining yards of the trail she followed already desolated at the thought of parting for the wilderness was very big the bulk of the man partly blotted out the lucent spot where the river was now his arm now his head now the breadth of his shoulders the silhouette of him was dear to her the sound of his movements the faint stir of his breathing borne to her in the light breeze virginia's tender heart almost overflowed with longing and fear for him they emerged on a little slope and at once pushed the canoe into the current she accepted the aid of his hand for a moment and sank to her place facing him he spurned lightly the shore and so they were adrift in a moment they seemed to be floating on a vast vapor of night infinitely remote from anywhere surrounded by the silence that might have been before the world's beginning a faint splash could have been a muskrat near at hand or a caribou far away the paddle rose and dipped with a faint swish swish and the steersman's twist of it was taken up by the man's strong wrist so it did not click against the gunwale the bow of the craft divided the waters with a murmuring so faint as to seem but the echo of a silence

neither spoke virginia watched him her heart too full for words watched the full swing of his strong shoulders the balance of his body at the hips the pole the poise of his head against the dull sky in a moment more the parting would have to come she dreaded it and yet she looked forward to it with a hungry joy then he would say what she had seen in his eyes then he would speak then she would hear the words that should comfort her in the days of waiting for a woman lives much for the present and the moment's word is an important thing. The man swung his paddle steadily, throwing into the strokes a wanton exuberance that showed how high his spirits ran. After a time, when they were well out from the shore, he took a deep breath of delight. "'Ah, you don't know how happy I am,' he exulted. "'You don't know. To be free, to play the game, to match my wits against a theirs. Ah, that is life. I am sorry to see you go, she murmured. Very sorry. The days will be

full of terror until I know you are safe. Oh, yes, he answered, but I'll get there, and I shall tell it all to you at Quebec, at Quebec in August. It will be a brave tale. You will be there, surely? Yes, said the girl softly. I will be there, surely. Good. Feel the wind on your cheek? It is from the Southland where I am going. I have ventured, and I have not lost.

It is something not to lose when one is ventured against many. They have my goods, but I... You? repeated Virginia, as he hesitated. "'Ah, I don't go back empty-handed,' he cried. Her heart stood still, then leaped in anticipation of what he would say. Her soul hungered for the words, the words that should not only comfort her, but should be to her the excuse for many things. She saw him, shadowy, graceful against the dim gray of the river and sky,

lean ever so slightly toward her. But then he straightened again to his paddle and contented himself with repeating merely, Quebec, in August then. The canoe grated. Ned Trent, with an exclamation, drove his paddle into the clay. Lucky the bottom is soft here, said he.

I did not realize we were so close ashore. He drew the canoe up on the shelving beach, helped Virginia out, took his rifle, and so stood ready to depart. Leave the canoe just where we got in, he advised. It is around the point, you see, and that may fool them a little. You are going, she said, dully. Then she came close to him and looked up at him with her wonderful eyes. Goodbye. Goodbye.

said he. Was this to be all? Had he nothing more to tell her? Was the word to lack the word she needed so much? She had given herself unreservedly into this man's hands, and at parting he had no more to say to her than goodbye. Virginia's eyes were tearful, but she would not let him know that.

She felt that her heart would break. well good-bye he said again after a moment which he had spent inspecting the heavens ah you don't know what it is to be free by to-morrow morning i shall be half-way to the metogamy i can hardly wait to see it for then i am safe and then next day why next day they won't know which of a dozen ways i've gone he was full of the future man fashion he took her hands leaned over and slightly kissed her on the mouth instantly virginia became wildly and unreasonably angry she could not have told herself why but it was the lack of the word she had wanted so much the pain of feeling that he could go like that-the thwarted bitterness of a longing that had grown stronger than she had even yet realized instinctively she leaped into the canoe sending it spinning from the bank ah you had no right to do that she cried i gave you no right then heedless of what he was saying she began to paddle straight from the shore weeping bitterly her face upraised her hair in her eyes and the tears coursing unheeded down her cheeks End of Chapter 13.

Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 14 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. By Stuart Edward White. Chapter 14. Slower and slower her paddle dipped,

lower and lower hung her head. faster and faster flowed her tears. The instinctive recoil, the passionate resentment, had gone. In the bitterness of her spirit, she knew not what she thought, except that she would give her soul to see him again, to feel the touch of his lips once more, for she could not make herself believe that this would ever come to pass. He had gone like a phantom, like a dream,

and the mists of life had closed about him, showing no sign. He had vanished, and at once she seemed to know that the episode was finished. The canoe whispered against the soft clay bottom. She had arrived, though how the crossing had been made she could not have told. Slowly and sorrowfully, she disembarked. Languidly she drew the light craft beyond the stream's eager fingers. then her forces at an end she huddled down on the ground and gave herself up to sorrow the life of the forest went on as though she were not there a big owl far off said hurriedly his who who who as though he had the message to deliver and wanted to finish the task a smaller owl near at hand cried

across the river a lynx screamed and was answered at once by the ullations of wolves on the island the gidee howled defiance then from above clear spiritual floated the whistle of shore birds arriving from the south close by sounded a rustle of leaves a sharp squeak a tragedy had been consummated and the fierce little mink stared malevolently across the body of his victim at the motionless figure on the beach. Virginia, drowned in grief, knew of none of these things. She was seeing again the clear brown face of the stranger, his curly brown hair, his steel eyes, and the swing of his graceful figure. Now he fronted the wandering voyageurs, one foot raised against the bow of the brigade canoe, now he stood straight and tall against the light of the sitting-room door.

Now he emptied the vials of his wrath and contempt on Archibald Crane's reverent head. Now he passed in the darkness, singing gaily the Chanson de Canon. But more fondly she saw him as he swept his hat to the ground on discovering her by the guns, as he bent his impassioned eyes on her in the dim lamplight of their first interview, as he tossed his hat aloft in the air when he had understood that she would be in Quebec. She hugged the visions to her and wept over them softly, for she was now sure she would never see him again. And she heard his voice, now laughing, now scornful, now mocking,

now indignant, now rich and solemn with feeling. He flouted the people, he turned the shafts of his irony on her father. He scathed the minister. He laughed at Louis Placid awakened from his sleep. He sang. He told her of the land of desolation. He pleaded. She could hear him calling her name, although he had never spoken it,

in low tender tones virginia virginia over and over again softly as though his soul were crying through his lips then somehow in a manner not to be comprehended it was borne in under consciousness that he was indeed near her and that he was indeed calling her name and at once she made him out standing dripping on the beach A moment later she was in his arms. Ah, he cried in gladness. You are here! He crushed her hungrily to him, unmindful of his wet clothes, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, her chin, even the fragrant corner of her throat exposed by the collar of her gown.

