When night closed down hard and fast, he stopped.
They were in the woods, and the stranger helped them again by gathering a lot of fire-wood. As it blazed up he spoke: “Stay here teel day! Ah comme back een mornin’.”
Then he let his food-bag fall from his shoulder, and went off into the black depths of the forest, stirring up clouds of snow-dust that scintillated and shone in the firelight as he went.
The three stared at one another.
“Dat le bon Dieu!” whispered Le Bossu, crossing himself.
They took off their caps and repeated the Ave Maria, intoning it softly; then they looked into the bag the stranger had left. It contained food,—plenty of food,—and they fell on it eagerly, ferociously, as only starving men can; the dogs were also fed, and the fire was well built up; then they curled in their blankets and went to sleep, thanking the Holy Mother for her mercy.
“Taime to go,” said a voice, and they woke to find the stranger with them again. He had built the breakfast fire, and water was boiling in the pannikins. While they ate, watching him the while with pious awe, he got the dogs together and harnessed them.
“Allons!” he said, and started on. The snow was not so deep in the woods, and the three had had a good-night’s rest, so they were able to follow fast. At noon the figure stopped again. “Le chemin—de trail,” he said.
Le Hibou looked up and saw the blazes on the trees. “C’est le chemin—le chemin!” he cried, and fell on his knees in the snow. Le Bossu and Dumois knelt too. “Merci, Seigneur bon Dieu!” they said to the stranger.