THE MOON OF FLOWERS
As the grim fastnesses reaching away to the north and east and south in
limitless, ice-locked solitude, had wakened to the magic touch of
spring, so the little post at Whale River had quickened with life at the
advent of June with the spring trade. For weeks, before the return of
Marcel, the canoes of the Crees had been coming in daily from winter
trapping grounds in far valleys. Around the tepees, which dotted the
post clearing like mushrooms, groups of dark-skinned women, heads
wrapped in gaudy shawls, laughed and gossiped, while the shrill voices
of romping children filled the air, for the lean moons of the long snows
had passed and the soft days returned.
Swart hunters from Lac d'Iberville, half-breed Crees from the Whispering
Hills and the Little Whale watershed, belted with colored Company
sashes, wearing beaded leggings and moccasins, smoked and talked of the
trade with wild _voyageurs_ from Lac Bienville, the Lakes of the Winds,
and the Starving River headwaters in the caribou barrens. From a hundred
unmapped valleys they had journeyed to the Bay to trade their fox and
lynx, their mink and fisher and marten, for the goods of the Company.
Below, along the beach, Huskies from Richmond Gulf and the north coast,
from the White Bear and the Sleeping Islands, who had brought ivory of
the walrus, pelts of the white fox, seal, and polar bear, and sealskin
boots, which only their women possess the art of making waterproof, were
camped in low skin tepees, their priceless dogs tied up and under
constant guard. But while the camp of the Esquimos was a bedlam of noisy
huskies, the quarters of the Crees in the post clearing, formerly
overrun by brawling sled-dogs, were now a place of peace. The plague of
the previous summer had left the Indians but a scattering of curs.
Carrying his fur-pack and outfit to the Mission, Marcel sought the
trade-house. Passing the tepees of the Crees, he was forced to stop and
receive the congratulations of the admiring hunters on his safe return
from his "_longue traverse_" through the land of demons, which had been
the gossip of the post since the arrival of Joe and Antoine.
When his partners appeared, to stare in amazement at the man they had
announced as dead, Jean made them wince as he gripped their hands.
"Bo'-jo', Joe! Bo'-jo', Antoine!" he laughed. "You see de Windigo foun'
Jean Marcel too tough to eat! He ees good fr'en' to me now. De Husky
t'ink me devil too."
"I nevaire t'ink to see you alive at Whale Riviere, Jean Marcel!" cried
the delighted Antoine.
"Did you get de dog?" asked the practical Piquet.
"Onlee one petite pup; de Husky would not trade." Then Jean hurriedly
described his weeks on the Salmon.
As he entered the door of the long trade-house he was seized by a giant
Company man.
"By Gar! Jean Marcel!" cried Jules Duroc, his swart face lighting with
joy as he crushed the wanderer in a bear hug. "We t'ink you sure starve
out een de bush! You fin' de Beeg Salmon headwater? You see de Windigo?"
"Oui, I fin' de riviere for sure, Jules; but de Windigo he scared of me.
I tell heem Jean Marcel ees fr'en' of Jules Duroc."
The laughter in the doorway drew the attention of two men descending the
ladder from the fur-loft.
"Well, as I live, Jean Marcel!" cried Colin Gillies, the factor, and he
wrung the hand of the son of his old head man until Marcel grimaced with
pain.
"You're sure good for sore eyes, Jean; we were about giving you up!"
added Andrew McCain, the clerk, seizing Jean's free hand.
"Bon jour, M'sieu Gillies! Bon jour, Andrew! Dey say I leeve my bones on
de Beeg Salmon; de Husky shoot at me; but--Tiens! I am here!"
"What? You had trouble with the Huskies?"
"Oui, dey t'o't I was a devil, because I come down riviere from de
Bad-Lands, but Kovik, he talk to dem an' I stay. Tell dem I come from
Whale Riviere. Den dey get mad because I feesh salmon at de rapide and
mak' trouble; and poor Kovik, he tell dem dat I am bad spirit, so I can
get away."
Jean laughed heartily at the memory of Kovik's dilemma. "Dey mus' t'ink
poor Kovik ees damn liar by dees tam." Then he added soberly, "But he
save my life."
Seated with his three friends, Marcel told of his struggle to reach the
Salmon, his meeting with the Esquimos, and escape with his dog.
"So you got a dog after all, Jean? But you were crazy to take a chance
with those Huskies; they won't stand trespassing on their fisheries and
they were shy of you because you came from the headwaters. I'm glad you
didn't kill that pair, much as they deserved it. It would have made
trouble later."
"Good old Kovik! We won't forget him," added McCain.
"No, that we will not," agreed Gillies. "He thought a lot of your
father, Jean."
"Wal," said Jean proudly, "I weel have good dog-team een two year. Dat
pup, she ees wort' all de work an' trouble to get her."
"You're lucky," said Gillies. "It's mighty hard on our hunters not to
have good dogs, but they couldn't pay the Huskies' price. The Crees only
took three for breeding purposes, and six cost us a thousand in trade.
The rest were taken to Fort George and East Main."
The days at the Mission with Pere Breton and Julie raced by--hours of
unalloyed happiness for Jean after ten months in the "bush." Not a day
passed that did not find him romping with the great puppy who had
learned to gaze at her tall master through slant eyes eloquent with
love. Each morning when he visited the Mission fish nets and his own,
the puppy rode in the bow of the canoe. Each afternoon, often
accompanied by Julie Breton, they went for a run up the river shore. Man
and dog were inseparable.
When he heard that Kovik had arrived, Jean brought Fleur down to the
shore, to find the family absent from their lodge. To Marcel's
amazement, his puppy at first failed to recognize her brothers, who,
yelping madly, rushed her in a mass.
With flattened ears, and mane stiffened on neck and back, their doughty
sister met them half-way. Bowling one over, she shouldered another to
the ground, where she threatened him with a fierce display of teeth. And
not until their worried mother, made fast to a stake, had recognized her
lost daughter and lured her within reach of her tongue, did the nose of
Jean's puppy reveal to her the identity of her kin. Then there was a mad
frolic in which she bullied and roughed her brothers as in the forgotten
days before the master with the low voice and the hand that never struck
her, took her away in his canoe.
When Kovik appeared in his umiak with his squat wife and family, there
was a general handshaking.
"How you leeve my fr'en' on de Salmon, Kovik?"
The Husky gravely shook his head.
"Kovik have troub' wid young men you shoot. Dey say Kovik bad spirit
too. You not hurt by dem?"
"Dey miss me an' I dreef down riviere an' ambush dem. I could keel dem
easy but eet mak' eet bad for you. Here ees tabac, an' tea an' sugar for
de woman. I tell M'sieu Gillies w'at you do for Jean Marcel."
When Jean had distributed his gifts, Fleur came trotting up, but to his
delight refused to allow Kovik to touch her.
"Huh! Dat you' dog!" chuckled the Husky.
"Oui, she ees my dog, now," laughed Jean, and his heart went out to the
puppy who already knew but one allegiance.