It was evident to Jean that his enemies had chosen their time and place. Obeying scrupulously the orders of Gillies since the trial, Marcel had avoided the Lelacs, holding in check the just wrath which had prompted him to take personal vengeance upon his traducers. Now, instead, they had sought him, but from their actions, intended to make him seem the aggressor.
"Bon!" he muttered between his teeth. Life had little value to him now, he would give these thieves what they were after.
"You 'fraid to come on shore? You squeal lak' rabbit; you t'ief!" he taunted.
Continuing to shout that Marcel was attacking them, the Lelacs landed their canoe and the elder son, evidently drunk, lurched toward the man who waited.
"Rabbit, am I?" roared the frenzied half-breed, and struck savagely at Jean with his paddle. Dodging the blow, before the breed could recover his balance, the Frenchman lunged with his one hundred and seventy pounds behind his fist into Lelac's jaw, hurling him reeling into the water ten feet away. Then the two Lelacs reached him.
Gasping for breath, the younger brother fell backward, helpless from a kick in the pit of his stomach as the maddened Marcel grappled with the father. Over and over they rolled on the beach, Lelac, frenzied by drink, snarling with hate of the man he had tried to destroy, fighting like a trapped wolverine; the no less infuriated Marcel resolved now to rid Whale River forever of this vermin.
It was not long before the bands of steel cable which swathed the arms, shoulders and back of Jean Marcel overcame the delirious strength of the crazed half-breed, and Lelac was forced down and held on his back. Then like the jaws of a wolf-trap, the fingers of Marcel's right hand shut on the throat of the under man. The bloodshot eyes of Lelac bulged from their sockets. Blood filled the distorted face. The mouth gaped for air, barred by the vise on his throat. In a last feeble effort to free himself, a helpless hand clawed limply at Marcel's wrist—then he relaxed, unconscious, on the beach.
Getting to his feet, Jean looked for the others, to see the younger brother still nursing his stomach, when an oath sounded in his ears and, struck from the rear, a sharp twinge bit through his shoulder, as he stumbled forward.
Leaping away from a second lunge, and drawing his knife with his left hand, Marcel slashed wildly, driving before him the half-breed whom the water had revived. Then, as he fought to reach him, the shape of his retreating enemy slowly faded from Marcel's vision; his strength ebbed; the knife slipped from his fingers as darkness shut down upon him, and he reeled senseless to the stones.
With a snarl of triumph, Lelac, crouched on the defensive, sprang to the crumpled figure, a hand raised to drive home the knife-thrust, when something sang shrilly through the air. The upraised arm fell. With a groan, the half-breed pitched on his face, the slender shaft of a seal-spear quivering in his back.