Le Grand, Dumois, Hibou, and Bossu were camped fifty miles beyond RiviÈre Noire. They had their trap-lines set out like spokes of a wheel from the main camp, and were having great luck. Fur was plenty, and bait easy to get because of the numerous herds of caribou.

It was night, and the four men sat about a roaring-hot fire. The dogs had a shed for themselves, and the sledges were pushed under the bough cover.

“Ah vould lak’ to know ’Ow Verbaux he ees!” said Dumois. “Ah vant t’ank heem for dat las’ taime!”

The others stared thoughtfully at the leaping, dancing flames, that crackled and snapped, casting a warm red sheen over each figure.

“Lavalle he say dat Verbaux he gone Ouest!” finally said Bossu.

“He ees trÈs beeg hear-rt, dat Jules,” Hibou said quietly, and his black eyes softened and shone suspiciously in the reflected light.

“Ai-hai!” answered the rest, nodding solemnly.

Le Grand brought more wood for the fire; as he threw it on, piece by piece, showers of scintillating sparks were born and scurried up to their brief existence in the cold air, gleamed brightly for a moment, then disappeared. The fresh logs sang merrily, and their rough bark curled and reddened in the fierce heat of the glowing embers underneath.

“De fairÉes!” said Dumois, smiling, when a loud pop, then a shrill pi-i-ing, came from a flaming log.

“She ees gone h’up dere!” suggested Bossu, looking up at the star-brightened heavens.

“Oui, she gone leave h’on star!” Hibou answered gravely, and a far-away expression came to his eyes.

The group were quiet, watching the swift changes that took place in the position of the wood and coals.

“Un loup-cervier!” said Le Grand, pointing to a shape, visible to him, formed by three blackened sticks and some dull coals.

It was a cold night, and the steam from their wet trousers and moccasins rose in gray-white clouds and drifted away among the dark branches. A little wind breathed gently through the spruce, and curled the tops of the long flames as they shot up into nothingness.

Bossu slowly pulled out his pipe, and as slowly cut tobacco from a dirt-begrimed plug. He rolled and crushed the pieces between his hands and filled the bowl, carefully pushing them down with a stubby forefinger. Then he caught up a red-hot coal, dropped it on the tobacco, and puffed silently. The others watched the familiar operation with that unconscious attention which is born of a lack of anything of real interest to look at. “V’ere ees dat oglee Tritou dese taimes?” asked Hibou.

“Bah! Tritou he look, look h’all taime for Verbaux hees track!” said Le Grand.

“He ver’ beeg fool; Verbaux he keel Tritou somme taime certainement!” announced Bossu, speaking with slow precision, and with pauses between each word. The others nodded, and the conversation ceased.

Then, weirdly and noiselessly, a tall gaunt figure stepped into the edge of the firelight behind them, and stood there in silence, surveying the group in front of him. His snow-shoes were slung over his back, and the woollen muffler was tied loosely around the strong neck; the swarthy face was shining with sweat, and the massive chest rose and fell rapidly, as though in distress. He moved forward quietly, limping as he walked; when he was close to the four trappers he spoke softly, “Bon soi’!”

They leaped to their feet and stared at him. “Verbaux!” they said then.

“Ah’m hur-rt!” Jules spoke slowly and pointed to his left leg. The rough trouser and heavy moccasin were soggy with blood, which had congealed on them in a black mass. As Jules finished speaking he swayed a little and passed his big hand wearily over his forehead. Dumois jumped to his side.

“How you woun’?” he asked, a deep sympathy in his voice.

“Hax,” answered Jules, simply; then he added, “Ah cut moi par h’accident dees morn’n’; no can go h’on snow-shoe’; have had notting for heat; you can geeve me leetle, hein?” He looked at the others with pain-dulled eyes. “Ah see your trap’ and comme for help,” he continued.

“By gar! dat too dam’ bad!” said Hibou, loudly, to hide the lump in his throat that threatened to break his voice.

Tenderly and carefully the men supported Verbaux and laid him gently on a blanket before the fire. The gray eyes flashed their gratitude; then they closed and Verbaux fainted from hunger and pain. The trappers looked at the long, powerful form stretched helpless at their feet, and no one spoke.

“Bon! queeck!” said Bossu then, “ve mus’ feex dat woun’!” He knelt, and quickly split the trouser and cut away the top of the moccasin. A long, deep gash in the calf of the leg showed black and ugly; Bossu shook his head. “Ver’ bad dat!” he said. Water was heated and the wound thoroughly cleansed. It was a clean cut; the axe had bitten deep, but the lips of the gash were smooth and even. Bossu drew them together, and tied the leg up tightly, first with cloth, then with wide caribou-thongs.

Jules stirred. “Dat good, merci!” he whispered. Le Grand had been preparing tea and food, and he fed Jules like a child. Then the four lifted the big figure and carried it into the camp, and placed Jules on a fresh heap of boughs, covered him with blankets, and left him asleep.