She did not struggle. Oh, she murmured, my dear, my dear! "'Why did you come back? Why did you come?' "'Why did I come?' he repeated passionately. "'Why did I come? Can you ask that? How could I help but come? You must have known I would come. Surely you must have known. Didn't you hear me calling you when you paddled away?' "'I came to get the right. I came to get your promise, your kisses.' to hear you say the word, to get you.

I thought you understood. It was all so clear to me, I thought you knew. That was why I was so glad to go, so eager to get away that I could not even realize I was parting from you. So I could the sooner reach Quebec, reach you. Don't you see how I felt? All this present was merely something to get over, to pass by, to put behind us until I got to Quebec in August, and you.

I looked forward so eagerly to that, I was so anxious to get away, I was desirous of hastening on to the time when things could be sure. Don't you understand? Yes, I think I do, replied the girl softly. And I thought, of course, you knew. I should not have kissed you otherwise. How could I know, she sighed. You said nothing, and, oh, I wanted so to hear.

And singularly enough, he said nothing now, but they stood facing each other hand in hand, while the great, vibrant life they were now touching so closely, filled their hearts and eyes, and left them faint. So they stood for hours or for seconds they could not tell, spirit hushed, ecstatic. The girl realized that they must part. "'You must go,' she whispered brokenly at last.

"'I do not want you to, but you must.' She smiled up at him with trembling lips that whispered to her soul that she must be brave. "'Now go,' she nerved herself to say, releasing her hands. "'Tell me,' he commanded. "'What?' she asked. "'What I most want to hear.' "'I can tell you many things,' said she soberly. "'But I do not know which of them you want to hear.

"'Ah, Ned, I can tell you that you have come into a girl's life "'to make her very happy and very much afraid. "'And that is a solemn thing, is it not?' "'Yes,' said he. and i can tell you that this can never be undone that is a solemn thing too is it not yes said he and that according as you treat her this girl will believe or not believe in the goodness of all men or the badness of all men ah ned a woman's heart is fragile and mine is in your keeping her face was raised bravely and steadily to his. In the starlight it shone white and pathetic, and her eyes were two liquid wells of darkness in the shadow, and her half-parted lips were wistful and childlike. The man caught both her hands,

again looking down on her. Then he answered her, solemnly and humbly, "'Virginia,' said he, "'I am setting out on a perilous journey. As I deal with you, May God deal with me. Ah, that is as I like you, she breathed. Goodbye, said he. She raised her lips of her own accord, and he kissed them reverently. Goodbye, she murmured. He turned away with an effort and ran down the beach to the canoe.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, she murmured under her breath. ah good-bye i love you oh i do love you then suddenly from the bushes leaped dark figures the still night was broken by the sound of a violent scuffle blows a fall she heard ned trent's voice calling to her from the melea go back at once he commanded clearly and steadily you can do no good i order you to go to go to go back at once he commanded clearly and steadily you can do no good i order you to go go home before they search the woods. But she crouched in day's terror, her pupils wide to the dim light. She saw them bind him and stand waiting. She saw a canoe glide out of the darkness. She saw the occupants of the canoe disembark. She saw them exhibit her little rifle, and heard them explain in Cree that they had followed the man swimming. Then she knew that the cause was lost and fled as swiftly as she could through the forest.

End of Chapter 14. Recording by Roger Maline. Chapter 15 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 15 Galen Albrecht had chosen to interrogate his recaptured prisoner alone.

He sat again in the armchair of the council room. The place was flooded with sun. It touched the highlights of the time-darkened rough furniture. It picked out the brasses. It glorified the whitewashed walls. In its uncompromising illumination, Miangon, the Bozeman, standing straight and tall and silent by the door,

studied his master's face and knew him to be deeply angered. For Galen Albrecht was at this moment called upon to deal with a problem more subtle than any with which his policy had been puzzled in thirty years. It was bad enough that, in repeated defiance of his authority, this stranger should persist in his attempt to break the company's monopoly. It was bad enough that he had, when captured, borne himself with so impudent an air of assurance. It was bad enough that he should have made open love to the factor's daughter, should have laughed scornfully in the factor's very face.

But now the case had become grave. In some mysterious manner he had succeeded in corrupting one of the company's servants. Treachery was therefore to be dealt with. some facts galen albert had well in hand others eluded him persistently he had of course known promptly enough of the disappearance of a canoe and had thereupon dispatched his indians to the recapture the reverend archibald crane had reported that two figures had been seen in the act of leaving camp one by the river the other by the woods trail but here the factors invested in the factors invested in the fact of leaving camp one by the river the other by the woods trail but here the factor's investigations encountered a check the rifle brought in by his indians to his bewilderment he recognized not at all his repeated cross-questionings when they touched on the question of ned trent's companion got no farther than the crewe wooden stolidity no they had seen no one neither presence sign nor trail but galen albert versed in the psychology of his savage allies knew they lied he suspected them of clan loyalty to one of their own number and yet they had never failed him before

now his heavy revolver at his right hand he interviewed ned trent alone except for the indian by the portal as with the indians his cross-examination had borne scant results. The best of his questions but involved him in a maze of baffling surmises. Gradually his anger had mounted, until now the Indian at the door knew by the wax-like appearance of the more prominent places on his deeply carved countenance that he had nearly reached the point of outbreak. Swiftly, like the play of rapiers, the questions and answers broke across the still room. You had aid, the factor asserted positively. You think so? My Indians say you were alone, but where did you get this rifle? I stole it.

You were alone? Ned Trent paused for a barely appreciable instant. It was not possible that the Indians had failed to establish the girl's presence, and he feared a trap. Then he caught the expressive eye of Miangon at the door. Evidently, Virginia had friends. I was alone, he repeated confidently. That is a lie.

