ON THE CLIFFS
Marcel was walking on the high river shore above the post with Julie
Breton and Fleur. Like a floor below them the surface of the Great Whale
moved without ripple in the still June afternoon. Out over the Bay the
sun hung in a veil of haze. Back at the post, even the huskies were
quiet, lured into sleep by the softness of the air. It was such a day as
Jean Marcel had dreamed of more than a year before, in January, back in
the barrens, when powdery snow crystals danced in the air as the lifting
sun-dogs turned white wastes of rolling tundra into a shimmering sea. He
was again with Julie on the cliffs, but there was no joy in his heart.
"The Lelacs have traded their fur," he said, breaking a long silence;
"the hearing will take place soon, now."
"Yes, I know, you were with Monsieur Gillies and Henri very late last
night," she replied, watching the antics of an inquisitive Canada jay in
an adjacent birch.
"Yes, we had some work to do. The Lelacs will not like what we have to
tell them."
"I knew that you would be able to show the Crees what bad people these
Lelacs are."
"Yes, Julie, we shall prove them liars and thieves; but the stain on the
name of Jean Marcel will remain. I cannot deny that Antoine was killed;
the Crees will not believe my story."
"Nonsense, Jean," she burst out, "you must make them believe you!"
"Julie," he said, ignoring her words, "since my return I have wanted to
tell you--that I wish you all happiness,"--he swallowed hard at the lump
in his throat,--"I have heard that you leave Whale River soon."
At the words the girl flushed but turned a level gaze on the man, who
looked at the dim, blue shapes of the White Bear Hills far on the
southern horizon.
"You have not heard the truth," she said. "Monsieur Wallace has done me
the honor to ask me to marry him, but Monsieur Wallace is still a
Protestant."
The words from Julie's own lips stung Marcel like the lash of a whip,
but his face masked his emotion.
Then she went on:
"I wanted to talk to you last summer, for you are my dear friend, but
you were here for so short a while and we had but a word when you
left." Then the girl burst out impulsively, "Ah, Jean; don't look that
way! Won't you ever forgive me? I am--so sorry, Jean. But--you are a
boy. It could never be that way. Why, you are as a brother."
Marcel's eyes still rested on the silhouetted hills to the south. He
made no answer.
"Won't you forget, Jean, and remain a friend--a brother?"
He turned his sombre eyes to the girl.
"Yes, I shall always be your friend--your brother, Julie," he said. "But
I shall always love you--I can't help that. And there is nothing to
forgive. I hoped--once--that you might--love Jean Marcel; but now--it is
over. God bless you, Julie!"
As he finished, Julie Breton's eyes were wet. Again Marcel gazed long
into the south but with unseeing eyes. The girl was the first to break
the silence.
"Jean," she said, returning to the charges of the Lelacs, "you must not
brood over what the Crees are saying. What matters it that the ignorant
Indians, some of whom, if the truth were known, have eaten their own
flesh and blood in starvation camps, do not believe you. For shame! You
are a brave man, Jean Marcel. Show your courage at Whale River as you
have shown it elsewhere."
Sadly Marcel shook his head. "They will speak of me now, from Fort
George to Mistassini, as the man who killed his partners." And in spite
of Julie Breton's words of cheer he refused to see his case in any other
light.
They had turned and were approaching the post when the practised eye of
Marcel caught the far flash of paddles toward the river mouth. For a
space he watched the rhythmic gleams of light from dripping blades
leaving the water in unison, which alone marked the approaching canoe on
the flat river. Then he said:
"There are four or six paddles. It must be a big Company boat from Fort
George. I wonder what they come for during the trade."
As Jean and Julie Breton entered the post clearing the great red flag of
the Company, carrying the white letters H. B. C., was broken out at the
flagpole in honor of the approaching visitors. The canoe, now but a
short way below the post, was receiving the undivided attention of
Esquimos, Crees and howling huskies crowding the shore. The boat was not
a freighter for she rode high. No one but an officer of the Company
travelled light with six paddles. It was an event at Whale River, and
Indians and white men awaited the arrival of the big Peterborough with
unconcealed interest.
"It must be Inspector Wallace," said Jean.
With a face radiant with joy in the unexpected arrival of Wallace, Julie
Breton hastened to the high shore, while Marcel turned slowly back to
the Mission stockade where his dog awaited him at the gate.
As the canoe neared the beach the swart _voyageurs_, conscious of their
Cree and Esquimo audience, put on a brave burst of speed. At each lunge
of the narrow Cree blades, swung in unison with a straight arm, the
craft buried its nose, pushing out a wide ripple. On they came spurred
by the shouts from the shore, then at the order of the man in the bow,
the crew raised their paddles and bow and stern men deftly swung the
boat in to the Whale River landing amid the cheers of the Indians.
"How ar' yuh, Gillies?" said Wallace, stepping from the canoe; and,
looking past the factor to a woman's figure on the high shore, waved his
cap.
"Well, well, Mr. Wallace; we hardly expected to see you at Whale River
so early," answered Gillies, drily, smiling at the eagerness of Wallace.
"Anything happened to the steamer?"
"Oh, no! The steamer is all right. She'll be here on time. I thought I'd
run up the coast during the trade this year."
Gillies winked surreptitiously at McCain. It was most peculiar for the
Inspector of the East Coast to arrive before the accounts of the spring
trade were made up.
"How has the famine affected the fur with you, Gillies?" asked Wallace,
as they proceeded up the cliff trail to the post clearing. "The Fort
George and East Main people were hit pretty hard, a number of families
wiped out."
"Yes, I expected as much," said Gillies. "A few of our people were
starved out or died of disease. Nine, all told, have been reported, four
of them old and feeble. It was a tough winter with both the rabbits and
the caribou gone; we have done only fairly well with the trade,
considering."
"What's this I hear about a murder by one of your Frenchmen?" Wallace
suddenly demanded. "We met a canoe at the mouth of the river and heard
that the bodies of two half-breeds who had met foul play were found this
spring and that you have the third man here now?"
"That's pure Indian talk, Mr. Wallace," Gillies protested forcibly. "I
will give you the details later. A half-breed killed one of his partners
and attempted to kill the other, Jean Marcel, the son of Andre Marcel;
you remember Andre, our old head man. You saw Jean here last summer. He
is one of our best men. In fact, I'm going to take him on here at the
post, although he's only a boy. He's too valuable to keep in the bush."
"Oh, yes! I remember him; friend of Father Breton. But we've got to put
a stop to this promiscuous murder, Gillies. There's too much of this
thing on the Bay, this killing and desertion in famine years, and no one
punished for lack of evidence."
"But this was no murder, Mr. Wallace," Gillies answered hotly. "You'll
hear the story to-night from Marcel's lips, if you like. We have some
pretty strong evidence against his accusers, also. This is a tale
started by the relatives of one of the men to cover their own thieving."
"Well, Gillies, your man may be innocent, but I want to catch one of
these hunters who come into the posts with a tale of starvation as
excuse for the disappearance of their partners or family. When the grub
goes they desert, or do away with their people, and get off on their own
story. I'd like to get some evidence against one of them. The government
has sent pretty stiff orders to Moose for us to investigate these cases,
and where we have proof, send the accused 'outside' for trial."
"When you've talked to him, Mr. Wallace, I think you'll agree that he
tells a straight story and that these Lelacs are lying."
"I hope so," answered Wallace, and started for the Mission, where Julie
Breton awaited him.