"It is our way of saying good-by, M'seur," replied Croisset with a
fierce snap of his whip. "Hoo-la, get along there!" he cried to the
dogs, and in half a dozen breaths the fire was lost to view.

Dawn comes at about eight o'clock in the northern mid-winter; beyond the
fiftieth degree the first ruddy haze of the sun begins to warm the
southeastern skies at nine, and its glow had already risen above the
forests before Croisset stopped his team again. For two hours he had not
spoken a word to his prisoner and after several unavailing efforts to
break the other's taciturnity Howland lapsed into a silence of his own.
When he had brought his tired dogs to a halt, Croisset spoke for the
first time.

"We are going to camp here for a few hours," he explained. "If you will
pledge me your word of honor that you will make no attempt to escape I
will give you the use of your legs until after breakfast, M'seur. What
do you say?"

"Have you a Bible, Croisset?"

"No, M'seur, but I have the cross of our Virgin, given to me by the
missioner at York Factory."

"Then I will swear by it--I will swear by all the crosses and all the
Bibles in the world that I will make no effort to escape. I am
paralyzed, Croisset! I couldn't run for a week!"

Croisset was searching in his pockets.

"_Mon Dieu!_" he cried excitedly, "I have lost it! Ah, come to think,
M'seur, I gave the cross to my Mariane before I went into the South, But
I will take your word."

"And who is Mariane, Jean? Will she also be in at the 'kill?'"

"Mariane is my wife, M'seur. Ah, _ma belle_ Mariane--_ma cheri_--the
daughter of an Indian princess and the granddaughter of a _chef de
bataillon_, M'seur! Could there be better than that? And she is
be-e-e-utiful, M'seur, with hair like the top side of a raven's wing
with the sun shining on it, and--"

"You love her a great deal, Jean."

"Next to the Virgin--and--it may be a little better."

Croisset had severed the rope about the engineer's legs, and as he
raised his glowing eyes Howland reached out and put both hands on his
shoulders.

"And in just that way I love Meleese," he said softly. "Jean, won't you
be my friend? I don't want to escape. I'm not a coward. Won't you think
of what your Mariane might do, and be a friend to me? You would die for
Mariane if it were necessary. And I would die for the girl back on
that sledge."

He had staggered to his feet, and pointed into the forests through which
they had co