He was a fur trapper , one of the best . People at Lower Fort Garry called him " the Frenchman " . They thought he was my friend because I 'd been to his cabin and let him sleep in my room when he came to town . He wasn 't . I barely knew him ; he kept tight as a clam and didn 't say much about anything , least of all about himself . He started to open up a bit after the half - breed came to live with him , the one he called Corniaud . I didn 't even know his name until I found the note he left . I speak a little French , not enough to carry on a real conversation , and I can 't read it , so I didn 't understand what he 'd written . But what he 'd scribbled at the bottom of the page was obviously his signature and his name was - had been - Pierre Charcut . I brought the note to Dr . Burnham , who translated it for me . " This is crazy , " he said , " makes no sense at all . No way of telling what that Frenchman 's talking about . " But I understood . Though the Frenchman never told me his name , he must have known mine , must have heard people call me by it , but I can 't remember him using it when he spoke to me . He didn 't use names at all . To him everyone was " you " or " he " or " she " , sometimes with a description like " the tall one " or " the one with the broken nose " so you 'd know which " he " he meant . Corniaud was the exception , and of course that was just what the Frenchman called him , not his real name , his Indian name . Corniaud called the Frenchman " Miishaakozhe " . They didn 't say much to each other . When they did , it was hard to follow what they were saying because they spoke a mixture of French , English and an Indian language the Frenchman said was Ojibwe . They may have talked more when they were alone together , but I doubt it . As if starved for conversation , Corniaud couldn 't shut up when I was with them , although speaking English was a struggle for him . I asked Corniaud about the name he 'd given the Frenchman . He said it meant hairy body , a good description , I thought , not that I ever saw more of him than his head : the shaggy , dark shoulder - length mane , bushy eyebrows and thick beard . His hairy hands , too . Only Corniaud knew what he looked like under his buckskins . They were lovers , after all . He didn 't keep Corniaud with him just to talk . If other people suspected , they kept it to themselves , as did I , who knew it for a fact . It neither embarrassed nor disgusted me that they slept together . Who 's to say I wouldn 't have done the same if I were in his place ? Even a loner like the Frenchman can 't live without sex . I don 't think it was by choice he lived with a boy instead of a woman . The Frenchman was not the kind of person who actively seeks companionship . No white woman would have had him even if he lived in town , and I couldn 't imagine he 'd have thought it worth the trouble to haggle for a squaw . Corniaud fell into his lap by chance , and the arrangement suited him . Since Corniaud was half or three - quarters Indian , his skin was smooth as a woman 's . He often went shirtless in hot weather , and his hair hung over his shoulders in two thick braids . It isn 't easy to judge an Indian 's age , but I 'd guess he was under twenty . He had a compact , muscular body and cut a handsome figure in spite of the ugly scars that covered his left upper arm and half his back . Though only an inch or so below average height , he looked tiny standing next to the burly , six - and - a - half - foot Frenchman . His slim hips and narrow shoulders reinforced that impression . The Hudson 's Bay Company sent me to work at their general store at Lower Fort Garry when it was built to replace Upper Garry a few years after the flood . I met the Frenchman when I 'd been there about a month . He rode his horse , Crins - épars - the only creature beside Corniaud he called by name - to the fort no more than two or three times a year , and , instead of trading directly with the Company , he sold his furs to anyone who paid cash and used the money to buy supplies at the Company store . The Frenchman was crouched by the counter bundling up his purchases . I turned back to Joshua Gallingay and apologized again . The new stove he 'd ordered hadn 't arrived on schedule . " It 'll be in the next shipment . You can count on it , " I said . " Should be here in about two weeks . " " Well , I need more than my horse can carry , and I ain 't big on coming here unless I got plenty to trade . I 'll make you a list and you can cart it out when you bring them their stove . I 'll pay . " " Out by the lake , none too far from where you 'll be taking the stove . I 'll meet you at their farm . No way you can drive a wagon all the way to my cabin . " He nodded . " My place ain 't hard to find . No more than half a day away in a wagon . If you set out early enough , you 'll be back before dark . " The Frenchman ignored him , didn 't even thank him . " Just tell me when you 'll be coming by , " he said to me . " Can 't be hanging around waiting for you day after day . " " Why don 't you throw in a barrel of beer for me , too , while you 're at it ? " Gallingay said after the Frenchman had gone . " Make it two . " I reached the Gallingays ' homestead early in the evening . What they called a farm was no more than a cow , three pigs in a sty , a half - dozen chickens , a small vegetable patch , and a half - acre cornfield . Only the sty had a fence around it . The house , however , was bigger than I expected , with an upstairs and two bedrooms . They had three children and were expecting another . The Frenchman