Part 3

The sky soon became dark, and twilight was very short; the men selected a sheltered ravine in which to spend the night, and the dogs were unharnessed from the sledges. They quickly dug holes for themselves, two or three in a hole, and curled down in them, leaving their furry backs showing over the surface. The trappers drew the sledges together and banked snow between them, forming an efficient wind-shield; then a big pile of wood was gathered and lighted. The glare of the flames reflected warm on their faces, and the long shadows kept up a merry dance as the men moved to and fro; the tree trunks stood out clear and strong in the ruddy light, and their branches seemed woven into a network of dark green that covered everything and shut out the dull, leaden skies.

Tea was soon ready in a lot of pannikins and kettles, and each man ate his supper with relish, for an all-day tramp on “breaking” snow was no easy work. The meal finished, they pulled out blankets from the bags, rolled themselves up, and in a little while everything was still, except the fire, which kept up its cheery crackling and popping. It had burned down nearly two feet, and the snow-water began to choke out its enthusiasm, when a big chunk, undermined by the heat, caved in, quenching it entirely with a loud hiss and splutter.

“Ugh-h! Ver’ col’!” said Tritou, with a shiver, as he sat up about midnight and drew his blankets closer round him. “Heet snow, by diable! Dat too bad!” he added to himself, when he saw the ghostly flakes dropping; then he went to sleep again.

“H’up, you mans!” called Le Hibou to the sleeping forms just as the first gray light crept through the spruce branches. They moved and grumbled.

“Sacré! she mak’ vone beeg lot snow las’ nuit!” said Le Bossu as he got up and yawned prodigiously. There had, indeed, been a heavy snowfall; the place where the fire had been was filled up smooth and white, and a big circular mound showed the location of the sledges. The dogs had kept themselves open to the air by throwing off the accumulating snow as it fell, and the sides of their nests were piled up like fox burrows.

“Dam’!” said Le Grand as a lump of snow fell into his tea from a branch overhead, splashing him with the steaming drink.

Breakfast over, they dug out the sledges, sorted the teams, harnessed them, and started off.

The snow was three feet deeper than the day before, and the going was therefore much worse; the advance of the party was a slow and laborious one, the dogs sinking in to their bellies and floundering helplessly about, so that the men had to take hold of the traces and pull in order to move ahead at all.

“Sacré-é misère!” said Le Hibou, as he straightened up from the work and passed a rough sleeve over his face, “dat harrrd travaille!”

“Ai-hai!” answered the rest.

The day grew warmer as they proceeded, and it was hot work on the open barrens, where the sun shone with arctic brilliancy on the swearing, sweating crowd.

“Vone t’ing ees good,” said Le Bossu as they all stopped for a breathing spell: “dere veel be vone stronge crrus’ to-night. Ve go h’all dark taime, and res’ to-mor’; vat you t’ink, vous autres, hein?”

“Hmm, toi Bossu! Vat you t’ink? Ve goin’ vorrk h’all day, h’all nuit? Nevaire!” said Tritou.

“B’en, h’all sam’ to me! Ah goin’ sauf mes dog’; go h’on ze crrus’ to-night, and res’ v’en ze sonne she ees so warm. ’Ou go veet’ me?” concluded Le Bossu.

“Ah go, Bossu,” answered Le Hibou.

“Moi aussi,” agreed another of the trappers, Dumois by name.

“Bon! Ve show to youse ow to go fas’ la nuit,” laughed Le Bossu.

They struggled on all day; as the sun sank lower and lower, the melted surface of the snow hardened, and it soon held the teams up, though the men sank in even with snow-shoes. At dark it set in very cold, and the frost particles covered the men’s clothing with a shimmering coat.

They stopped for the night again, and after supper Le Hibou, Le Bossu, and Dumois went on alone. Travelling was good now, and the woods were more open, so the three made fast time of it. The stars shone with extraordinary brilliancy, and Dumois stopped the others on a barren they were then crossing to look at them.

“Ah t’ink mor’ snow plent’ queeck,” he said; “go to ze ouest; ve strike Rivière Noire by ze short trail, hein?”

“You know de vay, Dumois?”

“Certainement. Ah go that chemin t’ree year h’ago. Ah remembaire sans doute.” With these assurances as to his powers of guiding, Dumois swung his team due west, and struck out at a smart pace, the two others following closely.

