At this the heavy brows of the priest lifted in surprise. Marcel continued:
"The cache was empty. It was a starvation camp. Antoine was dead, and Piquet also, for his outfit was there. Seeing these things, what could anyone think? That the third man, Jean Marcel, did this and then went into the barrens for caribou. There he starved out, or else found meat and would return, when he could clear himself if able. Father, it was my wish to tell you my story before I heard the tale the Lelacs brought to the post. Then you could judge between us."
The priest leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on Marcel's shoulders. His eyes sought those of the younger man which met his gaze unwaveringly. "Jean Marcel," he said, "I have known you since your father brought you to Whale River as a child. You have never lied to me. True, the circumstances are unfortunate; but you have told me the truth. We did not believe that you had killed your comrades; you would have starved first; nor did Gillies or McCain or Jules believe in the truth of the charge of the Lelacs. They are waiting to hear your story. Also, since hearing your side, I see why the Lelacs are anxious to have it believed at the trade-house that you were responsible for the deaths of these men. They are grinding an axe of their own. It is not alone because they are kin of Piquet that they wish to discredit and injure you."
"How do you mean, Father?" Marcel asked, curious as to the significance of the priest's last statement.
"I will tell you later, my son. You should report at the trade-house now. They are waiting for you."
Cheered with the knowledge that his old friends were still staunch, that the factor had waited for his return before expressing even an opinion, Marcel hurried to the trade-house.
Meeting no one as he passed the scattered tepees, he flung open the slab-door of the log-building and with head high, entered.
"Jean Marcel! By Gar, we hear you arrive!" roared the big Jules, rushing upon the youth with open arms. "You not starve out, eh?"
Then Gillies and McCain, wringing his hand, added their welcome. Surely, he thought, with choked emotion, these men had not turned against him because of the tales of Lelac.
"Jean, you had a hard winter with the rabbits gone," suggested Gillies. "You must have found the caribou this spring?"