“I have not said so yet,” answered the corporal thoughtfully, “but I am afraid that there can be little question of it. Some day when I meet him I shall put the question to him plainly, and learn the truth.”
“You know dis mans, Koona Dick?”
“Yes! He is my cousin.”
As he received the information the half-breed flashed a quick glance of sympathy.
“Le diable!” he said. “Dat is strange. But so it does befall. One pup of ze litter he ees a good dog, and he grows to ze collar-work naturally; but anoder he is bad, he snarl like ze wolf, he is a thief, he will not do ze work. So is it with ze sled-dogs and with men! It is passing strange, but I hev’ often beheld it, and it is so!”
The corporal nodded his assent. He had often wondered at the crooked strain which had sent his cousin on wild courses to dishonour, but could find no consolation in the thought that given certain circumstances the way of dishonour was almost inevitable. He rose from the couch of skins, and moving stiffly towards the fire, thrust in a spruce twig, and with it lit his pipe. Then he turned to the chief.
“I wonder how soon I shall be able to take the trail, Louis?”
The half-breed shook his head. “Not yet. Ze leg dat hav’ been broken, it is not good for snow-shoe work. No! It ache like le diable! You must wait—wait till ze ice break up, then you go down ze river in a canoe. Dat will be ze easy way. Yes.”
A mutinous look came on Roger Bracknell’s face. Having so long lived an active life, he was growing tired of the monotony of the encampment, and as he felt the strength returning to his leg was more and more inclined to make the attempt to reach civilization as represented by the police-post. There was news to send to Joy Gargrave, news that might profoundly affect her life, and it was desirable that she should receive it at the earliest possible moment.
“I do not think that I shall wait until then, Louis. They will give me up for lost, at the post, and besides I have news for a certain person—”