Their shadowy figures rose and fell over the undulations of the barren, to the _click, click, click_ of the snow-shoes and the sharp patter of the dogs’ nails on the crust. A dim thing scurried away in front of Dumois, and before he could catch hold of the sledge his dogs were off in howling pursuit, Dumois after them, yelling curses and commands to stop.

“Black fox, mabbe,” said Le Hibou as he and Le Bossu turned off slightly and followed the sound of Dumois’s voice. They came up to him, and he was using his whip freely. “Tu loup!” he shouted at the big leader of the team, “Ah show toi to ronne so h’aftaire dam’ fox!” and the lash whistled through the night air; the brute snarled a little as he felt the sting, but he knew that he had done wrong, and his tail trailed dejectedly on the snow.

“Maint’nant, starrt!” said Dumois when the team was straightened out. He looked up at the stars as he spoke; they were less brilliant, and sometimes they disappeared entirely when snow-clouds drifted between them and the earth.

“C’est ça; ve go dees chemin,” he said, when he had studied out his bearings.

“Mais, Dumois, you no go directe, comme befor’?” interposed Le Bossu.

Dumois smiled at him derisively, and the other said no more.

They travelled on hour after hour; no one spoke, saving breath for the swift pace. Dumois stopped and examined the heavens again; the stars were not to be seen, and a chill wind was blowing. He swung off a little to the left; the others made no comments, because they could not now, and the three went on and on, now through dense forests as dark as pitch, where they had to slow down and feel their way, and again across gray-white barrens where the wind tossed the drift into whirling clouds and carried it along in its arms.

They came suddenly to a deep gorge. Dumois stopped, and looked at it with growing fear in his eyes.

“Dere no ravine near to Rivière Noire,” he muttered to himself; then he turned to the others, who stood waiting behind him. “Ah’m los’,” he said quietly.

“Ve go back,” suggested Le Bossu.

In silence the three turned the dogs on the back trail.

It had begun to snow, a little at first, then faster and faster; the flakes whirled and tumbled over one another in their long race to the earth. It fell cold and clammy on the men’s faces as they breasted their way against the wind, and they wound their mufflers close up to their eyes. A big hill loomed in front of them, like some black monster; they had fought their way for two hours against the storm and were tired out.

“Vat dat?” said Dumois in a helpless way.

No one answered.

“Ve bes’ res’ here de nuit,” finally suggested Le Hibou, in a dull voice.

They made camp as well as they could. No wood was to be seen, and they did not dare search for any, as the snow fell so thickly that a man could easily be lost fifty feet from the others. They ate a cold, cheerless meal, and having fed the dogs from their supply, they pulled their blankets about them and slept. All night the white flakes came and spread themselves thickly over everything; the wind blew dismally; and the dogs huddled as close together as they could.

In the morning Dumois climbed up on the hill. As far as he could see through the infolding shrouds of snow was a bleak, strange country; no sign, no shadowy suspicion of forest anywhere. He went down and told the others.

“V’ere you t’ink ve go?” asked Le Hibou.

Dumois and Le Bossu thought, and drew lines on the snow with their fingers; then Le Bossu said, “Par là!” pointing to the right.

“Non, par ici—dees vay!” said Dumois, pointing to the left.

Le Hibou looked at their lines on the snow chart, and drew some of his own. “En avant!” was his decision after he had finished his calculations.

“Non, by gar! Ah no vant die los’!” shouted Dumois. “Ah go mon chemin!”

He fastened his dogs to his sledge, and the others imitated him mechanically; then the three started off to the left. On and on they went, over hills and down ravines, up clefts in the snow gorges, and across wind-swept barrens; and always the snow came and covered their tracks as fast as they made them.

They did not even stop for food; the snow grew deeper and heavier; it clogged their way, piled itself on their snow-shoes, and heaped in soggy masses in front of the sledges; the dogs gave up one by one, exhausted.

“Impossible!” said Dumois, after trying valiantly to drag the dogs and sledge too by his own strength. “Ve res’ teel la neige she stop, hein?” he suggested.

Le Hibou and Le Bossu agreed by not contradicting, and the three made a rude shelter with the sledges and some spare blankets.

