Then he gave a sudden shout to the dogs--so loud that it startled her
--and his whip writhed and snapped twenty feet above their heads, like
a thing filled with life.
He sprang from the sledge and again ran with the team, urging them on
faster and faster until they dropped into a panting walk when they
came to the ridge along which Ledoq, two hours before, had seen the
strangers hurrying toward Lac Bain.
"Stop!" cried Melisse, taking this first opportunity to scramble from
the sledge. "You're cruel to the dogs, Jan! Look at their jaws--see
them pant! Jan Thoreau, I've never seen you drive like that since the
night we were chased in from the barrens by the wolves!"
"And did you ever see me run any faster?" He struggled, dropping
exhausted upon the sledge. "I remember only one other time."
He took a long breath, flinging back his arms to bring greater volume
of air into his lungs.
"Wasn't that the night we heard the wolves howling behind us?" Melisse
asked.
"No, it was many years ago, when I heard, far to the south, that my
little Melisse was dying of the plague."
Melisse sat down upon the sledge beside him without speaking, and
nestled one of her hands a little timidly in one of his big, brown
palms.
"Tell me about it, Jan."
"That was all--I ran.
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