“Ah t’ink Ah hear somme t’ing,” he muttered as he walked to the door. He looked out—nothing. He made the round of the hut outside—nothing. He listened again, but there was no sound of any kind.
“Ah rêve!” he said. “Ees cold; mus’ mak’ fire!” He went back, and drew a match-stick sharply over the table surface; it flared, then the wood burned dimly between his fingers. A strange feeling came to him. He turned quickly and held the dying match over his head. By its uncertain light he saw a man standing near the door; the new-comer’s eyes shone black in the yellow light.
“By gar! Qu’est-ce?” growled Jules, bounding forward. The match went out, and the red bits dropped to the floor; his hands closed on empty air. He felt round the walls, then listened out in the night—silence!
“Dat ver’ drôle! Ah see man here certainement!” At that instant another light flashed in the blackness; Jules stared at it eagerly. The man he had seen held it, and the stranger now stood by the bed.
“Candelle,” he said gutturally. Verbaux felt on a little shelf, found the caribou-fat candle, and gave it to the man. He lighted it and set it on the table. The two looked at each other.
“Vat you do ici, an’ vat your name?” asked Jules.
“Mon nom Le Pendu; Ah go nord, Fond du Lac,” answered the other, while his black eyes shifted hither and thither restlessly.
“Porter hordaires to les Indians là-bas h’of de war; hordaires to keel dose mans of odder Compagnie!”
“Mak’ fight?” Verbaux questioningly repeated, and the other continued, “Dat Compagnie du Nor’ouest she t’ink she have ever’t’ing for hersel’; she t’ink dat h’all dis territoire ees to elle, an’ dat nous autres, ve can go hongree! Ve goin’ mak’ bataille, an’ den you, Verbaux, go wid nous, hein?” The man leaned forward slightly as he finished.
Jules was silent; the candle-flame guttered and flickered between them.
“Non,” Verbaux said gravely, “Ah no tak’ life h’of mans v’en Ah no have to.” His voice was decisive and strong. Le Pendu rose, turned to the door, and disappeared. Jules sat still. Then, with a slight whirring sound, something flashed past his eyes and thudded on the logs; he looked up and saw a knife quivering there, buried deep in the wood. With one puff he blew out the light and crouched low; then he stole out to the cold air. Le Pendu was gone. Jules watched and listened a long time, but heard nothing.