"But why these strange cries?"
"The bark of the wolf is our rallying cry."
"The wolf!"
"Do you understand now?"
The old man passed his hand rapidly over his forehead and his eyes, then grounding his musket, and seizing Barbin by the collar, he exclaimed:
"You don't mean it. I knew it would come, but did not expect it so soon. The wolf, you said? Ah! sixteen years are a long time, but it passes, Barbin. We are old now, yet not broken—"
He would have continued in this strain, but his interlocutor suddenly stopped him.
"Yes, yes, Batoche, it is thus. Make yourself ready, as we are doing. But I must go. My companions are waiting for me. We have important work to do to-night."
"And I?" asked the old man reproachfully.
"Your work, Batoche, is not now, but later, not here, but elsewhere. Be quiet; you have not been forgotten."