JULES VERBAUX was taking the fur from his traps, on what he called
_ligne quatre_;[5] he was very cheerful, as le bon Dieu had seen to it
that marten, sable, mink, and fox were plentifully scattered along his
line. He had no dogs with him on this trip, but drew the toboggan-sled,
which was already well laden with skins, by a thong over his shoulder.
Footnote 5:
Line 4.
“Dat fine!” he chuckled, and his eyes danced, as he saw a fine gray fox
in one of the traps. It was a beautiful thing, this gray fox; the long
sleek fur had a sheen of silver as the light trickled through the spruce
branches and flickered over it, and its brush was full and thick. “Dat
fine!” he said again. He went on down the traps, rebaiting here,
resetting there, and often adding to the pile on the sled.
This line finished, he looked up at the sun. “_Mi-jou’!_[6] Ah have
taime to go ligne two,” he thought, and struck off due west through the
forest. Verbaux was a shrewd, careful man; he knew well that the Company
would give much to get him in their power, and he knew, too, that the
Company’s Indians hated him because he stole the fur from their traps;
therefore he advanced quietly through the woods, threading his way with
care among windfalls and spruce tangles, his gray eyes continually
watching on every side, even behind him.
Footnote 6:
Midday.
Suddenly he stopped and listened; dead trees crackled from the intense
frost and chunks of snow dropped from the branches with a gentle
_sw-i-i-sh_ through the air and a little _plup_ when they struck the
crust; beyond these natural sounds, he heard nothing. Jules still
listened, and his nostrils dilated and contracted as he inhaled great
breaths of air. “Smok’, by gar! not ver’ far!” He threw off the
draw-thong, unbound his snow-shoes, and crept off in moccasins through
the tree trunks; and was gone like a shadow in a moment.
Half a mile from where Jules first smelled smoke were five men—all
Indians—and they were squatting about a little fire, drinking bitter,
coal-black tea. “Ce Verbaux,” one of them was saying, “voleur! He don’
tak’ skeens f’om mes trap’ las’ weeek! Ah tol’ le facteur; he ees ver’
beeg angree. He say to me lak’ dis: he say, ‘Tritou, you keel dis
Verbaux, een Ah geeve to you cinq, oui, dix dollaires, an’ som’ fine
blankeets!’ ‘Ah goin’ keel Verbaux, M’sieu’ le Facteur,’ Ah say to heem.
‘Bon!’ he say den.”
“Toi, Tritou?” another trapper laughed. “You keel Verbaux? Ha! ha! da’
’s fonnee! ’Ow you goin’ do heet, hein? tell to me dat!”
Tritou drew himself up as far as his squatty figure would allow. “Ah
goin’ track heem, an’ v’en he no expec’ Ah goin’ keel heem avec gun—so!”
And, to demonstrate what he would do, he threw the rifle that lay beside
him to his shoulder, and snapped the hammer. The others laughed, and the
sound of the gruff voices echoed dully among the trees.
“Bah, Tritou! You t’ink you goin’ snik on dat Verbaux? C’est impossible!
Ah try t’ree, four, cinq taimes, mais he vatch h’all taime, lak’ de
beavaire.”
They were all silent, trying to think of some way of killing Verbaux.
“V’ere ees he maintenant?” asked an Indian who had hitherto not spoken.
Tritou answered: “Ah see hees track near dose lignes two et t’ree las’
weeek; dat vas v’en Manou he go for to fin’ Verbaux hees cache. Manou he
no yet comme back, no yet!”
There was an ominous shaking of fur-covered heads, and Tritou added in a
whisper, “An’ Ah don’ t’ink Manou hee goin’ comme back.”
Silence fell on the men again as the possibility of Manou’s end was made
so apparent.
“Allons!” suggested a trapper nicknamed Le Grand because of his great
stature. “But vee svear to feenesh dat Verbaux, hein?”
“Bon!” agreed the rest. Tritou looked up from his work of adjusting his
dog-collars. “You mans, you so svear, but me, Tritou, keel heem!” he
said.
The men disentangled their huskies with sundry kicks and curses, and the
party left the resting-place.
Jules came out on the little clearing, a smile of satisfaction on his
swarthy face; the Indians’ voices had just faded away, and the forest
was still. He carefully gathered the embers of the dying fire, and blew
gently on the little flame that appeared; then he dropped bits of dry
wood on it, and tenderly nursed the feeble blaze. From a pocket he drew
a tin pannikin, filled it with snow, and set it on the fire; next he
produced a stubby, blackened pipe, and lighted it with a flaming twig.
