Daylight paled the eastern skies; at first gray-rose, then purple, slate, and yellow, and at last the orange-red of sunrise spread and washed the few clouds in the heavens with golden splendour. The gleaming sphere appeared, grew, broadened, and shone brilliant over the desolate whiteness of the lonely northern wastes. Jules still hurried on. The dogs were tiring; he himself was wearied after the ceaseless swift pace of the night. He stopped, and at the edge of the forest island built a tiny fire; he boiled some tea; and fed the brutes who worked so strongly for him. Then, standing up, he gazed long over the back trail.
“Bon Dieu, Ah loove dat countree wit’ all mon cœur, but Jules he ees driven h’out lak’ a wolf, lak’ a chien; he go een straing’ territoire forhevaire. Puneesh dose Indiens, bon Dieu, an’ le facteur!”
It was broad, light day and glorious when Jules started the dogs on again, he following the sledge with even strides and the click-click-click of his wide snow-shoes. The sun warmed the little snow that was left over the earth, and the going was hard for the team. At noon Jules halted again, climbed a tree, and from its top he looked over the white barrens far and wide.
“Dey comme, bon Dieu!” he muttered as he saw many specks on his trail in the distance. “Dey goin’ track Jules to de las’! Vat Ah do?” He looked ahead, and saw a small lake at his feet; the soft ice was almost gone under its cover of thin snow, as the long cracks in it showed. Jules’s eyes gleamed. “Dat’s good! Vous autres,” he called to the oncoming sledges, “for de las’ taime, Ah’m goin’ show to you h’all dat Jules Verbaux ees inconquerable!”
He slid rapidly down the tree, its rough bark tearing his caribou jacket and scratching his hands. “Mush! Mush! Allez!” he shouted, and the dogs hurried on till they came to the lake edge beyond. Here Jules stopped them, and tested the white surface with his foot; it crackled and groaned, and, when he put his whole weight on it, split into fragments and showed the green, cold waters beneath. “Allez! Ho-o-o-o-pp!” he cried, and the team scampered across, their speed and light weight saving them from breaking through, though the ice crackled with muffled reports as they raced over it. Verbaux watched them reach the other side; then he laughed. “You Indiens! Follow de track, hein?” He took off his snow-shoes and sneaked, as of old, in his moccasins, on the back trail for a little distance; then he leaped strongly from it, far out to the left, put on the thonged hoops again, and travelled swiftly around the lake. The team had stopped when they reached the far side, and he found them there, curled up asleep. He drove the outfit over the rise, and sat down on the sledge where he could see below him.
Soon sounds of gruff voices broke the noon stillness, and Jules watched eagerly. They came—ten men, ten sledges, and many dogs. Their calls echoed vaguely across to him, as they came to the lake at different places along the bank. “Voici le track direct!” shouted one of the Indians, and the whole crowd rushed on, pell-mell, over the treacherous surface.
Crack! Cra-a-a-a-a-ck! Crunk! The thin ice crumbled to bits under the heavy weight of ten men, ten sledges, and many dogs.
“Oh, Dieu! Sacré-é! Dam’! Furies!” screamed the men, as they floundered in the icy water; the sledges had upset and their loads were thoroughly soaked. Slowly the crowd fought their way to the shore near by through the rotten snow-ice, swearing with hoarse voices. The dogs had twisted and chewed their way out of harness, and had crawled to the bank, but the sledges drifted tantalisingly among the floes, their loads totally ruined.
Jules’s big shoulders heaved and shook, and the swarthy face was wrinkled with hearty laughter, as he watched the half-frozen men gather together on the other side and gesticulate wildly.
“Diable! Diable! Diable misère!” screamed one of them in frantic rage, “ce dam’ Verbaux he ees drown, an’ dat ver’ good jus’ so!”