"
McElroy frowned.
Double anger swelled suddenly within him. In two ways had De Courtenay
crossed his plane at opposing angles. It was evidently war that the
adventurer wanted, the hot war of the two fur companies coupled to that
of man and man for a maid. He stood a while and thought. Then he turned
to Dupre.
"You have done well, Dupre," he said shortly. "Get you to your cabin
and rest, for I may want your wit again. Only, on the way, send Pierre
Garqon to me."
The young man touched his red toque, symbol of safety to all trappers in
a land where the universal law is "kill," for no wild animal of the woods
bears a crimson head save that animal man who is the greatest killer of
all, and turned away. He was draggled and stained from a forced march
through forest and up-stream, over portage and rapid, carrying his tiny
birchbark craft on his head, snatching a short sleep on a bed of moss,
hurrying on that he might learn of the Nakonkirhirinons travelling slowly
down from that unknown land to the far north, even many leagues beyond
York factory on the shores of the great bay.
As he went toward his own cabin he glanced swiftly at the open door of
the Baptistes.
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