Part 15 (1/2)

”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.