Le Hibou searched for his food-bag. “Bon Dieu!” he said, with white face, “Ah geeve to Tritou, v’en ve starrt yes’day, ma food, becaus’ hees sled ees mor’ leetle den mine, an’ Ah took hees blankets.”

The night before they had eaten of Dumois’s provisions, as his bag had been more accessible than that of either of the others, so this calamity had not been discovered. Dumois looked in his bag; there was little left. The entire party had intended to reach Les Petites Colignes in four days, and had taken just enough food per man to do it, as there was at that place a big cache of flour, tea, and six caribou carcasses. Le Bossu’s bag was still untouched, but it contained very little to feed three men and eighteen dogs for no one knew how long. They had plenty of blankets, and the mockery of it was terrible. They divided the food sparingly, and fed the dogs separately, a handful of dried meat to each.

Another night passed, and morning brought the same old story—snow, snow, snow, falling, dropping, tumbling in ceaseless, noiseless quantities. They stayed there all that day, and the food supply dwindled, even though they took but very little of it twice only in the twenty-four hours. On the fourth day of their captivity the food was all gone, and they drew lots to see who should kill one of his dogs; Dumois was drawn, and he cut the throat of one of his team, tears streaming down his face as he did so. “Blanchette, poor beas’! Ah’m désolé!” he said hoarsely.

And still it snowed. The surface of the barren was much higher than it had been. The cold was intense, and in desperation Le Hibou smashed his sledge, tore a blanket in slips, and made a fire; they husbanded the feeble flame with tender care; but it was out all too soon, and they shivered again in their covers.

Afternoon came, and the snow relaxed somewhat. The men, weak from lack of food and almost numb, were about to smash up another sledge, when suddenly, without a sound of any kind, a figure stood before them. It was a tall, gaunt figure with curious wide snow-shoes on its feet. The face was muffled entirely, only the gray eyes showing. As the three stared in wonderment, half believing it a myth, the figure spoke:

“You los’, n’est-ce pas? Comme weet me!”

“Who ees?” whispered Le Bossu.

“Ah don’ know!” answered Dumois, with awe in his voice.

The stranger helped them gather the dogs together and fasten their belongings on the two sledges that were left. “Viens!” he said, when all was ready, and started off on what seemed to the lost men their back trail. This strange being exerted a curious power over them: he did not speak, but they felt security in his presence. They staggered on, he helping first one, then the other, digging out the sledges when they sank in the drifts and coaxing on the dogs by soft noises in his throat which they seemed to know.

When night closed down hard and fast, he stopped.

They were in the woods, and the stranger helped them again by gathering a lot of fire-wood. As it blazed up he spoke: “Stay here teel day! Ah comme back een mornin’.”

Then he let his food-bag fall from his shoulder, and went off into the black depths of the forest, stirring up clouds of snow-dust that scintillated and shone in the firelight as he went.

The three stared at one another.

“Dat le bon Dieu!” whispered Le Bossu, crossing himself.

They took off their caps and repeated the Ave Maria, intoning it softly; then they looked into the bag the stranger had left. It contained food,—plenty of food,—and they fell on it eagerly, ferociously, as only starving men can; the dogs were also fed, and the fire was well built up; then they curled in their blankets and went to sleep, thanking the Holy Mother for her mercy.

* * * * *

“Taime to go,” said a voice, and they woke to find the stranger with them again. He had built the breakfast fire, and water was boiling in the pannikins. While they ate, watching him the while with pious awe, he got the dogs together and harnessed them.

“Allons!” he said, and started on. The snow was not so deep in the woods, and the three had had a good-night’s rest, so they were able to follow fast. At noon the figure stopped again. “Le chemin—de trail,” he said.

Le Hibou looked up and saw the blazes on the trees. “C’est le chemin—le chemin!” he cried, and fell on his knees in the snow. Le Bossu and Dumois knelt too. “Merci, Seigneur bon Dieu!” they said to the stranger.

He laughed softly, and unwound the muffler that had so successfully hidden his face. “No le bon Dieu,” he said quietly—“onlee Jules Verbaux.”

The three started as though bewitched; then Le Bossu got up slowly, walked over, and held out his hand.

“Verbaux,” he said huskily, “Ah hear mooch bad de toi; mais Ah say dat you have vone grand beeg hearrt!”

Jules smiled and waved his hand to the southward.

