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"Intimate relationships are at the core of the human experience-forming
the basic plot line in life's drama across all its stages. This third incarna-
tion of Intimate Relationships is a thorough updating, much more than a
simple revision , as can be seen in the hundreds of new references, many '
to research , theory and popular articles published in the past few years.
The new team of Sharon Brehm, Rowland Miller, Daniel Perlman, and
Susan M. Campbell worked hard to retain the text's core values, friendly,
lively "voice" that speaks so eloquently to the reader, while reflecting the
current discipline's state-of-the-art.
I anticipate that Intimate Relationships, Third Edition, will be even
more successful than its predecessors, thus stimulating further growth in
this challenging field of social psychology."
-Philip G. Zimbardo, Series Consulting Editor

Other titles in The McGraw-Hili Psychology Series

Brown, Jonathon, The Self

Brannigan, Gary G. and Matthew R. Merrens, The Social Psychologists:
Research Adventures
Ellyson, Steve L. and Amy G. Halberstadt, Explorations in Social Psychology:
Readings and Research
Fiske, Susan T. and Shelley E. Taylor, Social Cognition, Second Edition
Keough , Kelli A. and Julio Garcia, Social Psychology of Gender, Race and
Ethnicity: Readings and Projects
Myers, David G. , Exploring Social Psychology, Second Edition
Pines, Ayala M. and Christina Maslach, Experiencing Social Psychology:
Readings and Projects, Fourth Edition
Zimbardo, Philip G. and Michael R. Leippe, The Psychology of Attitude Change
and Social Influence

0-07-007452-6
90000
 '\\",
I;:
'\

Intimate Relationships

'"",-
---~--, --,-,--- ---- --- --- _. ---'----
- '._".-'- --.-~--------.----:.--------
The McGraw-Hill Social Psychology Series
This popular series of paperback titles is written by authors
about their particular field of expertise and is meant to
complement any social psychology course. The series
includes:

Berkowitz, Leonard: Aggression: Its Causes, Consequences, and Control

Brehm, Sharon S., and Rowland S. Miller, Daniel Perlman and Susan M.
Campbell: Intimate Relationships, 31e
Brown, Jonathon: The Self
Burn, Shawn, M.: The Social Psychology of Gender
Brannigan, Gary G., and Matthew Merrens: The Social Psychologists:
Research Adventures
Ellyson, Steve L. and Amy G. Halberstadt: Explorations in Social Psychol-
ogy: Readings and Research
Fiske, Susan T. and Shelley E. Taylor: Social Cognition, 21e
Schroeder, David, Louis Penner, John Dovidio, and Jane Piliavan: The
Psychology of Helping and Altruism: Problems and Puzzles
Keough, Kelli A., and Julio Garcia: Social Psychology of Gender, Race, and
Ethnicity: Readings and Projects
Milgram, Stanley: The Individual in a Social World, 21e
Myers, David G.: Exploring Social Psychology, 21e
Pines, Ayala M. and Christina Maslach: Experiencing Social Psychology:
Readings and Projects, 41e
PIous, Scott: The Psychology of Judgment and Decision Making
Ross, Lee and Richard E. Nisbett: The Person and the Situation: Perspectives
of Social Psychology
Rubin, Jeffrey Z., Dean G. Pruitt, and Sung Hee Kim: Social Conflict:
Escalation, Stalemate, and Settlement, 21e
Triandis, Harry c.: Culture and Social Behavior
Zimbardo, Philip G. and Michael R. Leippe: The Psychology of Attitude
Change and Social Influence
 \

Intimate
Relationships
THIRD EDITION

Sharon S. Brehm
Indiana University Bloomington

Rowland S. Miller
Sam Houston State University

Daniel Perlman
University of British Columbia

Susan M. Campbell
Middlebury College

Boston Burr Ridge, IL Dubuque, IA Madison, WI New York

San Francisco St. Louis Bangkok Bogota Caracas Kuala Lumpur
Lisbon London Madrid Mexico City Milan Montreal New Delhi
-r Santiago Seoul Singapore Sydney Taipei Toronto

!-....
~,-.---~
McGraw-Hill Higher Education 'iZ
A Division of The McGraw-HiH Companies

INTIMATE RELATIONSHIPS, THIRD EDITION

Published by McGraw-Hill, a business unit of The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc., 1221 Avenue
of the Americas, New York, NY 10020. Copyright © 2002, 1992, 1985 by The McGraw-Hill
Companies, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed
in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written
consent of The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc., including, but not limited to, in any network or
other electronic storage or transmission, or broadcast for distance learning.

Some ancillaries, including electronic and print components, may not be available to customers
outside the United States.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

34567890DOC/DOC098765432

ISBN 0-07-007452-6

Editorial director: Jane E. Karpacz

Senior sponsoring editor: Rebecca H. Hope
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The credits section for this book begins on page 531 and is considered an extension of the copyright
page.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Intimate relationships / Sharon S. Brehm ... let al.].

p. cm. - (McGraw-Hill series in social psychology)
Rev. ed. of: Intimate relationships / Sharon S. Brehm. 2nd ed. 1992.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-07-007452-6
1. Family life education. 2. Interpersonal relations. I. Brehm, Sharon. II. Brehm,
Sharon. Intimate relationships. III. Series.

