He stumbled a few steps out into the snow, the numbness in his limbs forcing him to catch at trees and saplings to save himself from falling.  He was astonished at Croisset’s words and more confused than ever at the half-breed’s assurance that his life was no longer in immediate peril.  To him this meant that Meleese had not only warned him but was now playing an active part in preserving his life, and this conclusion added to his perplexity.  Who was this girl who a few hours before had deliberately lured him among his enemies and who was now fighting to save him?  The question held a deeper significance for him than when he had asked himself this same thing at Prince Albert, and when Croisset called for him to return to the camp-fire and breakfast he touched once more the forbidden subject.

“Jean, I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he said, seating himself on the sledge, “but I’ve got to get a few things out of my system.  I believe this Meleese of yours is a bad woman.”

Like a flash Croisset struck at the bait which Howland threw out to him.  He leaned a little forward, a hand quivering on his knife, his eyes flashing fire.  Involuntarily the engineer recoiled from that animal-like crouch, from the black rage which was growing each instant in the half-breed’s face.  Yet Croisset spoke softly and without excitement, even while his shoulders and arms were twitching like a forest cat about to spring.

“M’seur, no one in the world must say that about my Mariane, and next to her they must not say it about Meleese.  Up there—­” and he pointed still farther into the north—­“I know of a hundred men between the Athabasca and the bay who would kill you for what you have said.  And it is not for Jean Croisset to listen to it here.  I will kill you unless you take it back!”

“God!” breathed Howland.  He looked straight into Croisset’s face.  “I’m glad—­it’s so—­Jean,” he added slowly.  “Don’t you understand, man?  I love her.  I didn’t mean what I said.  I would kill for her, too, Jean.  I said that to find out—­what you would do—­”

Slowly Croisset relaxed, a faint smile curling his thin lips.

“If it was a joke, M’seur, it was a bad one.”

“It wasn’t a joke,” cried Howland.  “It was a serious effort to make you tell me something about Meleese.  Listen, Jean—­she told me back there that it was not wrong for me to love her, and when I lay bound and gagged in the snow she came to me and—­and kissed me.  I don’t understand—­”

Croisset interrupted him.

“Did she do that, M’seur?”

“I swear it.”

“Then you are fortunate,” smiled Jean softly, “for I will stake my hope in the blessed hereafter that she has never done that to another man, M’seur.  But it will never happen again.”

“I believe that it will—­unless you kill me.”

“And I shall not hesitate to kill you if I think that it is likely to happen again.  There are others who would kill you—­knowing that it has happened but once.  But you must stop this talk, M’seur.  If you persist I shall put the rawhide over your mouth again.”