Rumour had it that he
had committed murder at home and had run away to escape the penalty;
but this rumour was unverified, and there was no means of learning
the truth of it. Since his arrival here the hunters had lost, now and
again, martens and foxes from their traps, and it was whispered that
Micmac John was responsible for their disappearance. Nevertheless,
without any tangible evidence that he had stolen them, he was treated
with kindness, though he had made no real friends amongst the natives.
When the last of the men had closed the kitchen door behind him,
Micmac John approached Douglas, who had been standing somewhat apart,
evidently lost in his thoughts as he watched the approaching boat, and
asked:
"Have ye decided about the Big Hill trail, sir?"
"Yes, John."
"And am I to hunt it this year, sir?"
"No, John, I can't let ye have un. I told Bob Gray th' day I'd let him
hunt un. Bob's a smart lad, and I wants t' give he th' chance."
Micmac John cast a malicious glance at old Douglas. Then with an
assumed indifference, and shrug of his shoulders as he started to walk
away, remarked:
"All right if you've made yer mind up, but you'll be sorry fer it."
Douglas turned fiercely upon him.
"What mean you, man? Be that a threat? Speak now!"
"I make no threats, but boys can't hunt, and he'll bring ye no fur.
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