NOTHING had been seen or heard of Jules Verbaux since the time when,
single-handed, he had captured the factor. Spurred on by the factor’s
offer of two hundred dollars for his capture dead or alive, the Indians
of the post gave up trapping for a week and hunted far and wide for him,
and, contrary to the custom of the posts, they were armed with rifles.
One by one, tired out and disheartened, the trappers gave up the search.
As they came back, the factor interviewed each one, inquiring eagerly
even for tracks of the man he wanted. The answers were all the
same—nothing, absolutely nothing. Then he cursed them for a pack of lazy
brutes, and swore that they had not hunted. Nothing more could be done
in the matter, so it was dropped.
Whenever there were any Indians on the post, solemn meetings to talk
over Verbaux’s strange disappearance took place about the fires in the
tepees outside of the stockade. The participants in these meetings would
squat in a half-circle, and smoke, smoke, smoke, conversing in low
tones. On a certain evening, Tritou, Le Grand, old Maquette, Le Hibou,
and a new-comer at the post named Le Bossu because of the hump on his
back, were sitting in Le Grand’s tepee. Outside it was snowing hard; the
great white flakes dropped so fast that at a distance of twenty feet a
man was invisible. The air had a heavy, damp feeling, and Le Grand
pulled the blanket which served as a door closer over the tepee
entrance.
“Ce Verbaux Ah hear so mooch tell, he beeg homme?” asked Le Bossu, after
a long silence.
Le Grand nodded, and the Indians puffed on.
“He know h’all zis territoire, an’ he go fas’ on de snow, hein?” asked
Le Bossu again, and they all nodded.
“He ees vone beeg t’ief; he keel Manou, he steal, he ver’ bad!” said
Tritou.
“Vone lie, ça!” contradicted Le Grand when Tritou had finished speaking.
The latter looked up quickly. “Vat dat you say, Le Grand?”
“Ah say you mak’ vone lie.”
“V’y for you say dat moi, Tritou, mak’ vone lie?”
“Nev’ min’ vat for. Ah say you mak’ beeg lie v’en you parler dat vay de
Verbaux. Ah say, an’ Ah know vat Ah say.”
Tritou made no comment upon Le Grand’s emphatic speech, and so the
conversation lapsed.
Le Bossu stared hard at the fire; then he shook himself, as though
waking up.
“Ah goin’ catch dees Verbaux,” he said quietly.
The others smiled. “’Ow?” they asked.
“C’est mon affaire,” answered the new man; “but Ah’m goin’ breeng heem
h’alive to la poste.”
Le Grand looked keenly at the speaker; then, as though satisfied with
his scrutiny, he chuckled. Nothing more was said, and one by one the
trappers got up, wrapped their blankets round them, and passed out into
the night and the snow, muttering, “Bon soi’, Le Grand!”
Le Grand sat a long time alone; his eyes shone like a caribou’s as the
firelight danced and mirrored itself in the black depths; then he went
to the flap and looked out. “Beeg storm,” he said, half aloud, as he lay
down on the heap of boughs that served him as a bed and drew the
blankets over him.
At daylight next morning the post was astir. There was shouting of men
and a scurrying about of women; the trappers came and went, carrying
food and blankets to their tepees. The factor stood at the store
entrance, checking off each Indian’s load as he went out.
“Here, you humpback,” he called, as Le Bossu passed with his supplies,
“ye got wan blanket too manny! Ye can’t cheat me, ye son of a gun! Take
it back to Maquette!”
In the yard trappers were getting their dogs into harness, and the din
was great, what with the snarling and yelping of the brutes, the cries
of children who clung tenaciously to the squaws’ skirts, and the clang
of the bell in the tower on the factor’s house, which was calling the
men for the start. At last all was ready; twenty-five men and eighteen
dog-teams were assembled in front of the store, the men, cap in hand,
waiting for the factor’s final orders.
The sun shone warmly now, and the melting snow dripped comfortably from
the store roof; a little breeze played daintily with the flag at the
masthead, making it curl in graceful folds and letting it fall again.
The factor held up his hand, and all was quiet.
“Now min’,” he said; “get ye a lot o’ fur better ’n lasht trip, or Oi’ll
cut yer grub next toime. That’s all, except, av coorse, me two hunderd
fer Verbaux shtands as I made ut; if anny o’ ye sees ’im, don’t dare
come back widout ’im.” He turned and went into the store.
“Who-o-o-e-e-e-e!” shouted the crowd, and with cries of “Au revoir!”
“Adieu!” “Bonne chance!” from those leaving and from those that
remained, the trappers urged on the dogs and scurried across the
clearing into the woods. For some time their voices were borne faintly
to the home crowd, who still clustered about the gate; then these died
away, and every one went off to his own duties.
“Ah t’ou’t las’ night, vone beeg storm to-day,” said Le Grand to the
crowd, as they hurried along as fast as the heavy travelling and hard
pulling for the dogs would allow. “Mais, by gar! de snow she ver’ deep
aujourd’hui!” he added. Snow-shoes were of no service at all, and the
Indians proceeded in single file, taking turns every few minutes at
breaking trail.
“Ah t’ink heet goin’ snow encore,” suggested Le Bossu.
It looked as though it might; the sun had grown dim and misty, and the
air was raw and chill. Huge masses of wet snow dropped continually from
the trees—usually the sign of a coming storm. The atmosphere was thick
and oppressive to the lungs, and the dogs were greatly distressed by it.
As the actual fall of snow did not come, the Indians hastened on,
anxious to get as far as possible on their way before they would have to
stop for the night.
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