wasn 't there waiting for me as promised . Gallingay saw no reason for me to stay until he arrived . " We 'll store what he bought in my woodshed , " he said . " He 'll stop by when he gets the chance . " Mrs . Gallingay , a métis , probably never got to leave the farm and was happy to have a guest . She cooked us a fine supper , better than anything they served at the fort 's canteen , where I ate most of my meals . As soon as we 'd finished , she put their three children to sleep in the same bed so I 'd have one to myself , and I went outside to smoke a pipe with Gallingay while she washed the dishes . I turned in early . I wanted to get on the road at the crack of dawn . I found the Frenchman leaning on the side of the house when I awoke . A scrawny , reddish - brown cow stood chewing the cud a short way off . " Where 's my stuff ? " he asked . Cow or no cow , I found it hard to believe any woman would marry the Frenchman and live alone with him in the woods , miles away from the nearest human habitation . " Sorry for your loss , " I said . I pointed to the cow . " You can put it on her back . " The Frenchman nodded . " That 's why I 'm late . Cow slowed me down . You 'll bring her to Jamison for breeding . " It was more a statement than a request for a favor . I was growing impatient to hand over the supplies . Breeding his cow didn 't concern me . " It 's a long way back to the fort , you know . I don 't want to impose on the Gallingays ' hospitality a second night . " " Ain 't no trouble . You 're more than welcome , " Gallingay assured me . I figured he 'd prefer to get the Frenchman 's things out of his woodshed than have to see him again twice , first for his supplies and then to get his the cow . Before I finished my sentence , the Frenchman had untied a leather pouch from his belt and counted out more than I earned in a month . He obviously had no idea what the Hudson 's Bay Company paid its clerks . Then he tossed Gallingay a silver dollar for the use of his horse and said , " Let 's get started . " The Frenchman didn 't say another word to me until we reached his cabin late that afternoon . I tried to make conversation , but he wouldn 't even grunt an answer . I gave up and passed the time humming to myself . He had built his cabin on a rise , in a stand of pines . It stood in a space not much larger than what he had cleared chopping down the trees to build it . I saw a smoke house a short distance off in the woods . The trees were widely spaced , and grass grew among the pine needles that carpeted the ground between them . The cabin itself was small but comfortable , a single room with a stone fireplace and a sleeping loft high on one side . A fortune 's worth of pelts lay piled on two racks underneath the loft . There was a glass - paned window with wooden shutters near the fireplace and , across from the loft , another door led to a stable for the Frenchman 's cow and Crins - épars . " Room enough in there for Gallingay 's mare even if the cow was with us , " he said , breaking the silence . " Help me get my wares in the cabin . I 'll pay . " He eyed me as if I had offended him , or perhaps he was concerned he had given me too much , which he had . " Then you do it . I 'll take a look at some of the traps I laid out yesterday . Stable the horses if I ain 't back by dark . " " There 's biscuits . " He pointed to a cupboard . I must have looked alarmed , because he added , " There 'll be plenty to eat . I 'll cook when I come back . " He cleared his throat . " Squirrel good enough for you ? " " You sure ? ' Cause if you ain 't , you can go catch us some fish . Lake 's that way . " He jerked his head to one side to show me where the lake was and pointed to a pole in the corner . The traps must have been empty , because he returned in less than two hours with four freshly killed squirrels and nothing else . He skinned , cleaned and spitted them two on a stick , and we roasted them over a fire in front of the cabin since it was too warm to light one inside . He buried a few small wrinkled potatoes in the embers to eat with them . The Frenchman didn 't have a table . We sat on stools and wolfed down our supper from tin plates balanced on our laps , taking swigs from a jug of his homemade whisky . Then he spread a pile of furs in front of the fireplace , said , " You sleep here , " and climbed into the loft . " You sleep here " were the last words I heard him speak until he returned to the fort the following spring . He saw me off without so much as asking if I could find my way to the Gallingays ' . I did , but I probably wouldn 't have had it not been for their horse 's homing instinct . More than once , I was sure I 'd gotten hopelessly lost . I returned home by way of the Gallingays ' and spent another night with them . The two cows were tied together and looked glad for the company . Gallingay explained the story behind the Frenchman 's cow . He brought her to them every other year to be covered . If she calved a heifer , he gave it to the Gallingays as payment ; if a bull , they slaughtered it and split the carcass . All his talk about " I 'll pay " had made me think he was a miser . In fact , he made very free with his money . " That 's mighty generous of him , " I said . The more I learned about the Frenchman , the more he intrigued me . He was back at the fort for supplies and to sell his furs in late spring and again at the end of summer . The second time , Crins - épars was burdened with so many pelts he had to walk beside it . The next spring , he came early , before all the snow had melted , and with much