The offscourings of the Canadian frontier were drifting back into their native country to settle.
Old Man Gale cared little for this, for he had spent his life among such men, but as he watched the fellow a scheme outlined itself in his head.

Evidently the man dared not go farther down the river, for there was nothing save Indian camps and a Mission or two this side of St.
Michael's, and at that point there was a court and many soldiers, where one was liable to meet the penalty of past misdeeds, hence he was probably resolved to stop here, and, judging by his record, he was a man of settled convictions.

Continued persecution is wont to stir certain natures to such reckless desperation that interference is dangerous, and Gale, recalling his sullen look and ill-concealed contempt for the soldiers, put the stranger down as a man of this type.
Furthermore, he had been impressed by the fellow's remarkable dexterity of wrist.
The trader stepped to the door, and, seeing Burrell on the deck of the steamer, went down towards him.

It was a long chance, but the stakes were big and worth the risk.

He had thought much during the night previous--in fact, for many hours--and the morning had found him still undecided, wherefore he took this course.
"Necia tells me that you aim to keep law and order here," he began, abruptly, having drawn the young man aside.
"Those are my instructions," said Burrell, "but they are so vague--" "Well! This camp is bigger than it was an hour ago, and it 'ain't improved any in the growth.