CHAPTER X Almost immediately the door opened again. You, Miss 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.  The reverend Crane tried to temperize, 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. Since when has the company confided in Andrew Laveolette, in Wishcobon, 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 Albright did not know the meaning of the term, and all the tragic consequences it entailed, there could be but one conclusion. Gail and Albright had no idea what was going to happen. Gail and Albright 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 which Coban, 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 Gail and Albright'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 sucker, 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. Cockburn's house. Mrs.  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 arm chair. 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.  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 to-day 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 her self-control. A dozen times today 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 is 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 Wishkobin'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 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 Bagno, 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 offender, 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 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,' 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 long 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. 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 do not quite understand, but I must go now. 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.  Good night, dearie," replied the older woman, understanding well the girl's desire to shelter behind the common place. 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 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 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 tender, low voice, the gay song, the auroral 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.  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.  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 worthwhile 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 fide droit s'en va chassant, en rollant ma boule, avec son grand fusil d'argent, rouler, rouler, ma boule, rouler.  The voice went on, imperturbably, avec son grand fusil d'argent, en rouler, ma boule, vis à le noir, tuer le blanc, rouler, rouler, ma boule, rouler. "'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 towards some designated sleeping place of his own, his song dying into the distance. Vis à le noir, tuer le blanc, en rouler, ma boule, au fi du bras, to aimer chante, rouler, rouler, ma boule, rouler. "'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.' CHAPTER X Virginia did not sleep at all that night. She was reaching toward her new self. Here-to-forth 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 perceptions 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 heirs 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 at 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.  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 someone 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, leaving a sad and lofty dignity that ennobled his countenance.  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.  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.  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, 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 ponders 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 servants stood on the shores of the Pacific and the stretches of the Arctic Ocean. And its servants loved it. And during 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, Aster 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.  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 that it was two hundred years ago. And here the company makes it stand for Monopoly. At first it worked openly, but in the case of Guillaume Seer, a daring and pugnacious Metis, 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 five hundred 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's 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 Metis 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 Travers. 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 Travers. 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 the tradition power, gives it insistence. It is bigger than any one individual. It is as inevitable as that water should flow downhill. He had spoken quietly, but very earnestly, still holding her two hands, and she had sat looking at him, unblinking, 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 long 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? insisted Virginia, stonely. 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.  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. 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 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 ox. 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 Oillard, La Pierre's house, Fort Ray, Il à la Cross, Portage la Loche, Lac Labiche, 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.  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 used 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 humble 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, 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.  I shall start on La Longue Travers, singing Roulis Roulant. 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 to-night. 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 and understood. But I do not want to give up the little rifle entirely, she went on with dainty preciosity, 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 piece. You are going to Quebec, he cried. My father wishes me to. I have decided to do so. I shall start with the Abitibi Brigade in July. He leaped to his feet. I promise, he exalted. I promise. Tonight, then, bring the rifle and the cartridges and some matches and a little fire. 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. 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. 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 it was 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, to-night. To-night, he repeated. She glided rapidly through the grass, noiseless in her moccasin feet. Soft and low, he's a boss, he promen le long de son jardin le long de son jardin sur le bord de l'île le long de son jardin. How could he help singing, murmured Virginia fondly. Ah, dear heaven, but I am the happiest girl alive. Such a difference can one night bring about. End of CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII The day rose and flooded the land with its fuller life, all through the settlement the post-Indians and half-breeds set about their tasks. Some aided Sarnir with his caulking 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 voyageurs 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 care-worn, 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 men. Indian men stocked 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 MacDonald, the chief trader, walked rapidly from the barracks building to the trading-store. MacDonald was 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 business. 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. Trotted down the narrow picket lane, their packs on their shoulders. MacDonald 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. Muhikun, 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 daco. 