“Dere comme la brigade; mabbe Ah fin’ h’out somme t’ing de Marie, Dieu l’espère!” Jules said aloud as he saw a convoy of canoes coming toward him across the lake. He waited, motionless, and his reflection grew longer and shorter in the calm waters as the canoe swung round idly, moved by the faint strength of the current that flowed into the lake behind him.
“Verbaux, mon Gar, bon Dieu, dat toi?” shouted a voice from the canoes. Jules started violently.
“Le Grand!” he whispered. “B’en, oui!” he shouted back. Then a canoe separated from the group and came on fast, the man paddling hard while the others cheered and laughed. The two canoes floated side by side and the two men grasped each other’s hands.
“Marie?” Jules said hoarsely.
“Là-bas, h’all sauf!” smiled Le Grand, pointing beyond the distant mountains.
“Dieu merci!” and Jules bowed his head; Le Grand was silent. The rest came up. “Bon, toi fin’ heem, hein?” said a big voyageur laughingly to Le Grand. The latter nodded gravely.
“’Ow toi comme ici?” asked the voyageur, Maurice Lefèvrier, of Jules.
“Le facteur he sen’ moi for to go Lac Tonnerres see eef dose Assiniboines tak’ de trap’!” Verbaux answered.
Le Grand looked at him quickly, and Jules narrowed his eyes; the other understood and made no comment.
It grew late, and some one suggested stopping for the night; the canoes were grounded and their loads covered from the dew. After supper Verbaux beckoned silently to Le Grand, and the two walked out to a little bank that overlooked the water, and sat down. A soft wind surged from the lake, and overhead banks of clouds drove on; sometimes their masses split and the silver of the full moon streamed through in a white flood, only to be dammed again by the hurrying gloom. Above the two stretched spreading branches, through whose leaves the night wind blew, making them breathe tremulously. The lulling song of curling ripples overbore all other sound; even the mosquitoes bit silently.