For though my Indians were deceived, two people were observed by my clergyman to leave the post immediately before I sent out to your capture. One rounded the island in a canoe, the other took the woods trail. bully for the church replied trent imperturbably better promote him to your scouts who was that second person do you think i will tell you i think i'll find means to make you tell me burst out the factor ned trent was silent if you'll tell me the name of that man i'll let you go free i'll give you a permit to trade in the country It touches my authority, my discipline.

The affair becomes a precedent. It is vital. Ned Trent fixed his eyes on the bay and hummed a little air, half turning his shoulder to the older man. The latter's face blazed with suppressed fury. Twice his hand rested almost convulsively on the butt of his heavy revolver. Ned Trent, he cried heart. partially at last.

Pay attention to me. I've had enough of this. I swear, if you do not tell me what I want to know within five minutes, I'll hang you today. The young man spun on his heel. Hanging, he cried. You cannot mean that. The free trader measured him up and down,

saw that his purpose was sincere, and turned slowly pale under the bronze of, his out-of-door tan hanging is always a dreadful death but in the far north it carries an extra stigma of ignominy with it inasmuch as it is resorted to only with the basest malefactors shooting is the usual form of execution for all but the most despicable crimes he turned away with a little gesture well cried albert ned trent locked his lips in a purposeful straight line of silence to such an outrage there could be nothing to say the factor jerked his watch to the table i said five minutes he repeated i mean it the young man leaned against the side of the window his arms folded his back to the room outside the very life of the post went forward under his eyes he even noted with a surface interest the fact that out across the river a loon was floating and remarked that never before had he seen one of those birds so far north galen albert struck the table with the flat of his hand done he cried this is the last chance i shall give you speak at this instant or accept the consequences

ned trent turned sharply as though breaking a thread that bound him to the distant prospect beyond the window for an instant he stared enigmatically at his opponent then in the sweetest tones oh go to the devil said he and began to walk deliberately toward the older man there lay between the window and the head of the table perhaps a dozen ordinary steps for the room was large The young man took them slowly, his eyes fixed with burning intensity on the seated figure, the muscles of his locomotion contracting and relaxing with the smooth, stealthy continuity of a cat. Galen Albert again laid hand in his revolver. "'Come no nearer,' he commanded. Me Engon left the door and glided along the wall. but the table intervened between him and the free trader.

The latter paid no attention to the factor's command. Galen Albrecht suddenly raised his weapon from the table. Stop, or I'll fire, he cried sharply. I mean just that, said Ned Trent between his clenched teeth. But ten feet separated the two men. Galen Albreit levelled the revolved. NED Trent, watchful, prepared to spring. May Engon, near the foot of the table, gathered himself for attack.

Then suddenly the free trader relaxed his muscles, straightened his back, and returned deliberately to the window. Facing about in astonishment to discover the reason for this sudden change of decision, the other two men looked into the face of Virginia Albert, standing in the doorway of the other room. "'Father!' she cried. "'You must go back,' said Ned Trent, speaking clearly and collectively,

in the hope of imposing his will on her obvious excitement. "'This is not an affair in which you should interfere. Galen Albert sent her away.' The factor had turned squarely in his heavy armchair to regard the girl, a frown on his brows, virginia he commanded in deliberate stern tones of authority leave the room you have nothing to do with this case and i do not desire your interference virginia stepped bravely beyond the portals and stopped her fingers were nervously interlocked her lip trembled in her cheeks the color came and went but her eyes met her father's unfaulted unfaulted but her eyes met her father's unfaulted I have more to do with it than you think, she replied.

Instantly, Ned Trent was at the table. I really think this has gone far enough, he interposed. We have had our interview and come to a decision. Miss Albert must not be permitted to exaggerate a slight sentiment of pity into an interest in my affairs. If she knew that such a demonstration only made it worse for me, I am sure she would say no more. He looked at her appealingly across the factor's shoulder. May Engan was already holding open the door.

You come, he smiled, beseechingly. But the factor's suspicions were aroused. There is something in this, he decided. I think you may stay, Virginia. You are right, broke in. in the young man desperately. There is something in it. Miss Albret knows who gave me the rifle, and she was about to inform you of his identity. There is no need in subjecting her to that distasteful ordeal. I am now ready to confess to you. I beg you will ask her to leave the room.

Galen Albert, in the midst of these warring intentions, had sunk into his customary impassive calm, the light had died from his eyes the expression from his face the energy from his body he sat an inert mass void of initiative his intelligence opened to what might be brought to his notice virginia this is true his heavy dead voice rumbled through his beard you know who aided this man ned trent mutely appealed to his beard ned trent mutely appealed to his beard ned trent mutely appealed to her her glance answered his yes father she replied who i did a dead silence fell in the room galen albert's expression and attitude did not change through dull lifeless eyes from behind the heavy mask of his waxen face and white beard He looked steadily out upon nothing. Along either arm of the chair stretched his own arms, limp and heavy with inertia.

In suspense, the other three inmates of the place watched him, waiting for some change. It did not come. Finally, his lips moved. You? he muttered, questioningly. I, she repeated. Another silence fell. Why? he asked at last.

Because it was an unjust thing. Because we could not think of taking a life in that way without some reason for it. Why? he persisted, taking no account of her reply. Virginia let her gaze slowly rest on the free trader and her eyes filled with the world of tenderness and trust. Because I love him, said she, softly. End of Chapter 15. Recording by Roger Maline.

Chapter 16 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the Free Forest. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the free forest. by Stuart Edward White Chapter 16 After an instant, Galen Albert turned slowly his massive head and looked at her.

He made no other movement, yet she staggered back as though she had received a violent blow on the chest. "'Father!' she gasped. Still slowly, gropingly, he arose to his feet, holding tight to the edge of the table. behind him unheeded the rough-built arm-chair crashed to the floor he stood there upright and motionless looking straight before him his face formidable at first his speech was disjointed the words came in widely punctuated gasps then as the wave of his emotion rolled back from the poise into which the first shock of anger had thrown it it escaped through his lips in a constantly increasing stream of bitter words.