“Go! Allez! sauf to de post.”

Silently the men filed off, following the blazed trail; in a few minutes they looked back, but he was gone.

V

JULES’S STRATAGEM

TRITOU swore mighty and fearful oaths. For the third time in as many weeks, his traps had been robbed of their fur and the empty ones sprung. The first time it had happened he reset them, and let it go at that; the second time he reset them, and watched half the night, but saw nothing, and the next morning the traps were all sprung again; now, the third time, it was too much for any hard-working Indian to stand.

Tritou set and baited his line once more; then he started off at full speed for the post, forty miles away. He was on foot, and it was night when he reached the stockade; without a word to any one, he went into his tepee, brought out food, blankets, and his beloved rifle; then he picked out his dogs, eight of them, from the pack that wandered about the post yard, harnessed them to his light sledge, and went off into the darkness.

The other trappers wondered at this extraordinary behaviour on Tritou’s part; he was usually communicative, and often quarrelsome, therefore this silent streak in him astonished his fellow-Indians. “Tritou he fin’ beeg lot caribou to-day, Ah t’ink,” said old Maquette. “Mabbe,” the others answered, and that was all that was said about it.

Tritou urged on his dogs; mile after mile passed under the sledge, and still he hurried on. It was a quiet night, and at times a cloudy one. There had been no snow for several days, and the crust was very hard—so hard that the sledge often whirled sidewise on the turns, because the bone runners could get no hold on the glare surface. The dogs needed no whip; there were eight of them to the light sledge, and they made easy work of it with only one hundred and forty pounds to draw, for Tritou was not a heavy man. Four hours they travelled; then Tritou _raa-a-ed_ softly to them, and they swung off to the right, following a snow gorge which led across a long barren. At the edge of the timber Tritou stopped his team, and fastened the leader to a tree; with rifle cocked and eyes and ears alert, he went into the sombre woods. His snow-shoes clicked a little, though he did his best to prevent it by walking wide-legged and lifting them high at every step; with a muttered curse, he knelt and took them off. The crust was too slippery to stand in moccasins alone, so he was forced to put them on again.

He went very slowly, listening intently at every little sound, and peering now high, then low, through the tree trunks. An owl, disturbed by this strange marauder, screeched over his head and flew away. Tritou started at the sound. “Hibou! Dam’!” he whispered to himself. Suddenly he stopped and looked at something that rested in a V cut in a big spruce; it was the first trap on his line, and—sprung!

“Ah-h-h!” he softly hissed through his teeth; then he felt on the crust at his feet, and found fresh scratches and little places where bits of ice had cracked under some weight. Slowly he worked his way along the line of traps, finding each one sprung as he came to it.

The spruce trees stood less thickly here, and a weird, dim gray light shone on the snow between their trunks. Tritou listened again; far away he heard the faint _click-click_ of snow-shoes. His hold on the rifle tightened, and he looked again to be sure that it was cocked, and advanced more carefully than ever; then he stopped again; not far in front of him he heard the thud of a deadfall as it struck the threshold of a trap, and then the clicking moved on; so did he, now bending almost double. The woods grew more and more open as the edge of a barren was approached, and the moonlight trickled on to the snow freely in places.

Tritou stopped and knelt on one knee, raising the rifle to his shoulder as he did so. One hundred yards away, in an open spot, stood a tall figure; it loomed up in the moonlight clear and sharp.

“Ha!” shouted Tritou as he fired.

The figure swayed, tottered, then gathered itself and disappeared in the shadows.

“Blessé! Woun’, by gar!” said Tritou, with great satisfaction, as he hastened to the place where the figure had stood; he hurried carefully, with his rifle ready for another shot. Nothing stirred anywhere; Tritou bent over in the open space. “Du sang!” he said, as he saw the dark spots spreading over the crust here in blotches, and there, close to the woods, in a thin streak. He thought for a moment, “Ah go back for ze dog’; he no go far; Ah shoot for zat beeg hearrt Ah hear so mooch h’about!” He chuckled, and turned back for the sledge.

Jules Verbaux had had bad luck with his traps; the Company’s Indians had destroyed two lines of them entirely, so he started out on a foraging expedition against their traps. “An eye for an eye,” thought Jules. He selected Tritou’s line to plunder, because he had hated Tritou ever since that day in the woods when he heard him say that he, Tritou, was going to kill Verbaux for “dix dollaires et des fines blankeets.”

