But all the time, stirred by that seeking, wanderlust spirit--still hoping to find the old home and his mother--he traveled into the north and east.
And this was straight into the trapping country of Pierrot, the half-breed.
Pierrot, until two years ago, had believed himself to be one of the most fortunate men in the big wilderness.

That was before La Mort Rouge--the Red Death--came.

He was half French, and he had married a Cree chief's daughter, and in their log cabin on the Gray Loon they had lived for many years in great prosperity and happiness.

Pierrot was proud of three things in this wild world of his.

He was immensely proud of Wyola, his royal-blooded wife.