"Yes, I know," Pere Breton hastily broke in. "They brought the word. It is terrible! And Piquet, is he dead also?"

"Yes, Father," Marcel said quietly. "Joe Piquet was killed by Fleur, here, after he stabbed Antoine!"

"_Juste Ciel!_ Killed by Fleur after he stabbed Antoine?" repeated the priest, staring at the husky.

"Yes, I wish to tell you all first, Father, before I go to the trade-house--and Julie?" Jean inquired, his voice vibrant with fear of what the answer might be.

"Put the dog in the stockade and I will call Julie."

Ah, then she was not married. Marcel breathed with relief.

"We have been very sad here, wondering whether you had starved--were alive," continued the priest. "The tale Piquet's uncle, Gaspard Lelac, and sons brought in day before yesterday made us think you also might have----"

"Did they say Antoine had been stabbed?" interrupted Marcel, for the priest had avoided mention of the cause of Beaulieu's death.

"They said they found his body." Pere Henri still shunned the issue.

"Where?" demanded Marcel.

"Buried on the river sh.o.r.e!"

"They lie!" As Marcel had antic.i.p.ated, the half-breeds had embellished the sufficiently d.a.m.ning evidence of the cache. He realized that he faced a battle with men who would not scruple to lie when the stark facts already looked badly enough.

"They never were truthful people, my son. We have hoped and prayed for your coming to clear up the mystery."

Jean put Fleur in the stockade and returned to the house. Julie Breton stood in the doorway.

"Welcome home, Jean!" she cried in French, giving him both hands.

"Why--you are not thin!" She looked wonderingly at his face. "We thought--you also--had starved." Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at the man already numbered with the dead.

Swept by conflicting emotions, Marcel swallowed hard. Were these sisterly tears of joy at his safe return or did she weep for the Jean Marcel she once knew, now dishonored?

"There, there! _Ma pet.i.te!_" consoled Pere Henri, stroking the dark head. "We have Jean here again, safe; all will be well in time."

"Julie had you starved out in the 'bush,' Jean, when we heard their story," explained the priest.

But the puzzled youth wondered why Pere Henri did not mention the charges that the half-breeds must have made on reaching Whale River.

Recovering her self-control Julie excused herself to prepare supper.

Then before asking what the Lelacs had told the factor, Marcel related to the priest the grim details of the winter on the Ghost; of the deaths of Antoine and Piquet, of his fortunate meeting with the returning caribou, and of his discovery, on his return to the old camp, of the visit of the Lelacs' canoe.

"Father, it looks bad for me. They found Antoine stabbed and Piquet's fur and outfit. I brought his rifle back to the camp and cached it with his stuff and Antoine's to bring it all down river in the spring to their people."

At this the heavy brows of the priest lifted in surprise. Marcel continued:

"The cache was empty. It was a starvation camp. Antoine was dead, and Piquet also, for his outfit was there. Seeing these things, what could anyone think? That the third man, Jean Marcel, did this and then went into the barrens for caribou. There he starved out, or else found meat and would return, when he could clear himself if able. Father, it was my wish to tell you my story before I heard the tale the Lelacs brought to the post. Then you could judge between us."

The priest leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on Marcel's shoulders. His eyes sought those of the younger man which met his gaze unwaveringly. "Jean Marcel," he said, "I have known you since your father brought you to Whale River as a child. You have never lied to me.

True, the circ.u.mstances are unfortunate; but you have told me the truth. We did not believe that you had killed your comrades; you would have starved first; nor did Gillies or McCain or Jules believe in the truth of the charge of the Lelacs. They are waiting to hear your story.

Also, since hearing your side, I see why the Lelacs are anxious to have it believed at the trade-house that you were responsible for the deaths of these men. They are grinding an axe of their own. It is not alone because they are kin of Piquet that they wish to discredit and injure you."

"How do you mean, Father?" Marcel asked, curious as to the significance of the priest's last statement.

"I will tell you later, my son. You should report at the trade-house now. They are waiting for you."

Cheered with the knowledge that his old friends were still staunch, that the factor had waited for his return before expressing even an opinion, Marcel hurried to the trade-house.

Meeting no one as he pa.s.sed the scattered tepees, he flung open the slab-door of the log-building and with head high, entered.

"Jean Marcel! By Gar, we hear you arrive!" roared the big Jules, rushing upon the youth with open arms. "You not starve out, eh?"

Then Gillies and McCain, wringing his hand, added their welcome. Surely, he thought, with choked emotion, these men had not turned against him because of the tales of Lelac.

"Jean, you had a hard winter with the rabbits gone," suggested Gillies.

"You must have found the caribou this spring?"

"Yes, I find de caribou, M'sieu, but I travel far for dem; eet was hard time een Mars."

"And the dog, you didn't have to eat your dog, Jean?" asked McCain.

Marcel's face hardened.

"De dog and Jean, dey feast and dey starve togeder. I am no Cree dog-eater. Dat dog she save my life, one, two tam, dees winter, M'sieu."

Never had the thought of sacrificing Fleur as a last resort entered the mind of Marcel in the lean days on the barrens.

"Well, my lad," said Gillies heartily, "we are sure glad to have you back alive. We hear there was much starvation on the East Coast this year, with the rabbit plague and the scarcity of deer."

They also, Marcel saw, were waiting to hear his story before alluding to the charges of the half-breed kinsmen of Piquet.

"M'sieu Gillies," Jean began. "I weesh to tell you what happen on de Ghost. De Lelacs bring a tale to Whale Riviere dat ees not true."

"We have paid no attention to them, Jean, trusting you would show up and could explain it all then. I know you and I know the Lelacs. I was sorry to hear about Antoine and Piquet but I don't think you had any part in it, lad. Be sure of that!"

"T'anks, M'sieu." Then slowly and in great detail Marcel related to the three men, sitting with set faces, the gruesome history of the past winter. When he came to the night that Fleur had destroyed the crazed Piquet, the Hudson's Bay men turned to each other with exclamations of wonder and admiration.

"That's a dog for you! She got his wind just in time!" muttered Gillies.

"Tiens! Dat Fleur she is lak de wolf," added Jules.

"You ask eef I eat her, M'sieu," Marcel turned on McCain grimly. "Could you eat de dog dat save your life?"

"No, by G.o.d! I'd starve first!" thundered the Scotchman.

"I love dat dog," said Jean quietly, and went on with his tale.

Breathless, they heard how he had pushed deeper and deeper beyond the hunting grounds of the Crees into the nameless barrens until he reached streams flowing northeast into Ungava Bay, and at last met the returning caribou; how the great strength of Fleur beat the drag of the net, when he was slowly freezing in the lake; and then he came to his return to the Ghost.

In detail Marcel enumerated the articles belonging to Antoine and Piquet which he had placed on the stage of the cache beside Beaulieu's body when he left for the Salmon country and which had been taken by the Lelacs to Whale River.