Jean Marcel

“ Turning to the dog, snarling with hate of the prowling thing she had destroyed, Jean led her away.
“Fleur, ma petite!” he cried. “She take good care of Jean Marcel while he sleep! Piquet, he thought he keel us both in de tent.” The great dog, trembling with the heat of battle, her mane stiff, yelped excitedly. “She love Jean Marcel, my Fleur! And what a strength she has!” Rearing, Fleur placed her massive forepaws on Marcel’s chest, whining up into his face, then seizing a hand in her jaws, proudly drew him back to the dead man in the snow. ”

“ Getting to his feet, Jean looked for the others, to see the younger brother still nursing his stomach, when an oath sounded in his ears and, struck from the rear, a sharp twinge bit through his shoulder.
Leaping away from a second lunge, and drawing his knife with his left hand, Marcel slashed wildly at the half-breed whom the water had revived, driving him before him. Then, as he fought to reach him, the shape of his retreating enemy slowly faded from his vision; his strength ebbed; the knife slipped from his fingers as darkness shut down upon him, and he reeled senseless to the stones. ”

“ And if any man, white or red, openly doubted his innocence, he would have to answer to Jean Marcel. To be branded on the east coast as the assassin of his partners was a bitter draft for the palate of the proud Frenchman. ”

“ Carrying his fur-pack and outfit to the Mission, Marcel sought the trade-house. Passing the tepees of the Crees, he was forced to stop and receive the congratulations of the admiring hunters on his safe return from his "longue traverse" through the land of demons, which had been the gossip of the post since the arrival of Joe and Antoine.
When his partners appeared, to stare in amazement at the man they had announced as dead, Jean made them wince as he gripped their hands.
"Bo'-jo', Joe! Bo'-jo', Antoine!" he laughed. "You see de Windigo foun' Jean Marcel too tough [Pg 46] to eat! ”

“ Père Breton's laugh interrupted Jean's reply. "Yes, my son. Julie is right. You are too young, you two, to think of anything but your souls."
"Some day, Julie, I will be a Company man and then you will listen to Jean Marcel," and the lad who had cherished the memory of the girl's oval face through the long winter and taken it with him into the dim, blue Ungava hills, left the Mission with head erect and swinging stride.
"Jean, when are you going back to the bush?" inquired Gillies, as Marcel entered the trade-house. ”

“ So, with the letter of the factor, on which he could draw supplies at the southern posts, Jean Marcel shook the hands of his friends and, sliding his canoe into the ebb tide, started south as the dying sun gilded the flat bay to the west. He waved his hand in farewell to the group of company men on the shore. He saw above them the figures of Julie Breton and the priest. As Julie held aloft something white, she and her brother were joined by a man. It was Inspector Wallace. ”

“ As Jean shoved off the Lelacs' canoe, the half- [Pg 217] breeds, as if at a preconcerted signal, shouted loudly:
"W'at you do to us, Jean Marcel? Ough! Why you beat me wid de paddle? He try to keel us!"
The near beach was deserted, but the shouts in the still night were audible on the post clearing above. The uproar waked the sleeping huskies at the few remaining Esquimo tepees on the shore, whose howling quickly aroused the post dogs. ”

“ One August evening found three friends, Julie, Jean Marcel, and Fleur, again walking on the shore of the Great Whale in the mellow sunset. Romping with puppy awkwardness, Fleur’s progeny roved near them. The hush of an August night was upon the land. Below, the young ebb ran silently without ripple. Not a leaf stirred in the scrub edging the trail. The dead sun, master artist, had limned the heavens with all the varied magic of his palette, and the gray bay, often sullenly restless under low-banked clouds or blanketed with mist, now reached out, a shimmering floor, to the rim of the world. ”

“ Jean Marcel!” gasped Jules, recognizing his friend. “He ees cut bad?”
The Husky shook his head. “He not kill!”
Staring at the dead man transfixed by the spear and his unconscious father, Jules roared: “De t’ief, dey try revange on Jean Marcel!”
Stripping off his own shirt, Jules bandaged Marcel’s shoulder. As he worked, one thing he told himself. Had they killed Marcel, the Lelacs would not have gone south for trial. Father and son would never have left the beach at Whale River alive. ”