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 and said, here be pelts 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 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, Sakwisu and Mohican made their choice, trading in the worn wooden casters on the string. They were so much tea, so much sugar and powder and lead, so much in clothing. Thus were their simple needs applied for the year to come. Then the remainder they squandered on all sorts of useless things, beads, silks, sashes, bright handkerchiefs, mirrors. And when the last wooden caster was in, they went downstairs and out the door, leaving 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 Mohican were surrounded. In detail they told what they had done. And 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. There were a few hours of idlers sprawled in the warmth, gambling, telling stories, singing. Then one might have heard all the picturesque songs of the far north. À la Clair-Fontaine, ma boule roulant, pas derrière chez mon père, il se boit si promène, petit j'entends, le rang le ret, chanté rassignant, il aile mau brouque, c'est la belle Françoise, à la boîte, or the beautiful and tender la violette d'indine. They had good voices, these voyagers, with the French artistic instinct, and it was fine to hear them. At noon the squas set out to gather canoe gum on the mainland. They sat huddled in the 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. To 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 an exchange, T, 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 dog-fight. Two of the sledge guidee had come to teeth, and the friends of both were assisting the cause. The idlers went to see, 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-logged stockade, wherein the company's sledge animals were confined, other wolf-dogs howled mournfully, desolated at missing the fun.  CHAPTER XIII 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 XIII 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 purpose is 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 in safety the tin-steepled chapel and the church-house. There remained only the Indian camp between her and the wood's trail. At once the dogs began to bark and howl. The fierce Gide, 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 teepee, 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 whines attested that she disturbed the forest creatures at their varied businesses, and underneath, spoken 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 sweet 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 born 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 gun-wool. The bow of the craft divided the waters with the 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 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 exalted. You don't know. To be free, to play the game, to match my wits against 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 graded. 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, goodbye, 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 tomorrow morning I shall be halfway 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-fashioned. 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. Slower and slower her paddle dipped, lower and lower hung her head. Faster and faster flowed her tears. The instinct of 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.  HOO! HOO! as though he had the message to deliver and wanted to finish the task. A smaller owl near at hand cried, HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! with the intonation of a tin horn. Across the river a lynx screamed, and was answered at once by the allulations of wolves. On the island the Gidei howled defiance. Then from above clear spiritual floated the whistle of shorebirds 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 wondering 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 passed in the darkness, singing gaily the chanson de canon. But more fondly she saw him as he swept his hat to the ground, undiscovering her by the guns, as he bent his impassioned eyes on her in the dim lamp-light 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 Placide 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 born 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!  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 that 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.  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 nerfed 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. Good-bye, said he. She raised her lips of her own accord, and he kissed them reverently. Good-bye, she murmured. He turned away with an effort and ran down the beach to the canoe. Good-bye, good-bye, 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 melee. Go back at once, he commanded, clearly and steadily. You can do no good. I order you to 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's 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 of 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 15. Galen Albright 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-dark and rough furniture. It picked out the brasses. It glorified the white-washed walls. In its uncompromising illumination, me Angon, 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 Albright was at this moment called upon to deal with the 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 Albright 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 active 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 Cree wooden stolidity. No, they had seen no one, neither presence, sign, nor trail. But Galen Albright, 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 Mayangon 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 clergymen 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 impoturbably. 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.  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.  Ned Trent, he cried harshly 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 to-day. The young man, the man of the land, 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, in as much 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 varied 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 on his revolver. Come no nearer! he commanded. Maengon 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 Albert 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 Albert leveled the revolver. Ned Trent, watchful, prepared to spring. Maengon 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 new man, 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 fathers, unfaltering. 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 Angon 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 the young man desperately. There is something in it. Miss Albert 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 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.  Because I love him, said she, softly. Chapter 16 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 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 armchair 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 have dared, dared deny that which my whole life has affirmed. My own flesh and blood, when I thought the nearest matease 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 offense. If you were not my daughter, I would hang you. Hang my own child. Suddenly his rage flared.  Do you dare interfere where I think well?  