George T. Marsh

“ Stuart handed the note to Scott, his heart pounding with an indescribable joy. He was going to her. She needed him. In a half-hour he would be with her, helping her, consoling her.
Scott read the note, while the narrow eyes of Baptiste searched questioningly the faces of the white men.
“Wait!” Scott turned quizzically to Stuart. “This can't be a trap of Black Jack's to get you down-river and shoot you up from the shore?”
“Why, man alive,” rasped the factor, “no one else at that post could write that hand.” He seized the paper. “No one but a woman of education—look at it!” ”

“ Leaving Baptiste and Esau at the trade-house, where Black Jack Lafitte was conspicuous by his absence, Stuart went to the factor's quarters. Kicking off his snowshoes and beating the snow from capote and moccasins, he knocked. The door was opened by an Indian woman, who took his coat and led him to the living-room.
So this, he thought as he pushed back from his forehead the yellow hair wet from melted snow, was her home! Everywhere the room was eloquent with the feminine touch. ”

“ It will be a great help to have a white woman. The Crees know so little—”
She interrupted: “We shall make no trouble. Just one room for my servant and myself. You are veree kind.”
Then she said: “May I see Monsieur Stuart, onlee one moment?”
Scott led her to the bedroom, where the fever-racked factor lay bandaged and bound.
The clerk heard her catch her breath as the dim light from a lamp fell on the flushed features of the man to whom, but a few hours before, she had said: “We do not forget so soon, monsieur.”
Hortense Lecroix had kept her word; she had not forgotten. ”

“ Glad of the turn of the conversation from Hortense Lecroix to Black Jack, Stuart amused himself by suggesting:
“You tell Black Jack that M'sieu' Stuart is big medicine man. He will put devils into Black Jack if he doesn't behave himself.” ”

“ Buried up on the east coast, you doubtless haven't heard of Mademoiselle Lecroix; but let me tell you, she's the sole topic of conversation here and at Moose when Company men get together.”
“Daughter of the French factor at their Drowning River post, I suppose?” suggested Stuart
“Yes. Hortense Lecroix is her name. Pretty name isn't it? And that's all there is to the story, old man. You'll be lucky if you every get more than a long-distance look at her. Old Lecroix watches her like a wolf—wont mix with our people at all. ”

“ One wild night in December, Stuart sat smoking with Andrew Scott in their quarters. Driven by the northwester, powdery crystals of snow beat like shot against the windows. Suddenly above the clamor of the storm the yelping of the post dogs caused the factor to look up from his book.
“What's the matter with the dogs, Andrew? No Cree is crazy enough to travel in this weather.”
“Maybe a packet from Albany,” suggested Scott “Queer, though, they couldn't wait for the Christmas mail!”
Soon the entire canine population of Mamatawan joined in the uproar. ”

“ Ten minutes later Lecroix left the factor's quarters, and lashing his dogs out to the river trail, disappeared into the night. His daughter had won.
Anxious days followed for those who watched at the bedside of the wounded man—days in which fever and delirium, and the failure of the wound to heal, made hope of his recovery seem futile. During this time of anxiety and despair the ministrations and aid of his tireless assistant had become indispensable to Andrew Scott. ”

“ Mademoiselle, I have not had the opportunity to tell you how grateful I am—and how I owe my life to your coming here. You have not allowed me to say more than thank you but I want you to know now. It is you who worked the miracle. ”

“ Scott dressed the furrow in the Cree's scalp and sent him to his shack. Later, Esau was sitting up with Scott to take care of the sick man, whom they had bound to his bed with sheets to prevent his loosening the bandages in delirium. Out in the kitchen the cook swayed to and fro in her chair to the low wailing of a Cree dirge for the master when she, Indian-like, already numbered with the spirits of those who had taken the long trail from which there is no return. ”

“ If I were her father, I'd keep her in a ten-foot dog-stockade, with good-looking women as scarce as they are in this country.”
Days later, the canoe of the new factor of Fort Mamatawan turned into the portage trail at the foot of the first white-water above the fork of the Albany and Drowning rivers. The Cree voyageurs were unloading the craft when suddenly Baptiste, the head man, looked up with a “Quay! Quay!”
Stuart turned from a pack he was lifting from the boat, to see a big Peterboro canoe emerging from the forest on the shoulders of four Indians .
Franch Companee fur-cano'!” ”

“ You must not talk, monsieur. You need all your strength.” Then she swiftly left him.
And neither from the overjoyed Scott, nor the Cree woman who came for a moment to see him, could he obtain light on Hortense Lecroix' presence at Mamatawan. The house was under strict orders from the nurse not to talk to the man who so lately had fought his way out of the shadows. So Stuart gave it up, content in the wonder of it—the joy of knowing she had come to him in his dire need of her. ”

“ Ignoring the presence of his daughter, he said to Scott:
“Monsieur, I am in great distress to hear of Monsieur Stuart. I owe heem my life. To have heem attack' by one of my men, eet ees terrible. Lafitte had cause to die. Yes, it ees right!”
Then Lecroix lost his grip on himself and continued excitedly:
“But my daughter, she have no place here—a young woman een dese post! We have much gratitude to Monsieur Stuart. We have pain een our hearts for heem dat he ees wounded; but monsieur, eet ees not of proprietee for her to remain here, a girl unmarried.” ”

“ Then, escorted by Baptiste and a sullen file of Crees, Black Jack Lafitte made his last journey to Drowning River.
WHEN the head man reported back to Andrew Scott on his return from his grim mission, he found Stuart in bed, his wound dressed and bandaged, raving in the delirium of a high fever.
Standing beside his stricken chief, the tall half-breed muttered in remorse:
“Baptiste watch for dees t'ing, M'sieu' Stuar'. He know Black Jack. But Baptiste, he not know you go to Drowneen' Rivière today, so he get dere too slow. Wal, m'sieu', Black Jack, he fire hees las' shot from de bush.” ”

“ Lecroix and his daughter seated themselves on the shore with their backs to him and waited for their Indians. Clearly there was no place in this picture for a Hudson's Bay man; so Stuart made up a pack for his line and started over the carry, where he met the second canoe of the fur-brigade. ”