less to sell . " I may want you to deliver what I 'll need for winter , " he told me . " Not sure I 'll be back . Don 't want to leave the cabin . " " I 'll draw you a map . I made a list . Two lists for two trips . Your horse won 't be able to carry everything I need and you too . I 'll pay for the stuff in advance . " " Some bastard 's been stealing from my traps . I mean to catch him and put a bullet in his skull . Tracking him won 't be easy , and I ain 't leaving the cabin till I get him . Could take all summer . If I ain 't here by the end of July , you bring the first load . If I ain 't here by the middle of September , bring the second . " He thought it over and shook his head . " No . If I catch him , I 'll want to come to town to trade what I 've trapped . " The place was deserted . Everything looked the same , except he had built himself a table since the last time I 'd been there . I looked in the stable . The Frenchman had locked the cow and Crins - épars inside and gone off on foot ; I had no idea for how long . The fishing pole was still in the corner . I took it and went to the lake to catch my supper . " Not yet . He 's still at it . " He pointed to the much diminished pile of furs beneath the loft , took the fish from me , and set about cleaning them . He was brooding and spoke even less on that visit than the one before . I was glad to get away in the morning , and made up my mind that if I had to come again , I 'd bring a book . To spend a day saying nothing in someone 's company is worse than the silence of being alone . The weather turned cold and rainy at the end of August . Everyone said winter would come early . The Frenchman had not returned , and I thought it best to bring him his supplies before it snowed . I waited for the rain to stop and then spent all day assembling everything he 'd asked for , and then deciding what to leave behind when I realized it wouldn 't all fit on two horses unless I walked . Walking could take three days , and I had no intention of camping along the way . We walked the quarter - mile down to the lake . I could tell he wanted to talk but was too shy to start . His shyness looked almost like flirting . " Cabin not far . Hear if scared . " Then he pointed to a white cloth bag hanging in the shade from a branch , well out of easy reach and exposed to the breeze coming off the lake . " Miishaakozhe make cheese , " he said , and rubbed his belly to show he considered it a delicacy . His shyness didn 't stop him from stripping naked when we got to the lake . His body was so perfect I found myself staring . So as not to give him the wrong idea , I pointed questioningly at his half - healed wounds that were beginning to scar . " Wolf , " he said , " very big . " He closed his hand in a fist in front of his navel and abruptly jerked it up to the top of his breastbone , gesturing that he had slit the animal 's belly . To make sure I 'd understood , I asked , " You killed it ? " More like him ? That would make the Frenchman very furry indeed . My legs and forearms are moderately hairy , and there 's a little on my chest . On the other hand , it 's less noticeable because I 'm blond . I laughed . " You were wondering if all white men are as hairy as the Frenchman . I don 't know how hairy he is , but I suspect they aren 't . " He ran into the water . I felt relieved his curiosity was confined to my body hair . All in all , I was glad the Frenchman wasn 't living alone and I wouldn 't have to rely on my book to keep my mind occupied . We stayed at the lake for about an hour . The Frenchman had returned while we were swimming . He spoke sharply to Corniaud in simple French . " Pas de feu ? Où étais - tu ? " " I 'll buy the other horse , the gelding . " He jerked his head in Corniaud 's direction . " For him . Can you sell it ? Is it yours ? " " I found him . Mangled and half - dead in the woods with a dead wolf next to him . You see that skin stretched on the frame outside ? " " Found him lying just a few yards from one of my traps , " the Frenchman continued . " It 'd been sprung , but he didn 't do it . There was no blood on it , so nothing had been taken . " I looked at Corniaud . " Felt threatened by that boy ? " I exclaimed . Had he set out to kill a wolf with his bare hands as some kind of rite of passage ? But he 'd told me the wolf was the hunter . Of all the things the Frenchman had told me , that made the least sense , but he seemed to have volunteered all the information he was going to , and Corniaud 's English wasn 't good enough to tell the whole story . " And he 's been here ever since ? " I asked . It wasn 't much of an answer , but what the Frenchman had said about Corniaud wearing the pelt in winter and the way he 'd said it gave me the impression he 'd stay on . " Where 's he from ? " I asked . I thought it more likely the Frenchman hadn 't asked and didn 't care . The boy had been fairly open with me . He didn 't strike me as the kind to hold back information . He looked at it and said , " I 'll come for it myself in October if nothing 's gone missing from my traps . Gonna need more anyway . For Corniaud . " We ate supper in silence . Corniaud seemed in the mood to talk , but the Frenchman made it clear he wasn 't interested in listening to conversation . He made a bed of furs for me by the fireplace while the boy was washing the plates . " You owe me , " he said . " I 'll stay with you if I come . " I lay down to sleep . The Frenchman lit a pipe and sat up smoking until Corniaud had finished his chores . Then he climbed into the loft . The boy followed . The Frenchman