HQ10 .158 2002

306.7'07--dc21 2001030345
CIP

www.mhhe.com
 Contents

FOREWORD xv
PREFACE xviii

Part One
INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY
OF INTIMATE RELATIONSHIPS

1. The Building Blocks of Relationships 3

THE NATURE AND IMPORTANCE OF INTIMACY 4
The Nature of Intimacy 4
The Need to Belong 5
THE INFLUENCE OF CULTURE 7
Sources of Change 10
THE INFLUENCE OF EXPERIENCE 13
THE INFLUENCE OF INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES 16
Sex Differences 17
Gender Differences 20
Personality 23
Self-Concepts and Self-Esteem 25
THE INFLUENCE OF HUMAN NATURE 28
THE INFLUENCE OF INTERACTION 30
THE DARK SIDE OF RELATIONSHIPS 31
CHAPTER SUMMARY 31

2. Research Methods 35
A BRIEF HISTORY OF RELATIONSHIP SCIENCE 36
v
/-
vi Contents

DEVELOPING A QUESTION 41
OBTAINING PARTICIPANTS 42
CHOOSING A DESIGN 44
Correlational Designs 44
Experimental Designs 46
Developmental Designs 47
SELECTING A SETTING 50
THE NATURE OF OUR DATA 51
Self-Reports 52
Observations 55
Physiological Measures 57
Archival Materials 57
Couples'Reports 58
THE ETHICS OF SUCH ENDEAVORS 58
INTERPRETING AND INTEGRATING RESULTS 60
A FINAL NOTE 61
CHAPTER SUMMARY 62

Part Two
GETTING TOGETHER AND BASIC PROCESSES
IN INTIMATE RELATIONSHIPS

3. Attraction 67
THE FUNADAMENTAL BASIS OF ATTRACTION:
A MATTER OF REWARDS 68
PROXIMITY: LIKING THE ONES WE'RE NEAR 68
Convenience: Proximity Is Rewarding, Distance Is Costly 70
Familiarity: Repeated Contact 70
The Power of Proximity 71
PHYSICAL ATTRACTIVENESS: TO SEE YOU IS TO LIKE YOU 71
The Bias for Beauty: "What Is Beautiful Is Good" 71
Who's Pretty? 73
 Contents vii

An Evolutionary Perspective on Physical Attractiveness 75

Culture Matters, Too 75
Who Has a Bias for Beauty? 76
The Interactive Costs and Benefits of Beauty 78
Matching in Physical Attractiveness 80
RECIPROCITY: LIKING THOSE WHO LIKE US 81
SIMILARITY: LIKING PEOPLE WHO ARE JUST LIKE US 82
What Kind of Similarity? 84
Do Opposites Attract? 85
Why Is Similarity Attractive? 90
BARRIERS: LIKING THE ONES WE CANNOT HAVE 90
SO, WHAT DO MEN AND WOMEN WANT? 91
CHAPTER SUMMARY 92

4. Social Cognition 95
FIRST IMPRESSIONS (AND BEYOND) 96
THE POWER OF PERCEPTIONS 100
Idealizing Our Partners 100
Attributional Processes 102
Relationship Beliefs 105
Expectations 108
IMPRESSION MANAGEMENT 112
Strategies of Impression Management 112
Impression Management in Close Relationships 113
SO, JUST HOW WELL DO WE KNOW OUR PARTNERS? 116
Knowledge 117
Motivation 117
Partner Legibility 118
Perceiver Ability 118
Threatening Perceptions 119
Perceiver Influence 119

"...
--------~------ - --
viii Contents

Summary 120
CHAPTER SUMMARY 120

5. Communication 125
NONVERBAL COMMUNICATION 127
Components of Nonverbal Communication 127
Nonverbal Sensitivity 133
Sex Differences in Nonverbal Communication 135
VERBAL COMMUNICATION 137
Self-Disclosure 137
Gender Differences in Verbal Communication 144
DYSFUNCTIONAL COMMUNICATION
AND WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT 146
Miscommunication 147
Saying What We Mean 149
Active Listening 150
Being Polite and Staying Cool 151
The Power of Respect and Validation 152
CHAPTER SUMMARY 153

6 Interdependency 157
SOCIAL EXCHANGE 157
Rewards and Costs 158
What Do We Expect from Our Relationships? 159
How Well Could We Do Elsewhere? 159
Four Types of Relationships 161
CL and CLa/t as Time Goes By 164
THE ECONOMIES OF RELATIONSHIPS 166
Rewards and Costs as Time Goes By 170
ARE WE REALLY THIS GREEDY? 174
 Contents ix

The Nature of Interdependency 174

Exchange versus Communal Relationships 175
Equitable Relationships 177
Summing Up 181
THE NATURE OF COMMITMENT 181
The Consequences of Commitment 183
CHAPTER SUMMARY 184

Part Three
FRIENDSHIP AND INTIMACY

7. Friendships Across the Life Cycle 189

THE NATURE OF FRIENDSHIP 190
Attributes of Friendships 190
The Rules of Friendship 191
FRIENDSHIP ACROSS THE LIFE CYCLE 192
Infancy 193
Childhood 194
Adolescence 202
Young Adulthood 204
Midlife 205
Old Age 208
DIFFERENCES IN FRIENDSHIP 211
Gender Differences in Same-Sex Friendships 212
Individual Differences in Friendship 214
CHAPTER SUMMARY 216

8. Love 219
A BRIEF HISTORY OF LOVE 220
TYPES OF LOVE 221
The Triangular Theory of Love 221

/--

--------
X ConrenG

Romantic, Passionate Love 225

Companionate Love 232
Styles of Loving 234
INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES IN LOVE 235
Attachment Styles 235
Age 239
Men and Women 240
DOES LOVE LAST? 241
Why Doesn't Romantic Love Last? 242
So, What Does the Future Hold? 244
CHAPTER SUMMARY 245

9. Sexuality 247
SEXUAL ATTITUDES 248
Attitudes about Casual Sex 248
Attitudes about Homosexuality 250
Cultural Differences in Sexual Attitudes 251
SEXUAL BEHAVIOR 252
Premarital Sex 252
Sex in Committed Relationships 254
Monogamy 256
Preventing Pregnancy and Sexually Transmitted Diseases 260
SEXUAL SATISFACTION 263
Sexual Frequency and Satisfaction 264
Sex and Relationship Satisfaction 265
Exchange Theories and Sexual Satisfaction 266
SEXUAL COMMUNICATION 268
Communicating Desire 269
Sexual Communication and Satisfaction 270
SEXUAL AGGRESSION 271
CHAPTER SUMMARY 274
Contents xi

