"A few days after you left, Jean," explained Gillies, "two half-breeds dropped in here with the story that they had travelled up the coast from Rupert House to buy dogs from the Huskies. There were no dogs for sale here, and they seemed pretty sore at missing the York-boat bound south with the dogs bought by the Company for East Main and Fort George. Why, we didn't know, for they couldn't get any of those dogs. They were a weazel-faced, mean-looking pair and when Jules found them feeding two of our huskies one day, there was trouble."
"What did they do to you, Jules?" asked Jean, smiling faintly at the big Company bowman.
"What did Jules do to them, you mean," broke in Angus McCain.
"Well," continued Gillies, "we got outside in time to see Jules break his paddle over the head of one and pile into the other who had a knife out and looked mean.
"Then I kicked them out of the post. They left that night with your dog, for the next day at Little Bear Island they passed a canoe of goose-hunters bound for Whale River and the Indians noticed the puppy who seemed to be muzzled and tied."
During the recital, Marcel walked the floor of the trade-house, his blood hot with rage.
"French half-breeds, M'sieu Gillies, or Scotch?" he asked.
"Scotch, Jean, medium sized; one had lost half an ear and the other had a scar on his chin and the first finger gone on his right hand. But you're not going after them, lad; they've two days' start on you and it's August!"
"M'sieu Gillies, I took de longue traverse for dat dog. She was de best pup in dees place. I love dat husky, M'sieu. I start to-night."
The import and finality of Jean's words startled his hearers.