“You be keel dans le matin, an’ Ah goin’ shoot toi, Verbaux; den mabbe Ah go fin’ dat femme?” he laughed and stepped nearer to Jules.
The latter heard the Indian close to his feet, though he could not see him, and raising his tied legs, he shot them forward viciously with a straight hip thrust and caught the other in the stomach.
“Dam’ toi to l’enfer!” Le Pendu coughed as he lurched out of the tepee. “Ah feex toi for dat!” and he swore fiercely.
Jules heard him move away, coughing hard, and was satisfied. “Ah geeve heem good keeck!” and he felt more comfortable. Then, “Los’, bon Dieu? Non! not los’! Marie! Marie! eef Ah could onlee fin’ toi an’ Le Grand, eef Ah could seulement see you vonce h’aga’n an’ tell to vous dat—Ah, non! no encore; not so, Marie; mais Ah vant see toi—an’ eet ees feenesh dis taime!” He spoke aloud and his voice trembled. He rolled over on his stomach, rested his chin on the hard, lumpy ground; the change of position lightened the strain of the bindings and he slept.
Day had just broken across the high skies when they woke him, severed his feet-thongs, and led him out into the yard. It was bitterly cold, and tears of chill welled in the corners of Jules’s eyes as his guards stood him by one of the log houses, facing the east.
He looked at the heavens, over which swung veils of different colours that changed continually. The yard was crowded with Indians and trappers; they were silent, in a semicircle, their blankets fluttering slightly in the wind of the dawn that blew across between the buildings. Five of them, grouped together in front of him, had guns. Everything was still, and Jules thought of his lonely, free life that he loved. He looked passionately on the forests that showed black and uneven beyond the post walls, and his keener senses felt the glorious, fierce winds that swept the wastes. He saw, not his executioners, not the death-hungry crowd, not the stiff houses, but the white country, and far away a hut that stood desolate between two giant pines; he saw the child’s cap, and then a form, a slight figure, stood before his dream-eyes; beside it a strong face, with long black hair about it, looked at him, and Le Grand’s voice came to his dream-ears. “Ah, Dieu!” he whispered, and knelt there in the snow with bowed head. The crowd shuffled uneasily, then one by one they took off their caps, all but Le Pendu, who held a gun and grunted contemptuously. Slowly the dark vaults above lightened and faint yellow beams stole, far-reaching, over the dark spruce.
“Bénissez, vous bon Dieu, ma femme et mon ami, si c’est votre volonté dat Ah die ains’. B’en, c’est fini!” He stood up and faced the east again.
A candle-lantern approached, and the factor came into the circle. “Aire ye ready, me lads?” he asked.
“Mm-hm!” answered Le Pendu; no one else spoke.
“Verbaux!”—the chief turned to Jules—“I’ll gie ye a chaince mair, mon, for ye life, If ye’ll gie me yere worrd o’ hanair not to gang awa’, an’ to bide here an’ trap for me, I’ll let ye go. Me bruither, God rest his soule! told me of ye, an’ said ye cud be truisted when ye promeesed.”