didn 't even wait for me to fall asleep . The noises started almost immediately . I knew what they were up to . Not exactly , of course , but more or less , and it was easy to tell who made which sounds . The muffled grunts were the Frenchman 's , the whimpers and sighs came from Corniaud . I could hear that , for the most part , the boy liked what was being done to him . At one point , he stifled a yelp , but after that his moans of pleasure became more insistent and more frequent . The loft began to jiggle and the pace increased . The Frenchman was breathing heavily . They had my full attention . I was in no rush for them to stop so I could go to sleep . Soon it was over . The Frenchman gave a loud , throaty gurgle and Corniaud emitted a long - drawn humming sound like a whine . Then all was quiet . A few minutes later , Corniaud began to whimper , a different kind of whimper from when they were having sex . He sounded frightened . The Frenchman cursed and slapped him hard . At first light , the Frenchman threw some dried fish and pemmican cakes into a sack , grabbed his rifle , and stalked off into the forest . Corniaud came down from the loft and stoked the fire . I was relieved not to see any bruises . I 'd been worried that the Frenchman had roughed him up . How was it his fault ? If the Frenchman felt guilty about having sex with a man , he had only himself to blame . " I don 't believe it , " I said . " What did you do wrong ? " It took a moment before it to hit me . It seemed unreal , it was so improbable . Had his backside gone into spasm ? Could the Frenchman 's penis really be that big ? But what else could he have meant ? " You 're joking , " I said . I tried to reassure him . It could be he felt tense because I was there to overhear them . He looked at me in astonishment , unable to grasp why my presence should have made a difference . I didn 't try to explain . In his village , people must have been able to hear everything that went on in their neighbors ' birchbark huts , and while it isn 't common practice , Indians see nothing shameful in two men having sex with each other . As far as he knew , it was the same for white men . It had happened to me once with a whore many years ago , before I was assigned to the new fort . Her vagina had clamped tight around me and wouldn 't let go . It spooked me , but what could I do ? She was more panicked than me , and I began kissing her so she 'd calm down , first her neck , then her breasts . She relaxed , but now I was hard again , so I took her a second time and pulled out easily when I 'd finished . A vagina is nothing like an arsehole , however . How big was the Frenchman , anyway ? I thought it indiscreet to ask . Instead , I suggested it might have been caused by the position they did it in . " Always same , " he said and tried to explain how they coupled , but couldn 't find the English or French words . " Corniaud , " he said and got down on all fours , his head pressed to the ground and his rump pushed up high . Then , still on his knees he raised his body and thrust his hips back and forth : " Miishaakozhe . " Finally , he imitated the Frenchman trying to pull free of him . He rubbed his buttocks . " Hurt bad . " I made light of it . " Well , he wasn 't stuck there forever , was he ? " The boy forced a smile . " He was right where he wanted to be , " I continued . " Why be in such a hurry to leave ? " Corniaud hadn 't stinted on the details of his couplings with the Frenchman ; he 'd told more than I cared to know . For Indians , sex is a natural human activity like any other , but they don 't go about parading it in front of anyone who 'll listen . Corniaud 's frankness was more than unusual ; it was downright bizarre . He 'd shown no sign of wanting to seduce me . Perhaps the Frenchman belittled him when he got stuck , and the boy needed to get it off his chest . But Indians are stoics . The one thing they do hide is their emotions . Corniaud was young , but he wasn 't a child . He had his pride and , under normal circumstances , would not have bared his soul to his own people , much less a stranger . I could make neither head nor tail of it . I made up my mind to make deliveries whenever the Frenchman wanted . I 'd do more . He 'd be coming to Fort Garry in a month . When he came , I 'd volunteer . So I could see Corniaud again . Already I thought of him as my friend , the difficulty of communicating notwithstanding Only three weeks later , the two of them walked into the general store on a Saturday evening just as we were closing . When the manager shooed them out , the Frenchman grumbled about a day wasted . The Governor made a display of his Christian principles , and the Company conducted no business on Sundays . " That will have to wait until Monday . We 'll put your furs in my room and then go to the canteen for supper . I don 't have a kitchen . " Corniaud 's English was still very limited , but his French had become more proficient than mine in the three weeks since I 'd seen him . The men didn 't like having an Indian at the canteen . He was , of course , a métis , but , as far as I could tell , no white men had had a hand in his upbringing . Since he was affable and polite - he made a point of calling me Mr . Randall while we were there - nobody objected openly . Some found it amusing that he was unabashed at being the only Indian there ; others resented his not knowing his place , and it showed . Corniaud seemed not to notice . We had a whole day before the Frenchman could buy what he needed . I told Corniaud I 'd show him around town . " We can even