But I know only that that young trapper, Marc Dupre, gave
his life as gallantly as might be to cover our retreat while we, the
Nor'wester and I, slipping among the sleepers, carried you to the
river; that they woke, those devils, before we had cleared the little
gorge, and that M'sieu de Courtenay, brave man and gay cavalier, gave
your knees to this woman who helped me get you to the canoe, himself
taking the only gun and meeting what fate was his in the narrow seam
among the rocks. She had with her men of Mr. Mowbray's brigade, that
she had got somewhere on Winnipeg, and we put you in their waiting
canoe. She was dragged in among the thwarts,--while I--slipped back
among the shadows, circled the camp, and was at my death-watch inside
the big tepee when peering eyes looked in. I saw no more of the dashing
Nor'wester, save a flash of long gold curls at a headman's belt. What
fate was meted out to him was swift and therefore merciful. Peace be to
him!
"No more I know, my friend, save that, when I returned to De Seviere, I
found you ill with some fever of the brain."
"But, Ridgar, for love of Heaven, what of Maren?"
"She had brought you here, and Rette says the women hung off from her
and laughed in corners, whispering and talking, and that her face was
worn and greatly changed, as if with some deep sorrow.
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