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 defense. All three of those present had many times seen Galen Albrecht 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 ordinary 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 eddyed 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 right 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 Albert'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 favour. 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.  As though the words had projected him bodily forward, Galen Albert 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. Albert lost his balance, wavered, and finally sat down violently. Ned Trent promptly pinned him by the shoulder into powerless immobility. Maengan had possessed himself of the fallen pistol, but beyond keeping a generally wary eye out for dangerous development, 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 did 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.  Oh, welcome! That is small pay and little satisfaction. He threw himself from the factor and stepped back. Galen Albert 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 to-day. 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? broken 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?  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 Albert in 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 me. Get out of here. Get out of the place. I won't have you here another day, another hour. Bye. 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. Tomorrow 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.  You have never refused me anything before, and this is the greatest thing in all my life.  The sound of her own voice reassured her the quietude 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 fantasmagoric, a dream from which she was even now awakening into a clearer day of happiness.  Galen Albright 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 girl's 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. Here, too, for his consciousness had felt merely the thwarting of his pride, his authority, his right to loyalty.   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 neckband of her gown.  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, may end gone 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 wish-coban, 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 Maline


Kiora. My name is Mark and I'm honored to be part of the second cohort of the Edmund Hillary Fellowship and really to draw from Sir Ed's inspirational life and a commitment to service. It's been an interesting journey. I first came to New Zealand over a year and a half ago and traveled over 4,000 kilometers from Russell in the north to Teanu in Milford Sound and elsewhere in the south. It was an incredible experience and it made me want to come back and be in New Zealand. This was before the Edmund Hillary Fellowship was announced and so when I heard about it I knew I had to apply and try to join this terrific community. This time we've spent together this week, getting to know each other in the welcome week for the second cohort has been very meaningful and very exciting about what comes next. I was really drawn to EHF and what it tries to do in terms of its incubation nation to sort of inspire innovation and to draw on the amazing sort of natural beauty and entrepreneurial spirit here in New Zealand. Now I have a vision of really focusing on climate resilience collaboration made easy. Now the made easy part is really the key because if something's not easy it might be hard, it might still be worth doing but you're not going to get everybody to do it. So with that in mind I've really focused on thinking about different solutions and drawing on my past experience. The idea of making this challenge easy, it really draws by 20 years of work in this space as a social entrepreneur including the last 13 years leading a US based nonprofit organization I founded, the Sustainable Endowments Institute. What we've tried to do is really break down and sort of try to tackle the challenge of looking at how institutions want to aspire towards reaching sustainability goals and sort of the reality of where they are and where they're going. 11 years ago my organization created the first green report card of its type to evaluate and grade universities across North America on their sustainability practices. We looked at over 300 institutions across that region and what we found was there was some good work happening but there was a pretty large disparity between the goals and the opportunities that existed and the actions that these institutions were taking. But over the course of five years that we did five editions of this report card terrific things happened and among other things more than three times the number of institutions committed to carbon neutrality at the university level and what we then saw was now that these commitments existed like here in New Zealand with the 2050 goal. It was a matter of taking the commitment turning into action and sort of two of the areas where there was the most need and opportunity was around looking at the finance side and figuring out better models for getting capital to flow into the space and also on the data side. Data can help drive action but everyone when we looked around was still using spreadsheets. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, more spreadsheets to track all of this information and not sharing it in a collaborative way. And so where we are today is we really wanted to make a difference in helping New Zealand and engaging with the community here to do more around this. So my project for the Edmund Hillary Fellowship is called the Sustainable Impact Hub. And very simply the idea behind the Sustainable Impact Hub is to help New Zealand businesses and organizations get easy access to capital. Again made easy, right? Get easy access to capital and to find the best contractors to actually do the work because not everyone knows how to install new lighting systems or new heating and cooling systems or how to weatherize their own buildings. And so the idea behind the Sustainable Impact Hub is to really to connect these dots to make it so that those that do have capital, banks, philanthropies, individuals can actually invest in your own communities and get a good rate of return at the same time. And also on the contractor side the existing contractors can get more projects, can create more jobs and help out in the local community improving the quality of the life and quality of the building stock in these places. So there's a tremendous, a tremendous opportunity here. The Sustainable Impact Hub technology is based on an existing GRITS web platform that my nonprofit launched four years ago. It's currently in use by over 400 institutions across New Zealand, Australia, the US and Canada. The great news is, is that about 75% of the technology needed to build and launch the Sustainable Impact Hub, we've already built and is in use as part of the GRITS platform. So we're already three-quarters of the way there and we're just getting started. And so really what though what it comes down to is, there's a lot of advantage here but really what it comes down to is, is the, is the people and focusing on how we can sort of empower everyone to get involved in this. And so my, my colleague and cohort one friend Rod Orham and I are leading a session this afternoon on this question of you know how do we reach this net carbon zero goal by 2050. And so if you're interested in this, I would encourage you to, to join this afternoon in the conversation and get involved. There's a tremendous amount of opportunity and there's a lot still to learn but I'm really honored and excited to be part of this community. Kia ora.