ride to Upper Garry . They rebuilt it last summer . There 'll be time . It isn 't far . " We spread out furs for their bed . Corniaud quickly took off all his clothes and lay down . He looked disappointed when the Frenchman kept his on . He may not have minded having sex within earshot of me , but of course he wouldn 't mount Corniaud where I could see them . We left the Frenchman in my room and went out to explore the fort and the small settlement around it , stopping at the canteen for coffee . There was nothing to explore , really , not on a Sunday with everything closed except the church , but for Corniaud it was an exploration . We spoke in French . I thought it best not to bring him to church . The service might last two hours or more , he would not be able to follow the prayers , much less the sermon , since it was all in English , and once inside , we would not be able to leave until it had ended . Instead , we went first to Upper Fort Garry . People would be up and about when we got back , and there would be more for him to see than empty streets . It didn 't matter that we would miss lunch at the canteen . We could still find something to eat there mid - afternoon , though not a full meal . We had had a dry summer , and it was a dusty ride . On our way back , I suggested we wash off in the river . It wasn 't what one would call a warm day , but there was no wind and it was too early for the water to have turned cold . The river was low , so we could walk out on the sandy bank away from the mosquitoes . Better that than toting pails of water up to my room for three men to bathe crowded together in such a tiny space . I hadn 't paid attention when Corniaud undressed the night before . I didn 't want the Frenchman to catch me staring . Seeing him naked in the bright afternoon light , I was again struck by how handsome he looked - lean and perfectly proportioned , his movements graceful , his burnished skin unblemished except where the wolf had mauled him . His buttocks were as smooth as ripe plums . I thought of the use the Frenchman made of his bottom , and , knowing it wouldn 't embarrass him , I asked if he still got stuck sometimes . What I really wanted to know was how they were getting along , but Corniaud had never spoken of any aspect of their relationship besides the sexual connection . I didn 't understand the word . He acted out what it meant - buggering . He went on to explain that now he mostly pleasured the Frenchman with his mouth . " Miishaakozhe doesn 't like it as much , " he said in French . " It 's not what he wants . " " Not so much sucking , but I like licking him , licking all over his body . Miishaakozhe doesn 't let me . ' You 're like a dog , ' he says . Corniaud is a dog . " It occurred to me dogs also get stuck together when they mate . I hoped that thought hadn 't crossed his mind . " You 're not a dog , Corniaud , " I said . Did the Frenchman see him only as a plaything to satisfy his lust ? Surely there was more to it than that . They must have talked about other things besides sex , talked a lot , for Corniaud to have learned so much French so quickly . I was afraid of turning him against his Miishaakozhe if I pressed the point . The Frenchman had saved his life . I had no right to interfere . After we 'd eaten something at the canteen , I showed him what little Lower Fort Garry had to offer . Quite a few people were up and about , enjoying the autumn sunshine before the cold drove them indoors for the long winter . I asked Corniaud what he thought of the white man 's settlement . I felt like a tour guide . " He doesn 't get drunk . A glass of whisky , maybe two . Here there was nothing for him to do . I 'm sorry . Now where will you sleep ? " We spread the pelts and lay down in our clothes . Corniaud had told me the Frenchman didn 't drink heavily , but not what he did when he was at the cabin . I asked again , hoping that their living arrangements were advantageous to him , too , and his answer would set my mind at rest . He sat up to show me . He lowered his chin and turned his head to one side . I couldn 't see his eyes in the dark , but I knew what he meant : with suspicion . I wish I could have told him it was because they didn 't know him , but that wouldn 't have been honest . They didn 't look at strangers that way , only Indians . " Not you , " he 'd said , and he 'd asked " With you ? " when I 'd talked about living where there were other people . Would he leave the Frenchman to be with me ? He seemed to like me more . But what would I do with him ? Where would I put him ? At least the Frenchman found him useful . To me he would be a burden . And yet I didn 't want him to leave . The Frenchman spent the morning buying what he needed ; then the three of us had lunch at the canteen . The Frenchman wanted to pay me for the meals Corniaud had eaten and he had missed . I refused to take his money . He wanted to leave right away . " Shouldn 't you stay another night ? " I asked . " You won 't reach the cabin till late tomorrow . " Both horses were loaded with what he 'd bought . They would be on foot . I thought for a moment that he had changed the subject . Then I realized what he meant . " Won 't she be safe in the stable ? They can 't break into it , can they ? " Suddenly he was full of information and didn 't hold back . He leaned in to me and whispered conspiratorially , " Strange . When the wolves are about , he stays up all night listening to them . " " When you hear them howl , it 's from far away . They don 't howl when they 're near the cabin . Can 't hear them at all . You just