"Let me introduce you to my kloochman (wife)/continued Ogden, in the same squeaky voice. "She's the best moccasin-maker this side of Winnipeg, Mr. Lee,—not so handsome as some, but I tell you she's a goddess. And to-morrow I want you to marry this young man to my daughter," turning toward McKinley. Sarah Julia had yielded to her fate.
"It was due to the company," Mrs. Douglas said. That was a great consideration. Everything was due to the company. And Peter Skeen himself,—he would not have the company lose a promising young man for want of a bride, even if that bride were to be his own daughter and the groom a much less desirable man than Archibald McKinley.
These Hudson's Bay men, living in the vast solitudes, seeing, hearing, knowing little but the fur trade, naturally looked up to "the company" as the one great power next to England's queen. Its interests were their life. Their devotion to it became a mania. As contrasted with Indian wigwams, their substantial log posts took on palatial splendors, their governors were kings, their chief factors high nobles, and their daughters fit consorts for the best-bred young gentlemen the company could employ.
The gentlemen from the various posts assembled at Fort Vancouver viewed with apprehension the host of missionaries within their domain. Right there in Bachelors' Hall Jason Lee made appointments to stations at the Dalles, Puget Sound, the Falls of the Willamette, and at Clatsop-by-the-Sea. Dr. McLoughlin, a model host, with boats, provisions, and packhorses, was there to speed the parting guest. But before they separated Sarah Julia became the bride of Archibald McKinley.
