VERBAUX travelled on and on across the wilderness of silence and of
space. He heard nothing but the howling of the wolves, saw nothing but
colourless barrens, dark green timber depths, and frozen waters. He came
at last to the clearing by Lac des Sables, and built up his wrecked
home. It took him two days to finish the work, and two more to catch the
dogs he had turned loose to shift for themselves sixteen days gone.
It was evening; a cheery fire crackled on the little hearth. The
interior shone warm and comfortable in its glow, but the log walls were
gray and bare instead of warm and brown with skins as they used to be.
Jules sat before the fire; his eyes reflected the light dully and his
thoughts were far away—where he knew not, but of whom he knew. The old
heartbroken moan for Marie, Marie came from his lips, and he would start
violently, as though dreaming, and shake his head. “Je suis content!” he
muttered; tears came, nevertheless, and rolled slowly down the bronzed
cheeks, dripping drop by drop and glistening on the rough shirt.
The yellow-red flames played noiselessly in the air, but their sources
snapped and gave out tiny diamond sparks that died two inches from the
place of birth. A storm was coming from the northeast. Little by little
the wind increased in strength, first whispering, then sighing, then
moaning fitfully by gusts, and finally shrieking through the millions of
branches that are the forest. Jules heard but heeded not. The violent
draft carried the smoke away in straight blue lines, the sparks had
longer lives and disappeared in the wooden flue. A dog yelped, the
others awoke and joined him, and their voices blended into one long
minor clamour that sounded above the whistling wind, and cadenced with
the now loud, then softer notes of the gale. A muffled roaring came down
the little chimney; sometimes the powerful back draft imprisoned the
smoke and it filled the hut with its pungent acrid smell. Dream figures
appeared to Jules and passed in long review before his half-closed eyes.
The very flames were distorted into living things that moved and, as he
saw them, disappeared. He rose, went to the new bed of boughs, fell on
it, and slept instantly. And in his vague, unrestful slumber the figures
came and passed again before his brain.
“Traître!” he growled in his sleep; “Ah, Maquette, mon vieux, how ees,
hein? An you, Bossu, an’ Hibou, mes camarades dat Ah sauve’!” The
changeless voice shrilled then, and the long arms stretched out,
“Petite! Marie!” He awoke, dazed, and heard the sobbing of the storm
overhead. “Bon Dieu, grâce!” he said, and knelt by the bough bed, his
face buried in his hands. He prayed, but always, even in his prayers,
the squat, ugly figure of Manou with his treacherous eyes came before
him; and much as the body cried out for the woman that lived somewhere
under the broad expanse of God’s heavens, still the iron will and reason
spoke through the pain-compressed lips and said, “Je suis content!” The
fight was awful in its terrible fierceness; at last he sank, utterly
exhausted, on the boughs and slept dreamlessly. The northern hurricane
grew under the black skies; it lashed the trees until they groaned and
snapped. As an accompaniment to the shrieking voices of the wind sounded
the crashing reports of falling trees, here, there, everywhere. The two
giant pines on each side of the hut moved to their foundations and
twisted; their great roots heaved and tore the frozen sod beneath its
white cover, and the walls of the camp trembled at each furious gust.
And Verbaux slept on.
Long past its regular hour, the timid light of dawn appeared and
broadened over the wild, tumultuous earth. By its light the flying
masses of filmy clouds tore across the leaden skies. Sometimes a big
black one came over the horizon and was whirled away over the lonely
north at tremendous speed. Two sables came to the hut, pushed and
buffeted by the gale, their tree home destroyed by the storm; they crept
within the shelter of its lee side and curled up there together, hungry
and frightened. The dogs howled at intervals, but their voices were
almost lost in the heavy peals of the monstrous noises of the forest.
