Labrador
to the Yukon, stands between the red trapper and starvation, has a
flavor which quickly palls on the taste, and never quite seems to
satisfy hunger. The Crees often speak of "starving on rabbits."

During these weeks following the trap-lines, learning the ways of the
winter forest after a puppyhood on the coast, as Fleur grew in bulk and
strength, so her affection deepened for Jean Marcel. Now nearly a year
old, she easily drew the sled loaded with the meat of a caribou into
camp, on a beaten trail. At night in the tent Marcel had pitched and
banked with snow, as a half-way camp on the round of his trap-lines, she
would sit with hairy ears pointed, watching his every movement, looking
unutterable adoration as he scraped his pelts, stretching them on frames
to dry or mended his clothes and moccasins. Then, before he turned in to
his plaited, rabbit-skin blankets, warmer by far than any fur robes
known in the north, Fleur invariably demanded her evening romp. Taking a
hand in her jaws which never closed, she would lift her lips, baring her
white fangs in a snarl of mimic anger, as she swung her head from side
to side, until, seizing her, Jean rolled her on her back, while rumbles
and growls from her shaggy throat voiced her delight.

Back at the main camp, Fleur, true to her breed, merely tolerated the
presence of Antoine and Joe, indifferent to all offers of friendship.
Moving away at their approach, she suffered neither of them to place
hand upon her. At night she slept outside in the snow, where the thick
mat of fine fur under the long hair rendered her immune to cold.

And all these weeks Jean Marcel was fighting out his battle with self.
Always, the struggle went ceaselessly on--the struggle with his heart
to give up Julie Breton. Reason though he would, that he had nothing to
give her, while this great man of the Company had everything, his love
for the girl kept alive the embers of hope. He carried the memory of her
sweetness over the white trails by day and at night again wandered with
her in the twilight as in the days before the figure of Wallace darkened
his life.

As Christmas approached, Jean wondered whether Wallace would spend it in
Whale River, and was glad that they had not intended, because of the
great distance, to go back for the festivities at the post. Should he
ever see her again as Julie Breton? he asked himself. Wallace would
change his religion. Surely no man would balk at that, to g