You, you love him, he cried. You, my daughter. You have been a traitor to me. You have dared, dared, deny that which my whole life has affirmed. My own flesh and blood, when I thought the nearest Métis of them all more loyal. You love this man,

this man who has insulted me mocked me you have taken his part against me you have deliberately placed yourself in the class of those i would hang for such an offence If you are not my daughter, I would hang you. Hang my own child. Suddenly his rage flared. You little fool! Do you dare set your judgment against mine? Do you dare interfere where I think well? Do you dare deny my will?

By the eternal, I'll show you, old as you are, that you have still a father. Get to your room. Out of my sight! He took two steps forward, and so his eye fell on Ned Trent. He uttered a scream of rage and reached for the pistol. Fortunately, the abruptness of his movement, when he arose, had knocked it to the floor, so now in the blindness of a red anger he could not see it. He shrieked out an epithet and jumped forward, his arm drawn to strike.

ned trent leaped back into an attitude of defence all three of those present had many times seen galen albret possessed by his noted fits of anger so striking in contrast to his ordinary contained passivity but always though evidently in a white heat of rage and given to violent action and decision he had retained the clearest command of his faculties issuing coherent and dreaded orders to those about him now he had become a raging wild beast and for the spectators the sight had all the horror of the unprecedented but the younger man too had gradually heated to the point where his ordnation careless indifference could give off sparks. The interview had been baffling, the threats real and unjust, the turn of affairs when Virginia Albert entered the room, most exasperating on the side of the undesirable and unforeseen.

In foiled escape, in thwarted expedient, his emotions had been many times excited, and then eddied back on themselves. The potentialities of as blind and anger as that of Galen Albert were in him. It only needed a touch to loose the flood. The physical threat of a blow supplied that touch. As the two men faced each other, both were ripe for the extreme of recklessness. But when Galen Albert looked to nothing less than murder,

the free trader's individual genius turned to dead defiance and resistance of will. While Galen Albret's countenance reflected the height of passion, Trent was as smiling and cool and debonair as though he had at that moment received from the older man an extraordinary and particular favor. Only his eyes shot a baleful blue flame, and his words, calmly enough delivered, showed the extent to which his passion had cast policy to the winds. Don't go too far, I warn you, said he. As though the words had projected him bodily forward,

Galen Albrecht sprang to deliver his blow. The free trader ducked rapidly, threw his shoulder across the middle of the older man's body, and by the very superiority of his position, forced his antagonist to give ground. That the struggle would have then continued body to body, there can be no doubt, Had it not been for the fact that the factor's retrogressive movement

brought his knees sharply against the edge of a chair standing near the side of the table. Albret lost his balance, wavered, and finally sat down violently. Ned Trent promptly pinned him by the shoulder into powerless immobility. Meengan had possessed himself of the fallen pistol, but beyond keeping a generally wary eye out for, for dangerous developments did not offer to interfere. Your Indian is in such a crisis a disciplinarian, and he had received no orders.

Now, said Ned Trent, acidly, I think this will stop right here. You do not cut a very good figure, my dear sir, he laughed a little. You haven't cut a very good figure from the beginning, you know. You forbade me to do various things. and I have done them all. I traded with your Indians. I came and went in your country. Do you think I have not been here often before I was caught? And you forbade me to see your daughter again. I saw her that very evening, and the next morning and the next evening.

He stood, still holding Galen Albert 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. With a sudden, swift motion of his left arm, he drew her to him and touched her forehead with his lips. Look! Your commands have been rather ridiculous, sir.

I seem to have had the upper hand of you from first to last. Incidentally, you have my life. Oh, welcome, that is small pay and little satisfaction. He threw himself from the factor and stepped back. Galen Albrecht sat still without attempting to renew the struggle. The enforced few moments of inaction had restored to him his self-control. He was still deeply angered, but the insanity of rage had left him. Outwardly, he was himself again. Only a rapid heaving of his chest, answered Ned Trent's

quick breathing, as the two men glared defiantly at each other in the pause that followed. "'Very well, sir,' said the factor, curtly, at last. "'Your time is over. I find it unnecessary to hang you. You will start on your long traverse today. Oh, cried Virginia in a low voice of agony, and fluttered to her lover's side. Hush, hush, he soothed her. There is a chance. You think so? broke in Galen Albert harshly, and looking at his set face and blazing eyes, they saw that there was no chance. The free trader shrugged his shoulders. "'Are you going to do this thing, Father?' appealed Virginia.

After what I have told you? My mind is made up. "'I shall not survive him, father,' she threatened in a low voice. Then, as the factor did not respond, "'do you misunderstand me? I do not intend to survive him. Silence, silence, silence, cried Galen Albret and a crescendo outburst.

Silence! I will not be gainsaid. You have made your choice. You are no longer a daughter of mine. Father! cried Virginia, faintly, her lips going pale. Don't speak to me. Don't look at it.

me get out of here get out of the place i won't have you here another day another hour by the girl hesitated for a moment then ran to him sinking on her knees and clasping his hand father she pleaded you are not yourself this has been very trying to you to-morrow you will be sorry but then it will be too late think while there is yet time he has not committed a crime you yourself told me he was a man of intelligence and daring a gentleman and surely though he has been hasty he has acted with a brave spirit through it all see he will promise you to go away quietly to say nothing of all this never to come into this country again without your permission he will do this if i ask him for he loves me look at me father are you going to treat your little girl so your virginia you have never refused me anything before and this is the greatest thing in all my life she held his hand to her cheek and stroked it murmuring little feminine caressing phrases secure in her power of witchery which had never failed her before the sound of her own voice reassured her in the quiet of the man she pleaded with. A lifetime of petting, of indulgence,

through its soothing influence over her perturbation, convincing her that somehow all this storm and stress must be phantasmagoric, a dream from which she was even now awakening into a clearer day of happiness. "'For you love me, father,' she concluded, and looked up daintily with a pathetic, coquettish tilt of her fair head to peer into his face.

