“There is one who has lived here since the last plague,” replied Croisset under his breath.  “He lost his wife and children and it drove him mad.  That is why we came down so quietly.  He lived in a little cabin out there on the edge of the clearing, and when I went to it to-night there was a sapling over the house with a flag at the end of it.  When the plague comes to us we hang out a red flag as a warning to others.  That is one of our laws.  The flag is blown to tatters by the winds.  He is dead.”

Howland shuddered.

“Of the smallpox?”

“Yes.”

For a few moments they stood in silence.  Then Croisset added, “You will remain here, M’seur, until I return.”

He went out, closing and barring the door from the other side, and Howland seated himself again in the chair beside the table.  Fifteen minutes later the half-breed returned, bearing with him a good-sized pack and a two-gallon jug.

“There is wood back of the stove, M’seur.  Here is food and water for a week, and furs for your bed.  Now I will cut those thongs about your wrists.”

“Do you mean to say you’re going to leave me here alone—­in this wretched prison?” cried Howland.

“Mon Dieu, is it not better than a grave, M’seur?  I will be back at the end of a week.”

The door was partly open and for the last time there came to Howland’s ears the mourning howl of the old dog on the mountain top.  Almost threateningly he gripped Croisset’s arm.

“Jean—­if you don’t come back—­what will happen?”

He heard the half-breed chuckling.

“You will die, M’seur, pleasantly and taking your own time at it, which is much better than dying over a case of dynamite.  But I will come back, M’seur.  Good-by!”

Again the door was closed and bolted and the sound of Croisset’s footsteps quickly died away beyond the log walls.  Many minutes passed before Howland thought of his pipe, or a fire.  Then, shiveringly, he went to seek the fuel which Jean had told him was behind the stove.  The old bay stove was soon roaring with the fire which he built, and as the soothing fumes of his pipe impregnated the damp air of the room he experienced a sensation of comfort which was in strange contrast to the exciting happenings of the past few days.

At last he was alone, with nothing to do for a week but eat, sleep and smoke.  He had plenty of tobacco and an inspection of the pack showed that Croisset had left him well stocked with food.  Tilted back in a chair, with his feet on the table, he absorbed the cheerful heat from the stove, sent up clouds of smoke, and wondered if the half-breed had already started back into the South.  What would MacDonald say when Jackpine came in with the report that he had slipped to his death in the waterfall?  Probably his first move would be to send the most powerful team on the Wekusko in pursuit of Gregson and Thorne.  The departing engineers would be compelled to return, and then—­