Slowly throughout the morning Marcel travelled along the mud-flats bared for miles by the retreating tide. At times the breeze carried to his ears the faint sound of firing, but there were goose-boats from Moose and Rupert House on the coast, and it meant little. That night as the tide covered the marshes he ran up a channel of the Harricanaw delta seeking a camp-ground on its higher shores.
Landing he was looking for drift-wood for his fire when suddenly he stopped.
"Ah! You have been here, my friends."
In the soft mud of the shore ran the clearly marked tracks of a man and dog. The footprints of the dog seemed large for Fleur, but Marcel had not seen her in six weeks and the puppy was growing fast.
"Fleur!" he said aloud, "will you remember Jean Marcel after all these weeks with them?"
He had seen no smoke of a fire and the tracks were at least two days old. His men were doubtless on the west shore of the bay where the water for miles inland to the spruce networked the marshes, and the rank grass grew to the height of a man's head; but he would find them. The guns of the hunters would betray their whereabouts.
He drew a long breath of relief. At last he had reached the end of the trail. He could now come to grips with his enemies. To the thief, the law of the north is ruthless, and ruthlessly Jean Marcel was prepared to exact, if need be, the last drop of the blood of these men in payment for this act. It was now his nerve and wit against theirs, with Fleur as the stake. The blood of André Marcel and the coureurs-de-bois, which stirred in his veins, was hot for the fight which the days would bring.
Before dawn Jean was taking advantage of the high tide, and when the first light streaked the east, was well on his way. As the sun lifted over the muskeg behind the bay he saw, hanging in the still air, the smoke of a fire.
Quickly turning inshore, he ran his canoe up a waterway and into the long grass. There he waited until the tide went out, listening to the faint reports of the guns of the hunters. At noon, having eaten some cold goose and bannock, he took his rifle and started back over the marsh. Slowly he worked his way, keeping to the cover of the grass and alders, circling around the wide, open spaces, pock-marked with water-holes and small ponds.
Knowing that the breeds would not take the dog with them to their blinds but would tie her up, he planned to stalk the camp up-wind, in order not to alarm Fleur, who might betray his presence to his enemies if by accident they were in camp, in the afternoon, when the geese were moving. After that—well, he should see.