[Practicas-developers] {Spam?} sciousness. Galen Albret shifted unea

[Sitzes Tod]

Tte of his chair, only his eyes and the white of his beard gleaming out
of the dusk. Kern of Old Brunswick House, Achard of New; Ki-wa-nee, the
Indian of Flying Post--these and others told briefly of many things,
each in his own language. To all Galen Albret listened in silence.
Finally Louis Placide from the post at Kettle Portage got to his feet.
He too reported of the trade,--so many "beaver" of tobacco, of powder,
of lead, of pork, of flour, of tea, given in exchange; so many mink,
otter, beaver, ermine, marten, and fisher pelts taken in return. Then he
paused and went on at greater length in regard to the stranger, speaking
evenly but with emphasis. When he had finished. Galen Albret struck a
bell at his elbow. Me-en-gan, the bowsman of the factor's canoe,
entered, followed closely by the young man who had that afternoon
arrived. He was dressed still in his costume of the _voyageur_--the
loose blouse shirt, the buckskin leggings and moccasins, the long
tasselled red sash. His head was as high and his glance as free, but now
the steel blue of his eye had become steady and wary, and two faint
lines had traced themselves between his brows. At his entrance a hush of
expectation fell. Galen Albret did not stir, but the others hitched
nearer the long, narrow table, and two or three leaned both elbows on it
the better to catch what should ensue. Me-en-gan stopped by the door,
but the stranger walked steadily the length of the room until he faced
the Factor. Then he paused and waited collectedly for the other to
speak. This the Factor did not at once begin to do, but sat
impassive--apparently without thought--while the heavy breathing of the
men in the room marked off the seconds of time. Finally abruptly Galen
Albret's cavernous voice boomed forth. Something there was strangely
mysterious, cryptic, in the virile tones issuing from a bulk so massive
and inert. Galen Albret did not move, did not e
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