Frontin paused not to reason why, but slid away and vanished among the hummocks above. Crawford stooped over the dead man and explored beneath the torn, frozen-red garments. His hand came away with a crinkle of paper, and he gave the document one sharp look that widened his eyes. Then he hastily turned the body face down as it had first lain, and followed his lieutenant into hiding. No footsteps had left any trace on the ice. Here was death and nothing else.
Crouched beside Frontin among the hummocks, Crawford briefly told what he knew of this Moses Deakin.
“A Boston fur-pirate; I heard queer tales of him both in New York and Boston. They say he’s a great, hard, cold devil who sees visions, has dealings with the foul fiend and is cruel as any Mohawk. It is supposed that he has a secret post somewhere on the bay and agents among the Indians; he sneaks in and gets his furs when the straits open, and goes again swiftly. This is rumour, but he’s reality. Either the French or the English would blow him out of the water if they could catch him at work—he’s done them both a deal of harm.”
“We don’t care for furs,” said Frontin. “Then why is he of value to us?”
“Because they say he knows the bay as no other man does—every river and shallow of it. That’s how he eludes capture. You comprehend? If we catch him, we find the northwest passage and the south sea beyond.”
“But,” said Frontin thoughtfully, “I thought you had been tempted by the Star Woman, of whom Iberville told you!”
“An Indian legend, a wild dream!” Crawford’s tone was impatient. “If nothing better offered, I’d chance it—but not if we can catch Moses Deakin and find the northwest passage!”
Frontin shrugged. The two men now waited silent, motionless; from their position no moving object could be seen, but this meant little. Except from some high elevation, a man or a dozen men could not be sighted among these heaped-up masses of ice. Then, suddenly, Frontin touched Crawford’s elbow. Among the opposite crags of ice, across the hollow, appeared a moving shape which came abruptly into full view and paused to look down upon the scene of death. A great and grim man was this, whose entire bearing conveyed a singular impression of iron resolution and dominance.
A fur cap covered his head. Merging with the shaggy fur, an immense beard of grizzled black swept across his lower face and hung in two bushy prongs over his barrel of a chest. Between cap and beard were visible a massive, wide-nostriled nose and two most remarkable eyes. They were deeply set and far apart, beneath shaggy grizzled brows; they were extremely large, insolent, commanding, of a light and steely gray which contrasted strongly with the mass of jet hair. Across his shoulders lay a fusil, which he now suddenly lifted and fired in air.
“A signal!” breathed Frontin. “Now is our time——”