He laughed softly, and unwound the muffler that had so successfully hidden his face. “No le bon Dieu,” he said quietly—“onlee Jules Verbaux.”
The three started as though bewitched; then Le Bossu got up slowly, walked over, and held out his hand.
“Verbaux,” he said huskily, “Ah hear mooch bad de toi; mais Ah say dat you have vone grand beeg hearrt!”
Jules smiled and waved his hand to the southward.
“Go! Allez! sauf to de post.”
Silently the men filed off, following the blazed trail; in a few minutes they looked back, but he was gone.
V
JULES’S STRATAGEM
Tritou swore mighty and fearful oaths. For the third time in as many weeks, his traps had been robbed of their fur and the empty ones sprung. The first time it had happened he reset them, and let it go at that; the second time he reset them, and watched half the night, but saw nothing, and the next morning the traps were all sprung again; now, the third time, it was too much for any hard-working Indian to stand.
Tritou set and baited his line once more; then he started off at full speed for the post, forty miles away. He was on foot, and it was night when he reached the stockade; without a word to any one, he went into his tepee, brought out food, blankets, and his beloved rifle; then he picked out his dogs, eight of them, from the pack that wandered about the post yard, harnessed them to his light sledge, and went off into the darkness.