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He is M's'u Bill, The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die. Neither by wolves nor fire nor water can he die, nor will he be killed in the fighting of men. But one day he will kill Moncrossen, that thou mayest lay upon the head of the evil one the black curse of the Yaga Tah! And then will the blood of Pierre, thy son, be avenged."
"Make a fire," he commanded gruffly, and slung his pack upon the ground. She obeyed, muttering the while, and Jacques watched her as he filled and lighted his pipe. "The man is M's'u' Bill," he observed, apparently talking to himself, "The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die." The old woman shot him a keen glance as she hovered over the tiny flame that licked at the twigs of dry larchwood.
Steadily he plodded onward, and a smile came to his lips as he formulated his plans for the summer, which included the removal of Jeanne from her dangerous proximity to Moncrossen. He would change his hunting-ground, move his lodge up the river, and next season he would supply the camp of M's'u' Bill, whose heart was good, and who would see that no harm came to the girl.
Someone held a bottle to her lips, and she drank greedily. Jeanne dropped to her knees by the old woman's side. "He has come," she whispered. "M's'u' Bill, The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die, has come to you." Wa-ha-ta-na-ta nodded her understanding, and her beady black eyes flashed. "She must have water!" cried the girl; "and food!"
For he is her friend, his word has passed, his heart is strong and good, and he knows not fear. "Upon Moncrossen will fall the day of the Great Reckoning. And, in that day, justice will be done, for he will stand face to face with M's'u' Bill The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die the man whom Wa-ha-ta-na-ta has named 'The One Good White Man'!" "And, to think," whispered Mrs.
There was a sudden commotion behind him, a swift rush of feet, a muffled thud, and a gasping, agonized grunt. The next instant the huge acetelyne lamp that lighted the room fell to the floor with a crash and the place was plunged in darkness. "Queek, m's'u, dees way!" a hand grasped his wrist and the cowpuncher felt himself drawn swiftly toward the door.
"Upon the stove is a pot of very strong coffee which Daddy Dunnigan told me to bring," Jacques went on; "and he is even now making broth in the cook-shack. M's'u' Bill cannot die. The strong coffee and the good broth will bring him back to life; for he is called in the woods The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die. "If he could die he would die in the blizzard.
In the woods it is not often so, except when it be written upon papers. The best man in the North is one of whom men know only his first name. He is M's'u' Bill The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die." "Why can't he die?" asked the youngster eagerly. Jacques shook his head.
"Then M's'u' Bill arose and folded his blankets and made up his pack, and when he spoke to her again it was in the voice of the terrible softness the softness that causes men first to wonder, and then to obey, though they know not why. He said that he himself would take her back, and that Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, who is old and very wise, would know that his words were true.
"So you are real, after all," he smiled. The girl returned the smile frankly. "M's'u' has been very sick," she imparted, speaking slowly, as though selecting her words. Bill nodded; he felt dizzy and helplessly weak. "How long have I been here?" he asked. "Since the turning of the moon." "I'm afraid that is not very definite. You see I didn't even know the moon had been turned. Who turned it?
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