Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1911-08-15
small parcel wrapped and tied in soft

small parcel wrapped and tied in sofl
buckskin.
'They have sent you this. m'seur.
he said. "'At the very last they tolt
me. let him read this
With his eyes on the parcel. scarce
ly breathing. Howland waited while
with exasperating slowness Croisset's
brown fingers united the cord that Sc
cured it.
First you must understand what
this meant to us in the north. m'seur.'
said Jean. his hands covering the par
eel after he had finished with the cord
I'VE are different who live up here
different from those who live in Mont
real and beyond. With us lifetime
is not too long to spend in avenging q
cruel wrong. 1t Is our honor Of the
north. was fifteen then and had
been fostered by the factor and his
wife since the day my mother died OF
the smallpox and | dragged myself
into the post. almost dead Of starva-
ton. So 1t happened that ] was like
brother to Meleese and the other
three. The years passed. and the de-
sire for vengeance grew In US as we
became older until 1t was the one
thing that We most desired in life.
even filing the gentle heart Of Me.
leese. whom we sent to school In
Montreal when she was eleven.
m mseur. 1t was three years later.
while she was still in Montreal. that
I went on one Of my wandering
searches to q post at the head Of the
Great Slave. and there. m'seur-
there
Croisset had risen. His long arms
were stretched high. his head thrown
back. his upturned face afame with a
passion that was almost that OF
prayer.
"M'seur. thank the great God Of
heaven that 1t was given to Jean Crois-
set to meet one Of those whom we had
pledged our lives to find. and slew
him. 1t was the father. and l killed
him, m'seur-killed him slowly. tell
ing him Of what he had done as chok-
ed the life from him-and then. little
at a time, let the life back into him,
forcing him to tell me where would
find his son. the slayer Of Meleese's IA
ther. And after that closed on his
throat until he was dead, and my dogs
dragged his body through 300 miles OF
snow that the others might look on
him and know that he was dead. That
was six years ago, m'seur."
Rowland was scarcely breathing.
And the other. the son." be whis-
pered tensely-"you found him. Crois'
set? You killed himT
what would you have done, m'seurT'
Howland's hands gripped those that
guarded the little parcel.
II would have killed him. Jean."
He spoke slowly. deliberately.
81 would have killed him." he repeat
ed.
IL am glad Of that. m'seur."
Jean was unwrapping the buckskin.
fold after fold Of 1t. until at last there
was revealed roll Of paper. soiled and
yellow along the edges.
These pages are taken from the
daybook at the post where the woman
lived" he explained softly. smoothing
them under his hands. Each day the
factor of a post keeps reckoning OF
incidents as they pass. as / have heard
that sea captains do on shipboard. 1t
has been a company law for hundreds
of years. We have kept these pages to
ourselves. m'seur. They tell Of what
happened at our post sixteen years ago
this winter"
AS he spoke the half breed came to
Howlands side. smoothing the first
page on the table in front Of him. his
slim forehnger pointing to the first
few lines.
"They came on this day." he said.
his breath close to the engineers ear.
These are their names, mseur-the
names of the two who destroyed the
paradise that our Blessed Lady gave
to US many years ago"
In an instant Rowland had read the
lines. His blood seemed to dry in his
veins and his heart to stand still. For
these were the words he read. "On this
Oay there came to our post from the
,,hurchill way John Howland and bis
pon."
With a sharp cry he sprang to his
feet. overturning the stool. racing
Croisset. his hapds clinched. his body
bent as II about TO spring Jean stood
calmly. his white teeth a-gleam Then
slowly he stretched out a hand.
"M'seur John Howland. will you read
what happened to the father and moth
er of the little MeIeese sixteen year.
ago? Will you read and understand
why your life was sought on the Great
North trail. why you were placed on
case of dynamite In the Wekusko
coyote and why. with the coming OF
this mornings dawn. at g.
With the dazed speeshlessness OF
one recovering from a sudden blow
Rowland turned to the table and bent
over the papers that the Frenchman
had laid out before him. Five minutes
later be raised his head. His face was
as white as chalk. Deep lines had set
tied about bis mouth. AS sick mar
might. he lifted his hand and passed II
over his face and through his hair
But his eyes were afire. InvoluntarilJ
Jeans body gathered itself as II tt
meet attack.
81 have read It" he said huskily al
though the speaking Of the words caus
ed him a great effort. II understand
now. Ny name Is John Rowland. Ant
my fathers name was John Rowland
I understand. And you, Jean Croisse
do you believe that I am that Johl
Howland-the John Howland. the Sol
| who
"M'seur. It makes no difference what
! believe now. / have but one othel
thing to tell you here and one thinf
to give to you." replied Jean. "Thoss
who have tried to kill you are thu
three brothers. Meleese IL their sis
ter. Ours is a strange country. m'seur
governed since the beginning OF oul
time BY lays which We have made our