The dogs watched him. Kazan, the one-eyed leader, glared from him into
the dimness of the night, whining softly. A low, mourning wind swept
through the spruce tops, and from Jan's throat there burst sobbingly
words which he had heard beside this same grave more than seventeen
years before, when Williams' choking voice had risen in a last prayer
for the woman.
"May the great God care for Melisse!"
He turned into the trail upon which Jean de Gravois had fought the
Englishman, led his dogs and sledge in a twisting path through the
caribou swamp, and stood at last beside the lob-stick tree that leaned
out over the edge of the white barrens. With his knife he dug out the
papers which he had concealed in that whisky-jack hole.
It was near dawn when he recovered the rifle which he had abandoned on
the mountain top. A little later it began to snow. He was glad, for it
would conceal his trail.
For thirteen days he forced his dogs through the deep snows into the
south. On the fourteenth they came to Le Pas, which is the edge of
civilization. It was night when he came out of the forest, so that he
could see the faint glow of lights beyond the Saskatchewan.
For a few moments, before crossing, he stopped his tired dogs and
turned his face back into the grim desolation of the North, where the
aurora was playing feebly in the skies, and beckoning to him, and
telling him that the old life of centuries and centuries ago would
wait for him always at the dome of the earth.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211