Galen Albrecht snarled like a wild beast, throwing aside the girl as he did the chair in which he had been sitting. Ned Trent caught her, reeling in his arms. For as is often the case with passionate but strong temperaments, though the factor had attained a certain calm of control, the turmoil of his deeper anger had not been in the least stilled. Over it a crust of determination had formed, the determination to make an end by the directest means

in his autocratic power of this galling opposition. The girls pleading, instead of appealing to him, had in reality but stirred his fury the more profoundly. It had added a new fuel element to the fire, heretofore his consciousness had felt merely the thwarting of his pride his authority his right to loyalty now his daughter's entreaty brought home to him the bitter realization that he had been attained on an other side that of his family affection this man had also killed for him his only child for the child had renounced him had thrust him outside herself into the lonely and ruined temple of his pride at the first thought his face twisted with emotion then hardened to cold malice love you he cried love you an unnatural child an ingrate one who turns from me so lightly.

He laughed bitterly, eyeing her with chilling scrutiny. You dare recall my love for you? Suddenly he stood upright, leveling a heavy, trembling arm at her. You think an appeal to my love will save him? Fool! Virginia's breath caught in her throat. She straightened, clutched the neck of her. band of her gown. Then her head fell slowly forward. She had fainted in her lover's arms.

They stood exactly so for an appreciable interval, bewildered by the suddenness of this outcome. Galen Albrecht's hand outstretched in denunciation. The girl, like a broken lily, supported in the young man's arms, he, searching her face passionately for a sign of life. me engan straight and sorrowful again at the door then the old man's arm dropped slowly his gaze wavered the lines of his face relaxed twice he made an effort to turn away all at once his stubborn spirit broke he uttered a cry and sprang forward to snatch the unconscious form hungrily into his bare clasp searching the girl's face, muttering, incoherent things. "'Quick!' he cried aloud, the guttural sounds jostling one another in his throat. "'Get Wishkobin, quick!' Ned Trent looked at him with steady scorn, his arms folded.

"'Ah!' he dropped distinctly in deliberate monosyllables across the surcharged atmosphere of the scene. "'So, it seems you have found your heart, my friend!' Galen Albrecht glared wildly at him over the girl's fair head. She is my daughter, he mumbled. End of Chapter 16. Recording by Roger Malene. Chapter 17 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the Free Forest. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the Free Forest. by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 17 They carried the unconscious girl into the dim-lighted apartment of the curtained windows and laid her on the div-van. Wischkoban, hastily summoned, unfastened the girl's dress at the throat. "'It is a faint,' she announced in her own tongue.

"'She will recover in a few minutes. I will get some water.' ned trent wiped the moisture from his forehead with his handkerchief the danger he had undergone coolly but this overcame his iron self-control galen albert like an anxious bear weaved back and forth the length of the couch in him the rumble of the storm was but just echoing into distance go into the next room he growled at the free trader when finally he noticed the latter's presence. Ned Trent hesitated. Go, I say, snarled the factor. You can do nothing here. He followed the young man to the door, which he closed with his own hand, and then turned back to the couch on which his daughter lay. In the middle of the floor, his foot clicked on some small object. Mechanically, he picked it up. It proved to be a little silver mat safe.

of the sort universally used in the far north. Evidently the free trader had flipped it from his pocket with his handkerchief. The factor was about to thrust it into his own pocket when his eye caught lettering roughly carved across one side. Still mechanically, he examined it more closely. The lettering was that of a man's name. The man's name was Graham Stewart. Without thinking of what he did, he dropped the object on the small table and returned anxiously to the girl's side, cursing the tardiness of the Indian woman.

But in a moment, Wishkobin returned. Will she recover? asked the factor, distracted at the woman's deliberate examination. The latter smiled her indulgent, slow smile. But surely, she assured him in her own tongue, it is no more than if she cut her finger. In a few breaths she will recover. Now I will go to the house of the cockburn for a morsel of the sweetwood,

which she must smell. She looked her inquiry for permission. Saagamig, go, assented Albert. Relieved in mind, he dropped into a chair. His eye caught the little silver match-safe. He picked it up and fell to staring at the rudely carved letters. He found that he was alone with his daughter, and the thoughts aroused by the dozen letters of a man's name.

All his life long he had been a hard man. His commands had been autocratic, his anger formidable, his punishment severe and sometimes cruel. The quality of mercy was with him tenuous and weak, he knew this and if he did not exactly glory in it he was at least indifferent to its effect on his reputation with others but always he had been just the victims of his displeasure might complain that his retributive measures were harsh that his forgiveness could not be evoked by even the most extenuating of circumstances but not that his anger had ever been baseless or the punishment undeserved Thus he had held always his own self-respect, and from his self-respect had preceded his iron and effective rule.

So in the case of the young man with whom now his thoughts were occupied. Twice he had warned him from the country without the punishment which the third attempt rendered imperative. The events succeeding his arrival at Conjurer's house warmed the factor's anger to the heat of almost preposterous retribution, perhaps, for after all, a man's life is worth something, even in the wilds, but it was actually retribution, and not merely a ruthless proof of power. It might be justice, as only the factor saw it, but it was still essentially justice, in the broader sense that to each act had followed a definite consequence. Although another might have condemned his conduct as unnecessarily harsh,

Galen Albert's conscience was satisfied and at rest. Nor had his resolution been permanently affected by either the girl's threat to make away with herself or by his momentary softening when she had fainted. The affair was thereby complicated, but that was all. In the sincerity of the threat, he recognized his own iron nature, and was perhaps a little pleased at its manifestation. He knew she intended to fulfill her promise not to survive her lover, but at the moment this did not reach his fears. It only aroused further his dogged opposition. The free trader's speech, as he left the room, however, had touched the one flaw in Galen Albret's

confidence of righteousness. Weiried with the struggles and the passions he had undergone, his brain numbed, his will for the moment in abeyance, he seated himself and contemplated the images those two words had called up. Graham Stewart! That man he had first met at Fort Ray over twenty years ago. It was but just after he had married Virginia's mother. At once his imagination, with the keen pictorial power of those who have dwelt long in the silent places, brought forward the other scene, that of his wooing. He had driven his dogs into Fort La Closch after a hard day's run in 75 degrees of frost. Weary, hungry, half-frozen, he had staggered into the fire-lit room. Against the blaze he had caught for a moment of

a young girl's profile, lost as she turned her face toward him in a startled question of his entrance. Men had cared for his dogs. The girl had brought him hot tea. In the corner of the fire, they too had whispered one to the other, the already grizzled traveler of the silent land, the fresh, brave, north maiden. At midnight their parkas drawn close about their faces, in the fearful cold, they had met outside the enclosure of the post. An hour later they were away under the Aurora for Capel. Galen Albrecht's nostrils expanded as he heard the crack, crack, crack, of the remorseless dogwhip whose sting drew him away from the vain pursuit.