feel they 're there . It 's eerie , how he sits there for hours huddled in that wolf skin of his . I tell him to ignore them , but he ignores me instead . " " An Indian ? No , it ain 't fear . He doesn 't get all jittery like the horses , doesn 't move a muscle , doesn 't even shiver , and the nights are damn cold . It ain 't fear , I tell you ; it 's fascination . His eyes get as big as my fist . " The Frenchman had never said more than the bare minimum he needed to buy and sell . Now every time he opened his mouth he brought up the wolves . That was all he could talk about . It seemed to me it wasn 't Corniaud who had a fascination for wolves . In my room that night , he said , " I keep thinking : Why my cabin ? Never had trouble with wolves before . Wasn 't that hard a winter . " His question caught me completely off guard . It had nothing to do with wolves . It had nothing to do with anything , as far as I could tell . " I don 't need any more furs , " I said . I figured that he 'd finally realized the sensible thing to do was sell directly to the Company . Why he wanted to go through me was a mystery . Was he offering to make me his partner so he could become a hermit ? Was I supposed to ride out to his cabin , pick up the furs , and then go back and pay him what I 'd got for them ? What would my manager say if I started working for him ? Ten percent of the price of his furs would make me rich in no time . I hadn 't thought about it before , but he probably had a fortune in gold stashed away somewhere in his cabin . I expected him to shake hands on the deal we 'd just made . That is , if we had , in fact , made one . He was hinting at something but hadn 't told me exactly what he had in mind . One morning toward the end of summer , Corniaud came to the fort leading the two horses . He brought so many furs that he couldn 't ride . The Frenchman had stayed behind at the cabin . I can 't say I was disappointed . Corniaud looked the same , but I sensed something different about him . He seemed anxious and withdrawn , less sure of himself . Not shy - he 'd stopped being shy with me . Maybe it was that air of insecurity that made it seem he hadn 't aged at all . Or else he was older than I thought when I met him . " You 'll stay with me tonight , won 't you ? " He looked hesitant . " Don 't you want to ? Your Frenchman won 't know how long it took you to walk here . " The Frenchman kept his distance from him . He 'd stopped speaking to him , wouldn 't let him sleep in the loft , wouldn 't look at him directly , but watched his every move . " The way the white men look at me here , " he said . On the days he spent at home skinning the animals he 'd snared and scraping and curing their pelts , Corniaud would go into the forest and not return until it was time to cook supper . When the Frenchman went to check his traps , he 'd stay away for days at time , sometimes over two weeks , and as soon as he got back , he would hurry to see if his cow and the horses were all right , as if he didn 't trust Corniaud to care for them . Corniaud 's face remained impassive while he told me his troubles , but I could see his distress . Weeks , if not months of silence weighed heavily on him , for he was talkative by nature . Never before had he confided in me , poured out his heart . I made a bed for him of the pelts I had chosen and snuffed out the lantern . He stripped naked and lay down , his body aglow in the light of the full moon shining through the open casement . I also took off everything . It was a hot night . I lay down beside him , but not close . He was as lonely for human contact , for companionship , as he was for speech . " How old are you , Corniaud ? " I asked . The Frenchman had been right . He would not talk about his past . He had stayed with the Frenchman because he would not , or could not , go back to his people . I awoke in the dark , long before sunrise . The moon had set ; the birds were still quiet . Corniaud had moved close to me in his sleep and wrapped his hand around my erect penis . I gently pried his fingers loose , stood up , slipped on my breeches , and lay down on my bed . He was , as he 'd said , a very heavy sleeper . I listened to his soft breathing and watched him as he slept , a shadow veiled in shadows . What fate awaited him at the Frenchman 's cabin ? If only he would leave ! He would , I thought , if I invited him to stay with me . But what would he do here ? Be my servant ? I neither needed one nor could I afford one . And what would people think if I lived in one room with an Indian boy ? The birds began singing and the sky grew lighter . I could see him clearly now , sleeping peacefully . He was very beautiful . If only he were a woman . I tried to imagine him as one . I couldn 't . The evidence he wasn 't lay bare in front of my eyes . I accompanied him to the gates of the fort and watched him ride away . Again I thought , If only he were a woman . I didn 't need a servant , but I would have liked to have a wife . It suddenly occurred to me that I was now in a position to get one . I had chosen the very best of the Frenchman 's pelts for my commission and could sell them for more than the value he 'd put on them , more than enough for the gifts I 'd need to purchase a bride from the Assiniboine . The Indians liked me ; they would readily agree . I treated them with respect and dealt with them fairly . I probably had enough to furnish a small house , too . I could build one myself , a cabin close to the fort . I thanked him . It was not my intention , however , to have an Indian concubine . I 'd marry her