Presently the door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered, powerful man, with full gray beard and shrewd eyes, entered. The young man stepped smartly forward. “These young fellows went adrift from their ship somewhere to the northward, sir,” said he. “They’ve worked their way down here in a small boat, and they want to be put up for the winter.” Paul and Dan had respectfully risen to their feet. Mr. MacTavish’s appearance as he surveyed them was anything but reassuring. There was a certain hard look about his eyes and mouth that was repelling. His attitude was not cordial, even before he spoke. “Do you want to buy provisions?” “No,” answered Paul, “we want to put up here for the winter.” “This isn’t a hotel; it’s a Hudson Bay trading post. If you want to pitch your tent, one of the men will point you out a good place, and you can buy provisions at the shop.” “But,” said Paul, his heart sinking, “we haven’t any money,” and he proceeded again to relate with detail the story of their adventures. “My father is rich,” he added, “and he’ll pay all our expenses when the ship comes for us. You must have heard of him. He is John Densmore, president of the Atlantic and Pacific Steamship Company, and the head of a lot of other big companies.” “I tell you this isn’t a hotel, young man, and even if your father is all you say, it’s no recommendation to me. I don’t like you Americans. But to be plain, I don’t believe your yarn. I know your type. You’ve deserted from a whaler, and you probably stole the boat you have. I can harbor neither thieves nor deserters,” and he turned toward one of the desks in dismissal of them. For a moment Paul was quite stupefied with the affront. Then his pride and a sense of deep injustice roused his antagonism, and, stepping before the bulky figure of Factor MacTavish, he exclaimed: “Do you mean to call us deserters and thieves? You’re the head of this place and you can do as you want to about giving us a place to stay, but you can’t call us thieves and deserters. I want you to understand I’m a gentleman, and I won’t be spoken to in this way by one like you.” With this outbreak Paul’s lips began to tremble, and he was at the point of tears. Factor MacTavish was taken wholly by surprise. He was accustomed to browbeat and insult the natives and people under him, and none ever ventured a retort. Here was a different type of person. He had expected a cringing appeal to follow his cruel charge. But instead this youth, placing honor and good name above any consideration of personal comfort and safety, boldly defied him. Here certainly was a youth of spirit and of courage, and he admired the characteristics. The big man looked down at Paul in silent, amused astonishment. This attitude angered Paul almost beyond restraint. His eyes flashed, he doubled his fists, and swallowing his emotion, blurted out: “I feel like striking you! You’re a big coward to speak to two boys that way!” [Illustration: “You are a big coward”]