, a tall,
athletic-looking man of thirty, welcomed him, bidding him remove his
capote and moccasins and thaw out at the hot box-stove.

"Mr. McKenzie has shown me Gillies' message, Marcel. Now tell me all you
know about the case," said the missionary.

Briefly Marcel described the condition of Julie Breton--Gillies' crude
attempt at surgery; the advance toward the shoulder of the swelling and
inflammation, with the increasing fever.

When he had finished he cried in desperation:

"M'sieu, I have at Whale River credit for t'ree t'ousand dollar. Eet ees
all----"

Hunter's lifted hand checked him.

"Marcel, first I am a preacher of the gospel; also, I am a doctor of
medicine. I came into the north to minister to the bodies as well as to
the souls of its people. Do not speak of money. This case demands that
we start at once. Have you good dogs?"

The drawn face of Marcel lighted with gratitude.

Troubled and mystified by the attitude of Wallace, McKenzie broke in,
"He's surely got the best dogs on this coast--made a record trip down.
But, Mr. Hunter, I'll not agree to your starting in this hell outside.
You must wait until daylight. The Inspector has decided that it would be
impossible to keep the trail."

"I came here to aid those _in extremis_," replied the missionary. "I
will take the risk to save this girl. It's a matter of days and we may
be too late as it is."

"T'anks, M'sieu, her brother, Pere Breton, weel not forget your
kindness; and I--I weel nevaire forget." The eyes of Marcel glowed with
gratitude.

"Then it's understood that you start at daylight, if the wind won't blow
you off the ice. I'll see you then." And McKenzie, looking hard at
Marcel and Hunter, went out.

When the factor had closed the door, Jean turned to Dr. Hunter.

"Thees man who marries her een June, ees afraid to go. Weel Mr. Hunter
start wid me at midnight?"

The big missionary gripped Marcel's hand as he said with a smile, "I did
not promise McKenzie I would not go. At midnight we start for Whale
River."

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE HATE OF THE LONG SNOWS

In the unwritten law of the north no one in peril shall ask for succor
in vain. So universal is this creed, so general its acceptance and
observance throughout the vast land of silence, that when word is
brought in to settlement, fur-post, or lonely cabin, that help is
needed, it is a matter of course that a relief party takes the trail,
however long and hazardous. An