The gruff voices were very near, but the curtain of snow prevented his seeing the men. Closer he went till he heard the crackling of the flames; then he sat down under a tree to listen. His caribou clothes and fur cap matched its bark, and he was motionless there; only the sharp eyes, looking, watching, were alive.
The men squatted about the fire, and Verbaux scowled as he recognised Etienne Annaotaha, a renegade half-breed Canadian. “Dat Verbaux,” the man was saying, “he leeve Lac des Sables.”
“Mm-m-m, cle-ootz-tin-sale-oo-anno-we-koo-e-ya? [Maybe, will he go with us?]” asked an Indian.
“Ah don’ savoir eef tul-ul-um-oo-e-koo-e-ya [he will go with us]; mais eef non, den—” and Annaotaha laughed unpleasantly.
“Ah-ha [Yes],” answered the others.
“Ni-mi-na-hon-an [We kill] h’at Isle Crosse,” Etienne said, and he scanned the heavy faces around him.
“Ta-is-pi? [When?]” some one asked.
“Nis-to day’ [Three days off].” Grunts of approval were uttered by the party; they smoked awhile in silence.
“Cho-oe, wa-a-te-la-lesh! [Come, hurry!]” Annaotaha spoke sharply. The crowd picked up their packs and went off over the lake, laughing and talking.
Jules hurried down to the edge of the ice and watched them go. “Etienne Annaotaha! By gar, Jules see vous somme taime h’aga’n!” he said aloud, then went back for his snow-shoes, and kept on rapidly to the southwest. He came to the end of the timber-lands, and crossed out on the barrens. Here the snow fell faster than ever; the frozen morsels of white coated his jacket and cap, stuck on his straggling moustache until his breath melted them, and they froze in globules of ice on the ends of the hair. Jules looked back, but the shifting snow hid the forest, and he went on rapidly. He travelled without stopping again all that day, and when night closed in he built a little fire with some bits of wood he had brought under the shelter of a drift, ate his supper, then wrapped himself in his blanket and slept. The storm increased at midnight; the wind blew in dismal gusts, whirling the snow-dust along in chilling clouds. Verbaux’s form was covered with it, but he kept his face clear even in his sleep. Suddenly he sat up and listened. To the right of him he heard the yelping of wolves; the sound came closer, and he saw the big black forms moving noiselessly about him. “Ho-o-op!” he shouted, and lighted a match under cover of his jacket. Like phantoms the beasts disappeared, and all was silent, save for the soft, almost inaudible sound of the wind-driven flakes as they settled on him. He lay down again.