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Updated: May 15, 2025
Thus her sensitive thoughts, bringing a succession of confusions, wandered dreamily on, while the hammock gradually ceased its swinging and hung as a thing asleep. During the latter part of Jane's reflections Brent McElroy was having a few strange minutes.
It was Bois DesCaut, and he did not lift his evil eyes. The white lack on his temple gleamed with a sinister distinctness amid his black hair. "Double foe," thought McElroy; "I am to pay for my own words and Maren's blow." As the trapper passed he sidled swiftly near the Nor'wester and something dropped from a legstrap.
But as she had felt the whimsical charm of De Courtenay, so now she felt the eagerness, the taut anxiety of this man, and she noticed that there was no smile on his face as she hesitated. Moreover, Marie was watching, sharp as a little hawk. "Why, M'sieu," she said, and there was a baffling note to the voice this time, "why, you wish me to have this?" "Yes, Ma'amselle," said McElroy simply.
You git it for me, an' I'll help you with that Dawson bird. You know the McElroy feller, don't you?" "I've saw him hangin' 'round; but I can't go over there," Tusk grumbled. "Didn't I jest tell you Dawson buhned me out? Why don't you go?" "Tusk, a gentl'man don't like to be askin' another gentl'man to pay him back a little friendly loan.
Silent as the wood around, the forlorn hope crept forward. "Here, Frith," commanded Maren, when they had reached a vantage point of higher ground, "and here you, Alloybeau and McDonald, separate. If during this night the good God shall deliver into our hands Mr. McElroy and the venturer from Montreal, you will hear a panther's far-off call. Make for the canoe, for that will mean swift flight.
McElroy was decorated in like manner, save that his circle was red and it enclosed a death-maul, a dozen little arrows, and two knives. Thus was foreshadowed the manner of their death. Then arose a babble of voices. "The White Doe! The White Doe that runs in the forest! Now shall She who Follows decide!" And into the midst of the vast circle once more Maren Le Moyne was brought.
The canoes were floated, the men embarked, and all in readiness with the first flame of the sun above the eastern forest when Alfred de Courtenay presented himself at the gate and called for McElroy. Gladly the factor responded, hoping somewhat to soften the awkwardness of the situation by a godspeed, to be met by the Frenchman high-headed and most carefully polite.
Far apart and impersonal was McElroy now, only she loved him with that vast idolatry which seeks naught but the good of its idol. Even if he loved Francette he must be saved for that happiness. Therefore she knelt in a cockleshell alone on a rushing river and sped through, a wilderness into appalling danger. Such was the compelling power of that love which had come tardily to her.
He strained his eyes, which smarted terribly, into the darkness, and presently descried a tall form pacing slowly up against the skyline of his vision and back again into the shadows. A single feather slanted against the stars. A guard pacing the place of captives. With a slight movement McElroy tried to lift a hand. It was immovable. He tried the other. It likewise refused his will.
For two days the trading progressed finely, and McElroy had so far laid aside his doubts as to take delight in the quality of the rare furs. Never before had such pelts stacked themselves in the sorting-room. It was a sight for eyes tired by many springs of common trade. Then, like a bomb in a peaceful city, came a running word of excitement.
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