Chloe sank into a chair and motioned the others to be seated. "We may as well sit down while we talk. I will try to tell you only the facts as I myself have seen them--only such as I could swear to on a witness stand." The officer bowed, and Chloe plunged directly into the subject.
"In the first place," she began, "when I brought my outfit in I noticed in the scows, certain pieces with the name of MacNair painted on the burlap. The rest of the outfit, I think, consisted wholly of my own freight. I wondered at the time who MacNair was, but didn't make any inquiries until I happened to mention the matter to Mr. Lapierre. That was on Slave River. Mr. Lapierre seemed very much surprised that any of MacNair's goods should be in his scows. He examined the pieces and then with an ax smashed them in. They contained whiskey."
"And he destroyed it? Can you swear it was whiskey?" asked the officer.
"Certainly, I can swear it was whiskey! I saw it and _smelled_ it."
"Can you explain why Lapierre did not know of these pieces, until you called his attention to them?"
Chloe hesitated a moment and tapped nervously on the table with her fingers. "Yes," she answered, "I can. Mr. Lapierre took charge of the outfit only that morning."
"Who was the boss scowman? Who took the scows down the Athabasca?"
"A man named Vermilion. He was a half-breed, I think. Anyway, he was a horrible creature."
Again Chloe hesitated. "He is dead," she answered. "Mr. Lapierre shot him. He shot him in self-defence, after Vermilion had shot another man."
The officer nodded, and Chloe called upon Big Lena to corroborate the statement that Lapierre had destroyed certain whiskey upon the bank of Slave Lake. "Is that all?" asked the officer.
"No, indeed!" answered Chloe. "That isn't all! Only last week, I went to visit MacNair's fort on Snare Lake in company with Mr. Lapierre and Lena, and four canoemen. We got there shortly after dark. Fires had been built on the beach--many of them almost against the walls of the stockade. As we drew near, we heard loud yells and howlings that sounded like the cries of animals, rather than of human beings. We approached very close to the shore where the figures of the Indians were distinctly visible by the light of the leaping names. It was then we realized that a wild orgy of indescribable debauchery was in progress. The Indians were raving drunk. Some lay upon the ground in a stupor--others danced and howled and threw fire-brands about in reckless abandon.