Once he reaped the harvest of fur from the line marked “T,” and he, unseen, had watched Tritou as Tritou watched for him on the second and third reapings. Yesterday morning he had laughed when Tritou struck out for the post, and had followed him for five miles; but as Tritou kept steadily on, he came back, ate his supper, and went down the line of traps for the fourth time. He was going along slowly, springing the deadfalls and taking the fur he found in them, when suddenly he thought he heard something; he stopped and listened. A sharp, burning pain seized him under the left arm, and the shock sent his wits flying for an instant; then he heard snow-shoes coming, and gathering his great strength, he sped into the forest. His side pained him cruelly, and his breath came and went in gasps for a few minutes; he opened his heavy jacket as he travelled and put his hand under the two shirts, and felt a little warm hole near the armpit; he felt further, and found another hole higher up on the front of his shoulder. “Dat notting, dat!” he chuckled, with great relief, and moved his arm up and down. “Ah t’ink Ah’m feenesh dat taime certainlee. Tak’ care, Tritou!” he said to himself as he tore off two pieces of his shirt and stuffed them in the little holes, effectually stopping the flow of blood. The old sign of the pannikin came back to him. “Dey goin’ try, dey goin’ comme near, mais dey not goin’ have success.” He repeated his own words of four months ago.

Daylight was just coming as he reached the big open barren; he went across it at wonderful speed, and on the edge of the next woods he took off his snow-shoes and ran on and on; he did not slip on the crust, because the moccasins he wore had caribou-hair soles. He passed through the timber and crossed to another barren; in the middle of it he put on the snow-shoes again and sped on fast.

Behind him, Tritou with his team came to the blood again, and followed it, expecting every instant to see Verbaux dead or dying. When the blood-trail ended, Tritou cursed horribly. “Ah go h’aftaire you, Verbaux, de res’ h’of ma life, but Ah fin’ you!” and he called on le bon Dieu to witness his vow. It was full light now, and he followed the snow-shoe marks easily enough to the timber edge; there they stopped, and not a sign of any kind could Tritou find. “Sacré-é! he no owl or ange!” he muttered. “He do dees trick las’ taime; Ah goin’ fin’ h’out!”

He fastened the dogs, and began working in circles, each one larger and larger as he covered the ground. It was slow work in the woods, but at last he found the lost trail out on the next barren, where Jules had put on the telltale snow-shoes. Tritou rushed back to the team, and lashing them, tore on, following the open tracks. These worked farther and farther to the southward, until Tritou was travelling at right angles to his original course. Every time the tracks ended he would swing the dogs in a big circle, and invariably find them again and hurry on.

Jules was crossing a high snow hill; from it he could see a long way; he looked back, and saw Tritou in the act of circling. “Ah-ha, Tritou! you fin’ ma leetle trick, hein? Bon! Jules goin’ show to you ’nodder vone!” He unfastened his snow-shoes, and stepping carefully in the middle of his tracks, worked backward over his own trail till he came to a depression in the barren; he ran down this, and crouched low behind a drift. In a little while Tritou came tearing down the tracks, and stopped on the hill. He looked all round: Jules could see him perfectly, standing there shading his eyes from the glare; then he began to circle again, swinging out wide, and of course moving ahead all the time; he disappeared beyond a rise, and Jules glided off on the back trail.

Tritou circled and circled in vain; he covered and recovered the whole barren in front of him, big as it was, but he could not find the least trace of Verbaux. He was furious, and beat the dogs unmercifully as he twisted and turned and traced over the white country. Then he took a tremendous circle, nearly ten miles in diameter, but returned to the hill unsuccessful. He cursed le bon Dieu for not helping him; he spat on his enemy’s tracks that came to the top of the hill and ended there. “Chien! Diable! Pig! Beas’!” he screamed, shaking his fist in the air. “Ah goin’ keel you somme taime, Verbaux! Dam’ you to l’enfer!”

He climbed on the sledge and headed the dogs back. “Ah go to la ligne, an’ set de trap,” he said to himself. When he reached the lower end of the line he fastened the team to a tree again, and worked up, rebaiting and setting. “He no comme back non plus, an’ Ah’m please’!” he muttered consolingly.