“Oui; comme!” Jules said, and the two travelled across the timber-land to Verbaux’s camp.
Jules lighted the fire, then set food on the table. Crevier sat and watched him silently; with a nod, he ate a hearty meal.
“Ah-h, c’est bon!” and he sighed comfortably when he had finished, and ceremoniously drew out his quilled and beaded tobacco-bag and presented it to Jules. The latter filled his pipe; Crevier did the same; then Verbaux leaned back against the wall with legs firmly spread, the gray eyes fixed on the other, who was stretched on the green boughs. They smoked in silence for several minutes; the interior was redolent with the powerful reek of the black tobacco; the roof quivered with the sudden impacts of heavy wind, and there was the faint patter of millions of crust bits that, driven before the storm, struck the logs with all their minute weight and strength.
“Ah look for vone Jules Verbaux. Dat Le Grand h’at Poste Reliance he comme dere nine days h’ago wid une femme; by gar, she vas tire’ and hongree! She vas tak’ by Hodson Baie Compagnie at la destruction de Isle la Crosse by dat Annaotaha. Le Grand, fr’en’ to me, fin’ dis girrl and mak’ bataille avec dat scélérat. Le Grand seeck ver’ bad; he say to me, he say: ‘Philippe, you go fin’ Jules Verbaux; dees femme hees wife; she loove him mooch, mais he don’ t’ink dat trrue. You tell to heem, eef you can fin’ heen, dat ol’ Le Grand he ver’ bad, and vant for to see heem befor’ Le Grand est mort.’ Den Ah comme loook!”
Jules listened; his face was expressionless and at rest. His eyes glistened for an instant, then they too were void of feeling; he seemed interested, nothing more.
“You know dis Verbaux?” Crevier asked.
A flash came to the gray eyes. “Oui, Ah know heem; dis ees hees territoire; he gon’ Fond du Lac h’eight jour’ passé.”
“B’en, Ah go to Fond du Lac to-mor’; Ah geeve promesse to Le Grand for to fin’ heem eef eet possible, and he pay moi ten skin’ de day for do heet. Ah can stay avec vous ici to-night, hein?”
“Certainement!” Jules answered.
There was a silence—one man comfortable, happy, care-free; the other too full for utterance, but with calm, undisturbed features through it all.