a year is beggarly recompense for service such as theirs."
It was a new thing for a factor in the fur company to utter a sentiment like that. But, alas! the doctor was too direct for a diplomat. Even the merchants of Montreal were willing to profit by the serfdom of those French-Canadian voyageurs and thought their philanthropic favorite had gone too far. One vote, one voice, could not bring better terms, but one thing the doctor could and did do. John McLoughlin never set his name to the articles of agreement.
That speech was not forgotten. The Board admired and yet they feared him. He was the most popular and energetic of all the Northwest leaders. He must be quieted, he must be honored, and more than all, the great Northwester must have room for executive sway. He must rule in Canada, or as far as possible from Canada no intermediate ground would do.
About that time the American Congress had agreed with Parliament upon a joint occupancy of a certain wilderness called Oregon. The very place! a sort of Siberia, far off! Dr. John McLoughlin was delegated with absolute power to the Columbia Department. He knew it was a banishment, but he knew, too, that he would be king in that realm beyond the mountains.
All that was long ago. Now, after nineteen years, Dr. McLoughlin has been to London on business connected with the Pacific. Every year his ships have brought their furs, every year his reports have come in, until from nothing his returns exceed those of any other post in the Hudson's Bay dominion. He is on his way home now. The arrival of his boats may be calculated almost to the hour, for Dr. McLoughlin is nothing if not punctual.
