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

The dawn was cold and gray and cheer
less. Heavy, leaden clouds hung the sky
and a biting wind whistled through the
treetops 1t ratified the dead branches
shudderingly. and in the open where the
camp was built ii sent the dry snow swirl
ing into shifting drifts.
The camp was wrapped in silence. There
was no sound of human life save in the
cooks lean-to, through the open door OF
which came the sizzling of frying bacon,
the clatter of pots and stovelids. and
high-pitched, nasal voice singing an old, Old
chansou.
As big Baptiste Lereaux came from the
camp and stood blinking the sleep from
his eyes while he looked critically at the
leaden sky the first fine flakes of snow
same siftirg down. He grunted explosively
as he stumbled toward the cooks quarters.
Snow" he growled disgustedly. "Faush!
Let 1t snow"
He entered the cooks cabin and in few
moments came out again, bearing small,
blanket-wrapped pack which he strapped
across his massive shoulders He knelt in
the snow outside the door and began deity
to adjust his snowshoes Derisive laughter
from behind him drew his attention. He
turned his head in that direction. There,
leaning on his snOwShOeS and regarding the
kueeling man with little black eyes that
twinkled merrily, stood Jean COuillard.
'Ho. no. chuckled Jean, so we travel,
mon Baptste A poor day for travel too.
Something very pressing draws us out. EN-,
mon Baptiste? Perhaps we go to Pere
Durand's to say a little confession for our
soul, and perhaps we go further-yes, per-
haps we go even to Dufresne. Or maybe We
have an eye on the dance at Villon's. Is it
not So mon Baptiste?'
Baptiste glared savagely.
shut up little fool he growled. "Wher-
ever l go it will be where you cannot fol-
tut. tut" cautioned Jean, shaking his
finger, don't be so sure of that mon Bap-
tiste." His black eyes lighted mockingly;
he gave his shoulders a careless shrug
Perhaps we, too, have in mind dance
with the little 'Toinette, mon Baptiste
Baptiste bent over his snowshoes without
a word. Jean cast critical eye at the
clouds.
Dry snow makes bad going for big men,
Mon Baptiste,' he said. derisively. crunch.
crunch! The big man sinks in. He gets
tired Look out mon Baptiste. Don't get
too tired to dance with the little 'Toinette
tomorrow night"
"Sacre." exploded the kneeling man. If
either of us dances with TOinette ii will be
me. You'll never get half way to Villon's,
little man"
''No?" asked Jean with maddening COM
posure Then it will be because l wear
myself out pulling a big man out of the
snow
shut up" roared Baptiste. I've a mind
to twist your fool neck"
He rose to his feet and stood lowering at
the other threateningly. Jean still leaned
on his snOwshoes, cool, imperturbable.
Come and try he invited tauntingly,
hut without replying Baptiste Lereaux
whirled about and went crunching through
the forest.
Jean watched him disappear in the half
gloom of the woods. Then he dropped TO
his knee, and in a trice his own snowshoes
were on. He, too, strapped on a small,
blanket-wrapped pack, made sure his knife
and hatchet were secure in his belt. then
with a long, easy stride he followed the
direction taken by Baptiste Lereaux.
Two days snOw-shoeing away lay VII
Ions and at WILLOWS tomorrow night would
be the annual dance, at which the pious
villagers had their last fling with the
world the flesh and the devil before put
ting on the penitential sackclOth and ashes
of Lent. And at the dance at EillOns, fair
est of all the black-haired, red-cheeked
girls, would be 'Toinette.
1t was because of 'Tonette that Baptste
Lereaux and Jean Couillard strobe sturdily
alCng through the white silent woods; now
hidden from each other by the underbrush,