The Indian’s face twitched slightly, and Jules went on: “Vat she do v’en her faddaire ees dead?”
“Ah don’ know,” answered Le Grand.
“You got vone leet’ garçon, eh, Le Grand? Vat he do eef his faddaire ees dead?”
“Ah don’ know,” answered the other again.
Then Jules spoke fiercely: “Ah tell to you vat zey do, dose deux leet’ vones. V’en le facteur he fin’ hout you no comme back, he sen’ dose enfants een la forêt, Le Grand; he vant no des petits een ze post, v’en no vone dere for to geeve zem to h’eat; an’ den ze wolfs, Le Grand, zey aire hongree, maintenant, dese taimes, Le Grand.”
“Da’ ’s true,” answered the Indian, his voice quivering with emotion, though his face showed no sign. Silence fell on the two men.
At last Jules said: “Le Grand, you know vat Ah ’m goin’ to do à toi?”
“Keel, je suppose,” was the answer.
“Non, Le Grand; not zis taime. A geeve you to your leet’ vones. Ah had a papoose vonce; den dat Manou he stol’ ma femme, an’ de leet’ girrrl she die.” His voice broke, and he knelt hurriedly and cut the lashings on the ankles and wrists.
“Stan’ hup, Le Grand; voici ton fusil.” He handed the Indian the rifle. “Maintenant go! Partez! an’ rememb’ Jules Verbaux.”