The cowed Lelacs, their dark faces now twisted with fear, awaited the next words of Gillies. Then the irate factor turned on them.
"Gaspard Lelac!" he roared. The face of Lelac paled to a sickly white as his furtive eyes met the factor's.
"All this fur, here, you and your sons traded in last week; your own fur, and the pelts of Beaulieu and Joe Piquet, dead men. I have held them separate from the rest. You are thieves and liars!"
The bomb had exploded. At the words of the factor, the trade-room became a bedlam of chattering and excited Indians. In the north, to steal the fur of another is one of the cardinal sins. The supporters of Marcel loudly exulted in the turn the hearing had taken, while the deluded adherents of the Lelacs, maddened by the villainy of men who had stolen from the dead and accused another, loudly cursed the half-breeds.
Nonplussed, paralyzed by the trick of the factor, instigated by the adroit Marcel, the Lelacs sent murderous looks at Jean who smiled contemptuously in their faces.
Gillies' deep bass quieted the uproar.
"Jules!" he called the second time. All were on tiptoe to learn what further surprise the stalwart Jules had in store for them, when he entered the room with two rifles, which he laid on the table, while the Lelacs stared in wide-eyed amazement.
"Where did you get these rifles?" asked Gillies.
"In the tepee of Lelac, just now, hidden under blankets."
"Whose rifles were they, Marcel?"