Part Four
RELATIONSHIP ISSUES

10. Stresses and Strains 279

SHYNESS 280
JEALOUSY 283
Two Types of Jealousy 284
Who's Prone to Jealousy? 285
Who Gets Us Jealous? 287
What Gets Us Jealous? 288
Responses to Jealousy 291
Coping Constructively with Jealousy 293
DECEPTION AND LYING 294
Lying in Close and Casual Relationships 295
Lies and Liars 296
So, How Well Can We Detect a Partner's Deception? 297
BETRAYAL 299
Individual Differences in Betrayal 300
The Two Sides to Every Betrayal 302
Coping with Betrayal 302
CHAPTER SUMMARY 303

11. Power in Intimate Relationships 308

POWER AND SOCIAL EXCHANGE THEORY 309
Sources of Power 309
Types of Resources 311
The Process of Power 315
The Outcome of Power 320
POWER AND PERSONALITY 324
POWER AND UNDERSTANDING 327
Understanding Stereotypes 329
CHAPTER SUMMARY 330
xii Contents

12. Conflict and Violence 333

THE NATURE AND BEGINNINGS OF CONFLICT 334
What Is Conflict? 334
The Frequency of Conflict 336
Conflict Topics and Issues 338
ATTRIBUTIONS AND CONFLICT 340
Basic Propositions about Attributions and Conflict 340
Attributions: Differences Between Happy and Unhappy Couples 341
THE MIDDLE STAGES OF CONFLICT 342
Escalation, Threats, and Entrapment 342
The DemandlWithdraw Pattern 343
Negotiation and Accommodation 345
Dealing with Conflict: Four Types of Couples 347
THE TERMINATION AND OUTCOMES OF CONFLICT 350
Ways of Terminating Conflict 350
Can Fighting Be Good for a Relationship? 351
VIOLENCE AND ABUSE IN RELATIONSHIPS 352
The Prevalence of Violence 354
Types of Couple Violence 356
Gender Differences in Partner Violence 356
Correlates of Violence 359
Why Don't They All Leave? 361
Violence in Premarital Relationships 361
CHAPTER SUMMARY 363

Part Five
LOSING AND ENHANCING RELATIONSHIPS

13. The Dissolution and Loss of Relationships 369

THE CHANGING RATE OF DIVORCE 371
The Prevalence of Divorce 371
U.S. Divorce Rates in Comparative Perspectives 372
Contents xiii

Why Has the Divorce Rate Increased? 374

1HE PREDICTORS OF DNORCE 375
Levinger's Model 376
Specific Factors Associated with Divorce 376
1HE ROAD TO DNORCE 380
Karney and Bradbury's Vulnerability-Stress-Adaptation Model 381
Steps to Separation 381
1HE AFTERMATH OF SEPARATION AND DNORCE 385
The Aftermath of Separation from the Individual's Perspective 385
Relationships Between Former Partners 387
Children Whose Parents Divorce 388
Application to John and Maureen 390
CHAPTER SUMMARY 390

14. Loneliness 393

WHAT IS LONELINESS? 394
A Discrepancy Model for Conceptualizing Loneliness 395
Measuring Loneliness 395
How Does It Feel to Be Lonely? 398
Does Loneliness Matter? 399
Who Are the Lonely? 401
LONELINESS ACROSS 1HE LIFE SPAN 404
Family Antecedents of Loneliness 404
Age Changes in Loneliness 405
Age-Related Predictors of Loneliness 407
SOME POSSIBLE CAUSES AND MODERATORS OF LONELINESS 407
Inadequacies in Our Relationships 408
Changes in What We Want from a Relationship 409
Self-Esteem 409
Interpersonal Behaviors 410
Causal Attributions 412
xiv Contents

COPING WITH LONELINESS 414

What Do People Do When They Are Lonely? 414
What Helps People to Feel Less Lonely? 415
Loneliness as a Growth Experience 418
CHAPTER SUMMARY 419

15. Fostering Relationships: Getting, Maintaining,

and Repairing Them 423
FOSTERING SOCIAL BONDING 425
Strategies People Use to Initiate New Relationships 425
Interventions Professionals Offer to Help Clients
Initiate New Relationships 429
MAINTAINING AND ENHANCING EXISTING RELATIONSHIPS 429
Partners Maintaining Their Own Relationships 430
Professionals Helping Partners to Maintain Their Relationships 434
REPAIRING RELATIONSlllPS 437
Partners Repairing Their Own Relationships 438
Professionals Helping Partners to Repair Relationships:
History and Formats 438
Professionals Helping Partners to Repair Relationships:
Five Theoretical Orientations 440
The Success of Professional Help in Repairing Relationships 449
CHAPTER SUMMARY 451
REFERENCES 455
CREDITS 531
NAME INDEX 535
SUBJECT INDEX 547
 Foreword

Intimate relationships are at the core of the human experience-forming the

basic plot line in life's drama across all its stages. We are attracted to some peo-
ple, come to like and love some, have romantic and sexual relationships with
some, marry and give support and comfort to partners, and suffer when those
relationships end sadly. Intimate relationships fulfill basic human needs for be-
longing and caring, they involve strong emotional attachments to others, and
often interdependence with others as well. It is now well known that the single
best protection anyone can have against the risks of many mental or physical
illnesses is being part of a viable social support network. Intimate relationships
provide meaningful, often enduring, networks of social support, of other peo-
ple we can call upon when distressed, and in turn give aid and care to others
when they are in need. When middle-aged successful business people are
asked how their lives might be different if they had to do it all over again, none
ever says they would work more; rather, they say they would love more and
spend more time with family and friends.
Given the obvious centrality of intimate relationships in our lives, it is
curious that the topic is relatively new in the history of social psychology. It
has emerged as an exciting field of research and practice only in the past few
decades. Previously, scholarly interest had been in dyads and small groups
studied in structured relationships, often public ones, as people compete or
cooperate, negotiate and bargain, conform, comply, or resist. But a hardy
band of researchers, including the authors of this book, began to demon-
strate that it was possible to investigate the subtle features of interpersonal
dynamics, to understand some of the ingredients that go into liking, loving,
and sexual relationships. As research unfolded, the net of interested investi-
gators extended from social psychology to personality, to cognitive psychol-
ogy, to developmental psychology, to evolutionary psychology, to sociology,
to family studies, to communication studies, and home economics. Each per-
spective now contributes new insights and fresh ideas about the nature of in-
timate relationships.

