The words Stane's consciousness as he opened his eyes, and were followed by others which he obeyed . "Tak' anoder drink. Zee whisky veel vake you proper."
He from the tin pannikin which was held to his lips, and coughed as the raw, spirit burned his throat. Then he sat up and looked at the man who was befriending him.
"Who ... who are you?" he asked weakly.
"I am Jean Bènard. I come up zee lak' an' hear shots an' I see my cabin blaze like hell. I tink somethin' ver' badly wrong an' I turn to zee woods. I see you rush out an' I hear you shoot as you run. I see dat big man struggle with you, I see him keeled by anoder who go down, aussi, and when zee man with zee ax mak' for you I begin to shoot. I am in zee wood, an' zee divils they do not see me, an' I pick off un, deux, trois! Dey are dere still, after dey others grow afraid an' run like with zee wolves at dere heels. It ees fine sport, an' I shoot as dey ran, an' presently I am left alone. I snow wit' a snow-shoe on my burning cabin, for I love dat petite cabin like a child, an' den I tink I take a look at you. You not dead, so I pour hot whisky in your mouth an' you return from zee happy-huntin' grounds. Dere you have zee whole ."
"But Helen?" cried Stane, looking round. "Where——"
"I haf seen not any mees!" answered the trapper. "I did not know dat dere was——"
"Then they have taken her," exclaimed Stane, staggering to his feet, and looking round.
Jean Bènard also looked round. Except for the figures lying in the snow they were quite alone. "Dey must haf done," he said, "eef dere was a mees!"
He looked at Stane, as if he doubted his and Stane him. "Oh I have not gone mad, Bènard. There was a white girl with me in your cabin, Miss Yardely. You must have heard——"
"Mees Yardely! She ees here?" cried the trapper in sudden excitement.
"She was here!" corrected Stane. "I think she has been carried off. We must follow!"
"Oui! Oui!" replied Bènard. "I haf heard of her. The factor at Fort Malsun, he tell me to keep a bright look-out. Dere ees a reward——"
"We must get her!" interrupted Stane. "You must help me and I will double the reward. You understand?"
"Oui, I understand, m'sieu. Dis girl she ees mooch to you?"
"She is all the world to me."
"Den we go, m'sieu. But first we feed an' rest zee dogs. We travel queeck, after, vous comprenez? I will a meal make, an' your head it will recover, den we travel lik' zee wind."
The trapper made his way into the still smouldering hut, and began to busy himself with preparations, whilst Stane looked round again. The darkness, and the figures lying in the snow gave the scene an indescribable air of desolation, and for a moment he stood without moving; then, as something occurred to him, he began to walk towards the place where he had been struck down. Three figures lay there in the snow, and to one of them he owed his life. Which of them was it? Two of the dead lay with their faces in the snow, but the third was on its back, face upward to the sky. He stood and looked into the face. It was that of the man whom he had grappled, and who had been struck down with the knife that he had expected to strike himself. He looked at the other two. An ax lay close to the hand of one, and he had no doubt that that one was the man who would have him. The third one was his . He looked again, and as he the dress a cold fear gripped his heart, for it was the dress of a woman. He fell on his knees and turned the body over, then he over the face. As he did so, he started back, and a sharp cry came from his lips. The cry brought Jean Bènard from the hut at a run.
"What ees it, m'sieu?" he asked as he reached Stane who knelt there as if turned to stone.
"It is a dead girl," answered Stane, brokenly—"a girl who gave her life for mine."
The trapper bent over the form, then he also cried out.
"Miskodeed!"
"Yes! Miskodeed. I did not know it was she! She killed one of them with her knife, and she was slain by the other."
"Whom I keel with the bullet!" For a moment Jean Bènard said no more, but when he again there was a choking sound in his voice. "I am glad I keel dat man! eef I haf not done so, I follow heem across zee world till it was done." Something like a checked his . "Ah, m'sieu, I love dat girl. I say to myself all zee way from Good Hope dat I weel her marry, an' I haf the price I pay her fader on zee . I see her las' winter; but I not know den how it ees with me; but when I go away my heart cry out for her, an' my mind it ees make up.... An' now she ees dead! I never tink of dat! I tink only of zee happy years dat we weel haf togeder!"
He dropped suddenly in the snow, and bent over the face in its frozen beauty, as only a strong man can. He bent lower and kissed the ice-cold lips, whilst Stane staggered to his feet, and moved away. He could not endure to look on Jean Bènard's grief. As he stood staring into the darkness of the wood, he had a flashing memory of the Indian girl's face as she had whisperingly asked him if he could not leave Helen, the very note in her voice sounded in his ears, and, he knew what it was no harm for him to know then, that this child of the had given him her love, unsought. She had loved him, and she had died for him, whilst a man who had loved her, now wept over her poor body. The tragedy of it all shook him, and the of Jean Bènard's grief was almost beyond endurance. A great filled his heart, and whilst he himself of blame, he regretted deeply his of . All her words came back to him in a flood. She must have guessed that he loved Helen; yet in the greatness of her love, she had risked her life without hope, and died for him without shrinking.
He began to walk to and fro, instinctively fighting the cold, with all his mind absorbed in Miskodeed's little tragedy; but presently the thought of Helen came to him, and he walked quickly to where Jean Bènard still knelt in the snow. The trapper's face was hidden in his hands. For a moment Stane hesitated, then he placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Jean Bènard," he said quietly, "there is work to do."
Bènard rose slowly to his feet, and in the little light reflected from the snow Stane read the grief of the man's heart in his face.
"Oui! m'sieu! We must her bury; ma petite Miskodeed."
"That, yes! But there is other work."
"I could not endure to tink dat zee wolves get her——"
"I will help you, Jean. And then you will help me."
"Non! m'sieu. Help I do not need. I weel myself do zee las' duty for ma pauvre Miskodeed. My hands that would haf held an' fondled her, dey shall her prepare; an' I dat would haf died for her—I shall her bury. You, m'sieu, shall say zee prayer, for I haf not zee religion, but——"
"Call me when you are ready!" interrupted Stane, and turned away, finding the situation intolerably .
He went to the hut, and busied himself with the meal which the trapper had been preparing, and presently Jean Bènard called him.
The man had swathed the dead girl in a blanket and had bent the tops of a couple of small spruce, growing close together, almost to the ground, holding them in position with a sled . To the trees he had the , and he was by with a knife in his hand.
"Zee ground," he said in a steady voice, "ees too frozen to dig. We bury Miskodeed in zee air; an' when zee spring winds blow an' the ground grow soft again, I dig a grave. Now eef m'sieu ees ready we will haf zee words of religion."
Stane, almost choked at the poignant irony of the thing, then shaped his lips to the great words that would have been strange if not unmeaning to the dead girl.
"I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in Me, though he were dead yet shall he live...."
For the comfort of the man, who stood by knife in hand, he recited every word that he could remember, and when he reached the words, "We therefore commit her body to the grave," the keen knife the moose-hide thong, and the trees, released, bent back, carrying the girl's body to its windy sepulchre, amid a shower of snow that from the neighbouring trees. Stane pronounced the , waited a few moments, then again he put a hand on the other's shoulder.
"Bènard, we have done what we can for the dead; now we must think of the living."
"Oui, m'sieu!"
"You must eat! I have prepared a meal. And when you have eaten and the dogs are ready we must start on the trail of Miss Yardely."
"Oui, m'sieu."
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CHAPTER XVII THE ATTACK
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CHAPTER XIX A HOT TRAIL
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