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Updated: June 7, 2025
I swear by the Virgin that Meleese knew nothing of this, M'seur. She knew nothing of the schemes by which her brothers drove Gregson and Thorne back into the South. They did not wish to kill them, and yet it was necessary to do something that you might replace one of them, M'seur. They did not make a move alone but that something happened. Gregson lost a finger. Thorne was badly hurt as you know.
He is dead." Howland shuddered. "Of the smallpox?" "Yes." For a few moments they stood in silence. Then Croisset added, "You will remain here, M'seur, until I return." He went out, closing and barring the door from the other side, and Howland seated himself again in the chair beside the table. Fifteen minutes later the half-breed returned, bearing with him a good-sized pack and a two-gallon jug.
It was three years later while she was still in Montreal that I went on one of my wandering searches to a post at the head of the Great Slave, and there, M'seur there " Croisset had risen. His long arms were stretched high, his head thrown back, his upturned face aflame with a passion that was almost that of prayer.
Those are his quarters at the post, and possibly he is going up to see Meleese. If you were much of a shot you could settle a score or two from here, M'seur." The figure had stopped, evidently on a platform midway up the side of the building. He stood for a moment as if scanning the plain between him and the mountain, then disappeared.
With another length of babeesh Howland tied his companion's legs. "I'm going to investigate a little," he explained. "I am not afraid of your voice, for if you begin to shout I will hear you first. But with your legs free you might take it into your head to run away." "Would you mind spreading a blanket on the floor, M'seur? If you are gone long this box will grow hard and sharp."
With a sharp cry he sprang to his feet, overturning the stool, facing Croisset, his hands clenched, his body bent as if about to spring. Jean stood calmly, his white teeth agleam. Then, slowly, he stretched out a hand. "M'seur John Howland, will you read what happened to the father and mother of the little Meleese sixteen years ago?
"The great God!" gasped Jean. "M'seur " From deep in the forest came again the baying of the Mackenzie hound. This time it was much nearer, and for a moment Howland's eyes left the Frenchman's terrified face as he turned his head to listen. "They are coming!" exclaimed Croisset. "M'seur, I swear to " Again Howland's pistol covered his heart.
Croisset leaned down with his black eyes gleaming like coals. "Do you know what I would do if I was her, M'seur?" he said in a low voice, and yet one filled with a threat which stilled the words of passion which the engineer was on the point of uttering. "Do you know what I would do? I would kill you kill you inch by inch torture you. That is what I would do."
With unusual eagerness Jean scanned the surface of the snow, and when he saw that there was trail of neither man nor beast in the unbroken crust a look of relief came into his face. "Mon Dieu, so far I have saved my hide," he grinned. "Now, M'seur, look for yourself and see if Jean Croisset has not kept his word!"
They had covered less than half of the distance to the caribou trail when in a small open space free of bush Croisset's voice rose sharply and the team stopped. "What do you think of it, M'seur?" he cried, pointing to the snow. "What do you think of that?" Barely cutting into the edge of the open was the broken crust of two sledge trails.
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