So, it took forever, but I finally uploaded all the assets for the game on ArtStation, which marks the end of the Macrophage project. For me, it's kinda symbolic because this whole channel started while I was still rigging and designing Blanda, and now, three years later, it also ends with Blanda. Modeling, rigging, weight painting, constraints, drivers, motion capture, texturing, square uv, custom normals, anime shading, hitboxes, programming, and UI design, everything you've learned on this channel, all of it is in this game. And there's a reason why it's free to play, and that's because I wanted you guys to be able to see that the skills that you learn here on this channel, they're not random. These are the exact skills that I use every day to complete a real project, and hopefully when you see it, it might even inspire you to imagine what your own project could look like when it's finally complete.  It's only in the end that you realize it was worth it. And with the close of this chapter, I am officially pivoting my direction from indie dev to 3D modeler and animator. After 15 years of indie development, I've realized that I am a much better character creator than I am a programmer. There were many points during development where I would spend hours or days trying to fix a programming glitch, and in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think, man, I could've made an entire new character in the time it took me to fix this goddamn glitch. So now that the project is over, I see this as an opportunity to sharpen my skills in a direction that fits my abilities the most. I'm pretty confident in my modeling and animation capabilities, and I know how to work fast for production workflows, but I also know that I'll always have a long way to go. And I would also like to see just how good I could become if I also wasn't divided my time between build and a game. So now that I'm focusing my time and skills on character design, I will also be shifting my genre from sci-fi to fantasy. All of the projects that I've worked on in the past decade have been in sci-fi, and I love that genre. But while I'm still in my prime, I have a bunch of ideas for fantasy-style characters, and I think if I hone my skills enough, I could make some really beautiful and unique designs for the community. And since I'm going to be focusing on cool characters, I have decided to finally try and make the move to Unreal. This doesn't mean that I'm abandoned in Unity. Unity is still the software that I am most comfortable with, but if I'm being honest, there are things I wish it would do better. So I want to see how Unreal stacks up compared to what I know in Unity. It's a AAA level engine, and it's completely free, so you don't need any money, which I think makes it a perfect tool for a community like ours. Now I'll be honest. I have procrastinated moving to Unreal for a very, very long time, because I know how to do all this cool stuff in Unity, and the thought of having to start all over again is just really, really annoying. But I've seen Unreal Engine experience required on too many job applications, and if all the professionals are using it, and it's free, then there really is no excuse as to why I'm not using it. Because at that point, the only person that's probably losing out on everything is me. Before I go to Unreal, though, I do want to practice sculpting more detailed and photorealistic characters. It's a style that I've always wanted to do, but just was never willing to put in the time, and I think that most people are probably tired of seeing all my old characters, so I'm gonna go ahead and spend some time making a few new ones before we go to Unreal. While I am creating these characters, I will be experimenting with some new modeling techniques, new tools for eyes, lashes, hair, and trying to find ways to optimize the most redundant parts of the workflow. I will also be starting a new series, but I'll talk more about that in the next video. So in the meanwhile, as always, I hope you have a fantastic day, and I'll see you around.


the social challenge. The whole notion of social capital is centered on social relationship and its major elements include social networks, civic engagements, norms of democracy and generalized trust. So broadly speaking it is defined as a collective asset in the form of shared norms, values, beliefs, trust, networks, social relations and institutions that facilitate cooperation and collective action for mutual benefit.  When social capital means an interaction then definitely there are some various dimensions. Those can challenge this whole process because there are various levels of measurement. We think this way, we see this way and it is happening in our environment too that brothers and sisters are different from each other in the business.   But when we consider ourselves part of social capital, we consider why our collective effort is required. Because our condition has to be better than that. The challenges that come to that collective interest are also part of this process. So it is very important that we address those challenges and we understand how we can overcome these challenges, how we can measure them. Only then can we find a solution for them. Now these challenges, the social challenges, sometimes they are at individual level and sometimes they are at collective level. Sometimes the overall situation gets worse. There are many elements in that too. So understanding all these elements is quite important. So we can categorize these challenges like that they fail to explain economic growth and development outcomes. Sometimes it happens that some people feel that the economic growth specifically is more but the benefit is reaching less people. Sometimes it is seen that the claim of economic growth is not related to the effort that is being put in. So the mistrust that is created between them is quite important. Because some people are doing a lot of work, some are technicians, some are workers, but some are experts. So when mistrust is created between them, the outcome is that the whole process is suffering. Another important challenge that is created is that there is a time of unprecedented economic growth. But that is not sustainable. That means growth is happening, but it is not sustainable. That means there are a lot of ups and downs in that. Sometimes it feels that the process is going smoothly and it will ultimately benefit, but all of a sudden this situation gets worse and reversed. Along with this situation, the gap between communication and the deficit of trust also matters. But ultimately, sometimes this situation happens because of which the entire environment gets damaged. People have to convince them to work again and communicate with them. That is a big challenge. The most important thing is that account social value systems in economic development. Is your social system, your social values, and your economic system? Is there any co-relationship between them? For example, in some places, some people don't understand any kind of work according to their respect. Specifically, in the traditional societies, people need to have some status. They don't understand any work according to their status. For example, what is important in our society is that if a child is educated, then he needs an office job. That is a hard work where you have to present yourself for extra burdens. There are technical duties as well. There is labour work as well. So, in a society where social values and economic requirements don't match, then many social challenges are created. Then Foki Yama specifically criticizes that economists normally make simplifying assumptions that human beings are rational and their utility maximizing behavior is invariant across societies. Foki Yama has made a very important criticism that every society has its own differences. A single standard criteria cannot be applied to every society. And this is the biggest challenge for social capital that a single formula cannot be applied to every society. There are many varieties of social standards and social requirements in every society. According to that, social capital should have a margin that it can meet the requirements of society and people's norms and values.