Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1905-04-08

slopes; they made their way through frozen
swamps, hacking path through the thick
underground. Nor storm nor frozen forest
could daunt them, for at the end of the
journey lay Vilon's and Toinette
All that long, dreary day the crunch of
snowshoes resounded through the forest,
and the two figures. without halt, without
a pause. sped over the snow. Only when
the bleak twilight gave way to inky black
ness did they stop to rest. In two pits, dug
in the snow and hastily covered with hem
lock boughs. they made their camps, scarce
Iy nifty yards apart. Two Pickering fires
in the pitch black night marked the spots.
There, after a hurried meal and a generous
supply of boiling black coffee, each wrapped
himself in blankets, and, stretching his feet
to the roaring fire. was soon asleep.
With the first hint of light, both were
up and afoot. The storm, instead of less
ening, seemed to have increased in fury.
The trees twisted and groaned, as if in
agony. The snow came down in binding
masses The biting air was like sharp
needles to the nostrils. Yet, through the
torm-racked wilderness, toward Vilion's
went the two rivals, silent this time both of
them, for Jean had better uses for his breath
than jihes and chansons.
Only once that morning did he raise his
voice mockingly to Baptiste, and that was
when the latter, far spent from the trying
climb of a rough slope, paused momentarily
for breath.
"Ho no." shouted Jean. you rest, mon
Baptiste. Quite right. The little 'Toinette
will want no tired partners. Rest well, mon
ami I'll tell her left you here resting"
Whereupon Baptiste, with an inarticuiate
roar of wrath, pushed on at reckless speed
that set Jean chuckling nightly.
Early afternoon found them both going
slowly, and, by their labored breath and
bullying eyes, they showed plainly the eff
fects of the pace. Baptiste moved heavily,
like ponderous machine, all the grace and
suppleness gone from his stride. His breath
came in gaspS. His head rolled to and fro
sheer
somewhat more steadily but his own legs
felt like blocks of wood, and every breath
he took was like knife in his overworked
lungs.
a few miles more. and it was evident, so
far as Baptiste was concerned, that the end
was near Twice he fell heavily and lay
for time in the snow. but each time he
managed to regain his feet and press on.
His face was haggard and CHASTITY. His I'M
seeing eyes We're fixed straight ahead.
Jean watched him narrowly. The dry
snow and the mans weight We're telling on
him heavily. 1t was only a matter of mo-
ments. At the next opening in the woods
he looked for Baptiste. There he was,
down again. and this time he lay quite still.
Jean waited and as the other did not rise,
ne hurried over to the PROSTATE man. He
stood for time looking down at him mock
ingly.
"Ah, mon Baptiste'' he said, softly, you
will keep the little 'Toinette waiting for
her dance with you is 1t not SOP
At the sound of the voice Baptiste man
aged to lift himself to an elbow. He stared
at Jean with stupid. CLASSY eyes.
I'VE rest, it seems said Jean. "A nice
long rest in the snow We don't care now
if we do keep the little 'Toinette waiting
eh, Baptiste?'
A dull glow came into Baptiste's eyes. He
struggled vainly to get to his feet; as far
as his knees was the best he could do. Jean
crouched down and leered mockingly.
Mice long rest in the snow" he repeat
ed, with chuckle. And the gray wolves
are hungry this winter
"Sacre! growled Baptiste, thickly.
"Such fine, big man will make good wolf
meat, even If he is unshriven," unused Jean.
THE gray wolves are not particular
Shriven and unshriven are all one to them.
They won't put off a meal just because
their meat has not made its confession of
the soul to Pere Durand'
Baptiste began to show intelligence. His
eyes glowed like Goals. He clenched his fist.
Nice long rest in the snow" breathed
Jean, softly, and the little 'Toinette wait
ing"
Baptiste sucked a deep breath into his
great chest. His clenched fists trembled.