The Triumph of John Kars | Page 4

great as its
conditions are merciless. Murray McTavish had sought the explanation,
and found it in the fact that it was a land in which man could make his
own laws and break them at his pleasure. Was this really its fascination?
Hardly. The explanation must surely lie in something deeper. Surely
the primitive in man, which no civilization can out-breed, would be the
better answer.
In Allan Mowbray's case this was definitely so. Murray McTavish had
served his full apprenticeship where the laws of civilization prevail. His
judgment could scarcely be accepted in a land where only the strong
may survive.
The difference between the two men was as wide as the countries
which had bred them, and furthermore Allan had survived on the banks
of the Snake River for upwards of twenty-five years. For twenty-five
years he had lived the only life that appealed to his primitive instincts
and powers. And before that he had never so much as peeped beyond
the watershed at the world outside. His whole life was instinct with
courage. His years had been years of struggle and happiness, years in
which a loyal and devoted wife had shared his every disappointment
and success, years in which he had watched his son and daughter grow

to the ripeness of full youth.
The whole life of these people was a simple enough story of passionate
energy, and a slow, steady-growing prosperity, built out of a wilderness
where a moment's weakness would have yielded them complete
disaster. But they were merciless upon their own powers. They knew
the stake, and played for all. The man played for the tiny lives which
had come to cheer his resting moments, and the defenceless woman
who had borne them. The woman supported him with a loyal devotion
and courage that was invincible.
For years Allan Mowbray had scoured the country in search of his trade.
His outfit was known to every remote Indian race, east and west, and
north--always north. His was a figure that haunted the virgin
woodlands, the broad rivers, the unspeakable wastes of silence at all
times and seasons. Even the world outside found an echo of his labors.
These two had fought their battle unaided from the grim shelter of Fort
Mowbray. And, in the clearing of St. Agatha's Mission, at the foot of
the bald knoll, upon the summit of which the old Fort stood, their
infrequent moments of leisure were spent in the staunch log hut which
the man had erected for the better comfort of his young children.
Then had come the greater prosperity. It was the time of a prosperity
upon which the simple-minded fur-hunter had never counted. The Fort
became a store for trade. It was no longer a mere headquarters where
furs were made ready for the market. Trade developed. Real trade. And
Allan was forced to change his methods. The work was no longer
possible single-handed. The claims of the trail suddenly increased, and
both husband and wife saw that their prospects had entirely outgrown
their calculations.
Forthwith long council was taken between them. Either the trail, with
its possibilities, which had suddenly become an enormous factor in
their lives, or the store at the Fort, which was almost equally important,
must be abandoned, or a partner must be found and taken. Allan
Mowbray was not the man to yield a detail of the harvest he had so
laboriously striven for. So decision fell upon the latter course.

Murray McTavish was not twenty-five when he arrived at the Fort. He
was a man of definite personality and was consumed with an
abundance of determination and resource. His inclination to stoutness
was even then pronounced. But above all stood out his profound,
concentrated understanding of American commercial methods, and the
definite, almost fixed smile of his deeply shining eyes.
There was never a doubt of the wisdom of Allan's choice from the
moment of his arrival. Murray plunged himself unreservedly into the
work of the enterprise, searching its possibilities with a keenly
businesslike eye, and he saw that they had been by no means
overestimated by his partner. There was no delay. With methods of
smiling "hustle" he took charge of the work at the Fort, and promptly
released the overburdened Allan for the important work of the trail.
Nor was Ailsa Mowbray the least affected by the new partner's coming.
It was early made clear that her years of labor were at last to yield her
that leisure she craved for the upbringing of her little family, which was,
even now, receiving education under the cultured guidance of the little
French-Canadian priest who had set up his Mission in this wide
wilderness. For the first time in all her married life she found herself
free to indulge in the delights