Below, along the beach, Huskies from Richmond Gulf and the north coast, from the White Bear and the Sleeping Islands, who had brought ivory of the walrus, pelts of the white fox, seal, and polar bear, and sealskin boots, which only their women possess the art of making waterproof, were camped in low skin tepees, their priceless dogs tied up and under constant guard. But while the camp of the Esquimos was a bedlam of noisy huskies, the quarters of the Crees in the post clearing, formerly overrun by brawling sled-dogs, were now a place of peace. The plague of the previous summer had left the Indians but a scattering of curs.
Carrying his fur-pack and outfit to the Mission, Marcel sought the trade-house. Passing the tepees of the Crees, he was forced to stop and receive the congratulations of the admiring hunters on his safe return from his "longue traverse" through the land of demons, which had been the gossip of the post since the arrival of Joe and Antoine.
When his partners appeared, to stare in amazement at the man they had announced as dead, Jean made them wince as he gripped their hands.
"Bo'-jo', Joe! Bo'-jo', Antoine!" he laughed. "You see de Windigo foun' Jean Marcel too tough to eat! He ees good fr'en' to me now. De Husky t'ink me devil too."
"I nevaire t'ink to see you alive at Whale Riviere, Jean Marcel!" cried the delighted Antoine.
"Did you get de dog?" asked the practical Piquet.
"Onlee one petite pup; de Husky would not trade." Then Jean hurriedly described his weeks on the Salmon.
As he entered the door of the long trade-house he was seized by a giant Company man.
"By Gar! Jean Marcel!" cried Jules Duroc, his swart face lighting with joy as he crushed the wanderer in a bear hug. "We t'ink you sure starve out een de bush! You fin' de Beeg Salmon headwater? You see de Windigo?"
"Oui, I fin' de riviere for sure, Jules; but de Windigo he scared of me. I tell heem Jean Marcel ees fr'en' of Jules Duroc."