The Whelps of the Wolf

by George P. Marsh

  CHAPTER VI

  FOR LOVE OF A DOG

  The spring trade at Whale River was nearing its end. One by one thetepees in the post clearing disappeared as, each day, canoes of Creehunters started up-river for lakes of the interior, to net fish for thecoming winter. Already the umiaks of the Esquimos peopled with women andchildren had followed the ebb-tide down to the great Bay, bound fortheir autumn hunting camps along the north coast.

  When Jean Marcel had traded his fur and purchased what flour, ammunitionand other supplies he needed to carry him through the long snows of thecoming winter, he found that a substantial balance remained to hiscredit on the books of the Company; a nest egg, he hoped, for the daywhen, perchance, as a _voyageur_ of the Company with a house at thepost, he might stand with Julie at his side and receive the blessing ofthe good Pere Breton. But Jean realized that that day was far away.Before he might hope to be honored by the Company with the position andtrust his father had so long enjoyed, he knew he must prove his mettleand his worth; for the Company crews and dog-runners, entrusted withthe mails, the fur-brigades and Company business in general, are menchosen for their intelligence, stamina and skill as canoemen anddog-drivers.

  When he had packed his last load of winter supplies from the trade-houseto the Mission, he said with a laugh to Julie:

  "Julie, we have made a good start, you and I. We have credit of threehundred dollars with the Company."

  The olive skin of Julie Breton flushed to the dusky crown of hair, butshe retorted with spirit:

  "You are counting your geese before they are shot, M'sieu Jean. Merci!But I am very happy with Pere Henri."

  Pere Breton's laugh interrupted Jean's reply. "Yes, my son. Julie isright. You are too young, you two, to think of anything but your souls."

  "Some day, Julie, I will be a Company man and then you will listen toJean Marcel," and the lad who had cherished the memory of the girl'soval face through the long winter and taken it with him into the dim,blue Ungava hills, left the Mission with head erect and swinging stride.

  "Jean, when are you going back to the bush?" inquired Gillies, as Marcelentered the trade-house.

  "My partners and I go next week, maybe."

  "Well, I want you to take a canoe to Duck Island for me. We'reshort-handed here, and you have just come down that coast. I promisedsome Huskies to leave a cache of stuff there this summer."

  Marcel's dark features reddened with pride. He had been put in charge ofa canoe bound on Company business. His crossing to the Big Salmon hadmarked him at Whale River as a canoeman of daring--a chip of the oldblock, worthy of the name Marcel.

  "Bien! M'sieu Gillies, when do we start?"

  "To-day, after dinner!"

  Returning to the Mission elated, Marcel ate his dinner, made up his packwhile they wished him "Bon-voyage!" then went out to the stockade.

  At the gate he was met simultaneously by the impact of a shaggy body andthe swift licks of an eager tongue. Then Fleur circled him at fullspeed, yelping her delight, while she worked off the excitement ofseeing her playmate again, until, at length, she trotted up and nosedhis hand, keen for the daily rubbing of her ears which drew from herdeep throat grateful mutterings of content.

  "I leave my petite chienne for a few days," he whispered into a hairyear. "She will be a good dog and obey Ma'm'selle Julie, who will feedher?"

  The puppy broke away and ran to the gate, turning to him with prickedears as she whined for the daily stroll into the scrub after snow-shoerabbits.

  "Non, ma petite! We walk not to-day!" He stroked the slate-gray backwhich trembled with her desire for a run with the master, then circlingher shaggy neck with his arms, his face against hers, while she frettedas though she knew Jean was leaving her, said: "A'voir, Fleur!" andclosed the gate.

  She stood grieving, her black nose thrust between the slab pickets, theslant eyes following Marcel's back until he disappeared. Then she raisedher head and, in the manner of her kind, voiced her disappointment in along howl. And the wail of his puppy struck with strange insistence uponthe ears of Jean Marcel--like a premonition of misfortune which thefuture held for him and which he often recalled in the weeks to come.

  As the canoe of the Company journeyed through the Strait of the Spirit,flocks of gray geese, which were now leading their broods out to thecoast islands from the muskegs of the interior, rose ahead, to sail awayin their geometric formations, while clouds of pin-tail and black duckpatrolled the low beaches.

  Jean left his cargo for the Huskies in a stone cache and running into asouth-wester, while homeward bound, did not reach Whale River for afortnight. As he approached the post, he made out at the log landingthe Company steamer _Inenew_, loaded with trade goods from the depot atCharlton Island. Through the clearing, now almost bare of tepees, forthe trade was over, he walked to the Mission. The door was opened byJulie Breton.

  "Bon-jour, Ma'm'selle Breton!" and he seized the unresponsive hand ofthe girl.

