ed, but over weary, had gone out into the sunset.
In the early evening, forty-eight hours out of Whale River, four white
wraiths of huskies with a ghost-like driver, turned in to the
trade-house at Fort George. The spent dogs lay down, dropping their
frosted masks in the snow, the froth from their mouths rimming their
lips with ice.
Sheeted in white from hood to moccasins, the _voyageur_ entered the
trade-house in a swirl of snow and called for the factor. A bearded man
engaged in conversation with another white man, behind the trade
counter, rose at Jean's entrance.
"I am from Whale River, M'sieu. My name is Jean Marcel. Here ees a
lettair from M'sieu Gillies." Marcel handed an oil-skin envelope to
McKenzie, the factor, who surveyed with curiosity the ice-crusted
stranger with haggard eyes who came to Fort George on Christmas night.
At the mention of Whale River, the man who had been in conversation with
McKenzie behind the counter, also rose to his feet. And Marcel, who had
not seen his face, now recognized him. It was Inspector Wallace.
"Too bad! Too bad!" muttered the factor, reading the note, "and we're in
for a December blizzard."
"What is it, McKenzie?" demanded Wallace, coming from behind the counter
and reaching for Gillies' note.
The narrowed eyes of Marcel watched the face of Wallace contract with
pain as he read of the peril of the woman he loved.
"Tell me what you know, Marcel!" Wallace demanded brokenly.
Jean briefly explained Julie's desperate condition.
"When did you leave Whale River?"
"Two day ago."
"What," cried McKenzie, "you came through in two days from Whale River?
Lord, man! I never heard of such travelling. Your dogs must be marvels!"
"I came in two day, M'sieu," repeated Marcel, "because she weel not
leeve many day onless she have help."
"Why, man, I can't believe it. It's never been done. When did you
sleep?" The factor called to a Company Indian who entered the room,
"Albert, take care of his dogs and feed them."
"Dey are wild, M'sieu. I weel go wid heem."
Marcel started to go out with the Indian, for his huskies sorely needed
attention, then stopped to stare in wonder at Wallace, who had slumped
into a chair, head in hands. For a moment the hunter looked at the inert
Inspector; then his lip curled, his frost-blackened face reflecting his
scorn, as he said:
"W'ere ees dees missionary, M'sieu? We mus' start een a few hours, w'en
my dogs have rest."
"Wha
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