“Mon ami, dat have do so mooch pour moi, Ah revanche toi!” and he went over to where Annaotaha lay.
He yanked the shirt from Etienne’s body, tore it into strips, with which he tied the unconscious man firmly; then he picked up his cap, filled it with water at the river, and dashed it over the renegade; again and again he did this till Annaotaha stirred slightly.
Jules waited till Etienne was fully conscious; then he went to the bank and gathered long, heavy stones; he brought these up one by one and laid them beside the murderer. The latter watched with growing fear in his shifting eyes.
“Vat for dose?” he asked. Jules made no reply. When he had collected about a hundred pounds of these stones he sat down, and carefully bound each one with a strip of cloth, leaving some of the lashings to spare; then he fastened one securely to Annaotaha’s ankles. The coward screeched and begged as he understood now what the stones were for. Jules worked on, silent and relentless. At last the weights were all made fast to the half-breed’s form.
“Là!” Verbaux said with a quiet deadliness. “Touts prêts!” and he stood up.
“No goin’ keel moi, Verbaux!” Annaotaha shrilled.
Jules towered over him, his hands clenched, his whole body quivering with fury. The waters of the river murmured gently, with lapping sounds; a little draft sported among the trees, causing them to shudder faintly; from far off came a long wail that rose and died away.
Verbaux listened to the sound. In a moment the lonely howl came from the forest, but it was nearer. And once more the wild note pierced the atmosphere of night, and sank; Jules moved away from the stone-laden figure at his feet and crouched in the thickets that bordered on the clearing. A white shape came into the starlight, shuffled up to the dark thing that lay there, sniffed of it a moment and then sent out a mystic, curdling yowl that echoed and reëchoed over the steadily flowing river.
The white thing faded eerily away, trotting without sound, and disappeared in the shadows. Verbaux stalked silently to the renegade, who whispered and cried.
“Etienne Annaotaha, leesten vat Ah say: dat loup blanc he mak’ bad signe for toi! Long h’ago, long taime gone, you keel vone femme near to Lac la Pluie.” The half-breed winced. “Maintenant you have keel Le Grand, mon ami! H’at Isle la Crosse you took ma femme, an’ for dese t’ing’ toi goin’ be keel by le bon Dieu!”