The Emmett index., 1911-09-14

vengeful malignity when he drew slow
ly from an inside pocket of his coat a
small parcel wrapped and tied in soft
buckskin.
They have sent you this. m'seur,"
he said. "'Af the very last they told
me. let him read this"
With his eyes on the parcel. scarce
ly breathing. HOwisnd waited while
with exasperatiHg SlowneSs CrUisspt's
brown fingers united the cord that Sc
cured it.
First you must understand what
this meant 10 us in the north. m'seur."
said Jean. his hands covering the par
Gel 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-a lifetime
Is not too long TO spend In avenging a
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-
tion. SO it happened that | was like
a brother to Meleese and the other
three. The years passed, and the de-
sire for vengeance grew in us as we
became older until it 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.
IN seur. II was three years later.
while she was still in Montreal. that
went on one of my wandering
searches To post at the head OF he
Great Slave. and there. m'seur-
there
CroiSspt had risen. His long arms
were stretched high. his head thrown
back. his upturned face afiame win a
passion that was almost mat of
prayer
"M'Seur. ! thank the great God Of
heaven thar it was given to lean Crois-
set TO meet one of those whom we had
pledged our lives to find. and | slew
him. 1t was the father. and ! killed
ing him of what he had done as chOk
ed the life from him-aud then. little
al a time. I let the life DaCk into him.
forcing him to tell me where ! would
find his son. the slayer of MeIeeSes 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 ne was dead. That
was six years ago. m'seur
Howland was scarcely breathing.
And the other. the son" he whis-
pered tensely- you found him. CrOis.
set! You killed him."
What would you nave done. m'seur?"
Howland's hands gripped those that
guarded the little parcel.
81 would have killed him. Jean"
He spoke slowly. deliberately.
81 would have killed him. he repeat
ed
81 am glad of that. m'seur."
lean was unwrapping the buckskin.
fold after fold of it. 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 a reckoning OF
incidents as 40 pass, as have heard
that sea captains do on shipboard. Ii
has been a company law for hundreds
of years. We have Kept these pages to
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 forefnger pointing to the first
few lines.
They came on this day." he said.
bis breath close to the engineers ear.
These are their names, m'seur-the
names of the two who destroyed the
paradise that our Blessed Lady gave
to US many years ago"
In an instant HOwland had read the
ines. His blood seemed to dry IN his