Round and round Verbaux worked about his tree, keeping its protecting trunk between him and Tritou. The latter did not dare approach too close, as he feared that Jules might rush him if he did. The long afternoon passed thus, each man seeking an opportunity that would not come. The shadows grew deeper, and the skies turned a dark green-blue; still the two watched and waited. Darkness came and the forest was plunged in black. Verbaux listened intently. Everything was absolutely still, except for the hoot of an owl in the distance. Slowly, very slowly he stepped out from behind his tree and listened again. No sound! Inch by inch he worked his way in Tritou’s direction. It was wonderful; he moved over the crust and made not the tiniest crackle. _Swish—crunch_! came from the darkness beyond, very softly, but Jules heard it and sneaked on. “Diable!” he thought, as an unseen stick crackled under him; he stopped. Tritou had heard it, too, and was fleeing through the woods, his snow-shoes clicking loudly. He had not dreamed that Jules was so near. Verbaux started after him. Tritou’s snow-shoes gave him a decided advantage, because Jules slipped and slid on the crust. He did not have on his moccasins with caribou-hair soles. _Cran-ng_! sounded the rifle, and the bullet pi-i-nged viciously over Jules’s head. He made no answer, but ran on at full speed. _Cran-ng!_ again, and the bullet thudded into a tree near by. Tritou was firing toward the sound of Jules’s leaps on the crust! _Cran-ng!_ The leaden missile _zi-i-i-ped_ at Jules’s feet. He dodged to the right and listened. Tritou stopped, too, and the woods were deathlike in their stillness.
“You, Tri—” _Cran-ng!_ Jules did not hear the bullet this time. “Tritou!” he called again; no answer. “Tritou! tak’ care!” _Whe-e-e_! the bullet whined from a tree close by. Jules said no more, but knelt down and took off his moccasins; then he stole forward in his coarse stockings. “Dat bettaire,” he muttered, as the woollen material stuck well to the slippery surface.
Tritou had not moved, and Jules edged noiselessly forward, listening between each step. He put his hand on a big pine to lighten his weight, and stopped again. _Swsht_! a light rustle came from behind it. Jules drew his knife softly from his shirt and put it between his teeth, then sprang like lightning round the trunk. “Ha-rgh-rr!” he growled as his hands felt a warm, living body. “Tu diable!” screamed Tritou and fired the rifle. The bullet went wild and the two men fell, rolling over and over on the crust. Jules felt Tritou trying to draw his knife, and he used both hands to prevent him. His own knife was still clenched in his jaws. “Ah tear ze eyes h’out of your tête!” screamed Tritou, crazed with rage. “Ah cut ze hearrt’ f’om your corps!” and he struggled again for his knife. Jules made no answer. The two men writhed and tumbled over the snow, one snarling like an animal, the other silent. Jules held on grimly, waiting his chance. The struggle grew fiercer instead of less; now both men breathed in loud gasps, and grunted as one or the other came underneath in their rolling.