Lords of the North | Page 4

which brought storms of applause that shook the
house; toasts to "our distinguished guest," whose suave response
disarmed all suspicion; toasts to the "Northern winterers," poor devils,
who were serving the cause by undergoing a life-long term of Arctic
exile; toasts to "the merry lads of the north," who only served in the
ranks without attaining to the honor of partnership; toasts enough, in all
conscience, to drown the memory of every man present. Thanks to my
Uncle Jack MacKenzie, all my toasts were taken in peppermint, and the
picture in my mind of that banquet is as clear to-day as it was when I
sat at the table. What would I not give to be back at the Beaver Club,
living it all over again and hearing Sir Alexander MacKenzie with his
flashing hero-eyes and quick, passionate gestures, recounting that
wonderful voyage of his with a sulky crew into a region of hostiles;
telling of those long interminable winters of Arctic night, when the
great explorer sounded the depths of utter despair in service for the
company and knew not whether he faced madness or starvation; and
thrilling the whole assembly with a description of his first glimpse of
the Pacific! Perhaps it was what I heard that night--who can tell--that
drew me to the wild life of after years. But I was too young, then, to
recognize fully the greatness of those men. Indeed, my country was
then and is yet too young; for if their greatness be recognized, it is
forgotten and unhonored.
I think I must have fallen asleep on my uncle's knee; for I next
remember sleepily looking about and noticing that many of the
gentlemen had slid down in their chairs and with closed eyes were
breathing heavily. Others had slipped to the floor and were sound

asleep. This shocked me and I was at once wide awake. My uncle was
sitting very erect and his arm around my waist had the tight grasp that
usually preceded some sharp rebuke. I looked up and found his face
grown suddenly so hard and stern, I was all affright lest my sleeping
had offended him. His eyes were fastened on Lord Selkirk with a
piercing, angry gaze. His Lordship was not nodding, not a bit of it.
How brilliant he seemed to my childish fancy! He was leaning forward,
questioning those Nor'-Westers, who had received him with open arms,
and open hearts. And the wine had mounted to the head of the good
Nor'-Westers and they were now also receiving the strange nobleman
with open mouths, pouring out to him a full account of their profits, the
extent of the vast, unknown game preserve, and how their methods so
far surpassed those of the Hudson's Bay, their rival's stock had fallen in
value from 250 to 50 per cent.
The more information they gave, the more His Lordship plied them
with questions.
"I must say," whispered Uncle Jack to Sir Alexander MacKenzie, "if
any Hudson's Bay man asked such pointed questions on North-West
business, I'd give myself the pleasure of ejecting him from this room."
Then, I knew his anger was against Lord Selkirk and not against me for
sleeping.
"Nonsense," retorted Sir Alexander, who had cut active connection
with the Nor'-Westers some years before, "there's no ground for
suspicion." But he seemed uneasy at the turn things had taken.
"Has your Lordship some colonization scheme that you ask such
pointed questions?" demanded my uncle, addressing the Earl. The
nobleman turned quickly to him and said something about the
Highlanders and Prince Edward's Island, which I did not understand.
The rest of that evening fades from my thoughts; for I was carried
home in Mr. Jack MacKenzie's arms.
And all these things happened some ten or twelve years before that
wordy sword-play between this same uncle of mine and the English

colonel from the Citadel.
"We erred, Sir, through too great hospitality," my uncle was saying to
the colonel. "How could we know that Selkirk would purchase
controlling interest in Hudson's Bay stock? How could we know he'd
secure a land grant in the very heart of our domain?"
"I don't object to his land, nor to his colonists, nor to his dower of
ponies and muskets and bayonets to every mother's son of them," broke
in another of the retired traders, "but I do object to his drilling those
same colonists, to his importing a field battery and bringing out that
little ram of a McDonell from the Army to egg the settlers on! It's bad
enough to pillage our fort; but this proclamation to expel Nor'-Westers
from what is claimed as Hudson's Bay Territory----"
"Just listen to this," cries my uncle pulling out a copy of the obnoxious
proclamation and reading aloud an order for the