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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!"
"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.
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.
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.
"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.
The dismal and sporadic attempts at conversation had slumped into an awkward silence, in the midst of which the door burst open and young Charlie catapulted into the room. "Oh, Eth! Guess who he is!" he cried. "Guess who's the boss the man the Indians call The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die'! It's Bill Carmody! And I knew him the minute I saw him, if he has got whiskers all over his face and a buckskin shirt.
She listened, and with few words and all the dramatic eloquence of the pure Indian the half-breed girl told of the rescue from the river; of her own love for M's'u' Bill, "The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die"; of his firm rejection of that love; of her pursuit of him when he started for the land of the white man; of the scene at the camp-fire when old Wa-ha-ta-na-ta called him "The One Good White Man"; of the broken knife; of The Promise; of her peril at the hand of Moncrossen, and of the cold-blooded shooting of her brother.
You, who are good, and whom the Great Spirit sent to me from the waters of the river! "You, The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die, shall turn from your own kind, and shall find your happiness beside the rivers, and in the forests of my people! Together we will journey to some far place, and in our lodge will dwell love and great happiness.
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."
"The man whom Creed fears, and of whom he spoke the night he came whining to the tepee with his heart turned to water within him, and told Jacques of how this man lay helpless in the flames of the burning shack, and the next day walked unscorched into the store at Hilarity. "He is The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die. Quick! Help me, and together we will bring him to life!" The old squaw held aloof, scowling.
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