The priest shook his head: "No, not yet. They will have camped before this for the night." As he spoke the girl's eyes strayed to the river, and at the extreme reach of glistening water, they held:
"Look!" she cried, "They are coming, now!" Around the bend into view shot a scow, and another, and another, until the whole surface of the river seemed black with the scows. The playing children had seen them too, and with wild whoops of delight they were racing for the bank, followed by the older Indian girls, and by Father Ambrose. For the annual coming of the brigade is an event in the North, bringing as it does the mail and the supplies for the whole year to these lonely dwellers of the far outlands.
Sister Mercedes remained seated upon her bench and standing her rifle against the wall, Snowdrift sat down beside her, and in silence the two watched the scows swing shoreward in response to the strokes of the heavy steering sweeps, and listened to the exchange of shouted greetings.
Of all the rivermen, the bravest figure was that of Henri of the White Water. The two women could see him striding back and forth issuing orders regarding the mooring of scows and the unloading of freight. They saw him pause suddenly in his restless pacing up and down, and eagerly scan the faces of the assembled group. Then, his glance travelled back from the river and rested upon the two silent figures beside the door, and with a wave of his hand, he tossed the sack of mail to the waiting priest, and stepping past him strode rapidly up the bank in the direction of the mission.
The face of Sister Mercedes hardened as she
noted the flaunting air of the approaching man, his stocking cap of brilliant blue, his snow-white capote thrown open to reveal the flannel shirt of vivid red and black checks.
With a royal bow, he swept the blue stocking cap from his head and saluted the two upon the bench: "Ah-ha, greetings, ma chères! From Henri of the White Water to the fairest flower of the North, and her—ah, guardian angel—non?" His lips flashed a smile, and he continued: "But, there are times when even a guardian angel is not desired to be. Come with me, Snowdrift, and we will walk yonder to the edge of the bank, where we will still be within sight of the ever watching eye of the church, but well out of hearing of its ever listening ear. You see, Sister religieuse, I am a respecter of your little laws!" He laughed aloud, "Ah, yes Henri of the White Water is a great respecter of laws, voila!"
Seating themselves upon the high bank of the river the two watched the sun dip slowly behind the scrub timber. And, as the twilight deepened, the man talked rapidly and earnestly, while the girl listened in silence. "And so," he concluded, "When the scows return, in one month from now, you shall leave this place forever. We shall go away and be married, and we will journey far, far up the rivers to the cities of the white men, and only upon occasion will we make flying trips into the North—to the trade."
"It is said that you trade hooch," said the girl, "I will not marry any man who trades hooch. I hate the traders of hooch."
"Ah-ha! Ma chère! Yes, I have now and then traded hooch. You see, I do not deny. Henri of the White Water must have adventure. But upon my soul, if you do not want me to trade hooch, I shall never trade another drop—non."