After the marriage at Capel, they had gone a weary journey to Ray, and there he had first seen Graham Stewart. Fort Ray is on the northwestward arm of the great slave lake in the country of the dog ribs, only four degrees under the Arctic Circle. It is a dreary spot, for the barren grounds are near. Men see only the great lake, the great sky, the great gray country. They become moody, fanciful.

In the face of the silence they have little to say. At Fort Ray were old Jack Wilson, the chief trader, Father Bonnet, the priest, Andrew Lavoie, the Métis clerk, four dog-ribed teepees, Galen Albert and his bride, and Graham Stewart. Jack Wilson was 65, Father Bonat had no age. Andrew Levoy possessed the years of dour silence.

Only Graham Stewart and Elodie, bride of Albert, were young. In the great grey country, their lives were like spots of colour on a mist. Galen Albert finally became jealous. At first there was nothing to be done, but finally Levoie brought to the older man proof of the younger's guilt. the harsh traveller bowed his head and wept but since he loved elodie more than himself which was perhaps the only redeeming feature of this sorry business he said nothing nor did more than to journey south to edmonton leaving the younger man alone in fort ray to the white silence but his soul was stirred in the course of nature and of time galen albert had a daughter but lost a wife it was no longer necessary for him to leave his wrong un avenged

then began a series of baffling hindrances which resulted finally in his stooping to means repugnant to his open sense of what was due himself at the first he could not travel to his enemy because of the child and his care when finally he had succeeded in placing the little girl where he would be satisfied to leave her he himself was suddenly and peremptorily called east to take a post in rupert's land he could not disobey and remain in the company and the company was more to him than life or revenge the little girl he left in sacre cur of quebec he himself took up his residences in the hudson Bay Country. After a few years, becoming lonely for his own flesh and blood, he sent for his daughter. There, as factor, he gained a vast power, and this power he turned into the channels of his hatred. Graham Stewart felt always against him the hand of influence. His posts in the company's service became intolerable. At length, an indignation against continued injustice oppression and insult he resigned broken in fortune and in prospects

he became one of the earliest free traders on the saskatchewan devoting his energies to enraged opposition of the company which had wronged him in the space of three short years he had met a violent and striking death for the early days of the free trader were adventurous galen albert's revenge had struck home then in after years the factor had again met with andrew levoy the man staggered into conjurer's house late at night he had started from winnipeg to descend the albany river but had met with mishap and starvation one by one his dogs had died in some blind fashion he pushed on for days after his strength and sanity had left him muhikun had brought him in his toes and fingers had frozen and dropped off his face was a mask of black frost-bitten flesh in which deep fissures opened to the raw he had gone snow-blind scarcely was he recognizable as a human being from such a man in extremity could come nothing but the truth so galen albert believed him before andrew levois died that night he told of his deceit the factor left the room with the weight of a crime on his conscience for graham stewart had been innocent of any wrong toward him or his bride such was the story galen albrett saw in the little silver match-box that was the one flaw in his consciousness of righteousness the one instance in a long career when his ruthless acts of punishment or reprisal had not rested on rigid justice

and by the irony of fate the one instance had touched him very near now here before him was his enemy's son he wondered that he had not discovered the resemblance before and he was about to visit on him the severest punishment in his power was not this an opportunity vouchsafed him to repair his ancient fault to cleanse his conscience of the one sin of the kind it would acknowledge but then over him swept the same blur of jealousy that had resulted in graham stuart's undoing this youth wooed his daughter he had won her affections away strangely enough galen albert confused the new and the old. Again, youth cleave to youth, leaving age apart. Age felt fiercely the desire to maintain its own. The factor crushed the silver matchbox between his great palms and looked up. His daughter lay before him, still, lifeless. Deliberately he rested his chin on his hands and contemplated her. The room, as always, was full of contrast.

Shafs of light, dust-moted, bewildering, crossed from the embrasured windows, throwing highlights into prominence and shadows into impenetrable darkness. They rendered the grey-clad figure of the girl, vague and ethereal, like a mist above a stream. They darkened the dull-hued couch on which she was. rested into a liquid, impalpable black. They hazed the draped background of the corner into a far-reaching distance, so that finally to Galen Albrecht, staring with hypnotic intensity, it came to seem that he looked upon a pure and disembodied spirit sleeping sweetly, cradled on

illimitable space. The ordinary and familiar surroundings all disappeared. His consciousness accepted nothing but the cameo profile of marble white the nimbus of golden haze about the head the mist-like suggestion of a body and again the clear marble spot of the hands all else was a background of modulated depths so gradually the old man's spirit wearied by the stress of the last hour turned in on itself and began to create the cameo profile the mist-like body the marble hands remained but now galen albrett saw other things as well a dim rare perfume was wafted from some unseen space indistinct flashes of light spotted the darknesses faint swells of music lifted the silence intermittently these things were small and still and under the external consciousness like the voices one may hear beneath the roar of a tumbling rapid but gradually they defined themselves the perfume came to galen albert's nostrils on the wings of incensed smoke the flashes of light steadied to the ovals of candle flames the faint swells of music blended into grand-breathed organ chords he felt about him the dim awe of the church he saw the tapers burning at head and foot the clear calm face of the dead smiling from the dead smiling

faintly that at last it should be no more disturbed. So had he looked all one night and all one day in the long time ago. The factor stretched his arms out to the figure on the couch, but he called upon his wife, gone these twenty years. "'Elody! "'Elod!' he murmured softly. "'She had never known it, thank God, but he had run. her too in all sorrow and sweet heavenly pity he had believed that her youth had turned to the youth of the other man it had not been so did he not owe her to some reparation

