“Me, I heard you, mais eet not matter. I am jus’ over ze pest.” The trapper lifted a scarred and pitted face to Hardy.
“Dese ees my cabin. I was away in a line-cabin when ze sickness took me. Many weeks ’ave I been gone, but now I, Le Massan, am well, and ’ave come home.
“Eh bien, eet ees good to be home.” He loosed the dogs from their harness, stepped into the cabin, shut the door behind him.
Rapidly Hardy explained his presence in the man’s cabin; told of the fugitive he pursued.
“Many strange things ’appen in de time of de pest. Zis man, he save your life,” Le Massan said thoughtfully, “an’ now you go to catch heem an’ imprison heem? Zat ees strange.” He shrugged.
“Personal obligation has nothing to do with my duty.”
“Oui? Me, I am glad I am onlee a trapper, for ze squaw who find me w’en I am sick and nurse me back to life, I will marry. So does Le Massan gif hees thanks. M’sieu l’officier ’ave no value on hees life w’en he gif no thanks?”
Le Massan’s voice and manner were disapproving. He gazed reproachfully at Hardy.
“It is not as simple as you think,” he said wearily. “Now, my friend, I want your dogs and sled, also an outfit. I will pay you in cash. I have currency in my money belt.”
“An’ zis man, he did not take your monee?”