xv

/
xvi Foreword

I believe that one impetus to the growth of this field of study has been the
first and second editions of Sharon Brehm's Intimate Relationships book in this
McGraw-Hill Social Psychology Series. Hers were not only the most successful
of any of our monographs in terms of sales, but their broad appeal to faculty
and students alike also illustrated to researchers the significance of this area of
investigation that Sharon's writing had conveyed so effectively. What she ac-
complished in her landmark books was to create an authoritative, scholarly text
that could be respected by her colleagues, and an accessible, warm, and enjoy-
able to read book that could be embraced by her student readers.
So what is there left to do in this revision of such a successful book? The
new team of Sharon Brehm, Rowland Miller, Daniel Perlman, and Susan Camp-
bell worked hard to retain its core values and its friendly, lively "voice" that
speaks so eloquently to the reader, while reflecting the current discipline's
state-of-the-art. This third incarnation of Intimate Relationships is a thorough up-
date, much more than a simple revision, as can be seen in the hundreds of new
references, many to research, theory, and popular articles published in the past
few years. Three entirely new chapters reflect current directions in this field,
among them, chapter 4 on Social Cognition, chapter 7 on Friendship, and chap-
ter 13 on Dissolution and Divorce. Structural changes also enhance the new
presentation, such as introducing core concepts up front in the first chapter and
then developing them more fully in subsequent chapters, among them, attach-
ment styles, gender roles, and evolutionary social psychology. The ''big ideas"
that now organize the field of study are accorded privileged attention through-
out, with key terms highlighted in bold font where they first appear.
Other pedagogical innovations include the use of boxed material in each
chapter that illustrates the currency and relevance of this new book to this gener-
ation of students, such as chat room communication, or self-assessment of open-
ing line skills, or dealing with betrayals. A similar focus on providing pragmatic
advice to enhance intimate relationships shows up in new sections on improving
communication to be more clear and kind and effective. Taken together, the up-
dating and revising of content, the new structural platform for highlighting both
basic and applied ideas, and practical advice to the reader all combine to make
this a worthy successor to the previous editions. I anticipate that Intimate Rela-
tionships Third Edition, will be even more successful than its predecessors, thus
stimulating further growth in this challenging field of social psychology.
And now a commercial break for our series. This innovative McGraw-Hill
Series in Social Psychology has been designed as a celebration of the funda-
mental contributions being made by researchers, theorists, and practitioners of
social psychology to improving our understanding of the nature of human na-
ture and enriching the quality of our lives. It has become a showcase for pre-
senting new theories, original syntheses, analyses, and current methodologies
by distinguished scholars and promising young writer-researchers. Common
to all of our authors is the commitment to sharing their vision with an audience
that starts with their colleagues but extends out to graduate students, under-
graduates, and all those with an interest in social psychology. Some of our titles
convey ideas that are of sufficient general interest that their message needs to
 Foreword xvii

be carried out into the world of practical application to those who may translate
some of them into public action and public policy. Although each text in our se-
ries is created to stand alone as the best representative of its area of scholarship,
taken as a whole, they represent the core of social psychology. Many teachers
have elected to use them as "in-depth" supplements to a basic, general text-
book, while others organize their course entirely around a set of these mono-
graphs. Each of our authors has been guided by the goal of conveying the
essential lessons and principles of her or his area of expertise in an interesting
style, that informs without resorting to technical jargon, that inspires readers to
share their excitement by joining in utilizing these ideas, or in participating in
the research endeavor to create new and better ideas.
I welcome new co-authors, Rowland (Rody) Miller, Daniel Perlman and
Susan Campbell, as the newest members of this special society of educators,
along with my dear long-time friend, Sharon Brehm. And I welcome you, dear
reader, to join the group of similarly situated students who will enjoy and ben-
efit from the scholarship, wonderfully engaging writing style, and the obvious
dedication of this team of authors to the science of social psychology as trans-
lated into this exciting literary form.
Philip G. Zimbardo
Series Consulting Editor

.r--'

