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.

“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.

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.

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.