Already the handful of people at the fort had gathered. Indians left the
store, and joined the rest; the factor and Sergeant Gosse set out to meet
the little army of relief. To the factor's "In the name of the Hudson's
Bay Company, Mr. Hume," when they met there came "By the help of God,
sir," and he pointed to the sled whereon Lepage lay. A feeble hand was
clasped in the burly hand of the factor, and then they all fell into line
again, Cloud-in-the-Sky running ahead of the dogs. Snow had fallen on
them, and as they entered the stockade, men and dogs were white from head
to foot.

The White Guard had come back. Jaspar Hume as simply acknowledged his
strident welcome as he had done the God-speed two months and more ago.
With the factor he bore the sick man in, and laid him on his own bed.
Then he came outside again, and when they cheered him once more, he said:
"We have come safe through, and I'm thankful. But remember that my
comrades in this march deserve your cheers more than I. Without them I
couldn't have done anything."

"In our infirmities and in all our dangers and necessities," added Jeff
Hyde. "The luck of the world was in that book!"

In another half-hour the White Guard was at ease, and four of them were
gathered about the great stove in the store, Cloud-in-the-Sky smoking
placidly, and full of guttural emphasis; Late Carscallen moving his
animal-like jaws with a sense of satisfaction; Gaspe Toujours talking in
Chinook to the Indians, in patois to the French clerk, and in broken
English to them all; and Jeff Hyde exclaiming on the wonders of the
march, the finding of Lepage at Manitou Mountain, and of himself and
Gaspe Toujours buried in the snow.