-
"---- /
Other documents randomly have
different content
 XVIII

FULFILMENT OF THE DREAM

Jules spread the news fast, and although a tremendous hurrying

and running about took place, still everything was done in an orderly
way and with significant purpose. The roofs of the buildings were
quickly covered with green wolf-hides as a protection against
firebrands; the women and children were placed in the strongest log
house; tepees were pulled down and the poles thrust sharp end
upward against the stockade. The gates were double-barred and
braced, and big logs rolled against them. The factor dealt out guns
and ammunition, also axes to the men. In an hour everything was
ready; many of the Frenchmen had tied their bright handkerchiefs
over their foreheads, thrown off their mufflers, and rolled up their
shirt-sleeves, showing the weather-blackened and muscle-knotted
arms. The Indians were quiet and grave, the white men joking and
laughing, some in earnest, a few to hide their fear. The squaws wept
and wailed in unison in their strong house; their voices sounding
discordant and shrill, mingled with the tearful screams of children.
Then the factor came among the defenders.
“Me lads, do the best ye can, and God forgie us and them,” he
said.
Then came the lull before the storm. Men stationed as sentries on
four sides of the stockade stared at the forests through the little
spaces between the logs. Only muffled cryings came from the
women; the men, with their guns, waited grimly for the attack.
 Jules, a long, light axe in his hand, paced up and down under the
stockade, peering through here and there.
The farthest sentry moved his hand in signal. Jules ran to him and
looked. Men were moving rapidly among the tree trunks, but
silently; as Verbaux watched he saw them open out like a fan and
skirt the edge of the timber. He turned to the others and laid his
fingers on his lips.
The attacking party came out into the clearing, advancing step by
step and listening. On they came till they reached the stockade.
Something pressed against the gate; it creaked lightly, a heavier
shove made it groan, then Gregoire’s rifle sounded loudly.
“Nor’ouest! Nor’ouest! Nor’ouest!” shouted the defenders.
Outside the upright logs rifles crashed merrily, their bullets
whistling and sighing across the yard. “Ah, diable!” screamed a
Northwest voyageur and fell, writhing, clutching at his chest.
Outside and in the shouts and curses grew and grew until the
sound was gigantic. Oaths, blasphemies, bitter curses, rang out
while the guns rattled on through the chinks in the logs. The choking
powder smoke burdened the air; it hung close and suffocating in the
yard. A hand appeared on the top of the stockade.
Cludd! and Gregoire’s axe severed four of its fingers: they fell
inside, and lay on the snow waxen and bloody.
“Oh, Dieu! blessée!” groaned a huge trapper, Eugenois by name;
he staggered to and fro, gasping for air, reeling weakly, then he fell
and lay still.
Little by little the flames of battle, of hate, grew in Jules’s heart as
he saw his friends limping, falling about him.
Wild screams sounded from the squaws’ refuge; a bullet had
found its way in and had killed a child. The men’s fury redoubled.
The smoke settled lower and lower until figures were only as
shadows flitting through it, firing, loading, and firing again from the
yard and building-tops. A loud crash resounded thickly, and the
splintering of wood; the big gates were buckling under the impact of
some strong material. Crash! crackle! crack! The wood bent, sagged,
broke, and fell inward bit by bit.
“Here, lads, for God’s sake stand ’em off; think of yer squaws, me
lads!”
The factor’s voice sounded true and strong over the awful tumult.
Trappers rushed to him, working their rifles frantically, some
wounded, the bright red blood streaming from arms, sides, and
faces. Big Indians, stoic in their pain, hard hit, fired regularly at the
men outside.
“Ha!” shouted a Canadian as he rolled off the store roof to the
ground below, striking it with a thud.
“At ’em, lads; gie it to ’em!” screamed the factor, seizing an axe
and striking hard at a face that showed over the wall. For a second
the growing gash showed livid and terrible, then the head sank.
Always and ever the rifles outside and within the stockade spat
tongues of flame.
Incessantly their death missiles twanged and shrilled, striking logs
and living men. The yells and agonised cries grew fiercer and more
wild; then “Le feu!” Verbaux shouted, as he saw tongues of flame
creeping, licking, leaping over the logs of a shed. He tore off his
shirt, wrapped it about his hands, and beat at the flames; they
scorched and burned him, but he beat on; others joined him, leaping
at the scarlet waves of fire, and together they put them out and
returned to the stockade. An Indian near Verbaux dropped his rifle,
swayed a moment, and tumbled without a word.
“Hurrt bad?” shrieked Jules.
The black eyes looked into his, a spasm crossed the strong face,
and it was over.
From the trees themselves came a hail of bullets, humming, pi-i-i-
inging in the yard. A hot thing passed through Jules’s forearm.
 “Sacré-é-é-é!” he growled as he tied his handkerchief above the
wound, that dripped blood steadily. It ached, it burned, it seared his
mind, this wound. He became savage instead of defensive. Here and
there forms and faces tried to climb over the stockade.
“Çà toi!” Jules slashed powerfully at one of them, and felt his axe
bite deep; the handle was nearly wrenched from his grasp as the
man fell, his head split to the chin, and the hot red flow ran down
the wooden handle and covered Verbaux’s hand. “Bon!” he said to
himself, and watched for more.
“Crang! crash! bang! whi-i-i-i-ng! crack! pang-pang-pang!”
sounded the guns without and within.
“I’m hit, lads!” the factor called, and tumbled to the bloody
ground.
Jules and Gregoire ran to him. The heart’s flow ebbed in spurts
from his chest.
“Keep it up, me lads; gie it to ’em! Don’t gie up, Verbaux. I trust
the post to ye, lad. Good-b—” The brave man’s voice died away in a
deep sigh and he lay still.
