"Helas! He is there in the hospital," he answered, and nodded towards
a building not far away, which had been part of an old Hudson's Bay
Company's fort. It had been hastily adapted as a hospital for the
smallpox victims.

"Oh, it's Meydon, is it, that bad case I heard of to-day?"

The priest nodded again and 'pointed. "Voila, Madame Meydon, she is
coming. She has seen him--her hoosban'."

Finden's eyes followed the gesture. The little widow of Jansen was
coming from the hospital, walking slowly towards the river.

"As purty a woman, too--as purty and as straight bewhiles. What is the
matter with him--with Meydon?" Finden asked, after a moment.

"An accident in the woods--so. He arrive, it is las' night, from Great
Slave Lake."

Finden sighed. "Ten years ago he was a man to look at twice--before he
did It and got away. Now his own mother wouldn't know him--bad 'cess to
him! I knew him from the cradle almost. I spotted him here by a knife-
cut I gave him in the hand when we were lads together. A divil of a
timper always both of us had, but the good-nature was with me, and I
didn't drink and gamble and carry a pistol. It's ten years since he did
the killing, down in Quebec, and I don't suppose the police will get him
now. He's been counted dead. I recognised him here the night after I
asked her how she liked the name of Finden. She doesn't know that I ever
knew him. And he didn't recognise me-twenty-five years since we met
before! It would be better if he went under the sod. Is he pretty sick,