CHAPTER XXXIV
THE VOICE OF THE WINDIGO
When the first flight of snowy geese, southward bound, flashed in an undulating white cloud over Whale River, the canoe of Jean Marcel was loaded with supplies for a winter in the land of the Windigo. And in memory of Antoine Beaulieu, he was taking with him as comrade and partner the eighteen-year-old cousin of the dead man whose kinsmen had humbly made their amends for their stand against Marcel before the hearing. Young Michel Beaulieu, of stouter fibre than Antoine, had at length overcome his scruples against entering the land of dread, through his admiration for Marcel's daring and his confidence in the man whose reputation since the hearing and the fight with the Lelacs had been now firmly established with the Whale River Crees. When Marcel had repeatedly assured the boy that he had neither seen the trail of Matchi Manito, the devil, nor once heard the wailing of a giant Windigo through all the long snows of the past winter in the Salmon country, Michel's pride at the offer had finally conquered his fears. So leaving the puppy he had given Julie as the nucleus for a Mission dog-team, and presenting Gillies with another, Marcel packed the three remaining children of Fleur whom he had named in honor of his three staunch friends, Colin, Jules and Angus, into the canoe already deep with supplies, and gripping the hands of those who had assembled on the beach, eased the craft into the flood-tide.
"Good-bye and good luck, Jean!" called Gillies.
"De rabbit weel be few; net beeg cache of feesh before de freeze-up!" urged the practical Jules.
"No fear, Jules. We ketch all de feesh en de lac," laughed Jean. Then his eyes sought Julie Breton's sober face as he said in French:
"I will not come back for Christmas, Julie. The pups will not be old enough for the trail."
With the conviction that he was saying good-bye to Julie Breton forever—that on his return in June, she would be far in the south with Wallace, he pushed off as she called, "Bon voyage, Jean! Dieu vous benisse!" (God bless you!)
When the paddles of Jean and Michel drove the boat into the stream, the whining Fleur, beholding her world moving away from her, plunged into the river after the voyageurs.