"I am coming to offer you the loan of my razor," he cried gaily.
"Iowaka says that you will be taken for a bear if the trappers see you."
"A beard is good to keep off the black flies," replied Jan. "It is approaching summer, and the black flies love to feast upon me. Let us go down the trail, Jean. I want to speak with you."
Where there had been wood-cutting in the deep spruce they sat down, facing each other. Jan spoke in French.
"I have traveled far since leaving Lac Bain," he said. "I went first to
Nelson House, and from here to the Wholdaia. I found them at Nelson
House, but not on the Wholdaia."
"What?" asked Jean, though he knew well what the other meant.
"My brothers, Jean de Gravois," answered Jan, drawing his lips until his teeth gleamed in a sneering smile. "My brothers, les bêtes de charogne!"
"Devil take Croisset for telling you where they were!" muttered Jean under his breath.
"I saw the two at Nelson House," continued Jan. "One of them is a half-wit, and the other"—he hunched his shoulders—"is worse. Petraud, one of the two who were at Wholdaia, was killed by a Cree father last winter for dishonoring his daughter. The other disappeared."
Jean was silent, his head leaning forward, his face resting in his hands.
"So you see, Jean de Gravois, what sort of creature is your friend Jan
Thoreau!"