He looked a
wreck; but a handsome wreck. His refined features, his soft black beard
and blue eyes, his graceful hand and gentle manners, seemed not to belong
to an evil-hearted man. He sat in the sunlight at the door, wrapped about
in moose and beaver skins. The world of plain and wood was glad. Not so
Lepage. He sat and thought of what was to come. He had hoped at times
that he would die, but twice Hume had said: "I demand your life. You owe
it to your wife--to me." He had pulled his heart up to this demand and
had lived. But what lay before him? He saw a stony track, and he
shuddered.
As he sat there facing the future, Hume came to him and said: "If you
feel up to it, Lepage, we will start for Edmonton on Monday. I think it
will be quite safe, and your wife is anxious. I shall accompany you as
far as Edmonton; you can then proceed by easy stages, in this pleasant
weather. Are you ready to go?"
"Quite ready," was the reply.
X
On a beautiful May evening Lepage, Hume, and the White Guard were
welcomed at Fort Edmonton by the officer in command of the Mounted
Police. They were to enjoy the hospitality of the fort for a couple of
days.
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