Bossu walked in quietly after him, his knife in his hand.
Tritou had wrapped himself up and lain down next to Verbaux on the fresh boughs. There was only a dim, shadowed light, that came from the fire, in the interior, and Bossu chuckled softly as he saw where Tritou had chosen to sleep. He sneaked out and beckoned to the others; they came, saw, and laughed softly. Then they brought in their own covers and stretched out in the camp for the night—all but Le Grand, who arranged his blankets in the angle of the walls, and sat there through the long winter darkness, his eyes fixed on the corner where Tritou and Verbaux slept side by side. Sometimes he would take out his pipe, and the cheep-cheep-cheep of the sharp knife-edge cutting through the tobacco would break the breathing stillness of the camp.
At last daylight filtered through the trees, and in its dark interior objects took shape, and grew in distinctness. Tritou moved and sat up.
Le Grand quickly slipped to the floor and watched. The short figure rose, glanced over the sleeping companions, and went outside, taking his blankets. Le Grand heard him splitting wood, and then the cheery crackling of the morning fire sounded on the quiet of dawn. Then he heard the rattle of a pannikin and the frying of meat, then silence.
Tritou finished his lonely breakfast, and harnessed his dogs. He stuck his head in the camp door. “Au revoir, h’all; Ah go now!” and his shouts of “Musha! Mush!” rang loudly between the log walls. The dogs yelped and went on, Tritou following. In a few minutes his voice died away to the eastward and all was quiet.
Le Grand breathed a sigh of relief and put away the long knife that had not left his hands since Tritou came. He went over to Jules; he was awake, and the big eyes looked inquiringly at him. “Ah t’ought Ah hear Tritou hees talk!” he said.
Le Grand laughed. “Tritou he slep’ ici las’ night, near to you!” and he pointed to the crushed boughs beside Jules. The latter struggled up and looked first at Le Grand, then at the empty green bed. He growled, and his hand felt under his wide belt. “Sacré!” he murmured, “Ah no know dat; but Ah’m no ver’ strong!” Then he stood up, limped to the door, and listened. “Ah bien!” he said, turning to Le Grand, “dat nev’ mind! Somme taime Ah show to heem! ’Ow he not know Jules be here?”
Le Grand told him how Tritou had been fooled, and Jules laughed softly, but the gray eyes looked in the forests searching for something.
The others were awake, and they chuckled again and again at their luck in avoiding a fight. After breakfast the four took their teams and went off to the traps, leaving Jules in camp. He walked about in the snow a little; his leg was stronger, it still ached, but the tight bandages supported the muscles and he could move quite easily.
“Ah mus’ go,” he said to himself; “mes dog notting h’eat t’ree day, poor beas’!” He took a small piece of caribou-meat and a little bread and put them in his pocket for himself on his trip. He sewed the rough trouser-leg together, and patched the cut moccasin. Then he peeled a square of thin bark from a small timber, and using a charred stick as a pencil he traced roughly, “Merci.—V.,” and put it on the boughs in the camp, then slung the snow-shoes over his back, and limped off in the deep timber.