“ At the yelp of Jules' approaching team the dogs of Marcel pricked drooping ears. Stopping them, Jean waited for Hunter.
"Dey sen' team. Eet ees ovair, M'sieu! We mak' Whale Riviere een t'ree day and half, but she—she may not be dere."
Too tired to speak, Hunter slumped on the sled. With a yell, Jules reached Marcel and gathered him into his arms.
"By Gar, Jean! You crazee fool; you stop for noding! Tiens! I damn glad to see you, Jean Marcel!"
The fearful Marcel gasped out the question, "Julie! Ees she dere? Does she leeve?"
"Oui, mon ami; she ees alive. You save her life." ”

“ 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."
[Pg 184] Sadly Marcel shook his head. "They will speak of me now, from Fort George to Mistassini, as the man who killed his partners." ”

“ With a shout of warning to those above, Jean Marcel ran down the beach. His canoe was out of reach on the cache with the Husky's kayak, and the clumsy skin umiak of the family was useless for quick work. In his sealskin boots and clothes the lad would be carried to the foot of the rapids and drowned. Jean reached the "boilers" below the white-water before the body of the helpless Esquimo appeared. Plunging into the ice-cold river [Pg 26] he swam out into the current below the tail of the chute, and when the half-drowned lad floundered to the surface, seized him by his heavy hair. ”

“ Among the assembled half-breeds and Crees there were two distinct factions; those who had readily accepted the story of the Lelacs with its sinister indictment of Marcel—among whom were the kinsmen of Antoine Beaulieu; and those who, knowing Jean Marcel as well as his unsavory accusers, had refused to accept the half-breeds’ tale, and were waiting with eagerness to hear Marcel’s defense. Outside the trade house chattering groups of young men and Cree women were gathered awaiting the outcome of the proceedings. ”

“ It was not long before the bands of steel cable which swathed the arms, shoulders and back of Jean Marcel overcame the delirious strength of the crazed half-breed, and Lelac was forced down and held on his back. Then like the jaws of a wolf trap, the fingers of Marcel’s right hand shut on the throat of the under man. The bloodshot eyes of Lelac bulged from their sockets. Blood filled the distorted face. The mouth gaped for air barred by the vise on the throat. In a last feeble effort to free himself, a helpless hand clawed limply at Marcel’s wrist—then he relaxed, unconscious, on the beach. ”

“ After vainly hoping that the insurrection of the Jacquerie might turn to his advantage, he next supported the king of Navarre, whose armed bands infested the neighbourhood of Paris. On the night of the 31st of July Marcel was about to open the gates of the capital to them, but Jean Maillart prevented the execution of this design, and killed him before the Porte Saint-Antoine. During the following days his adherents were likewise put to death, and the dauphin was enabled to re-enter Paris. Étienne Marcel married first Jeanne de Dammartin, and secondly Marguerite des Essars, who survived him. ”

“ CHAPTER XXV. During the tense days when the fever heightened and the life of Jean Marcel hung on the turn of a leaf, there had been no repetition of the visit of Fleur to the sick room. But so loudly did she wail her complaint at her enforced absence from the man battling for his life so near in the mission house, that it was necessary to confine her with her puppies at a distance. ”

“ Well, Joe he lak' eet boiled."
Returning, Jean ate heartily of the lake trout. When he had finished and lighted his pipe, he said: "You weel fin' de beaver on de cache. I leeve een de morning for Salmon riviere country."
"W'at, you goin' leave us, Jean?" cried Antoine visibly disturbed.
"Oui, I don't trap wid t'ief!" The cold eyes of Marcel bored into those of Beaulieu which wavered and fell. But Piquet accepted the challenge.
"W'at you t'ink, Jean Marcel, you geeve dose feesh to de dog w'en we starve?" he sullenly demanded. "We eat de dog, also, before we starve." ”

“ Wallace,” rasped Gillies, “that Marcel fought them with his hands, until he was cut, one man against three. If he had used his knife on the old man, he wouldn’t have been hurt. Does that prove what we’ve told you about him?”
It was at this point that Julie Breton and her brother, late in hearing the news, reached Jules carrying his burden, whose bandages were now reddening with blood.
“Oh, Jules, is he badly hurt?” cried the girl, peering in the dusk at the ashen face of Marcel. Then she noticed the bandages and, putting her hands to her face, moaned: “Jean Marcel, what have they done to you ”

