CHAPTER XL
"HE'S GOT HIS MAN!"
Whale River was astir. Before the trade-house groups of Crees criticallyinspected the dogs of Baptiste Laval, who fretted and yelped, eagerlywaiting the "_Marche!_" which would send them off on the river trail.Inside, the grave-faced Gillies gave big Jules his parting instructions.
"He never started home in that blizzard, Jules; McKenzie wouldn't allowthe missionary to take such a chance. But Jean surely left yesterdaymorning and with fresh dogs he'll come through in four days, even with aheavy trail. You ought to meet him this side the Cape."
"Yes, M'sieu. But I t'ink he travel more fas' dan dat. I see heemto-morrow, maybe."
"No, he never started that last day of the blow. It would have beensuicide. Poor lad! he must have been half crazy, with her on his mind."
"How ees she dis noon, M'sieu?"
"The fever holds about the same--no worse; but she must be operated onvery soon. The poison is extending. If you meet them at the Cape youought to get the doctor here a day ahead of Jean, with his tired dogs."
Surrounded by the Crees who were wishing them luck on their trip to meetand relay Marcel home, Baptiste had cracked his dog-whip with a loud,"_Marche!_" when an Indian with arms raised to attract attention camerunning from the shore across the clearing.
"Whoa!" shouted Jules, and Baptiste checked his dogs.
"What does he say?" called Angus McCain. "A dog-team down river? Do youhear that, Gillies?"
"Husky," replied the factor drily. "Couldn't possibly be Marcel!"
"No, he couldn't have come through that norther," agreed McCain.
"What's that he says, Jules?" demanded Gillies.
Jules Duroc, hands and shoulders in motion, was talking excitedly to theCree who had joined the group by the sled. Turning suddenly, he ran backto the factor.
"Felix say dat a team crawl up de riviere trail lak' dey ver' tired. Hewatch dem long tam."
"That's queer, but it's some Husky--can't be Marcel. Why, good Lord,man! he hasn't been away six days."
Angus disappeared, to return with an old brass-bound telescope andhurried to the river shore with Jules, followed by the scoffingGillies. To the naked eye, a black spot was discernible on the riverice.
"There are two men following a team," announced Angus, the glass at hiseye. "They're barely moving. Now they've stopped; the dogs must beplayed out. The driver's trying to get them up! Now he's got themgoing!"
Gillies took the telescope and looked for a long space. Suddenly tothose who watched him, waiting for his report, his hand visibly shook.Turning to Jules, he bellowed:
"Jules, you travel like all hell for that dog-team! God only knows howthey got here alive, but there's only one lead-dog on this coast thatreaches to a man's middle. That team crawling in out there is JeanMarcel's--God bless him!--_and he's got his man!_"
With a roar Jules leaped on the sled and lashed the team headlong downthe cliff trail to the ice. Madly they raced down-river under the spurof the rawhide goad.
"Run to the Mission, someone, and tell Pere Breton that Jean Marcel isback!" continued Gillies. At the words, willing feet started with themessage.
The eyes of Colin Gillies were blurred as he watched through the glassthe slow approach of those who had but lately fought free from the mawof the pitiless snows. Now he could recognize the massive lead-dog,limping at a slow walk, her great head down. Behind her swayed thecrippled whelps of the wolf, tails brushing the ice, tongues lolling asthey swung their lowered heads from side to side, battling through thelast mile on stiffened legs, giving their last ounce at the call oftheir gaunt master who reeled behind them. Far in the rear a tall figurebarely moved along the trail.
At the yelp of Jules' approaching team the dogs of Marcel prickeddrooping ears. Stopping them, Jean waited for Hunter.
"Dey sen' team. Eet ees ovair, M'sieu! We mak' Whale Riviere een t'reeday and half, but she--she may not be dere."
Too tired to speak, Hunter slumped on the sled. With a yell, Julesreached Marcel and gathered him into his arms.
"By Gar, Jean! You crazee fool; you stop for noding! Tiens! I damn gladto see you, Jean Marcel!"
The fearful Marcel gasped out the question, "Julie! Ees she dere? Doesshe leeve?"
"Oui, mon ami; she ees alive. You save her life."
Staggering to his lead-dog the overjoyed man threw himself beside her onthe trail where she sprawled panting.
"We 'ave save her," he cried. "Julie--has waited for Jean and Fleur."
Taking the missionary on his sled, Jules tried to force Marcel to rideas well, but the _voyageur_ threw him off.
"No, no!" he cried. "We weel feenish on our feet--Fleur, de wolf andJean Marcel."
So back to the post Jules raced with Hunter. A cheering mob of Indiansmet dogs and master on the river ice and carried Marcel, protesting, upthe cliff trail, where Gillies and Angus were waiting.
"I reach For' George de night of second day, but de dreef and wind at deCape----" He was checked by a hug from the blubbering McCain as ColinGillies, with eyes blurred by tears, welcomed him home.
"You have saved her, Jean," said the factor, "now you must sleep." Withhands raised in wonder he turned to the group. "Shades of Andre Marcel!Two days to Fort George! It will never be done again." Then they tookthe swaying Marcel, asleep on his feet, and his dogs, away to a long,warm rest.
But the Crees sat late that night smoking much Company plug as theyshook their heads over the feat of the son of Andre Marcel who fearedneither Windigo nor blizzard. And later, the tale travelled down to thesouthern posts and out to Fort Churchill on the west coast and fromthere on to the Great Slave and the Peace, of how the mad Marcel haddriven his flying wolves one hundred and fifty miles in two sleeps, andreturned, without rest, in three, in the teeth of a Hudson's Baynorther. And hearing it, old runners of the trails shook their heads indisbelief, saying it was not in dogs or men to do such a thing; but theydid not know the love and despair in the heart of Jean Marcel whichspurred him to his goal, nor did they fathom the blind devotion of hisgreat lead-dog, who, with her matchless endurance and that of her sons,had made it possible.
The Whelps of the Wolf Page 41