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"Hey fear nothing, these Nakonkirhirinons, and would as soon enter trade with one as another, having come for trade, if the values were above those at York and Churchill. I hope they swing eastward to Winipigoos and thus miss that young hot-brain on the Saskatchewan." "By the way, Ridgar, Pierre Garcon says that Bois DesCaut is at Seven Isles on the Qui Appelle with Henderson.
And not alone he, for the two voyageurs alike gazed after her, this new-comer from the farther ways of civilisation who dared the brute DesCaut and struck like a man. Then the factor bent above the little Francette. "Sh!" he said gently, "little one, let go. The dog is dead, poor beast. Come away."
For, with the sudden illumination, she forgot for a moment the present and DesCaut; for it was the turncoat awaked from a drunken sleep apart, who pushed swiftly forward, took the moment's advantage of her hesitation, and pinioned her arms to her sides. She might still have had a chance, for she was as strong as he, but that he raised his voice in a call for help.
"Whyfore is all this bally-hoo wid th' lights?" There was no answer and he roared at them like a lion "Can yez not shpake, ye haythen?" Whereat a canoe glided from the back shadows and the voice of Bois DesCaut came in its broken English,
So for this end, reaching far back, I did not return when you came back to De Seviere, going on with that rabble who dared not harm me who am to share the Sleep of Chiefs some day.... "So! "Now for the rest. I know no more of Maren Le Moyne than that first tragic sight of her, hauled into the light by the brute DesCaut.
As they whirled into a more open space the light from the fire struck through the foliage and glistened on a tuft of white hair on the swarthy temple before her. "Hola! DesCaut!" gasped the girl. "Oho! I win!"
He bore on his left temple a pure white lock amid his black hair." "Bois DesCaut!" said Edmonton Ridgar; "he has been these two days gone in his canoe." "A traitorous trapper, M'sieu," said the factor, "one who has umbrage at me for a rebuke administered some time back and hopes by this sorry joke to win revenge. But what is done cannot be helped.
But the maid would not give up the battered body, and with the audacity of her beauty and life-long spoiling, besought the young factor for help. "There is yet life, M'sieu. See! The breath lifts in his sides. Is there naught to be done when one sleeps, so? He is so strong at the sledges and he did not whimper, no, not once, when DesCaut was beating him to death. Is there nothing, M'sieu?"
The tall man stood in silence a moment and glared at the scene, at the excited faces, the gleaming eyes, the shifting glance of the spokesman. "A likely sthory!" he said presently. "An' who, may I make bould to ask, is this murderer?" DesCaut squirmed a moment in silence. "Who, did ye say?" "A man, M'sieu, a-a-trapper." "One lone man?
For hours McElroy lay staring into the night sky with its frosting of great northern stars, and passed again over every week, every day, nay, almost every hour, since that morning in early spring when she had stepped off the factory-sill to accompany little Francette to the river bank where Bois DesCaut stood facing a tall young woman against the stockade wall.
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