In the midst of the turmoil, with death passing them close each
instant, the two pulled off their caps and muttered a prayer.
“Come, den,” Gregoire said, “la mort for touts!”
Everywhere men slashed and hacked wildly; loaded and fired with
blood fury, gnashing their teeth and howling in frenzy. A big dog ran
round and round in a circle, biting at a wound in his side and
foaming at the mouth; in his pain-blindness he fell against Gregoire;
the latter with one quick stroke of his axe severed the suffering
beast’s head, picked it up and hurled it at the figures that tried
desperately to scale the stockade. Then firebrands began dropping
fast among and on the buildings; here and there spouts of red
showed that they had caught. Verbaux put them out; he climbed on
the highest shed and stood there with bullets moaning through the
air, seeking him, but he was not afraid, and stamped out another
blaze. He could see over the walls, and counted many men in the
attacking party; several lay on the snow, some rolling and twisting,
others motionless. Still the wind would not come, and the sullen
powder fumes hung like gray shrouds over everything, the fighting,
cursing forms rushing back and forth through them like phantoms.
Fifteen bodies lay inert in the yard, trampled on by the defenders;
there was no time or chance to carry them away.
A bullet breathed against Jules’s face, then another and another
passed close to his head. He looked at the trees across the clearing;
jets of thick blue smoke came from the green masses, opened out,
then floated upward grudgingly.
“En bas! En bas!” shrieked Gregoire at him from below, and he
leaped down into the thick of the defence.
“By Dieu! Dey goin’ keel nous, by dam’!” a trapper yelled, as he
wiped powder grains from his eyes with bloody hands.
Again the women broke into frantic cries and came rushing out
into the yard. Unnoticed, the corner of their refuge had caught from
a brand, and half the structure was blazing fiercely; flames leaped
into the smoke-thickened atmosphere, cleaving it with their forked
tines, and the heat was frightful. Higher and higher the flames
danced and played; the women crouched by the store, the children,
dumb with fear, watched the horrible scene with set eyes. A young
squaw moaned pitifully and fell on her side; the others chanted as
they saw the red coming from under the black hair. Jules went to the
wounded girl, but she was dead.
“For dat Ah keel, bon Dieu!” and Verbaux cursed as he ran back to
the others. “Mes frères, ve go hout and keel!” he called loudly, a
strange note in the powerful voice. Every man able to stand ran to
him; with quick strokes they cut the weakened gates open and
rushed out. A big Indian came at Jules with reversed gun, trying to
club him; Verbaux parried the stroke, swung his axe underhand and
drove the steel into the other’s legs; the man sank, and tried to
crawl away on his hands and knees; Gregoire saw him and finished
that life with a fearful blow on the Indian’s skull. The Hudson Bay’s
men could not get into the yard; men fought hand to hand and in
groups. The curses and shouts ceased somewhat; only gasps and
hoarse grunts could be heard above the roaring of the burning
house in the post. Some one made a lunge at Verbaux with a knife;
the keen blade slit his shirt and scratched the skin; before Jules
could retaliate a Northwester killed the man with the stock of his
gun.
“Bon le Nor’ouest! Bon! Bien fait!” Jules shouted as he saw that
his men were slowly forcing the others back to the edge of the
timber. He gripped his axe with both hands and leaped into the
hardest of the fight, pounding and slicing. Little by little the enemy
were driven off.
“Los’! Sauf you’self dat can!” screamed a voice.
With one thought, what was left of the attacking party turned and
fled, running through the trees.
“Non! Non!” Jules yelled at those of his men who started to
pursue. “Put h’out de fir’!”
The men tore into the yard, and despite the heat and glare they
pulled down the burning building and stopped the advance of the
conflagration on other sheds that had caught.
The reeking smoke lifted and rolled away slowly, and the
afternoon sun shone clear on the scene.
No one spoke; disfigured bodies, some scorched and blackened,
others twisted in inconceivable shapes, were all over the yard. The
smell of clotting blood tainted the air; low cryings and monotonous
chants sounded as the women rocked to and fro over their dead.
Broken rifles and dismantled axe-heads were scattered about;
quantities of gun-waddings were everywhere. The logs showed little
black-rimmed holes where the unsuccessful lead had buried itself in
the wood. Nearly all the trappers were tying up wounds, grumbling
and swearing. The smell of burnt wood and cloth came strongly
from the ruined shed, where nothing but charred logs and twining
smoke was left. Jules went the rounds and took account. Nineteen
dead, thirteen wounded, some badly.
“Ah t’ink dat dose man no come back ici ver’ immédiatement,” he
said.
Then came the work of clearing up. In two hours the dead were
heaped by the gate to be taken out for burial, the tepees reset, fires
started, and the badly hurt stretched as comfortably as possible in
the back of the store. The widowed squaws sat by the heap of
inanimate forms, their heads dishevelled, dresses torn and awry;
they wept and sobbed as they kept up their ceaseless rocking.
Evening came; the shadows lengthened and blackened shade by
shade. Verbaux sat by the fire with Gregoire, Charles Chartier,
Jacques Pelisse, Jean Fainéant, Josèphe Hebert, Batiste Lafarge, and
Morning Star. They ate their supper silently. Verbaux’s arm bothered
him; it throbbed and pulsated painfully, and he moved it to and fro,
as the motion alleviated the aching. The chief lighted his long pipe
and passed it gravely to Jules, who puffed on it a few times and
handed it back. Then Morning Star spoke:
“Ah-ta-tah-ke-bou-tis-in [Big man of the fight], the great Manitou
is pleased. What are your orders?” The others looked at Jules
curiously. Verbaux sat thinking, pondering, when one of the sentries
came up hurriedly.
