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 over the hard times, his active mind was busy. He had long credit at the post; in fact, had never been in debt since he swung out for himself as a youth, and so could hold his fur.

One morning he drove his team of half-breed Ungava huskies, loaded with his outfit and fur pack, up to the trade-house. Entering the store he asked for provisions for three weeks.

"What, Joe, you ain't goin' back before Christmas?" asked Nicholson in surprise.

"No, I travel sout'. No good hunt fur dees long snows," answered the Indian dryly.

"South? What do you mean?"

"Fur too cheap! I got no woman to feed. I t'ink I go to Kebec and see de sojer."

"Why, you're crazy, man!" cried the amazed factor. "It's four hundred miles to the Transcontinental at Weymontechene and it's the same back. They don't want Injuns; they won't take you."

The Cree straightened to his six feet, squaring his wide shoulders. His eyes glittered angrily as he broke into his native tongue,

"You say they ask for young men in Quebec to fight for the Big Chief. You say they will not take me, Joe Lecroix, to fight over the Big Water? Because my skin is dark, can I not fight? Where will you find at the posts of the Great Company any who shoots the running caribou so far as Joe Lecroix? Is there a dog-runner at Rupert House, at Whale River, at Mistissini, at the post by the Fading Waters, who can take the trail from Joe Lecroix?