as though in answer to his appeal or perhaps that merely the sound of a human voice had broken the last shreds of her swoon the girl moved slightly galen albert did not stir slowly virginia turned her head until finally her wandering eyes met his fixed on her with passionate intensity for a moment she stared at him then comprehension came to her along with memory she cried out and sat upright in one violent motion he he she cried out and sat upright in one violent motion he he she cried is he gone instantly galen albert had her in his arms it is all right he soothed drawing her close to his great breast all right you are my own little girl end of chapter seventeen recording by roger maline chapter eighteen of conjurer's house a romance of the free forest this librivox recording is in the public domain recording by roger maline conjurer's house a romance of the free forest by stuart edward white chapter eighteen for perhaps ten minutes ned trent lingered near the door of the council-room until he had assured himself that virginia was in no serious danger then he began to pace the room examining minutely the various objects that ornamented it he paused longest at the full-length portrait of sir george simpson the company's great traveller with his mild blue eyes his kindly face denying the potency of his official france

his snowy hair and whiskers the painted man and the real man looked at each other inquiringly the latter shook his head you traveled the wild country far said he thoughtfully you knew many men of many lands and wherever you went they tell me you made friends and yet as you embodied this company to all these people and so made for the fanatical loyalty that is destroying you me, I suppose, you and I are enemies.' He shrugged his shoulders whimsically and turned away. Thence he cast a fleeting glance out the window at the long reach of the moose and the blue bay gleaming in the distance. He tried the outside door. It was locked. Taken with a new idea, he proceeded at once to the third door of the apartment. It opened. He found himself in a small and a small and a much-littered room containing a desk, two chairs, a vast quantity of papers, a stuffed bird or so, and a row of account books. Evidently, the factor's private office. Ned Trent returned to the main room and listened intently for several minutes. After that, he ran back to the office and began

hastily to open and rummage, one after another, the drawers of the desk. He discovered in the concealed several bits of string, a desk knife, and a box of matches. Then he uttered a guarded exclamation of delight. He had found a small revolver, and with it part of a box of cartridges. A chance, he exulted, a chance. The game would be desperate. He would be forced, first of all, to seek out and kill them and detail to shadow him, a toy revolver against rifles, white men against trained savages. And after that he would have, with the cartridges remaining, to assure his subsistence. Still, it was a chance.

He closed the drawers and the door, and resumed his seat in the armchair by the council table. For over an hour thereafter, he awaited the next move in the game. He was already swinging up the pendulum arc. The case did not appear utterly hopeless. he resolved through meyengon whom he divined as a friend of the girls to smuggle a message to virginia bidding her hope already his imagination had conducted him to quebec when in august he would search her out and make her his own soon one of the indian servants entered the room for the purpose of conducting him to a smaller apartment where he was left alone for some time longer food was brought him he ate heartily for he considered that wise then at last the summons for which he had been so long in readiness mayngon himself entered the room and motioned him to follow ned trent had already prepared his message on the back of an envelope writing it with the lead of a cartridge he now pressed the bit of paper into the indian's palm

for omimi me he explained me engan bored him through with his bead-like eyes of the surface lights nin nisito tam he agreed after a moment he led the way ned trent followed through the narrow uncarpeted hall with the faded photograph of westminster down the crooked steep stairs with the creaking degrees and finally into the council-room once more with its heavy rafters, its two fireplaces, its long table, and its narrow windows. Bika, wait, commanded Meengan, and left him. Ned Trent had supposed he was being conducted to the canoe which should bear him on the first stage of his long journey, but now he seemed condemned again to take up the wearing uncertainty of inaction. The interval was not long, however. almost immediately the other door opened and the factor entered.

His movements were abrupt and impatient, for with whatever grace such a man yields to his better instinct, the actual carrying out of their conditions is a severe trial. For one thing, it is a species of emotional nakedness, invariably repugnant to the self-contained. Ned Trent, observing this and misinterpreting its cause, hugged the little revolver to his side with grim satisfaction. The interview was likely to be stormy.

If worst came to worst, he was at least assured of reprisal before his own end. The factor walked directly to the head of the table and his customary armchair in which he disposed himself. Sit down, he commanded the younger man, indicating a chair at his elbow. the latter warily obeyed. Galen Albert hesitated appreciably. Then, as one might make a plunge into cold water, quickly, in one motion, he laid on the table something over which he held his hand.

You are wondering why I am interviewing you again, said he. It is because I have become aware of certain things. When you left me a few hours ago, you dropped this. He moved his hand to one side. The silver match-safe lay on the table. Yes, it is mine, agreed Ned Trent. On one side is carved a name.

Yes. Whose? The free trader hesitated. My father's, he said at last. I thought that must be so. You will understand when I tell you that at one time I knew him very well. You knew my father? cried Ned Trent excitedly. Yes, at Fort Ray, and elsewhere.

But I do not remember you. I was brought up at Winnipeg, the other explained. Once, pursued Galen Albert, I did your father a wrong, unintentional. but nevertheless a great wrong. For that reason and others, I am going to give you your life. What wrong? demanded Ned Trent, with dawning excitement. I forced him from the company.

You! Yes, I. Proof was brought me that he had won from me my young wife. It could not be doubted. I could not kill him. afterward the man who deceived me confessed he is now dead ned trent gasping rose slowly to his feet one hand stole inside his jacket and clutched the butt of the little pistol you did that he cried hoarsely you tell me of it yourself do you wish to know the real reason for my coming into this country why i have traded in defiance of the company throughout the whole far north? I have thought my father was persecuted by a body of men,

and though I could not do much, still I have accomplished what I could to avenge him. Had I known that a single man had done this, and you are that man? He came a step nearer. Gaelan Albrett regarded him steadily. If I had known this before, I should never have rested until I had hunted you down, until I had killed you, even in the midst of your own people, cried the free trader at last. Galen Albret drew his heavy revolver and laid it on the table. Do so now, he said quietly. A pause fell on them, pregnant with possibility.

The free trader dropped his head. No, he groaned. No, I cannot. She stands in the way. So that, after all, concluded the factor, in a gentler tone that he had yet employed, We too shall part peaceably. I have wronged you greatly, though without intention. Perhaps one balances the other.

We will let it pass. Yes, agreed Ned Trent with an effort. We will let it pass. they mused in silence while the factor drummed on the table with the stubby fingers of his right hand i am dispatching to-day he announced curtly at length the abidabee brigade matters of importance brought by runner from rupert's house forced me to do so a month earlier than i had expected i shall send you out with that brigade very well you will find your packs and arms in the canoe quite intact thank you the factor examined the young man's face with some deliberation you love my daughter truly he asked quietly yes replied ned trent also quietly that is well for she loves you and went on the old man throwing his massive head back proudly. My people love well. I won her mother in a day, and nothing could stay us.

