Meanwhile he sends eight hundred colonists to Eastern Canada--some to Prince Edward Island, some to Baldoon in Ontario; but neither of these regions satisfies him as does that unseen Eldorado which MacKenzie described. Then he comes to Montreal, himself, where he is the guest of all the ostentatious hospitality that the pompous Nor’Westers can lavish upon him. At every turn, at the Beaver Club banquets, in the magnificent private houses of the Nor’Westers, Selkirk learns for the first time that there is as great wealth in the fur trade as in Spanish mine. Then, he meets Colin Robertson, the young Nor’West clerk, who was dismissed by McDonald of Garth out on the Saskatchewan; and Colin Robertson tells even more marvelous tales than MacKenzie, of a land where there are no forests to be cleared away; where the turning of a plowshare will yield a crop; where cattle and horses can forage as they run; where, Robertson adds enthusiastically, “there will some day be a great empire.” “What part of the great Northwest does Mr. Robertson think best fitted for a colony?” Selkirk asks. “At the forks of the Red and the Assiniboine,” the modern Manitoba, Robertson promptly answers. Selkirk’s imagination leaps forward. Difficulties? Ah, yes, lots of them! The Hudson’s Bay Company holds monopoly over all that region. And how are settlers to be sent so far inland? And to whom will they sell their produce two thousand miles from port or town? But where would humanity be if imagination sat down with folded hands before the first blank wall? Selkirk takes no heed of impossibles. He invites Colin Robertson to come back with him to meet the Hudson’s Bay Company directors, and he listens to Sir Alexander MacKenzie’s big scheme to monopolize all the fur trade by buying up Hudson’s Bay stock, and he makes mental note of the fact that if stock can be bought up for a monopoly, it can also be bought up for a colony. At the table of the Beaver Club dinner sit Sir Alexander MacKenzie and Simon MacGillivray. “He asks too many questions,” says MacGillivray, nodding toward Selkirk’s place. “But if we spent £20,000, the North-West Company could buy up a controlling share of H. B. C.,” laconically answers Sir Alexander. “Tush,” says the Highlander MacGillivray, resplendent in the plaids of his clan. “Why should _we_ spend money for that? We can control the field without buying stock. Only £2,000 of furs did they sell last year; and only two dividends in ten years!” “If you don’t buy control of H. B. C.,” says MacKenzie, “take my advice!--beware of that lord!” “And take my advice--don’t buy!” repeats the Highlander.