Part 24 (1/2)
”He's going to spend part of the winter with us.”
”I'm glad of that, Melisse,” said Jan quietly. ”I like him, and would like to know him better. I hope he will bring you some more books--and strings.” He glanced at the old violin. ”Do you play much?”
”A great deal,” she replied. ”Won't you play for me, Jan?”
”My hands are too rough; and besides, I've forgotten all that I ever knew.”
”Even the things you played when I was a baby?”
”I think I have, Melisse. But you must never forget them.”
”I shall remember them--always,” she answered softly. ”Some day it may be that I will teach them to you again.”
He did not see her again until six months later, when he came in to the caribou roast, with his furs. Then he learned that another letter had come to Melisse, and that Dixon had gone to London instead of coming to Lac Bain.
The day after the carnival he went back into the country of the Athabasca. Spring did not see him at Lac Bain. Early summer brought no news of him. In the floods, Jean went by the water-way to the Athabasca, and found Th.o.r.eau's cabin abandoned. There had not been life in it for a long time. The Indians said that since the melting snows they had not seen Jan. A half-breed whom Jean met at Fond du Lac said that he had found the bones of a white man on the Beaver, with a Hudson's Bay gun and a horn-handled knife beside them.
Jean came back to Lac Bain heavy at heart.
”There is no doubt but that he is dead,” he told Iowaka. ”I do not believe that it will hurt very much if you tell Melisse.”
One day early in September a lone figure came in to the post at noon, when the company people were at dinner. He carried a pack, and six dogs trailed at his heels. It was Jan Th.o.r.eau.
”I have been down to civilization,” was his explanation. ”I have returned to spend this winter at Lac Bain.”
CHAPTER XXIV
THE RESCUE
On the first snow came young Dixon from Fort Churchill. Jean de Gravois met him on the trail near Ledoq's. When the Englishman recognized the little Frenchman he leaped from his sledge and advanced with outstretched hand, his face lighting up with pleasure.
”Bless me, if it isn't my old friend, Jean!” he cried. ”I was just thinking of you, Gravois, and how you trimmed me to a finish two winters ago. I've learned a lot about you people up here in the snows since then, and I'll never do anything like that again.” He laughed into Jean's face as they shook hands, and his voice was filled with unbounded sincerity. ”How is Mrs. Gravois, and the little Gravois--and Melisse?” he added, before Jean had spoken.
”All well, M'seur Dixon,” replied Jean. ”Only the little Gravois have almost grown into a man and woman.”
An hour or so later he said to Iowaka:
”I can't help liking this man Dixon, and yet I don't want to. Why is it, do you suppose?”
”Is it because you are afraid that Melisse will like him?” asked his wife, smiling over her shoulder.
”Blessed saints, I believe that it is!” said Jean frankly. ”I hate foreigners--and Melisse belongs to Jan.”
”She did, once, but that was a long time ago, Jean.”
”It may be, and yet I doubt it, ma bien aimee. If Jan would tell her--”
”A woman will not wait always,” interrupted Iowaka softly. ”Jan Th.o.r.eau has waited too long!”