Henri Baptiste held the trembling Marie in his arm, while Mora and Anon and Ninette clung together in a white-faced group. A little way aside Micene Bordoux comforted a frightened woman and held a child by the hand.
Big Bard McLellan stood by a porthole, his eyes always pensive with his own sadness, gazing with grave sorrow to where McElroy swung down the slope between his captors.
Thus they watched his going, and he had been spared that sick pain had he known.
When it was over, Prix Laroux turned back to the deserted factory and stood hesitating on its step.
This was one of the crises which so commonly confronted the fur industry in the North-west.
What had he a right to do?
The simple man considered carefully. What right but the right of humanity to do the best for the many could send a servant into the seat of power?
And yet who among them all was fitted?
Not the clerks, youths from the Bay, not the traders nor the trappers.
With a daring heart the venturer from Grand Portage went in across the sill.