The men I recognized at once. One was Cullen, the bookkeeping automaton; the other two were half-breed packers. They halted at sight of us, and from their actions I believe they would have turned tail if Barreau had not called to them. Then they came up to the fire. “Where now?” Barreau demanded. “We go back on ze pos’, M’sieu,” one of the breeds declared. “What of the others?” Barreau asked sharply. “And why do you turn back?” “Because Ah’m not weesh for follow ze fat trader an’ die een som’ snowbank, me,” the breed retorted sullenly. “M’sieu Barreau knows zat ze Companie has taken ze pos’, eh?” “I do,” Barreau answered. “Go on.” “Ze Black Factor hees say to heem, ‘w’y not you stay teel ze spreeng,’ but M’sieu Montell hees not stay, an’ hees mak talk for us to com’ wees heem on ze sout’ trail. Eet don’ mak no diff’rence to me, jus’ so Ah’m geet pay, so Ah’m tak ze ol’ woman an’ com’ long. Montell hees heet ’er up lak hell. Ever’ seeng she’s all right. Zen las’ night som’body hees mak sneak on ze camp an’ poison ze dog—ever’ las’ one—an’ hees steal som’ of ze grub, too. Zees morneeng w’en Jacques Larue an’ me am start out for foller dees feller’s track, hees lay for us an’ tak shot at us. Firs’ pop hees heet Larue—keel heem dead, jus’ lak snap ze feenger. Ah’m not go on after zat. MacLeod she’s too dam’ far for mak ze treep wit’ no dog for pull ze outfeet. Not me. Ah’m gon’ back on ze pos’. Ze Companie hees geev me chance for mak leeveeng. For why som’body hees poison ze dog an’ bushwhack us Ah don’ can say; but Ah know for sure Montell hees dam’ crazee for try to go on.” “You, too, eh, Cullen?” Barreau observed. “Oh, you are certainly brave men.” “He was a fool to start,” Cullen bristled; the first time I had ever seen a flash of spirit from the man of figures, “and I am not fool enough to follow him when it is plain that he is deliberately matching himself against something bigger than he is. There was no reason for starting on such a hard trip. The Hudson’s Bay men did us no harm. The factor did advise him to stay there till spring opened—I heard him, myself. But he was bound to be gone. Whoever is dogging him means business, and I have no wish to die in a snowbank—as Jean puts it.” “How was the taking of the post managed?” Barreau asked him next. Cullen shook his head. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “It was just at daylight of the morning you left for Three Wolves camp. Somebody yelled, and I ran out of the cookhouse where I sat eating breakfast. The yard was full of Company men. And when I got to the store why there was Montell making terms with the Company chief; a tall, black-mustached man. We started within an hour of that. Montell seemed in great haste. He is determined to go on. I felt sorry for Miss Montell. I tried to show him the madness of attempting to walk several hundred miles with only what supplies we could carry on our shoulders. _He_ wouldn’t turn back, though.”