in the church . Of course , she 'd have to be baptized first . So , early in October , I made the rounds of the Indian villages and chose a young girl to take home with me . My travels had taken me many miles north of the fort . I decided to look in on Corniaud and his Frenchman before I returned and see if they had resolved their differences . I promised my bride 's father I would be back the next day to fetch her . Corniaud returned after dark . He acknowledged my presence but said nothing . He held up the brace of rabbits he 'd shot and got to work preparing supper . After we 'd eaten , the Frenchman laid out my bed and Corniaud went to sit outside draped in his wolf skin . I would have to wait until morning to speak to Corniaud . I was more anxious than ever to convince him to leave . When I woke before dawn , he was already gone . I assumed he didn 't want the Frenchman to hear what he wanted to tell me , and I would find him waiting for me in the woods on my way back . But he wasn 't . The Frenchman had predicted a hard winter . It was worse than hard ; it was brutal . Toward the beginning of March , the store manager came to me and asked if I knew how to drive a dog sled . " I 'm concerned about the half - dozen families who live off in the woods . Could be running low on provisions . You 're the only one who isn 't a trapper who knows the country north of here . I thought you might be willing to make the rounds and see how they 're doing . Bring them the basics . Cough medicine , too . Wouldn 't surprise me if a lot of them were sick . " " You 've been to the Frenchman 's place . If you can find that , you can find anything . Go to the Gallingays first . They 'll point you in the right direction for the others . " I knew I would go and also stop by the Frenchman 's cabin . Perhaps I could talk Corniaud into coming away with me . " I 'll be gone at least a week , " I said . " What about Martha ? " I had given that name to my Assiniboine wife - to - be . She was unwelcome in the canteen , and I brought her meals to our room , where we ate together . I had staked out a plot of land for the cabin I would build us in summer . My boss promised she wouldn 't go hungry while I was away . It was a few days before I before I could set out . Another heavy snowfall blew in that evening , making it certain the river would overflow its banks come spring and another flood threaten to wash away Upper Garry . After living with me for a little under five months , Martha had only just begun to catch on to English , and I don 't think she realized I was going on a journey until she saw me load the dogsled . I held up eight fingers to let her know how long I 'd be gone . She nodded . I wondered if I oughtn 't bring her to stay in her village , but that would mean a longer time away from the fort , and , for all I knew , her people might have migrated south for the winter . I couldn 't remember another this cold . I didn 't trust myself to keep to the road or recognize the paths hidden beneath several feet of snow , so I followed the river . All the farmsteads were close to it ; only the Frenchman lived off in the woods . I felt confident , however , that I could find the lake where I 'd gone swimming with Corniaud and from there make my way to his cabin . I would go there last , in case I got lost . It would be easy to get back to the river once I 'd found it . I spent each night at a different farm . A couple of them I might not have found if the man in whose house I 'd stayed the night before hadn 't come with me to show the way . Gallingay was sure I 'd get lost trying to find the Frenchman 's cabin and tried to dissuade me from going . I regretted that on previous trips I had relied on landmarks and not made more use of my compass . It was three days ' trek from the last homestead before I reached what I hoped was the right lake . I had to camp in the woods at night . The howling of the wolves made my dogs restless . They seemed ready to bolt . I was afraid to let them out of harness . I couldn 't be sure it was the right lake . I had gone too far north and was at the wrong end of it , but I took it as a good sign the south end was thick with evergreens . The dogs perked up when the cabin came into view and made a beeline for it , but when we pulled up in front of it , they grew distressed and began to whine . The cabin was shrouded in silence and appeared deserted . No smoke rose from the chimney , the double doors of the stable were bolted on the outside , and the drifts lay so high I had to dig my way through to reach the door . I pushed it open and stepped inside . Coming from of the glare of the sun reflected on snow into the darkened room , I did not at first discern the figure hanging by the neck from a beam under the roof . It was the Frenchman . There was no way of telling how long he had been dead . His body was frozen solid . I found his note on the table and stuffed it in my pocket . The bolt was drawn across the door to the adjoining stable . By force of will , I opened it , not knowing what I would find but expecting something dreadful . What I saw there was infinitely more horrible than anything I could have imagined : the carcasses of a cow and two horses , stripped nearly bare of flesh . The stable appeared to have been ransacked : the partitions separating the stalls splintered , the tools and other gear ripped from their place , the leather harnesses half - chewed , claw marks scratched deeply on the walls , wolf spoor mixed in with the fodder scattered across the floor . Off to one side , half - hidden under his wolf