Extra timbers had been cut at the top of the hill, back of the
trading-post, and when another fall of snow came, James Morris decided to
slide these down to where he wanted them.

"If you need me, just call or fire a gun," he said, one morning, and then
set off up the hill, taking a team of the strongest horses with him.

After his father was gone Dave took a walk around the post, cleaned some
fish he expected to fry for dinner, and looked after the remaining horses.
Not a soul appeared to be in sight, and for a little while he felt very
lonely indeed. But soon he broke into a cheery whistle, which served to
raise his spirits.

"We'll be busy enough as soon as the hunters and trappers begin to bring in
their game," he thought. "I hope we do a good business and make some money.
Being a soldier didn't pay very handsomely,--and this war has cost father a
neat penny."

Returning to the log house from the barn, he was surprised to find the main
door wide open. He felt certain that he had closed it on coming away.

"Father, are you there?" he called out, striding forward.

There was no answer, but a second later came a crashing of glass, and
looking into the main room of the post he saw Jacques Valette sprawled out
on a puncheon bench, with a jug of liquor in his arms and a broken tumbler
lying on the floor before him.

"What do you want here?" demanded Dave indignantly.