  "I am glad to see you home safely, Jean." Something in the face andvoice of the girl checked him.

  "What is the matter, Julie?" he asked. "Pere Henri; he is not ill?"

  "No, Jean. Pere Henri is well, but----"

  "You do not seem glad to see me again, Julie!"

  "I am glad. You know that----"

  "Well," he flung out, hurt at the girl's constrained manner, "I'll goand see someone who will welcome Jean Marcel with no sober face----"

  "Jean!" she said as he turned away.

  "What is it, Ma'm'selle Breton?" and he smiled into her troubled eyes."Fleur has missed me, I know. She will give Jean Marcel a true welcomehome."

  "Jean--she is not there--they stole her!"

  The face of Jean Marcel twisted with pain.

  "Mon Dieu! Stole my Fleur--my puppy?"

  "Yes, they took her from the stockade, two nights ago--two men who cameup the coast after dogs."

  With face buried in his arms to hide the tears misting his eyes, heleaned against the door jamb, while the girl rested a sympathetic handon his shoulder.

  "Poor Jean!"

  "I worked so hard to get her. I loved that puppy, Julie; she was mychild," he groaned.

  "I know, Jean, how you feel; after what you have been through--to havelost her----"

  "But I have not lost her!" the boy exclaimed fiercely, drawing a deepbreath and facing the girl with features set like stone. "I have notlost her, Julie Breton! I will follow them and bring back my dog if Ihave to trail those men to Rupert House."

  The tears had gone and in the eyes of Jean Marcel was a glint she hadnever known--a glitter of hate for the men who had taken his dog, sointense, so bitter, that she thrilled inwardly as she gazed at histransformed face. Instinctively, Julie Breton knew that the lad whofaced her was no longer the playmate of old to be treated as a boy, butthe possessor of a high courage and unbreakable will that men in thefuture would reckon with.

  Jean entered the trade-house to find Gillies in conversation with a tallstranger, who, Jules whispered, was Mr. Wallace, the new inspector ofthe East Coast posts, who had come with the steamer.

  "A few days after you left, Jean," explained Gillies, "two half-breedsdropped in here with the story that they had travelled up the coast fromRupert House to buy dogs from the Huskies. There were no dogs for salehere, and they seemed pretty sore at missing the York-boat bound southwith the dogs bought by the Company for East Main and Fort George. Why,we didn't know, for they couldn't get any of those dogs. They were aweazel-faced, mean-looking pair and when Jules found them feeding two ofour huskies one day, there was trouble."

  "What did they do to you, Jules?" asked Jean, smiling faintly at the bigCompany bowman.

  "What did Jules do to them, you mean," broke in Angus McCain.

  "Well," continued Gillies, "we got outside in time to see Jules breakhis paddle over the head of one and pile into the other who had a knifeout and looked mean.

  "Then I kicked them out of the post. They left that night with your dog,for the next day a
t Little Bear Island they passed a canoe ofgoose-hunters bound for Whale River and the Indians noticed the puppywho seemed to be muzzled and tied."

  During the recital, Marcel walked the floor of the trade-house, hisblood hot with rage.

  "French half-breeds, M'sieu Gillies, or Scotch?" he asked.

  "Scotch, Jean, medium sized; one had lost half an ear and the other hada scar on his chin and the first finger gone on his right hand. Butyou're not going after them, lad; they've two days' start on you andit's August!"

  "M'sieu Gillies, I took de _longue traverse_ for dat dog. She was debest pup in dees place. I love dat husky, M'sieu. I start to-night."

  The import and finality of Jean's words startled his hearers.

  "Why, you won't make your trapping-grounds before the freeze-up, if youhead down the coast now. You're crazy, man! Besides, they are two daysahead of you, to start with, and with two paddles will keep gaining,"objected the factor.

  "M'sieu Gillies," the boy ignored the factor's protest, "will you geeveme letter of credit for de Company posts?"

  "Why, yes, Jean, you've got three hundred dollars credit here, but, man,stop and think! You can't overhaul those breeds alone, and if theybelong in the East Main or Rupert River country they'll be back in thebush by the time you reach the posts, even if you can trail them thatfar. It's three hundred and fifty miles to Rupert House; you might be amonth on the way."

  Jean Marcel shook his head doggedly, determination written in thestone-hard muscles of his dark face. Then he suddenly demanded of thefactor:

  "What would my father, Andre Marcel, do eef he leeved? Because of defreeze-up would he geeve hees pup to dose dog-stealer? I ask you dat,M'sieu?"

  Gillies' honest eyes frankly met the questioner's.

  "Andre Marcel was the best canoeman on this coast, and no man ever didhim a wrong who didn't pay." The factor hesitated.

  "Well, M'sieu!" demanded Jean.

