George Tracy Marsh

“ The perplexed husky unable to meet Marcel’s piercing eyes sprang to her feet with a yelp.
“Good!” he cried. “We mak’ de beeg hunt!” He had had his answer and on the yelp of his dog had staked their fate. To-morrow he would push on into the barrens and find the caribou drifting north again, or flicker out with his dog as men for centuries had perished, beaten by the long snows.
In the morning he divided his remaining food into four parts; a breakfast and a supper for himself and Fleur, for two days. ”

“ He thought of the three wooden crosses at Whale River; how restful it would be to lie beside them behind the mission, instead of sleeping far in the barrens where the great winds beat ceaselessly by over the treeless snows. At the mission Julie Breton might have planted forest flowers on the mound that marked the grave of Jean Marcel.
Julie! What hopes he had had of a little house of their own at Whale River, when he would have entered the service of the company and drove the mail packet down the coast with the team that Fleur should give him! ”

“ For days Jean had been praying for the coming of the crust. With it he planned to make a wide circle back into the high barrens in search of returning caribou. Once the crust had set hard, traveling with the sled into new country would be easy. Food he must accumulate to take them through the April thaws, or perish miserably, with no one to carry the news of their fate to Whale River. ”