From the day after the caribou roast the fur-gatherers began
scattering. The Eskimos left the next morning. On the second day
Mukee's people from the west set off along the edge of the barrens.
Most of the others left by ones and twos into the wildernesses to the
south and east.

Less than a dozen still put off their return to the late spring
trapping, and among these were Jean de Gravois and his wife. Jean
waited until the third day. Then he went to see Jan. The boy was
bolstered up in his cot, with Cummins balancing the little Melisse on
the edge of the bed when he came in.

For a time Jean sat and watched them in silence; then he made a sign
to Cummins, who joined him at the door.

"I am going the Athabasca way to-day," he said. "I wish to talk with
the boy before I go. I have a word to say to him which no ears should
hear but his own. Will it be right?"

"Talk to him as long as you like," said Cummins, "but don't worry him
about the missionary. You'll not get a word from him."

Jan's eyes spoke with a devotion greater than words as Jean de Gravois
came and sat close beside him. He knew that it was Jean who had
brought him alive into the post, and now there was something in the
suggestive grimacing of the Frenchman's face, and in the eagerness
with which he looked over his shoulder, as if he was not quite sure
but that the walls held ears, that caused the boy's heart to beat a