"There goes that Nichie outfit from Slave Lake again," cried the Factor, angrily. "They've gambled for three nights; if the police were here I'd have a stop put to it."
François tried to close his ears to the coaxing, throbbing, skin-covered tambourine the gambling party's music-maker was hammering that still, frosty night; but his hearing only became acuter, for it centred more and more on the thing he was trying to keep from his mind. Even the "Huh, huh!--huh, huh!--huh, huh!--huh, huh!" of the half-dozen Indians who sat about a blazing camp-fire, and rocked their bodies and swayed their arms in rhythmic time, came to him with malevolent fascination.
"I t'ink me I go sleep," François said, knocking the ashes from his pipe, and putting it in his bead-worked deerskin fire-bag.
"You'd better pull out sharp in the morning," commanded the Factor; "young McGregor will be running short of grub before you get back."
"I roun' up ever' t'ing to-night," returned François, "an' hit de trail firs' t'ing in de mornin', soor. I make me de S'ack in t'ree day."
Outside, the "Tum-tum" called to him; the "Huh, huh!" pleaded with him like the voice of a siren. He would go and sit by their fire just for a little, the Breed reasoned--not play! for more than once he had been stripped to his very shirt when luck set against him. True, other times he had accumulated furs, and dogs, and guns, even the caribou-skin coats, and Cow-boy hats--fine valuable hats worth ten dollars a piece,--when fortune smiled and he had guessed unerringly in which hand his opponent-player had hidden the cartridge shell, or whatever other token they used.
"Huh-huh! François! Huh, Boy--Welcome!" went round the circle of squatting figures when the Half-breed stood amongst them. The musician stopped beating his instrument; solemnly each player and onlooker held out a hand and gave François one sharp jerk of greeting. Two rows of men sat facing each other, a big blanket over their knees; room was made for the new arrival.
"S'pose I not gamble to-night me," said François, hesitatingly.
They laughed in astonishment--doubtingly.
"S'pose you 'fraid you lose, Man-who-saves-his-money," cried a Saltaux Indian, disdainfully.