He puffed and puffed; then an ugly glitter came to the gray eyes as he
thought. “Sacré-é! Dey goin’ keel Jules, hein? Keel me, Jules Verbaux!”
he went on, thumping himself on the chest, as though to emphasise the
fact that he indeed was the person intended.
At that moment the pannikin shook, and almost upset, as the burning
sticks settled to red-hot embers under it. “C’est bon, ça! Dat good
signe,” he said as he noted that the pannikin did not upset, but hung on
one side, the curling flames licking the surface of the now boiling
water. “Dey goin’ try, dey goin’ comme near, mais dey no goin’ have
success!” Jules was superstitious, as are all of his kind, and he felt
relieved at the sign of the pannikin. Having put some tea in the water,
he withdrew the receptacle from the fire, seeming not to feel its heat
on his bare fingers. Then he cut some chunks from a piece of
caribou-meat, which he got out of his fur _tote-bag_.[7] As he munched
the tough provender and sipped the strong tea, his eyes were fixed on
the smouldering fire in a thoughtful stare; of a sudden he laughed, not
loudly, but heartily nevertheless, as proved by the shaking of his big
shoulders. “Le bon Dieu merci, Ah play vone treek sur Tritou, Le Grand,
an’ dose mans to-night!” The frugal meal finished, he tucked away his
pipe, slung the bag over his shoulder, and departed by the way he had
come, still chuckling.
Footnote 7:
Bag for carrying food, usually made of caribou or bear-skin.
Moose-birds and Canada jays fluttered down near the cooling ashes, and
squawked angrily because they could not find any food. An owl, attracted
by the smell of the fire, lit noisily, because of his day-blindness, in
a spruce overhead. “Whoo-o-o-a-aa!” His harsh note frightened the jays,
and they flew off, scolding and shrieking. The owl sat there a few
minutes, turning his head slowly from side to side; then he spread his
great wings and sailed away.
About five miles from this place, Tritou, Le Grand, and the others were
going steadily on. The crust was softer than it had been in the morning,
and it was necessary for one man to break trail for the dogs and
sledges; this the group did by turns. They sang and told stories as they
plodded through the wet snow. “Tell, Le Grand,” asked Tritou, “you know
Verbaux v’ere he leeve?” “Oh, he ees all place,” the other answered;
“somme taime vone place, somme taime long vay h’off, là-bas!” and he
waved his hand to the southward. In two hours’ time they came out on a
big barren. The crust was hard and swept snow-clear by the wind. The
five got on the sledges, and shouts of “Mush! Mush!” sounded loudly to
the whistling of whips. Away they flew in a mad race for the woods just
visible in the far distance.
Not long after they had gone Jules reached the edge of the barren, and
saw the sledges scurrying across: clouds of snow-dust hid them at times;
at others they appeared sharp and clear against the white. He quickly
gathered a pile of dead, dry limbs; on top of them he threw armfuls of
spruce boughs, which he deftly cut from trees near by; then he looked
for the sledges again: they were at the forest line now, and he laughed
as he scraped a match on his skin trousers and held it under the heap.
It flickered, died down, then caught and blazed up merrily; in a few
seconds a broad column of smoke was ascending to the tree-tops and being
whirled away from them by the strong wind. Jules watched the fire for a
moment, dropped a few marten-pelts near it, chuckled again, and went off
into the forest behind him, shuffling his snow-shoes as he went.
“Arrête! Stop!” screamed Tritou. He was behind the others; they were
fast nearing the timber, and paid no attention to his cries, thinking
that he wanted to steal up on them and win; for the speed of their
respective dog-teams was a matter of personal pride to the trappers, and
the winner of such a race as this was to be envied. Seeing that he could
not stop the rest, Tritou threw a shell into the barrel of his rifle and
fired. The success of this ruse was immediately apparent; with shouts of
“Bash! Bash-a-a!” and vigorous applications of their braking-sticks, the
four others brought their sledges to a standstill. Cartridges were
expensive at the post,—fifty marten skins per box,—and even one was
never fired uselessly. “Vat ees mattaire?” growled Le Grand. Tritou
waited till all were gathered together, so as to give greater import to
his news. “Look dere!” he said, pointing over the black trail as he
spoke. “Verbaux! au nom du diable!” said the others, together and
separately, as they saw the wisps of smoke flying with the wind. Well
they knew that this was their private trapping territory, and that no
man, not even their own brothers, would dare violate it, except one, and
that man was—Verbaux!
