“C’est mon affaire,” answered the new man; “but Ah’m goin’ breeng heem h’alive to la poste.”
Le Grand looked keenly at the speaker; then, as though satisfied with his scrutiny, he chuckled. Nothing more was said, and one by one the trappers got up, wrapped their blankets round them, and passed out into the night and the snow, muttering, “Bon soi’, Le Grand!”
Le Grand sat a long time alone; his eyes shone like a caribou’s as the firelight danced and mirrored itself in the black depths; then he went to the flap and looked out. “Beeg storm,” he said, half aloud, as he lay down on the heap of boughs that served him as a bed and drew the blankets over him.
At daylight next morning the post was astir. There was shouting of men and a scurrying about of women; the trappers came and went, carrying food and blankets to their tepees. The factor stood at the store entrance, checking off each Indian’s load as he went out.
“Here, you humpback,” he called, as Le Bossu passed with his supplies, “ye got wan blanket too manny! Ye can’t cheat me, ye son of a gun! Take it back to Maquette!”
In the yard trappers were getting their dogs into harness, and the din was great, what with the snarling and yelping of the brutes, the cries of children who clung tenaciously to the squaws’ skirts, and the clang of the bell in the tower on the factor’s house, which was calling the men for the start. At last all was ready; twenty-five men and eighteen dog-teams were assembled in front of the store, the men, cap in hand, waiting for the factor’s final orders.
The sun shone warmly now, and the melting snow dripped comfortably from the store roof; a little breeze played daintily with the flag at the masthead, making it curl in graceful folds and letting it fall again. The factor held up his hand, and all was quiet.
“Now min’,” he said; “get ye a lot o’ fur better ’n lasht trip, or Oi’ll cut yer grub next toime. That’s all, except, av coorse, me two hunderd fer Verbaux shtands as I made ut; if anny o’ ye sees ’im, don’t dare come back widout ’im.” He turned and went into the store.
“Who-o-o-e-e-e-e!” shouted the crowd, and with cries of “Au revoir!” “Adieu!” “Bonne chance!” from those leaving and from those that remained, the trappers urged on the dogs and scurried across the clearing into the woods. For some time their voices were borne faintly to the home crowd, who still clustered about the gate; then these died away, and every one went off to his own duties.
“Ah t’ou’t las’ night, vone beeg storm to-day,” said Le Grand to the crowd, as they hurried along as fast as the heavy travelling and hard pulling for the dogs would allow. “Mais, by gar! de snow she ver’ deep aujourd’hui!” he added. Snow-shoes were of no service at all, and the Indians proceeded in single file, taking turns every few minutes at breaking trail.