Hibou threw more wood on the fire, and they squatted about it again.

“Ah’m ver’ content; Ah can do somme t’ing for heem!” said Le Grand.

“Nous aussi,” quickly answered the others, then silence came over the group.

The wind sighed through the trees. “Leesten!” Bossu held up his hand.

Far off in the forest a scratching and faint pattering could be heard on the hard crust. The trappers listened intently; the sound grew, and then they heard a long “Who-ee-e!” They looked at one another.

“Tritou, by diable!” said Dumois. “Vat he comme for, hein?” He looked at the camp as he spoke, nodding toward it. The others perceived his meaning and growled, “Nevaire!”

“Ho-o-o-p!” shouted Bossu. An answering call sounded near by, and in a few minutes six dogs drawing a light sledge ran into the firelight and stopped, panting. Behind them Tritou’s squat figure appeared, rifle on his arm.

“Bon soi’!” answered Bossu. “Vat you do here, Tritou?”

“Ah come f’om Petites Colignes las’ night et to-day; Ah go to Hautes Terres to-mor’. ’Ow many here?” he asked.

“Five!” said Le Grand. The three other Indians’ eyes gleamed for a moment, but they made no comment.

“Who ees de hoddaire mans?” asked Tritou, looking about for the fifth member of the party.

“Clement! ’Sleep!” answered Le Grand, jerking his thumb toward the camp as he named an Indian who, he knew, was away from the post, trapping to the southward.

Tritou unharnessed his team and fed them. Then he drew his blankets from the sledge and, with a nod to the others, went in the camp.

Bossu walked in quietly after him, his knife in his hand.

Tritou had wrapped himself up and lain down next to Verbaux on the fresh boughs. There was only a dim, shadowed light, that came from the fire, in the interior, and Bossu chuckled softly as he saw where Tritou had chosen to sleep. He sneaked out and beckoned to the others; they came, saw, and laughed softly. Then they brought in their own covers and stretched out in the camp for the night—all but Le Grand, who arranged his blankets in the angle of the walls, and sat there through the long winter darkness, his eyes fixed on the corner where Tritou and Verbaux slept side by side. Sometimes he would take out his pipe, and the cheep-cheep-cheep of the sharp knife-edge cutting through the tobacco would break the breathing stillness of the camp.

At last daylight filtered through the trees, and in its dark interior objects took shape, and grew in distinctness. Tritou moved and sat up.

Le Grand quickly slipped to the floor and watched. The short figure rose, glanced over the sleeping companions, and went outside, taking his blankets. Le Grand heard him splitting wood, and then the cheery crackling of the morning fire sounded on the quiet of dawn. Then he heard the rattle of a pannikin and the frying of meat, then silence.

Tritou finished his lonely breakfast, and harnessed his dogs. He stuck his head in the camp door. “Au revoir, h’all; Ah go now!” and his shouts of “Musha! Mush!” rang loudly between the log walls. The dogs yelped and went on, Tritou following. In a few minutes his voice died away to the eastward and all was quiet.

Le Grand breathed a sigh of relief and put away the long knife that had not left his hands since Tritou came. He went over to Jules; he was awake, and the big eyes looked inquiringly at him. “Ah t’ought Ah hear Tritou hees talk!” he said.

Le Grand laughed. “Tritou he slep’ ici las’ night, near to you!” and he pointed to the crushed boughs beside Jules. The latter struggled up and looked first at Le Grand, then at the empty green bed. He growled, and his hand felt under his wide belt. “SacrÉ!” he murmured, “Ah no know dat; but Ah’m no ver’ strong!” Then he stood up, limped to the door, and listened. “Ah bien!” he said, turning to Le Grand, “dat nev’ mind! Somme taime Ah show to heem! ’Ow he not know Jules be here?”

Le Grand told him how Tritou had been fooled, and Jules laughed softly, but the gray eyes looked in the forests searching for something.

The others were awake, and they chuckled again and again at their luck in avoiding a fight. After breakfast the four took their teams and went off to the traps, leaving Jules in camp. He walked about in the snow a little; his leg was stronger, it still ached, but the tight bandages supported the muscles and he could move quite easily.

“Ah mus’ go,” he said to himself; “mes dog notting h’eat t’ree day, poor beas’!” He took a small piece of caribou-meat and a little bread and put them in his pocket for himself on his trip. He sewed the rough trouser-leg together, and patched the cut moccasin. Then he peeled a square of thin bark from a small timber, and using a charred stick as a pencil he traced roughly, “Merci.—V.,” and put it on the boughs in the camp, then slung the snow-shoes over his back, and limped off in the deep timber.

In the evening the trappers returned, and Hibou called, “Verbaux!” No answer; they were frightened. Then Le Grand found the tracing in the camp, and showed it to the others. They were silent for a minute, when Bossu spoke huskily. “Ah, bien, ve do somme t’ing for heem! Bonne chance, Verbaux!” he said as he looked at the darkening forests.