The Whelps of the Wolf

by George P. Marsh

  CHAPTER XXXV

  RAW WOUNDS

  June once again found Marcel paddling into Whale River. The sight of thehigh-roofed Mission, where, in the past, he had known so much of joy andpain, quickened his stroke. He wondered whether she had gone away withWallace at Christmas, or whether there would be a wedding when the tradewas over and the steamer would take them to East Main. Avoiding theMission 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. Tooproud to speak of what was nearest his heart, he told his friends of hiswinter in the Salmon country. It had paid him well, his long portagefrom the Ghost, the previous September, to the untrapped valleys to thenorth. When, unlashing his fur-pack, he tossed on the counter threeglossy black-fox pelts and six skins of soft silver-gray, alone worthwell 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--andthick gray pelts of the fisher. Otter, lynx and mink made up the balanceof the fur.

  "Great Scott! the Salmon headwaters must be alive with fur!" exclaimedGillies 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 havingbearded the demons of the Salmon in their dens and lived to tell thetale, 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? Youcan't use it on yourself; you'll have to get married and build a shackhere."

  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 paddedfeet of countless fur-bearers. After allowing Michel a generous interestin the fur, Marcel found that he had increased his credit at the postby over two thousand dollars, giving him in all a trade credit oftwenty-six hundred dollars with the Company. He could in truth afford tomarry and build a shack if he were made a Company servant, but thegirl----Then he heard Gillies' voice.

  "Jean, I want you and Angus to go up to the Komaluk Islands with a Yorkboat. 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, hewould be only too glad to go north--to be spared seeing Julie Bretonmade the wife of Wallace. Then, at last, Jules appeared.

  After the customary hug, Jean drew the big head man outside, demandingin French:

  "Is she here still? They were not married at Christmas? When do theymarry?"

  Jules shook his head. "A letter came by the Christmas mail. By theCompany he was ordered at once to Winnipeg. He is there now and will notcome 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 hislife. She would be at Whale River on his return from the north. Even ifhe were held all summer she would be there as of old.

  The welcome of Julie and Pere Breton at the Mission temporarily drovefrom Marcel's thoughts the coming separation. Far into the night thethree friends talked while Julie's skillful fingers were busy with hertrousseau. She spoke of the postponement of her wedding, due to thepresence of Inspector Wallace at the headquarters of the Company atWinnipeg. Julie's olive skin flushed with her pride, as she said that hehad been mentioned already as the next Chief Inspector. Wallace hadalready become a Catholic, but the uncertainty of the time of his returnto the East Coast might cause the delay of the ceremony until thefollowing June.

  Marcel's hungry eyes did not leave the girl's face as she talked of herfuture--the future he had dreamed of sharing. But the wound was stillraw and he was glad to escape the acute suffering which her nearnesscaused, by leaving Fleur and her puppies in Julie's care, and startingwith McCain the following morning, in a York boat loaded withtrade-goods, for the north coast.

  In August the York boat returned from the Komaluk Islands and Jean drewhis supplies for another winter on Big Salmon waters. To Gillies, whourged him to accept a regular berth, and put his team of half-breedwolves on the mail-route to Rupert, for the winter previous the scarcityof good dogs along the coast had been the cause of the Christmas mailnot reaching Whale River until the second of January, Marcel turned adeaf ear. In another year, he said, he would carry the mail up thecoast, but his puppies were still too young to be pushed hard through ablizzard. Another year and he would show the posts down the coast what areal dog-team could do.

  Glancing at McCain, Gillies shook his head resignedly, for he knew wellwhy Jean Marcel wished to avoid Whale River.

  On the morning of his departure, as Jean stood with Michel on the beachby the canoe, surrounded by his four impatient dogs, Julie stooped andkissed the white marking between Fleur's ears, whispering a good-bye.Turning her head in response, the dog's moist nose and rough tonguereached the girl's hand.

  "Lucky Fleur!" Jean said to his friends.

  "It's sure worth while being a dog, sometimes," drawled Angus McCainwith a grimace. But Julie Breton ignored the remarks, wishing MarcelGodspeed.

  Through the day as they travelled Marcel looked on the high shores ofthe Salmon with unseeing eyes, for in them was the vision of a girlbending over a great dog.