Jules stepped to the edge of the hill. “Holla, là-bas!” he called loudly, “long chemin to la poste!”
The Indians looked up, startled, and saw the tall, gaunt figure silhouetted against the glorious azure sky. It spoke again. “Jules Verbaux he speet on you! Adieu!” The figure laughed mockingly, waved its hand in derision, and disappeared.
XI
THE NEW COUNTRY
Spring came and went. The summer months passed, finding Verbaux sometimes at one post for a few days, and again travelling into the North steadily, now by canoe, then on foot, carrying his food, blankets, and the axe. At last he reached a wild and desolate stretch of territory between Bear Lake and Lac des Sables.
He built a little home and stayed there, thinking that he was to be alone and free. He came to know his new country, and to love it for its utter solitude, for its breadth and depth, and because fur was plenty. The gray eyes were ever sad, but they had a look of freedom in them, and did not always watch on every side.
Winter had come again; the greens were browns in the forests, and the browns were now covered with white. Verbaux was in the deep timber-lands; before him stood a comfortable log hut, with a dog-shed behind it. A pile of wood neatly stacked was at one side; two giant pines stood by the little home, their great branches reaching out and meeting over the roof, and the smoke from the tiny chimney filtered away through their needles in graceful plumes.
He turned the dogs loose from the sledge at his feet, and went into the camp. The log walls were covered with skins, a raised bough bed was near the fireplace, and the frying-pan stood black in a corner by the rough but even table. At the head of the bed hung a child’s woollen cap, surrounded by a wreath of moss.
“Dose Cree-e Indians, Ah see deir track to-day; Ah lak’ know vat for dey comme so far au Nord,” said Jules aloud as he built up the fire and brushed the cold ashes in a mound about it. He cooked a frugal meal of caribou-meat and warmed some heavy bread in the hot pan.
The door stood open, and the light breeze waved the hair of the skins on the walls. Verbaux lighted his old pipe and threw himself on the boughs; little by little the clouds of tobacco smoke lessened, then the strong jaw dropped, the pipe fell, and Jules slept.