skin , I found Corniaud 's ravaged body . The wolves had bitten large chunks out of his legs and back , but they hadn 't picked him clean like the cow and horses . I cut the Frenchman down and hauled his body to the sled to bring it to the fort for burial . The dogs protested the grisly burden ; even after I had piled the furs he had trapped and cured on top of him , they balked . I left what remained of Corniaud under his wolf skin . I would have buried him in the stable , but the earthen floor was frozen hard as rock . I drove the dogs relentlessly and made the trip back to the fort in only a day and a half . I slept fitfully when I camped for the night , my rest disturbed by dreams of attacking wolves . The dogs slept soundly . They calmed down once we had left the cabin behind , and all was quiet in the forest . No wolf howled . I brought the Frenchman 's body to Dr . Burnham . The rope marks on his neck and the note I 'd found left no doubt that he had hanged himself . The doctor read it to me in French and asked , " What do you make of it , Randall ? " I hadn 't told him about Corniaud . He was just an Indian boy like all the others . Nobody will care what I did or believe why I did it . My punishment is in my own hands . I will not shirk it . I can imagine what happened and how . It haunts my dreams . I wake up in a sweat , the vicious growling of the wolves and their gnashing teeth , the panicked whinnying of the horses , the cow 's terrified bellowing , and Corniaud 's screams ringing in my ears . It was a hard winter for everyone , man and beast . The starving wolf pack , drawn by the scent of the stabled animals , prowled night after night around the cabin . Troubled by his absurd fantasy , the Frenchman imagined that it wasn 't hunger that made them bold ; he was convinced Corniaud had summoned them to a feast . Afraid to sleep in the same room as Corniaud , he ordered him into the stable and locked the door behind him . Then he flung the stable doors open and took refuge in the cabin as the wolves swept past him and rushed in for the kill . Half - crazed with hunger , they devoured everything in sight . A wolf will not usually attack a man - the one whose skin Corniaud wore was an exception - even when in a pack , they keep their distance when other prey is available . Now the frenzy of blood lust had overtaken them , and nothing could stop them . Even in my waking hours , the vision will not leave me . I picture the Frenchman barricaded inside his cabin , torn between gloating and terror as he listens to the massacre taking place on the other side of the wall . I see him willing himself to resist the temptation to chase off the marauders , to take his rifle and shoot or light a torch and set fire to their fur . Would that have stopped them ? I think not , but I can 't imagine I would have done nothing . I imagine the Frenchman entering the stable after the wolves have left and staring bewildered at the devastation inside . The reek of blood fills his nostrils and mine . I feel his anguish as the horror of his crime slowly dawns on him . I hear his footsteps in the silent cabin as he slowly walks to get the rope . I watch him hang himself . And my heart aches for my friend , so hideously - and needlessly - destroyed . That , then , is my story . There 's nothing left to tell . The Frenchman 's furs have made me a rich man . I shall use the money to build a real frame house , not a one - room log cabin , with a separate kitchen and three bedrooms for us and our children . Martha is expecting a baby in summer . It won 't do to call him Corniaud if it 's a boy . Perhaps I 'll name him Cornelius . Reply anelviz says : October 4 , 2013 at 12 : 13 am Thank you , Viv and Virgil . " The Frenchman " is among my favorite stories published in Wilde Oats . It is based on an idea I had many , many years ago , at least a quarter - century before I started writing fiction . I wasn 't gay themed back then , nor a historical , and the ending woulkd have been gruesome rather than elegant and chilling . I 'm glad I waited and let it germinate . Recent Comments jaymountney on Little Boy Blue - by Ale … buffalotompeabody on Issue 18 is live ! Issue 19 is up ! Merr … on Issue 19 is up ! Merry Chr … Henry James on Issue 19 is up ! Merry Chr … iameverywhere1 on Issue 17 is up ! SURPRISE Cover Revea … on Rainbow awardsnickthiwerspoon on Ruth Simsnickthiwerspoon on The Queen City Players Pr … Vraiment génial on The Queen City Players Pr … fantasme on Our latest issue is live ! Top Posts & Pages The Male Nurse How to Turn a Straight Woman into a Gay Man , an Essay Archives March 2017 ( c ) 2017 , Livingston Woolf . In my teens , my parents dragged me from specialist to specialist . They were ashamed of my " perversion " as my enlightened father called it . Ultimately , they dragged me to an endocrinologist who put me through a battery of tests . Mom and dad were shocked when they heard the doctor 's report " There 's an [ … ] ( c ) 2017 , Michael Ampersant This wasn 't my first time , not even in Florence , but it 's my shtick , if you will . I 've taken up position on the steps of the Loggia della Signoria , squatting between the statues of Cellini 's Perseus and Fedi 's Rape of the Polyxena . I 'm not a prostitute , but I 'm a slut with [ … ] ( c ) 2017 , Andre DeCuir When Brendan was 16 , his parents got divorced and sent him to therapy . He saw Dr . Bill for about a year and then stopped , maybe because his mother got tired of being the only one to take him there . Brendan 's father moved into a trailer park along the Baton Rouge highway , [… ]