rcel's eyes still rested on the silhouetted hills to the south. He
made no answer.

"Won't you forget, Jean, and remain a friend--a brother?"

He turned his sombre eyes to the girl.

"Yes, I shall always be your friend--your brother, Julie," he said. "But
I shall always love you--I can't help that. And there is nothing to
forgive. I hoped--once--that you might--love Jean Marcel; but now--it is
over. God bless you, Julie!"

As he finished, Julie Breton's eyes were wet. Again Marcel gazed long
into the south but with unseeing eyes. The girl was the first to break
the silence.

"Jean," she said, returning to the charges of the Lelacs, "you must not
brood over what the Crees are saying. What matters it that the ignorant
Indians, some of whom, if the truth were known, have eaten their own
flesh and blood in starvation camps, do not believe you. For shame! You
are a brave man, Jean Marcel. Show your courage at Whale River as you
have shown it elsewhere."

Sadly Marcel shook his head. "They will speak of me now, from Fort
George to Mistassini, as the man who killed his partners." And in spite
of Julie Breton's words of cheer he refused to see his case in any other
light.

They had turned and were approaching the post when the practised eye of
Marcel caught the far flash of paddles toward the river mouth. For a
space he watched the rhythmic gleams of light from dripping blades
leaving the water in unison, which alone marked the approaching canoe on
the flat river. Then he said:

"There are four or six paddles. It must be a big Company boat from Fort
George. I wonder what they come for during the trade."

As Jean and Julie Breton entered the post clearing the great red flag of
the Company, carrying the white letters H. B. C., was broken out at the
flagpole in honor of the approaching visitors. The canoe, now but a
short way below the post, was receiving the undivided attention of
Esquimos, Crees and howling huskies crowding the shore. The boat was not
a freighter for she rode high. No one but an officer of the Company
travelled light with six paddles. It was an event at Whale River, and
Indians and white men awaited the arrival of the big Peterborough with
unconcealed interest.

"It must be Inspector Wallace," said Jean.

With a face radiant with joy in the unexpected arrival of Wallace, Julie
Breton hastened to the high shore, while Marcel turned slowly back to
the Mission stockade where his dog awaited him at the