“Vite! Queeck! Queeck!” said Le Grand, as he dumped the food-bags and
blankets from his sledge in a heap. “Ve goin’ catch heem! He vone beeg
fool to mak’ so smoke!”
The others grasped his idea, and hastily piled their sledge-loads next
to his on the snow. “Allons!” said Tritou. The dogs were whirled back on
to the barren, and whips were used furiously as they got under way.
“Musha! Musha-a-a-hei-i!” the men yelled, and the dogs laid themselves
flat to the crust in their burst of speed. As the five sledges
approached the smoke they slowed up. “You’ gun prêt?” muttered Le Grand
to Tritou. The latter looked at his rifle, and nodded. They advanced
carefully, checking the dogs with hoarse commands. “V’y for h’afraid?”
said Tritou. “Five to vone, an’ heem no gun!” They came to the fire, and
saw the pelts. “Hees track vite!” whispered Le Grand; he felt sure of
their man now. “Dees eet!” answered Tritou, as with sharp eyes he found
the snow-shoe tracks leading down into the forest. “Comme, den!” he
called, and started his dogs on a jog-trot, watching the indentations in
the snow as he proceeded.
“Dix dollaires et des fine blankeet,” he thought to himself, and looked
at his rifle again, holding it in the hollow of his arm.
They travelled on thus in single file for half an hour, Tritou always in
the lead, spying out the snow-shoe marks as he went. Suddenly he
stopped; the tracks had ended!
“Ah, diable sacré-é! Ees he birrrd, den?” he asked the others.
They fastened the dogs together, and spread out fanwise to look for the
lost trail. Two hours they hunted, but in vain.
“Maledictions dam’!” said Tritou again. “He ees gone! Attend toi,
Verbaux: ze h’end of dis affaire she not comme encore; some taime ve
veel see dat!” and he cursed fiercely.
The five went to the sledges, and in silence started back across the
barren.
Meanwhile Jules tramped on into the woods; when he thought that he had
gone far enough for his purpose, he took off his snow-shoes, slung them
on his back, and swung himself up into a tree; for two hundred yards he
worked his way on the branches of the spruce grove; the trees clustered
thickly together in the little valley, and he had no trouble in gaining
the hill on the far side.
Once there, he put on the snow-shoes again and started for the barren at
high speed; the crust was hard on the hill, and it held him up
perfectly.
When he got to the open, he saw the flying sledges making for his fire,
which was some distance above him. He laughed. “Ver’ beeg fool, vous
touts! Jules goin’ show you vone lessone!” He gathered in his belt one
hole, tightened the woollen muffler about his throat, made sure that the
snow-shoe thongs were well fast, and started across the barren. The
sledges were a mile away, in a diagonal direction, and nearing the
smoke. He smiled, “Ah go hout on l’ouvert, pass you clos’, tout près!
You h’all too much beeg dam’ fool for to see,” and hurried on across.
When the Indians were almost abreast of him, he lay flat on his stomach,
and the wind covered him instantly with the drift particles; he lay
there until the Indians had passed, then he got up and went on. In an
hour he reached the other side, and soon found the sledge tracks, and
saw where they had turned back on perceiving his smoke. His eyes gleamed
with delight as he saw the blankets and food the Indians had left in
their hurry.
“Ah t’ink an’ ’ope dat you do lak’ dees; maintenant Verbaux he goin’
show vat he do.”
Jules gathered the lot of stuff in one heap; piled wood over and about
it; then he lighted a match, sheltered it from the little draft that
eddied among the trees, and touched the mass. The match-flame grew and
strengthened; it took hold of twigs, and then reached for the bigger
branches; at last it spread over all. The smell of burning wool and meat
mingled with the aroma of pine and hemlock limbs. Jules took off his
snow-shoes once more, and glided away to the southward, leaving no
trace, not a sign on the glare-crust at the edge of the timber.
When almost out of sight he stopped and shouted back, as though there
were some one to hear him:
“You goin’ keel Verbaux, hein? Bien! You go t’ree, four day hongree, to
arriver la poste!” He laughed loudly, and hurried away into the forest.
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