  "Andre Marcel," Gillies continued, "would have followed the men whostole his dog down this coast and west to the Barren Grounds."

  Jules Duroc nodded gravely as he added: "By Gar! Andre Marcel, he wouldtrail dose men into de muskegs of Hell."

  "Well," said Jean, smiling proudly at the encomiums of his father'sprowess, "Jean Marcel, hees son, will start to-night."

  Argument was futile to dissuade Marcel from his mad venture. Hispartners of the previous winter who had waited impatiently for hisreturn refused to delay longer their start for Ghost River and left atonce.

  Then Jules took Marcel aside and quietly talked to him as would abrother.

  "Jean, you stay here wid Ma'm'selle Julie till de steamer go. Dat M'sieuWallace, he sweet on you' girl w'en you were up de coast. You stay tillhe leeve."

  For this Jean had an outward shrug of contempt, but the rumoredattentions of Wallace to Julie Breton, during his absence, sickened hisheart with fear. Was he to lose her, too, as well as Fleur?

  Before supper, at the Mission, Pere Breton urged him to return to histrapping grounds and spare himself the toil of a hopeless quest down thecoast in the face of the coming winter. Julie was adding her objectionsto her brother's, when a knock on the door checked her. Her face coloredslightly as Jean glanced up, when she turned to the door.

  "Bon soir, Monsieur!" she greeted the newcomer, a note of embarrassmentin her voice.

  "Good evening, Mademoiselle. I hope I'm not late?" And Inspector Wallaceentered the room.

  The Inspector, a handsome, well-built man of thirty-five, was dressed inthe garb of civilization and wore shoes, a rarity at Whale River. Chiefof the East Coast posts of the Great Company, he had been sent the yearprevious, from western Ontario, and put in command of men older in yearsand experience who had passed their lives in the far north. Andnaturally much resentment had manifested itself among the traders. Butthat the new chief officer looked and acted like a man of ability, thedisgruntled factors had been forced to admit.

  As Wallace sat conversing of the great world outside with Pere Breton,who was evidently much pleased by his attentions to Julie, he seemed toJean Marcel to embody all that the young Frenchman lacked. How, indeed,he asked himself, could he now aspire to the love of Julie Breton whenso great a man chose to smile upon her?

  Wallace seemed surprised at the presence of a humble Company hunter as amember of the priest's family, but Pere Breton privately informed himthat Jean was as a son and brother at the Mission.

  While the black eyes of Julie flashed in response to the admiringglances of Wallace, Jean Marcel ate in silence his last meal at WhaleRiver for many a long week, torn by his longing for the dog carried downthe coast in the canoe of the thieves and by the hopelessness of hislove for this girl who was manifestly thrilling to the compliments of aman who knew the world of men and cities, who had seen many women, yetfound this rose of the north fair. But as he ate in silence, the youngFrenchman made a vow that should this man, who was taking her from him,treat her innocence lightly, Inspector though he was, he should feelthe cold steel of the knife of Jean Marcel.

  After the meal, as Jean prepared to leave, Pere Breton renewed hisprotests against the trip, but in vain. If he had luck, Marcel insisted,he could beat the "freeze-up" home; if not, he would travel up thecoast, later, on the ice, or--well, it did not much matter what becameof Jean Marcel.

  So, with the letter of the factor, on which he could draw supplies atthe southern posts, Jean Marcel shook the hands of his friends and,sliding his canoe into the ebb tide, started south as the dying sungilded the flat Bay to the west. He waved his hand in farewell to thegroup of Company men on the shore, when he saw above them the figures ofJulie Breton and the priest. As Julie held aloft something white, sheand her brother were joined by a man. It was Inspector Wallace. Jeanswung his paddle to and fro, in response to Julie's Godspeed, thendropping to his knees, drove the craft swiftly down-stream on the longpursuit which might take him four hundred miles down the coast to thewhite-waters of the great Rupert and beyond, he knew not where. And withhim he carried the thought that Julie, his Julie, would daily, for aweek, see this great man of the Company. It was a heavy heart thatMarcel that night took down to the sea.

  With the vision of Fleur, strangely sensing the impending separationfrom her master, as her wail of despair rose from the stockade the nighthe left her to go north, constantly before his eyes, Jean Marcel reachedthe coast and turned south. The thought of his puppy muzzled and boundin the canoe two days ahead of him lent power to every lunge of hispaddle. While the knowledge that, back at Whale River, instead ofwalking the river shore in the long twilight with Jean Marcel, as he haddreamed, Julie would have Wallace at her side, added to the viciousnessof his stroke. The sea was flat and when at daylight he saw loomingahead the shores of Big Island, he knew he had won a deserved rest, sowent ashore, cooked some food and slept.