shaking with laughter, turned to his
yelping puppy, frenzied with excitement.

"De Husky t'ink we not go to Whale Riviere, eh?" he said, stroking the
trembling shoulders of the worrying dog. "But Jean and hees petite
chienne, dey see Julie Breton jus' de same."

Putting his puppy in the canoe, Marcel continued on down the river.

When the shots from ambush whined past his face, Marcel had flattened to
the floor of the craft, both for cover and to deceive the Huskies. The
second shots convinced him that he had but two to deal with. Slitting
the bark skin near the gunwale, that he might watch the shore without
betraying the fact that he was conscious, and thereby draw their fire,
while they were protected from his by the boulders, he learned that the
craft was working toward the beach.

His plan was swiftly made. Driven by the racing current, the canoe had
already left the Esquimos, following the shore, in the rear. He would
allow the craft to ground and hold his fire until they were on top of
him. But the boat finally reached the beach at a point hidden from the
pursuing Huskies. With a bound Marcel was out of the canoe and concealed
among the rocks. Great as was the temptation to leave the men who had
ambushed him in cold blood, shot upon the beach, a sinister warning to
their fellows, the thought of Kovik's position at the camp forced him to
content himself with disarming and sending them shrieking up the shore
with his bullets worrying their heels.

Often, during the day, as Marcel put mile after mile of the Salmon
between himself and the camp at the rapids, the puppy cocked curious
ears as the new master ceased paddling, to roar with laughter at the
memory of two flying Esquimos.

CHAPTER IV

HOME AND JULIE BRETON

That night Marcel camped at the river's mouth and watched the gray
waters of the great Bay drown the sinking sun. Somewhere, far down the
bold East Coast the Great Whale emptied into the salt "Big Water" of the
Crees. He remembered having heard the old men at the post say that the
Big Salmon lay four "sleeps" of fair weather to the north--four days of
hard paddling, as the Company canoes travel, if the sea was flat and the
wind light. But if he were wind-bound, as was likely heading south in
the spring, it might take weeks. He had a hundred pounds of cured fish
and could wait out the wind, but the thought of Julie, who by this time
must have learned from his partners of his mad journey, ma