CHAPTER XXIX
THE FANGS OF THE HALF-BREEDS
One night when Jean returned late from his nets after a long paddle, seeking the exhaustion that would bring sleep and temporary respite from his grief, a canoe manned by three men drifted alongshore toward his beached canoe. Occupied with his thoughts, Marcel took no notice of the craft. Removing from the boat the fish he had caught, he was about to lift and place it bottom up on the beach when the bow of the approaching birch-bark suddenly swung sharply and jammed into the stern of his own.
With an exclamation of irritation at the clumsiness of the people in the offending canoe, Jean looked up to stare into the faces of the three Lelacs.
"You are good canoeman," he sneered, roughly pushing with his paddle the half-breeds' canoe from his own. That the act was intentional, he knew, but he was surprised that the Lelacs, convicted of theft, and on parole at the post awaiting the Company's decision as to their punishment, would dare to start trouble.
As Jean shoved off the Lelacs' canoe, the half-breeds, as if at a preconcerted signal, shouted loudly:
"W'at you do to us, Jean Marcel? Ough! Why you beat me wid de paddle? He try to keel us!"
The near beach was deserted, but the shouts in the still night were audible on the post clearing above. The uproar waked the sleeping huskies at the few remaining Esquimo tepees on the shore, whose howling quickly aroused the post dogs.