as looking for drift-wood for his fire when suddenly he
stopped.

"Ah! You have been here, my friends."

In the soft mud of the shore ran the clearly marked tracks of a man and
dog. The footprints of the dog seemed large for Fleur, but Marcel had
not seen her in six weeks and the puppy was growing fast.

"Fleur!" he said aloud, "will you remember Jean Marcel after all these
weeks with them?"

He had seen no smoke of a fire and the tracks were at least two days
old. His men were doubtless on the west shore of the bay where the water
for miles inland to the spruce networked the marshes, and the rank grass
grew to the height of a man's head; but he would find them. The guns of
the hunters would betray their whereabouts.

He drew a long breath of relief. At last he had reached the end of the
trail. He could now come to grips with his enemies. To the thief, the
law of the north is ruthless, and ruthlessly Jean Marcel was prepared to
exact, if need be, the last drop of the blood of these men in payment
for this act. It was now his nerve and wit against theirs, with Fleur as
the stake. The blood of Andre Marcel and the _coureurs-de-bois_, which
stirred in his veins, was hot for the fight which the days would bring.

Before dawn Jean was taking advantage of the high tide, and when the
first light streaked the east, was well on his way. As the sun lifted
over the muskeg behind the bay he saw, hanging in the still air, the
smoke of a fire.

Quickly turning inshore, he ran his canoe up a waterway and into the
long grass. There he waited until the tide went out, listening to the
faint reports of the guns of the hunters. At noon, having eaten some
cold goose and bannock, he took his rifle and started back over the
marsh. Slowly he worked his way, keeping to the cover of the grass and
alders, circling around the wide, open spaces, pock-marked with
water-holes and small ponds.

Knowing that the breeds would not take the dog with them to their blinds
but would tie her up, he planned to stalk the camp up-wind, in order not
to alarm Fleur, who might betray his presence to his enemies if by
accident they were in camp, in the afternoon, when the geese were
moving. After that--well, he should see.

At last he lay within sight of the tent, which was pitched on a tongue
of high ground running out into the rush-covered mud-flats. The camp was
deserted. His eyes strained wistfully for the sight of the shaggy shape
of his puppy. Pain