RAW WOUNDS
June once again found Marcel paddling into Whale River. The sight of the
high-roofed Mission, where, in the past, he had known so much of joy and
pain, quickened his stroke. He wondered whether she had gone away with
Wallace at Christmas, or whether there would be a wedding when the trade
was over and the steamer would take them to East Main. Avoiding the
Mission until he had learned from Jules what he so longed to know,
Marcel went up to the trade-house where he found Gillies and McCain. Too
proud to speak of what was nearest his heart, he told his friends of his
winter in the Salmon country. It had paid him well, his long portage
from the Ghost, the previous September, to the untrapped valleys to the
north. When, unlashing his fur-pack, he tossed on the counter three
glossy black-fox pelts and six skins of soft silver-gray, alone worth
well over a thousand dollars, even at the low prices of the far north,
the eyes of Gillies and Angus McCain bulged in amazement. Cross fox,
shading from the black of the back and shoulder to rich mahogany,
followed; dark sheeny marten--the Hudson's Bay sable of commerce--and
thick gray pelts of the fisher. Otter, lynx and mink made up the balance
of the fur.
"Great Scott! the Salmon headwaters must be alive with fur!" exclaimed
Gillies examining the skins, "and most of them are prime."
"Dere ees much fur een dat country," laughed Jean, "eef de Windigo don'
ketch you, eh, Michel?"
Michel, proud of his part in so successful a winter and in having
bearded the demons of the Salmon in their dens and lived to tell the
tale, blushed at the memory of the snowy owl.
"This is the largest catch of fur traded in my time at Whale River,
Jean," said Gillies. "What are you going to do with all your credit? You
can't use it on yourself; you'll have to get married and build a shack
here."
Blood darkened the bronzed face, but Marcel made no reply.
He had indeed wrung a handsome toll from the haunted hills, which,
tabooed by Cree trappers for generations, were tracked by the padded
feet of countless fur-bearers. After allowing Michel a generous interest
in the fur, Marcel found that he had increased his credit at the post
by over two thousand dollars, giving him in all a trade credit of
twenty-six hundred dollars with the Company. He could in truth afford to
marry and build a shack if he were made a Company servant, but the
girl----Then he heard Gillies' voice.
"Jean, I want you and Angus to go up to the Komaluk Islands with a York
boat. The whalers are getting the Husky trade which we ought to have.
They will ruin them with whiskey."
"Ver' well, M'sieu!"
Marcel drew a breath of relief. If she were not already married, he
would be only too glad to go north--to be spared seeing Julie Breton
made the wife of Wallace. Then, at last, Jules appeared.
After the customary hug, Jean drew the big head man outside, demanding
in French:
"Is she here still? They were not married at Christmas? When do they
marry?"
Jules shook his head. "A letter came by the Christmas mail. By the
Company he was ordered at once to Winnipeg. He is there now and will not
come this summer."
"And Julie, is she well?"
"Yes."
"When, then, will they marry?"
Jules shrugged his great shoulders. "Christmas maybe, perhaps next June.
No one knows."
Marcel was strangely elated at the news. Julie was not yet out of his
life. She would be at Whale River on his return from the north. Even if
he were held all summer she would be there as of old.
The welcome of Julie and Pere Breton at the Mission temporarily drove
from Marcel's thoughts the coming separation. Far into the night the
three friends talked while Julie's skillful fingers were busy with her
trousseau. She spoke of the postponement of her wedding, due to the
presence of Inspector Wallace at the headquarters of the Company at
Winnipeg. Julie's olive skin flushed with her pride, as she said that he
had been mentioned already as the next Chief Inspector. Wallace had
already become a Catholic, but the uncertainty of the time of his return
to the East Coast might cause the delay of the ceremony until the
following June.
Marcel's hungry eyes did not leave the girl's face as she talked of her
future--the future he had dreamed of sharing. But the wound was still
raw and he was glad to escape the acute suffering which her nearness
caused, by leaving Fleur and her puppies in Julie's care, and starting
with McCain the following morning, in a York boat loaded with
trade-goods, for the north coast.
In August the York boat returned from the Komaluk Islands and Jean drew
his supplies for another winter on Big Salmon waters. To Gillies, who
urged him to accept a regular berth, and put his team of half-breed
wolves on the mail-route to Rupert, for the winter previous the scarcity
of good dogs along the coast had been the cause of the Christmas mail
not reaching Whale River until the second of January, Marcel turned a
deaf ear. In another year, he said, he would carry the mail up the
coast, but his puppies were still too young to be pushed hard through a
blizzard. Another year and he would show the posts down the coast what a
real dog-team could do.
Glancing at McCain, Gillies shook his head resignedly, for he knew well
why Jean Marcel wished to avoid Whale River.
On the morning of his departure, as Jean stood with Michel on the beach
by the canoe, surrounded by his four impatient dogs, Julie stooped and
kissed the white marking between Fleur's ears, whispering a good-bye.
Turning her head in response, the dog's moist nose and rough tongue
reached the girl's hand.
"Lucky Fleur!" Jean said to his friends.
"It's sure worth while being a dog, sometimes," drawled Angus McCain
with a grimace. But Julie Breton ignored the remarks, wishing Marcel
Godspeed.
Through the day as they travelled Marcel looked on the high shores of
the Salmon with unseeing eyes, for in them was the vision of a girl
bending over a great dog.