"Strong Father," spoke Maskwa quickly, "an Indian has come to this village and he has fever. We cannot enter. Else will the fever spirit destroy our own men."
"Where's Father Brochet?" Bruce demanded, speaking in Cree. "Where's the priest—the praying man. Bid him come forth!"
On the summons Father Brochet appeared. His greetings were none the less cheerful for the distance that intervened between the friends.
"It wouldn't be wise to come in," the priest called, "and risk exposure to infection. This case isn't so bad, but you know the dangers. The Indian came from the tribe on Loon Lake, and some of his fellows up there are sick with the same thing. When I get him in shape so that the Indian women can bring him through, I am going up to see after the others."
"Loon Lake!" exclaimed Dunvegan. "That's up beyond Fort Brondel. You'd better be careful when you are in the Nor'west haunts."
"The Nor'westers don't trouble the men of God," returned Brochet simply. "I have no fear of them! We are indispensable to both Hudson's Bay servants and Nor'westers!" He smiled grimly at the significance of his plain words.
"But lately men on our side have died unshriven," the chief trader observed bitterly. "There is a chance that the same may happen to the enemy."
"You are heading for Brondel?"
"With all haste! The sack of the Wokattiwagan train will be speedily and thoroughly avenged."
"And the Factor has set out to raze Dumarge as he planned?"