George Tracy Marsh

“ Glancing at McCain, Gillies shook his head resignedly, for he knew well why Jean Marcel wished to avoid Whale River.
On the morning of his departure, as Jean stood with Michel on the beach by the canoe, surrounded by his four impatient dogs, Julie stooped and kissed the white marking between Fleur’s ears, whispering a good-by. Turning her head in response, the dog’s moist nose and rough tongue reached the girl’s hand.
“Lucky Fleur!” Jean said to his friends.
“It’s sure worth while being a dog, sometimes,” drawled Angus McCain with a grimace. ”

“ Michel, proud of his part in so successful a winter and in having bearded the demons of the Salmon in their dens and lived to tell the tale, blushed at the memory of the snowy owl.
“This is the largest catch of fur traded in my time, at Whale River, Jean,” said Gillies. “What are you going to do with all your credit? You can’t use it on yourself, you’ll have to get married and build a shack here.”
Blood darkened his bronzed face, but Marcel made no reply. ”

“ In another year, he said, he would carry the mail up the coast, but his puppies were still too young to be pushed hard through a blizzard. Another year and he would show the posts down the coast what a real dog team could do. ”