“Somme vone dey comme h’alon’!” he said. As he spoke a rapping
was heard on the reinforced gates.
“Laissez entre!” Jules said.
A small Canadian ran in, panting. He stopped when he saw the
dead piled near the gate, and his eyes widened at the sight of the
burned building and the bandaged men.
“Ah comme so queeck Ah can for to tell dat you goin’ be h’attack
h’aga’n von taime dam’ ver’ soon; Ah see vone hunder’ mans yes’day
by Lac Plat. Ah sneeek an’ leesten; dey say dey comme ici!” He sat
down wearily; a long silence ensued; every one looked at Jules.
Morning Star puffed on stoically.
The faint night breeze swung the smoke here and there, wafting it
across the men’s faces, that shone ruddy in the light. The lulling
death-song of the squaws floated on the wind; the sniffing and
querulous bickerings of the dogs came harshly on the night stillness.
Bright spark-eyes from the coals hastened to their end in the cooling
atmosphere, and beyond in the deep timber the trees sighed and
their branches rubbed sibilantly together. Verbaux was silent; the
rest waited.
“Étoile du Matin, vat you say to dees?” he asked, in a few minutes.
Morning Star rose, and looking at the heavens that sparkled with
the diamond lights of the stars, he answered in a sing-song voice:
“Ah-ta-tah-ke-bou-tis-in, your words are heard by the Manitou;
you ask, he answers through me: do as you would do for the best”;
and Morning Star relapsed into silence again and smoked on.
Then sharply over the soothing quiet sounded the yelping bark of
a fox. Once, twice, thrice, the piercing note thrilled and echoed, then
quiet, with its suggestiveness of peace, fell over everything.
And Verbaux thought deeply: on one hand, his heart’s desire and
his cravings; on the other, his duty as he saw it. “Ah t’ink dat h’all
mus’ go ’way, partir, f’om dees place; dere ees no de facteur, ve can
no stand h’off autre h’attack; Ah no desire stay ici; an’ Ah say, den,
dat to-mor’, v’en de sonne comme h’ovaire de tree, dat ve brûler dis
poste, dat vous h’all go, partez, to Maison du Lac, an’ dat moi, Ah go
to Reliance!”
Morning Star nodded, the others grunted their approval and
betook themselves to sleep and rest. So did Verbaux, and nothing
moved in the post but the four sentries that paced silently up and
down, across, and between the log openings.
The night was dark and the air damp and still; at daylight snow
fell swiftly; the cold white bits massed themselves on everything;
shapes grew, becoming distorted and vague. The soft murmuring of
the trees as they bowed to and fro in the light wind came faintly
through the screens of white; like veils of down, the big flakes
floated to the earth, silently and relentlessly. The sentries gathered
together, and their guttural whisperings sounded thick and muffled
on the heavy air; one lighted his pipe, and the faint glow of the
match showed the four faces close together, and cast thin shadows
behind their ears. Up and down, up and down they paced again,
their figures moving by unseen motion in the dim half-morning light.
The smell of burnt wood was blown about by the eddying draft that
moved within the walls, seeking its way out. Then from somewhere
floated a cry—an unknown, indescribable tone that vibrated, thrilled
a moment, and died away.
“Qu’est-ce?” asked one of the Indians. No answer: the others
were listening. Only the snow silence could be heard; the minute
settling of the flakes on the logs, the drifting of the heavier ones
against the buildings, was audible; beyond these nothing was felt
but the peace of the coming of day, that hour when everything is
truly still, when man sleeps the heaviest, when animals are about to
wake, but have not moved from their night’s bed. The sentries
watched from their loopholes and saw the light come stronger and
stronger; saw the outlines of the clearing define themselves; saw
the branches of the trees stand out clearer and clearer from the
mass and become separate; saw them bending farther and farther
with their load of white, and finally could see through the dull gloom
of the forest trunks, and discern the stillness of everything. The
atmosphere changed suddenly; it became steel-like in its sting of
cold. The falling snow was harder and the wind increased, blowing it
into the men’s faces in biting myriads. The light was chilling and
gray; comfortless and repellent. For a fleeting instant one yellow ray
of the coming sun forced itself athwart the pallid heavens, then it
was gone and all was bleak and stern again.
A fire was lighted by a tepee; voices came and went; then more
fires shone uncertainly through the changing, ever-falling white, and
the post was awake. Dull and lifeless seemed the inhabitants as they
moved hither and thither solemnly. For were they not to leave their
homes to-day and go into the Unknown of the wilderness?
Breakfasts were eaten in quiet; the flames that boiled the tea and
cooked the meal alone gave life to the cheerless scene. And
afterward came the tearing down of homes, the packing of
necessities and little family treasures, the gathering of all outside the
stockade. Jules had arranged everything, and now he went,
firebrand in hand, from building to shed and building, setting them
all ablaze. As the lurid fires shot skyward he took off his fur cap and
muttered “Adieu!” with the rest. “Dieu soit veet’ you h’all!” he said
then, and gravely watched the trappers and their families as they
disappeared, with the wounded on the dog-teams, into the dense
timber-land beyond. He listened for their voices, and a feeling of
loneliness, of longing for some one, came over him with unpitying
force. The buildings burned with roars and crashings, and the billows
of sparks were lifted up and carried far into the snow air. And still he
watched, fascinated: shed by shed, log house by log house, the post
caught, flared, and fell before him. At last the stockade caught the
conflagration, and rings of fire crept slowly round it; and then it was
all gone but heaps of smouldering ashes.
“Adieu encore,” Jules said as he swung about and went off under
the thick trees, his snow-shoes sounding dully as he strode along.
 XIX