God be thanked, you are a man and brave and clean. Enough of that. I place the brigade under your command. You must be responsible for it, for I am sending no other white. The crew are Indians and Métis. All right. agreed Ned Trent, indifferently. My daughter, you will take to Sokla Kerr at Quebec. Virginia, cried the young man. I am sending her to Quebec. I had not intended doing so until July,

but the matter is from Rupert's house make an imperative now. Virginia goes with me? Yes. You consent? You... young man said galen albert not unkindly i give my daughter in your charge that is all you must take her to sacra cur and you must be patient next year i shall resign for i am getting old and then we shall see that is all i can tell you now he rose abruptly come said he they are waiting They threw wide the door and stepped out into the open.

A breeze from the north brought a draft of air like cold water in its refreshment. The waters of the north sparkled and tossed in the silvery sun. Ned Trent threw his arms wide in the physical delight of a new freedom, but his companion was already descending the steps. He followed across the square grass plot to the two bronze guns. a noise of peoples came down the breeze in a moment he saw them the varied multitude of the post gathered to speed the brigade on its distant journey the little beach was crowded with the company's people and with indians talking eagerly moving hither and yon in a shifting kaleidoscope of brilliant color beyond the shore floated the long canoe with its curving ends and its emblazomened of the five-pointed stars. Already its baggage was aboard, its crew in place, ten men in whose caps slanted long,

graceful feathers, which proved them boatmen of a factor. The women sat amid ships. When Galen Albrecht reached the edge of the plateau, he stopped and laid his hand on the young man's arm. As yet they were unperceived. Then a single man caught sight of of them. He spoke to another. The two informed still others. In an instant, the bright colors were dotted with upturned faces. "'Listen,' said Galen Albrecht in his resonant chest tones of authority, "'This is my son, and he must be obeyed. I give to him the command of this brigade. See to it.' Without troubling himself further as to the crowd below, Galen Albert turned to his companion.

I will say goodbye, said he formally. Goodbye, replied Ned Trent. All is at peace between us. The free trader looked long into the man's sad eyes. The hard, proud spirit bowed in nightly expiation of its one fault, for the first time in a long life of command looked out in petition all is at peace repeated ned trent they clasped hands and virginia perceiving them so threw them a wonderful smile End of Chapter 18. Recording by Roger Maline.

Chapter 19 of Conjurer's House, a romance of the Free Forest. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline. Conjurer's House, a romance of the Free Forest by Stuart Edward White. Chapter 19. Instantly, the spell of inaction broke. The crowd recommenced its babble of jests, advices, and farewells. Ned Trent swung down the bank to the shore.

The boatman fixed the canoe on the very edge of floating free. Two of them lifted the young man aboard to a place on the furs by Virginia Albrecht's side. At once, the crowd pressed forward, filling up the empty spaces. Now Achille Picard bent his shoulders to lift into the room. to lift into free water the stem of the canoe from its touch on the bank. It floated, caught gently by the backwash of the stronger offshore current. "'Good-bye, dear,' called Mrs. Cockburn. "'Remember us!'

She pressed the doctor's arm closer to her side. The doctor waved his hand, not trusting his masculine self-control to speak. McDonald, too, stood glum and dower, clasping his wrist behind his back. Richardson was openly affected, for in Virginia's person they saw sailing away from their bleak northern lives the figure of youth, and they knew that henceforth life must be even drearier. "'Some time you'll come back sing him de Ressida's song!' shouted Louis Placid to his late captive, i like hear him but galen albret said nothing made no sign silently and steadily run up by some invisible hand the blood-red banner of the company fluttered to the masthead before it alone bolted huge against the sky dominating the people in the symbolism of his position there as he did in the realities of everyday life the factor

stood, his hands behind his back. Virginia rose to her feet and stretched her arms out to the solitary figure. Goodbye, good-bye, she cried. A renewed tempest of cheers and shouts of adieu broke from those ashore. The paddles dipped once, twice, thrice, and paused. With one accord those on shore and the, those in the canoe raised their caps and said, Could you ve nice?

A moment's silence followed, during which the current of the mighty river bore the light craft a few yards downstream. Then, from the ten voyageurs, arose a great shout. A bit a bee! A bit a bee! Their paddle struck in unison. The water swirled in white circular eddies. instantly the canoe caught its momentum and began to slip along against the sluggish current. Achille Picard raised a high tenor voice, fixing the air,

Enrollin, my bull, rollin! En rouleau my boule! And the voyageurs swung into the quaint ballad of the fairy ducks and the naughty prince with his magic gun. Derriere chayneux, he hattune et tour ten. rang, enrul'u'n my bull!' The girl sank back, dabbing uncertainly at her eyes. "'I shall never see them again,' she explained wistfully.

The canoe had now caught at speed. Conjurer's house was dropping astern. The rhythm of the song quickened as the singers told of how the king's son had aimed at the black duck but killed the white. Ah, fee du roi, Tu'est me ch'en, en roulein'n my boole. T'lele plumes are v'n-en-en-rull-n, roule-l'-l'-w'-w'-w'-w'-wik, commanded me'-engon sharply from the bow.

The men quickened their stroke and shot diagonally across the current of an eddy. Nishishin, said M'engan. They fell back to the old stroke, rolling out their full-throated measure. The plumes son van en roulein'n my boule. Troie, rune, roulette, my bool, roule, roulein. The canoe was now in the smooth rush of the first stretch of swifter water. The men bent to their work with stiffened elbows. Achille Picard flashed his white.

teeth back at the passengers. Ah, mademoiselle, it is one long way, he panted. Say a long traverse. The term was evidently descriptive, but the two smiled significantly at each other. So, you do take the long traverse after all, marveled Virginia. Ned Trent clasped her hand. We take it together, he replied. into the distance faded the post the canoe rounded a bend it was gone ahead of them lay their long journey the end of chapter nineteen

end of conjurer's house a romance of the free forest by stuart edward white