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AT the little lean-to he gathered up his food and the canoe and travelled on down the mountain through the dense green forests. In three hours he came to the bottom, and a long lake stretched away, mirror-like and reflecting, at his feet. He pushed in the canoe and paddled out. From its centre he looked back.
High above him, and seemingly far away, was the top of Mont d’Ours; he waved his hand toward it again, and as he watched with sorrow-laden eyes, a great white cloud rolled down on the peak, hiding it from his sight; in a moment it lifted again.
“Le Grand he gone au bon Dieu!” Jules said solemnly and sadly, turned his back, and paddled on round a bend that shut out the mountain entirely.
He saw nothing of the forest scenes, and worked on automatically.
“Mon vieux, mon pauvre Le Grand!” was the only thought that faded the lustre of his hopes to see Marie so soon.
When he reached the foot of the lake and the last of his water trails he dragged the canoe into the underbrush, then went back to the lake edge and let his eyes wander over the green distances and focus themselves on Mont d’Ours, that lifted its heights proudly above its timbered base. He imagined that he could see a black dot which marked the grave of his friend, and strained his eyes in vain, trying to distinguish the cross.
“Au revoir, Le Grand!” he called loudly, and entered the forest. The trail was good, and he hastened on at a half-lope, hurrying to Her. He forded a wide stream, leaping agilely from rock to rock.
“Onlee feeft’en mile’ an’ den Ah see Marie!” he murmured, and kept on.
The blazed path widened; here and there were side tracks where the men from the post came for wood. Then he reached Rivière des Sauvages. Two trees lashed together in the middle afforded the chance of a dry crossing, and Jules ran along them nimbly; he was three-quarters of the way over when he stumbled on a knot that stuck sharp and tripping from the trunk, and he fell. The water was shallow, as he was near the shore, and he struck the bottom heavily. He lay there an instant, shocked into numbness, while the cold water rippled round him.
“Oh, dat jambe!” he cried as he struggled to stand up. A thrust of pain ran through his body; he tried to rise again, but the violent surge of physical suffering overcame him and he tumbled back in the water, sickened and weak.