Beaching his canoe at the Company landing, where he was welcomed as one returned from the dead by two post Crees, Marcel, leading his dog by a rawhide thong, sought the Mission House.
At his knock the door was opened by a girl with dusky eyes and masses of black hair, who stared in amazement at the voyageur.
"Julie!" he cried.
Then she found her voice, while the blood flushed her olive skin.
"Jean Marcel! vous êtes revenu! You have come back!" exclaimed the girl, continuing the conversation in French.
"Oh, Jean! We had great fear you might not return." He was holding both her hands but, embarrassed, she did not meet his eager eyes seeking to read her thoughts.
"Come in, M'sieu le voyageur!" and she led him gayly into the Mission. "Henri, Père Henri!" she called. "Jean Marcel has returned from the dead!"
"Jean, my son!" replied a deep voice, and Père Breton was vigorously embracing the man he had thought never to see again.
"Father, your greeting is somewhat warmer than that of Julie," laughed the happy youth, as the bearded priest surveyed him at arm's length.
"Ah, she has spoken much of you, Jean, this spring. None the worse for the long voyage, my son?" he continued. "You will be the talk of Whale River; the Crees said you could not get through. And you got your dogs? We have only curs here, except those of the Huskies, and they are very dear."