Some are good men, and you don't want to walk into trouble," pleaded the factor.
"Well, I go to Coocoocache, jes' de same. I wan' to know eef dey found—Marie," and, in spite of his efforts to control his emotion, the deep-set eyes of the voyageur went misty with tears as he uttered his wife's name.
"The winter packet brought no news of her," said McCready gently, "only this government order for your arrest. They may be waiting at Coocoocache now on the very chance of your showing up there this spring."
I mus' go. Eet ees no matter—my life—now. Dey mus' found her down riviere somewhere. I mus' go to her grave."
"Well, I suppose you'll go, anyway, but travel by night and don't hang around Coocoocache; the railroad people will hear of it and try to get you. This thing will blow over in a year or so if you keep out of the way."
So Hertel traded his fur with McCready and left for Coocoocache.
It was a soft afternoon on which he neared the bend in the river above the post. A few hours before he had passed, at a distance, the construction camp and contractors' shacks at the End-of-Steel, now moved miles above the location of the previous summer. Doubtless, thinking him a travelling Cree, they had paid him no attention.
As Hertel neared the bluff which shut from his view the buildings of the post below and the island
