“You, Tri—” Cran-ng! Jules did not hear the bullet this time. “Tritou!” he called again; no answer. “Tritou! tak’ care!” Whe-e-e! the bullet whined from a tree close by. Jules said no more, but knelt down and took off his moccasins; then he stole forward in his coarse stockings. “Dat bettaire,” he muttered, as the woollen material stuck well to the slippery surface.
Tritou had not moved, and Jules edged noiselessly forward, listening between each step. He put his hand on a big pine to lighten his weight, and stopped again. Swsht! a light rustle came from behind it. Jules drew his knife softly from his shirt and put it between his teeth, then sprang like lightning round the trunk. “Ha-rgh-rr!” he growled as his hands felt a warm, living body. “Tu diable!” screamed Tritou and fired the rifle. The bullet went wild and the two men fell, rolling over and over on the crust. Jules felt Tritou trying to draw his knife, and he used both hands to prevent him. His own knife was still clenched in his jaws. “Ah tear ze eyes h’out of your tête!” screamed Tritou, crazed with rage. “Ah cut ze hearrt’ f’om your corps!” and he struggled again for his knife. Jules made no answer. The two men writhed and tumbled over the snow, one snarling like an animal, the other silent. Jules held on grimly, waiting his chance. The struggle grew fiercer instead of less; now both men breathed in loud gasps, and grunted as one or the other came underneath in their rolling.
All this time Jules was silent, fighting strongly; of a sudden the animal sprang up in him, something snapped in his brain, his strength redoubled, and dropping the knife from his teeth, he threw his head forward, and down to Tritou’s throat, and opened his mouth as he felt the hot, sweating flesh on his lips; his teeth closed tighter and tighter, cutting through skin, blood-vessels, and muscle. “Arh! Arh! Arh! Arh!” screeched Tritou, kicking and writhing; he felt the teeth crunching and chewing, mouthing his life away. Jules bit deeper and deeper; his teeth sank into the gums, he held them there, then with a supreme effort he twisted his head sidewise, wrenching Tritou’s throat apart. The body under him relaxed, quivered, and jerked spasmodically, then lay still. The hot blood covered Jules’s face; it was up his nose, and had gone down his open throat. He got up slowly and looked at the limp body he could just see in the darkness at his feet. Then he sank to his knees and crossed himself.
“Oh, bon Dieu! Leesten vat Jules say! Zis Tritou, he follow me ev’ place, he try for to keel me so h’often, an’ now, bon Dieu, Ah have keel heem! Pardon, bon Dieu! Grâce for me, miserabl’ dat Ah am!”
He rose, dull-eyed and trembling, and went away, leaving the dead man stretched out and stiffening on the snow.
X
INTO THE NORTH
It was twilight on an early spring day in the far North. The snows had melted a great deal, and the giant spruce and pine were clean of their winter clothes of heavy white. The forest was absolutely still. Jules stood beside a crushed and wrecked heap of bark that had been a hut, and his home; his big sledge and five dogs were near; on it was piled a load of fur, well fastened; the old frying-pan hung out behind, and the familiar tote-bag lay on top of the heap; the blankets were rolled up and thonged to the curve of the sledge-runners in front, and a worn axe-handle stuck out at one side. Jules took off the fur cap. “Adieu, hol’ place, forhevaire! Ah had many pain’, many joy’ here! Le facteur an’ hees Indians destroi mes trap, mes hut, ev’t’ing! Jules go far ’way, v’ere he can be h’alone. Adieu!” He looked sorrowfully at the ruins of his home, and waved his hand to the tall, silent trees about, who had been his only friends for so long. “Allez!” he said to the dogs, and with them vanished in the darkening forest.
It was a fine evening; overhead the stars appeared dimly in the pale-green skies, then brightened as their background grew dark. There was enough crust to hold up the sledge and team, but Jules sank in, and his snow-shoes crunched loudly in the silence of the black timber. Straight into the North he travelled, until he came to an open place among the tree trunks. At one side, faintly visible in the dim light, stood a little rough-hewn cross; Jules stopped the dogs, went to it, and knelt. “Adieu, petite; your faddaire he go far ’way, but he t’ink hall taime of toi. Adieu!” He bowed, and kissed the cold snow at the foot of the little cross; the tears trickled over the bronzed cheeks, and fell unheeded from the square chin. He rose, hoarsely ordered the team on, and left the white cross glimmering, faithfully watched by the tall, sombre pines.
Steadily and speedily he and the dogs coursed on over hills; across wide barrens, where the starlight shone mystically on the white surface; through ravines, where the heavy woods cast dark shadows; in deep timber, where the blackness of everything was intense; on and on and on. The country changed; it became flat and bare; the barrens were miles in length, and forest-land was scarce. The north star gleamed white, blue, pink, then white again in the far, far distant heavens; and ever toward it Jules travelled on ceaselessly.