“ As Fleur drew him swiftly over the trail, ice-hard from much traveling, Jean decided that, if Antoine wished to fight out the winter in the Salmon country, for the sake of their old friendship he would overlook the half-breed’s weakness under Piquet’s influence and offer to take him. Dawn was wavering in the gray east when Marcel reached the silent camp. He called loudly to wake the sleeping man inside. ”

“ Holding the aroused Fleur with difficulty on her rawhide leash, Marcel snowshoed through the timber in the direction from which the sound had come. After traveling some time they stopped to listen. From somewhere ahead, seemingly but a few hundred yards down the valley, floated the eerie sobbing. Michel’s gun slipped to the snow from his palsied hands. Turning, Jean gripped the boy’s arm.
“Why you come? You no good to shoot. De Windigo eat you w’ile you hunt for your gun.” ”

“ Jean looked at his photograph placed on the closed piano and crowned with a wreath of roses. He spoke of him as Marcel would have wished to be spoken of—simply and nobly. He had that rare gift of choosing the right word, which paints the truth with no undue softening, with no undue emphasis. His voice, though sweet and caressing in its sympathy with pain, still revealed the strength of the man beneath. It banished all weakness and despair. It encouraged and comforted and even found [Pg 285] a solace in death. ”

“ Père Henri still shunned the issue.
"Where?" demanded Marcel.
"Buried on the river shore!"
"They lie!" As Marcel had anticipated, the half-breeds had embellished the sufficiently damning evidence of the cache. He realized that he faced a battle with men who would not scruple to [Pg 161] lie when the stark facts already looked badly enough.
"They never were truthful people, my son. We have hoped and prayed for your coming to clear up the mystery."
Jean put Fleur in the stockade and returned to the house. Julie Breton stood in the doorway. ”

“ At the words of the factor the trade room became a bedlam of chattering and excited Indians. In the North, to steal the fur of another is one of the cardinal sins. The supporters of Marcel loudly exulted in the turn the hearing had taken, while the deluded adherents of the Lelacs, maddened by the villainy of men who had stolen from the dead and accused another, loudly cursed the half-breeds.
Nonplused, paralyzed by the trick of the factor, instigated by the adroit Marcel, the Lelacs sent murderous looks at Jean who smiled contemptuously in their faces. ”

“ Life had little value to him now, he would give these thieves what they were after. “You ’fraid to come on shore? You squeal lak’ rabbit; you t’ief!” he taunted.
Continuing to shout that Marcel was attacking them, the Lelacs landed their canoe and the elder son, evidently drunk, lurched toward the man who waited.
“Rabbit, am I?” roared the frenzied half-breed, and struck savagely at Jean with his paddle. ”

“ Now, Jean," he continued, "I am perfectly satisfied with your story. I believe every word of it. I knew your father and I know you. The Marcels are not liars. But the Lelacs are going to make trouble over the evidence they found at your camp. Suspicion always points to the survivor in a starvation camp, and you know the circumstances are against you, my lad."
"M'sieu," Marcel protested. "Eef I keel Antoine, I would tak' heem into de bush and hide heem, I would not worry ovair de fox and wolverine." ”

“ They won't believe that the famine got Piquet in [Pg 168] the head. They'll say that's a tale you made up to get yourself off."
Marcel went hot with anger. His impulse was to seek the Lelacs and have it out, then and there. But he possessed the cool judgment of a long line of ancestors whose lives had often depended on their heads, so he choked back his rage.
"Now I don't want it carried down the coast that you killed your partners, Jean," went on Gillies. "Young as you are, you'll never live it down. ”

“ Marcel turned on McCain grimly. "Could you eat de dog dat save your life?"
"No, by God! I'd starve first!" thundered the Scotchman.
"I love dat dog," said Jean quietly, and went on with his tale.
Breathless, they heard how he had pushed deeper and deeper beyond the hunting grounds of the Crees into the nameless barrens until he reached streams flowing northeast into Ungava Bay, and at last met [Pg 166] the returning caribou; how the great strength of Fleur beat the drag of the net, when he was slowly freezing in the lake; and then he came to his return to the Ghost. ”