"Sh!" he said gently, "little one, let go. The dog is dead, poor beast.
Come away."
But the maid would not give up the battered body, and with the audacity
of her beauty and life-long spoiling, besought the young factor for
help.
"There is yet life, M'sieu. See! The breath lifts in his sides. Is
there naught to be done when one sleeps, so? He is so strong at the
sledges and he did not whimper,--no, not once,--when DesCaut was
beating him to death. Is there nothing, M'sieu?"
Very pretty she was in her pleading, the little Francette, with her
misty eyes and the frank tears on her cheeks; and McElroy went to the
river and filled his cap with water. This he poured into the open jaws
and sopped over the blood-clotted head, wetting the limp feet and
watching for the life she so bravely proclaimed.
And presently it was there, twitching a battered muscle; lifting the
side with its broken ribs, fluttering the lids over the fierce eyes;
for this was Loup, the fiercest husky this side of the Athabasca.
With pity McElroy gathered up the great dog, staggering under the load,
for it was that of a big-framed man, and entered the post, the little
maid at has side.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25