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258 MURDER—WIDOWHOOD—ORPHANAGE.<br />

three times, and killed him instantly. The wife and children<br />

cried out, and some of my people ran to the tent just<br />

as L'Hiver came out with the bloody knife in his hand, expecting<br />

we would lay hold of him. The first person he<br />

met was William Henry, whom he attempted to stab in the<br />

breast; but Henry avoided the stroke, and returned the<br />

compliment with a blow of his cudgel on the fellow's head.<br />

This staggered him ; but instantly recovering, he made another<br />

attempt to stab Henry. Foiled in this design, and<br />

observing several coming out of the fort, he took to his<br />

heels and ran into the woods like a deer. I chased him with<br />

some of my people, but he was too fleet for us. We buried<br />

the murdered man, who left a widow and five helpless<br />

orphans, having no relations on this river. The behavior of<br />

two of the youngest was really piteous while we were burying<br />

the body ; they called upon their deceased father not to<br />

leave them, but to return to the tent, and tried to prevent<br />

the men from covering the corpse with earth, screaming in<br />

a terrible manner ; the mother was obliged to take them<br />

away.**<br />

May 2Sth. Embarked for the Forks. 22d. Sent the<br />

brigade off, and Mr. Harrison. Went on horseback to<br />

Riviere la Souris. Made three trips to Portage la Prairie.<br />

Delayed embarking until June 9th, when I left the Forks<br />

in a light canoe, with six men, and on the 20th arrived at<br />

Kamanistiquia, after a passage of only 12 days. This was<br />

extraordinarily expeditious, and I shall always suppose<br />

that a single well-mounted canoe can make the voyage<br />

in a shorter time than several canoes together. Notwithstanding<br />

all their hurry and bustle, I overtook my brigade<br />

below the last rapids, at the storehouse ; had I been an hour<br />

later,<br />

they would have got in before me.<br />

' The seamy side of the fur-trade which Henry shows us with such a steady<br />

hand that we can scarcely follow him with unshaken nerves is simply hell on<br />

earth—hell peopled with no souls above a beaver-skin, fired by King Alcohol<br />

for the worship of Mammon, And worse than anything that has preceded is to<br />

come in the very next chapter—not mere murder by retail, but wholesale slaughter.

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