A gray shape came speeding past the hut, saw it, and stopped under its
lee, disturbing the little sables. It was a tall caribou that stood
there panting, its scarlet tongue dripping with foam, its great eyes
drooping, its tired sides pumping air ceaselessly to satisfy the big
lungs. And in a moment a dozen dark forms came and stood silently in a
half-circle before the hut, breathing hoarsely, drool streaming from
their open jaws. The wind pushed them about, but they stayed and
watched. The dogs caught a whiff of the stench of wolves and set up a
great cry in their shed, that sounded even above the hurricane. The dark
forms listened, heard, recognised, and disappeared at once, wrapped in
dim snow-clouds, through which their fleeing shapes appeared for an
instant and were gone.
The caribou rested awhile, then faded away among the trees. Jules slept
on, inert, on the boughs; the little sables cuddled closer together and
were still.
More and more light came, and Verbaux awoke to another day. The weather
remained the same, and he pulled his fur cap well down when he went out
to the traps. Trees fell about him, broken branches dropped, rattling on
the crust, great rents in the trunks of the hemlocks showed the fierce
wrenching power of the wind. No living thing moved in the complaining,
groaning forests, but Jules was happy in the chaos, and his loneliness
and longing left him for a time. “By gar! Ah get beaucoup de poils!” he
said. Every third trap held its dead prisoner. When he had finished the
line, the load of furs on his back was heavy: eight sable, two lynx,
three wolverine, four marten, and a gray fox.
He was on his way to the camp when suddenly, faint in the gale, he heard
a voice calling “Holla, là-bas!” Then he saw coming toward him a short,
broad figure on snow-shoes. The stranger came along easily, watching the
trees that snapped and squeaked and bowed to their waists. Jules stopped
and waited. “Bo’ jou’!” said the stranger in a friendly way. He was a
French-Canadian, keen of eye, characteristic in face, strong in figure.
“Je suis Philippe Crevier. Ah comme two hunder’ mile’ look for un homme;
you got fir’?”
“Oui; comme!” Jules said, and the two travelled across the timber-land
to Verbaux’s camp.
Jules lighted the fire, then set food on the table. Crevier sat and
watched him silently; with a nod, he ate a hearty meal.
“Ah-h, c’est bon!” and he sighed comfortably when he had finished, and
ceremoniously drew out his quilled and beaded tobacco-bag and presented
it to Jules. The latter filled his pipe; Crevier did the same; then
Verbaux leaned back against the wall with legs firmly spread, the gray
eyes fixed on the other, who was stretched on the green boughs. They
smoked in silence for several minutes; the interior was redolent with
the powerful reek of the black tobacco; the roof quivered with the
sudden impacts of heavy wind, and there was the faint patter of millions
of crust bits that, driven before the storm, struck the logs with all
their minute weight and strength.
“Ah look for vone Jules Verbaux. Dat Le Grand h’at Poste Reliance he
comme dere nine days h’ago wid une femme; by gar, she vas tire’ and
hongree! She vas tak’ by Hodson Baie Compagnie at la destruction de Isle
la Crosse by dat Annaotaha. Le Grand, fr’en’ to me, fin’ dis girrl and
mak’ bataille avec dat scélérat. Le Grand seeck ver’ bad; he say to me,
he say: ‘Philippe, you go fin’ Jules Verbaux; dees femme hees wife; she
loove him mooch, mais he don’ t’ink dat trrue. You tell to heem, eef you
can fin’ heen, dat ol’ Le Grand he ver’ bad, and vant for to see heem
befor’ Le Grand est mort.’ Den Ah comme loook!”
Jules listened; his face was expressionless and at rest. His eyes
glistened for an instant, then they too were void of feeling; he seemed
interested, nothing more.
“You know dis Verbaux?” Crevier asked.
A flash came to the gray eyes. “Oui, Ah know heem; dis ees hees
territoire; he gon’ Fond du Lac h’eight jour’ passé.”
“B’en, Ah go to Fond du Lac to-mor’; Ah geeve promesse to Le Grand for
to fin’ heem eef eet possible, and he pay moi ten skin’ de day for do
heet. Ah can stay avec vous ici to-night, hein?”
