Day was just beginning to lighten the sky when he was up and, after a hasty, cold breakfast, went on again. The trail turned a little to the northeast as he went, and then he came to the remnants of a fire, and saw where Jules had slept, and where the dogs had dug holes for themselves in the snow. The signs were not very old; indeed, Tritou fancied that he could still feel heat in the ashes. With renewed vigour he pushed on and on. The course lay through heavy timber now, and he had to stop and puzzle out the faint snow-shoe scratches in several places. He came to another lake, but this was covered with snow, and the tracks showed clear upon it. Half-way across he stopped; to the northeast of him, in the woods, a thin blue haze indicated smoke. Tritou breathed faster, and followed the tracks to the edge of the woods. There he left the team and, rifle in hand, sneaked along the snow-shoe marks. “At las’!” he whispered, as he saw the smoke ascending through the trees two hundred yards in front of him. He loosened the knife in his belt, and made sure that the rifle was ready. Then he crept forward warily.
Jules was skinning some marten in front of a little shed hut; a fire burned brightly near him, and he sang merrily as he peeled the sleek fur from the little stiff body in his hands.
“La boule elle roule, Laridon-dè, laridon-da!”
_Crang!_ His ear stung and he drew his hand away from it bloody. _Crang!_ His cap twitched as he flung the marten to one side and dashed behind a big pine. All was silent. He wondered who it was that had fired at him. Then he took off his cap and saw the bullet-hole in it, near the fur tassel. “C’est près, ça! Dat close!” he said. He stuck the cap on a twig and pushed it carefully from behind the trunk. _Cran-ng!_ and the cap fell to the crust. “He shoot good!” muttered Jules, as he kept perfectly still behind his tree.
A soft crunch broke the silence; Verbaux stuck his head in and out from the tree trunk quickly.
“Tritou!” His voice quivered ominously, and his hands clenched. He had seen Tritou as the latter, knowing that Jules had no gun, went from one tree to another, to get a near shot when opportunity offered.
A mocking laugh from the other was the only answer.