"I am going the Athabasca way to-day," he said. "I wish to talk with
the boy before I go. I have a word to say to him which no ears should
hear but his own. Will it be right?"
"Talk to him as long as you like," said Cummins, "but don't worry him
about the missionary. You'll not get a word from him."
Jan's eyes spoke with a devotion greater than words as Jean de Gravois
came and sat close beside him. He knew that it was Jean who had
brought him alive into the post, and now there was something in the
suggestive grimacing of the Frenchman's face, and in the eagerness
with which he looked over his shoulder, as if he was not quite sure
but that the walls held ears, that caused the boy's heart to beat a
little faster as he speculated upon what Jean was going to say.
For a few moments Jean looked at the other steadily, with his thin,
black face propped in his hands and a curious smile on his lips. He
twisted his face into a dozen expressions of a language as voluble as
that of his tongue, hunched his shoulders up to his ears as he grinned
at Jan, and chuckled between his grimaces.
"Ah, it was wan be-e-a-u-tiful fight!" he said softly. "You are a
brave boy, Jan Thoreau!"
"You did not see it?" asked Jan.
Unconsciously the words came from him in French.
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