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Updated: June 7, 2025
It begins sixteen years ago." "I shall understand, Jean," whispered Howland. "Go on." "It was at one of the company's posts that it happened," Jean began, "and the story has to do with Le M'seur, the Factor, and his wife, L'Ange Blanc that is what she was called, M'seur the White Angel. Mon Dieu, how we loved her!
"Mon Dieu, but if it had been a heavier club by the weight of a pound you would have gone into the blessed hereafter," he smiled, approaching with noiseless tread. He held a glass of water to Howland's lips. "Is it bad, Croisset?" "So bad that you will be in bed for a day or so, M'seur. That is all." "Impossible!" cried the young engineer. "I must take the eight o'clock train in the morning.
Does it dawn on you that I'm going to take you back to the authorities, and that as soon as we reach the Wekusko I'll have twenty men back on the trail of these friends of yours?" A gray pallor spread itself over Jean's thin face. "The great God, M'seur, you can not do that!" "Can not!" Howland's fingers dug into the edge of the table. "By this great God of yours, Croisset, but I will!
Possibly they are hunters going out to the trap-lines. If it comes to the worst " "What then?" demanded Howland. "You can shoot me a little later," temporized the Frenchman with a show of his old coolness. "Mon Dieu, I am afraid of that gun, M'seur. I will get you out of this if I can. Will you give me the chance or will you shoot?" "I will shoot if you fail," replied the engineer.
He half rose from his seat as Croisset paused; his eyes glittered, his death-white face was set in tense fierce lines, his finger-nails dug into the board table, as he demanded, "What happened then, Croisset?" Jean was eying him like an animal. His voice was low. "They escaped, M'seur." With a deep breath Howland sank back.
"Your hands, M'seur. There is already death below us in the plain, or it is to come very soon. I must tie your hands." Howland thrust his wrists behind him and about them Jean twisted a thong of babeesh. "I believe I understand," he spoke softly, listening again for the chilling wail from the mountain top. "You are afraid that I will kill you." "It is a warning, M'seur. You might try.
It was a confidence that flushed his face with joyous enthusiasm as he ran after the dogs, and that astonished and puzzled Jean Croisset. "Mon Dieu, but you are a strange man!" exclaimed the Frenchman when he brought the dogs down to a walk after a half mile run. "Blessed saints, M'seur, you are laughing and I swear it is no laughing matter."
"M'seur, I would like to help you," he interrupted. "I liked you that night we came in together from the fight on the trail. I have liked you since. And yet, if I was in their place, I would kill you even though I like you. It is a great duty to kill you. They did not do wrong when they tied you in the coyote. They did not do wrong when they tried to kill you on the trail.
Jean's attitude drew his eyes. The Frenchman had thrust himself half out of the screening bushes and was staring through the telescope of his hands. With an exclamation he turned quickly to the engineer. "Look, M'seur! Do you see that man climbing the stair? I don't mind telling you that he is the one who hit you over the head on the trail, and also one of those who shut you up in the coyote.
"Perhaps not so bad as that," said Jean. "They were given to understand that they and they alone were not wanted in the country. It may be that they did not think harm would come to you, and so kept quiet about what had happened. It may be, too, that they did not like to have it known that they were running away from danger. Is not that human, M'seur?
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