This was but the prelude to winter. But before that dread season settled down in all its northern fierceness, they were to know a few days of happy respite. Next morning the storm had abated, and a bright sun gleamed across the long, smooth rollers that still swept in upon the shore. There was a strange feeling of summer in the air, and Claude, who remembered his experiences at Quebec, when with Cartier on his second voyage, knew that the "Indian Summer," the time set apart by the red men to make their final preparations for winter, was upon them. For a week the warm sun shone through the mellow haze, and for a week, from morning till night, all three toiled to lay an abundant store of firewood about their hut. It was well that they had this work to occupy their time, for the heap of stones, marking the spot where their dead companion lay, weighed upon their spirits. By the end of the week their little hut was almost hidden from view by the great piles of wood they had gathered, and the ringing blows of Claude's axe ceased.
He had not been wrong; it was but a short respite. Scarcely had they finished their preparations when a raw, penetrating wind, that seemed to separate the flesh from the bone, blew down from the north. The birds had now all gone, except the hardier northern ones. Their songs had ceased; naught was heard but the sound of the restless waves, which kept up an eternal moaning, the soughing of the pines, and the wild shrieks of the sea-birds, whose cries seemed to grow drearier with the approach of winter--modulated, as it were, to the weird north wind.
The three were now forced to remain inside their hut, but the great fire which burned at the door gave them no warmth. There was but one course to follow; a fire must be made within the hut. Claude had long dreaded this inevitable thing, and had put off the evil day while he could. He had been in the huts of the Montagnais, at Tadousac, during the depth of winter, and had seen those shivering savages, half blind with the smoke, crouching about a fire in the centre of their hut, while the smoke, after circling their abode, found its way out through an opening cut in the roof. But as winter drew nearer, he could only imitate the red men; and, with great reluctance, he began to build a fireplace inside their dwelling. The task completed, with saw and axe he cut an aperture above it, and, piling a heap of branches on the stones, set fire to them. The lurid flames for a moment brightened the interior; but soon, half blinded, the women rushed choking into the open air, while the smoke curled upwards, and the warm fire glowed within. There was nothing else to do; they must become accustomed to the discomfort; and, driven in by the cold, they crowded about the blaze. Claude could not but feel how soon such a life must make them even as the red men. Their eyes grew weak and bloodshot; poor old Bastienne became almost blind, and soon could only grope her way about the hut.