fear, fought the sinewy
wrist, advancing inexorably, on its grim mission. In short jerks, Marcel
hunched the knife toward its goal. As he weakened, the knotted features
of the one who felt death creeping to him, inch by inch, went gray. The
hand fighting Marcel's wrist dripped with sweat. Panting hoarsely, like
a beast at bay, the thief twisted and writhed from the pitiless steel.
Then in his ears rang the voice of the approaching hunter.

With a cry of despair, the doomed half-breed called to the man who had
come too late. Already the knuckles of Marcel were high on his ribs.
With a final wrench, the blade was lunged home.

The cry was smothered in a cough. The man who had beaten his last puppy
gasped, quivered convulsively; then lay still.

Bathed in sweat, shaking from the strain and exertion of the long
battle, Marcel got stiffly to his feet and seized his rifle. Again the
camp was hailed from the marsh. It was evident that the goose-hunter had
not sensed the cry of his partner or he would not have betrayed his
position. Doubtless he was poling up a reed-masked waterway with a load
of geese.

Jean smiled grimly, for the thief would have only his shotgun loaded
with fine shot, for large shot is not used for geese in the north.
Hurriedly searching the tent, he found a rifle which he threw into the
rushes; then loosed Fleur.

The half-breed was in his power, but he wanted no prisoner. To stay and
beat this man as Fleur had been beaten would have been sweet, but of
blood he had had enough. For an instant his eyes rested on the ghastly
evidence of his visit, awaiting the return of the hunter; then he took
Fleur and started across the marsh for his canoe.

To the dead man, who, to the theft of Fleur would have lightly added the
death of her master, Marcel gave no thought. As for the other, when he
found his dead partner, fear of an ambush would prevent him from
following their trail.

Reaching his canoe, Jean divided a goose with Fleur and, when it became
dark, started for East Point. That the half-breed's partner might
attempt to follow him and seek revenge, he had no doubt, but with the
shotgun alone, for Jean had taken the only rifle at their camp, the
thief's sole chance would be to stalk Marcel while he slept. However, as
the sea was flat and the tide ebbing, Marcel was confident that daylight
would find him well up the coast toward Point Comfort.

CHAPTER IX

IN THE TEETH OF THE WINDS

It was t