"There's smallpox on the Nelson," his messenger informed Williams,
"and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only knows what it
is doing to the bay Indians, but we hear that it is wiping out the
Chippewayans between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same
day with his winded dogs. "I'm off for the Revillon people to the
west, with the compliments of our company," he explained.
Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's
servants and her majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare
themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thick face went
as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill
factor.
"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can
make!"
He read the paper aloud to the men at Lac Bain, and every available
man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's
territory. There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge
that went out was a roll of red cotton cloth. Williams' face was still
white as he passed these rolls out from the company's store. They were
ominous of death, lurid signals of pestilence and horror, and the
touch of them sent shuddering chills through the men who were about to
scatter them among the forest people.
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