“Certainement!” Jules answered.
There was a silence—one man comfortable, happy, care-free; the other too
full for utterance, but with calm, undisturbed features through it all.
The storm raved on through the afternoon, but with the coming of night
it slackened, the gusts were less fierce, the trees ceased their
contortions, and gradually a deep stillness spread over the forest. In
the hut the two men ate their supper; Jules fed the dogs. The fire
burned lightly, and Crevier’s dark face showed in sharp relief against
the light-gray logs.
“Vat you t’ink—” he began; then he caught sight of the child’s cap in
its old place over the bed. He looked at it, then looked at Verbaux.
Jules had not seen the discovery of the cap. He sat, his broad shoulders
stooped forward, his chin in his hands.
“Jules Verbaux!” Crevier spoke the name slowly and quietly.
Verbaux started, then his eyes looked sharply from under the strong,
heavy brows. “Pourquoi you call me Jules Verbaux?” he asked. Crevier’s
arm stretched out, long in the dancing light, the dark hand pointed
silently to the little cap, and he smoked again.
“Ah tol’ you dat dees Verbaux hees place, hees territoire, dat he gone
’way las’ weeek!” Jules spoke aggressively.
Crevier shook his head. “Non!”
“Pourquoi non? You say dat I mak’ de lie?”
The other seemed not to notice the angry tones; he took his pipe
leisurely from his mouth and spoke again in a low, soft voice. “Le Grand
he tol’ to me dat Verbaux he had petite fille vonce, dat he loove dat
enfant ver’ mooch. You tell to me dat dees ees hees place to mak’ la
chasse; Ah see dat leetle chapeau là,” and he looked up again at the
cap. “an’ den Ah, Crevier, say dat you aire Verbaux.”
“Pourquoi?” asked Jules again.
“Becaus’ Verbaux no go ’way an’ leave dat souvenir of enfant ici!”
Crevier looked at Jules through drooping lids. The stooped figure swayed
a little, stopped, swayed again, then shivered very slightly, and was
still.
Crevier stood up and went to the door. Outside, it was a fine, clear
night. The straggler clouds of the storm hurried in little groups across
the light faces of the stars to catch up with the main body. The cold,
penetrating air was fresh-smelling of the pine and laden with ozone of
the wind and snow. He turned.
“To-mor’ ve go back to Poste Reliance!” he said quietly, then stepped
out into the shadowless gloom.
Verbaux raised his head and listened; everything was still but the
snapping fire at his feet.
“Pauvre Le Grand,” he murmured. “Ah mus’ go an’ see heem, mais Ah go
seul’ment for dat, seul’ment for dat!” he repeated rapidly, as though
trying to choke down the other thoughts that craved expression in
different words from those that he had just spoken. Alternately a pale,
wan face, then a rugged, kindly one, came before his eyes. “Ah not go
for to see dat femme!” he almost shouted, because he feared to trust
himself in the silence.
“Toi ver’ beeg fool!”
Crevier stood in the door; his arms held a pile of fire-wood, and jets
of freezing moisture streamed from his nostrils as he came in out of the
night and closed the bark door. He threw his load down in the corner,
the dry sticks breaking sharply above the crackle of the hearth fire. He
got out a light blanket from his carry-bag and laid it over some skins
that were on the floor. “À demain, Verbaux,” he said as he stretched
himself on it; he turned over, and was asleep in a moment. Jules stood
looking down at the still form for long minutes.
“Ah go ’way for leetle taime. Ah no can go weet heem!” he whispered to
himself; then silently and quickly he took his snow-shoes, reached up
for the little cap and put it in his shirt, took some food, and went
away into the darkness.
For a long time after he had gone nothing stirred. The trees were
resting after their long turmoil, and stood as though carved from
green-black marble. Crevier slept on quietly.
------------------------------------------------------------------------