Something warm and comforting touched his lips.

He struggled to bring himself back into life.

He seemed to have been fighting hours before he opened his eyes.

He pulled himself up, stared into the dark, livid face of Jean, the half-breed.
"The hour--has come--" he murmured.
"Yes, the hour has come, M'sieur!" cried Jean.

"The swiftest teams and the swiftest runners in this part of the Northland are on the trail, and by morning the forest people will be roused from here to the Waterfound, from the Cree camp on Lobstick to the Gray Loon waterway! Drink this, M'sieur.