Are you hungry, M'seur ?" "Starved!" said Howland.
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.