THE AWAKENING OF THE GREAT HEART

On and on through the dense forests he went, straight,

unswerving, to the southward. Hours passed as he traversed the
black depths, then more hours came and went as he hurried over
long miles of barrens. The winter darkness brightened, and the light
of another day grew and shone cold-coloured on the face of the
northern solitudes. Many times Jules saw wolves, now running
before him, then sneaking cowardly on his trail, and yowling with
notes of hunger in their deep voices. He crossed trails of the musk-
ox, that shy inhabitant of the far North that shuns the slightest
suspicion of a human being. Foxes scuttled away as he advanced,
and the white ptarmigan whirred with boisterous wings from his
course. He saw traces of the grizzly bear, and sighed as he thought
of the thick warm skins of these monsters that he once had had as
his own, Each night of his travel he built a little fire, ate, then slept
beside it, and the next day sped on. Sometimes the whirling snow
would wrap itself about him caressingly, but with the fierce grasp of
the cold in it; again all would be still—no wind, nothing but the
sound of his own steps to break the insolvable, inscrutable stillness
of everything. He followed frozen rivers, crossed the shapes of lakes,
solid and deep with snow, went over mountains, climbing slowly up
their steep, slippery sides and airily coasting down beyond on his
wide snow-shoes. He watched for human tracks, but saw none. Day
after day his eyes scanned the interminable distances, and roved
over the desolate barren scenes and solemn depths of the forests.
 Then one evening, just as the northern lights began their fantastic
contortions and shiftings, he reached Poste Reliance. The faint
reflections of many fires shone glowingly over the top of the walls,
and Jules’s heart was glad as he went in the gate. “Marie!” he
whispered softly, looking about him.
There was a crowd around a tepee; they sat there talking in low
tones, and he joined them. They looked up, hearing his steps.
“Verbaux, par Dieu!” said a voice. Instantly he was surrounded by
the men.
“Le Pendu!” Jules said. “Vat you do ici h’at Nor’ouest Compagnie?”
“Nor’ouest? Dat bon! Nor’ouest! Ha, ha, ha!” and the crowd roared
with laughter.
Jules tried to withdraw, but everywhere were ugly looks and
strong bodies in his way.
“Vat ees?” he asked.
No one answered, and he stood there, towering over the other
figures, his eyes searching for a friendly face; then Pendu spoke
coarsely:
“Dees place ees Hodson Baie maintenant! Ve le capture four day’
gon’; you aire prisonnier, Jules Verbaux!”
With a bound Jules forced his way clear of the men, but they fell
on him, seized his hands, his arms, his ankles, his body, and bore
him to the ground, helpless. He knew that it was useless to fight
against such odds, and lay still. They brought thongs and bound him
securely, then rolled him to the firelight.
“Ah-ha! mon vieux, dis taime you aire no h’at liberté, by gar! Vous
autres,” Le Pendu shouted to the crowd that had increased about the
fallen man, “her’ ees Jules Verbaux, le beeg mans du Nor’ouest, tie’
han’ an’ pied; ve goin’ have du plaisir avec heem?”
“C’est ça!” “Dat feen!” “Bon!” shouted they; and Le Pendu turned
to Jules.
 “You goin’ tell to us vat ’appen’ h’at Lac la Pluie?” Verbaux was
silent. The fury of unfair means controlled him and he was sullen.
“You no tell? Bien, le feu!” said Le Pendu.
Red-hot brands were drawn from the fire by some of the crowd;
with them they closed in on Le Pendu and his prisoner.
“What ye do, min?”
A strong voice sounded above the curses and growls as Hudson
Bay Factor Donalds kicked and elbowed his way through the crowd.
They fell back respectfully, and the factor saw the bound form
lying near the fire.
“Who aire ye?” he asked Jules.
No answer. Then Le Pendu interrupted eagerly.
“M’sie’u le Facteur, dat homme ees Jules Verbaux, du Nor’ouest
Compagnie. Ah see heem vonce t’ree mont’ gon’; he say den dat he
no mak’ fight avec nous; to-night he come ici an’ he t’ink dat dees
place encore Nor’ouest Compagnie. Ve h’all h’ask heem du Lac la
Pluie; he no tell; ve mak’ le feu, den, for heem. Dat bon, hein?”
The factor knelt and severed Jules’s bonds with his own knife for
answer, while the rest stood aghast and Le Pendu fell back step by
step, muttering angrily.
“Ye aire Verbaux?” the Scotchman asked then.
“Oui, M’sieu’ le Facteur,” Verbaux answered as he rose to his feet.
“Thrree min bring him to the store,” the factor said, and went
away.
The sheen of the flames was on the angry faces that threatened
with black looks and growlings; three big Indians stepped forward
and fell in beside Jules. One hit him on the back with his fist; like
lightning Verbaux turned to retaliate, but he restrained himself and
walked ahead quietly between his guards. They led him to the store,
showed him up the steps and in the low door; four candles flared
uncertainly by a table at which the factor and another stranger sat.
“Get out!” the factor ordered, and the Indians disappeared.
“Weel, Verbaux! we have ye mon nou! What d’ ye say is to be
doune wid ye?”
Jules was silent; in his brain was the thought, the wild fear, for
Marie and Le Grand.
“Speak oop, mon, speak oop!” the stranger said harshly, and
Verbaux turned to him.
“Ah comme ici loook for ma wife an’ ma fr’en’; Ah tin’k dat dees
poste ees to Nor’ouest,” he said.
The two men chuckled. “So she war, lad, so she war, tull four days
ago; thin the Hudson Coompany tookit posseesion,” the factor
grunted.
Jules stepped backward and leaned against the log wall,
tumultuous and furious thoughts passing in whirlwinds through his
mind.
“Den ma wife and ma fr’en’?” he asked huskily.
“Don’t know who they may be, but the place was gien oop tae us
quiet-like; there was nae fecht; them that wanted to leave I let
gang, an’ mony deed go, bad luck to ’em!”
A cold grip of despair came over Jules and he staggered. “Parti!
Parti!” he whispered dully.
“Now, Verbaux, ye can bide here, an’ hount for us, or I wull hae to
keel ye, mon!”
“Nevaire Ah mak’ la chasse for you; Ah mus’ go. Oh, bon Dieu!”
and Jules shook in his pain.
“Aweel, mon, me bruither was to Posht Fearless, an’ he told me
ab’ut ye. Now look here, lad: gie me yere promeese to stay an’ not
try to jump yere work an’ I’ll let ye go free to hount for us, an’ tell us
whut ye knaw. Coome, what d’ ye say?” the factor asked, and
waited.
“Non! Jamais, par Dieu!” Jules shouted fiercely at him. “V’ere ees
ma femme an’ Le Grand? Ah mus’ go ce soir!”
“It aire too bad, me lad, thut ye’re no opin to sic a chaince. Aweel,
God ha’ maircy on yere soule!” He whistled sharply as he finished,
and the store was suddenly filled with Indians.
“Take him awa’ and look after him till sun-oop, thin shoot him!”
the factor ordered, and Jules was buffeted and hustled out of the
store. The guards goaded and insulted him; they tied him hand and
foot and pushed him headlong into an empty tepee, without
blankets or food, and left him there, powerless.
He lay on his back and unconsciously listened to the heavy, gruff
voices whose hoarse murmur penetrated to him from the fireside
beyond. Then a tremor of rage thrilled him; the powerful muscles
twisted and bulged, but the fastenings held and the thongs cut into
the skin. Jules gave up and was still, while fears and hopes for Her
crossed and recrossed in his brain. “V’ere dey go? Par où dey gon’?”
he whispered to himself time and again. The restrained circulation in
his arms and legs pained, and thumped audibly, it seemed to him;
his hands had lost their feeling and were growing cold. Time
dragged slowly on; all had become silent in the post, when some
one came into the tepee and stood in the darkness, chuckling.
“Le Pendu,” Jules thought, but said nothing.
“Eh, tu!” his visitor said, pushing him with his foot. No answer. The
Indian kicked Verbaux hard. “Wak’ hup, cochon, beas’!” he growled.
Jules’s anger seethed, but he gave no sign of it. “Vat tu vant?” he
asked.
“Notting,” the other answered. “Ah comme for to tell dat cette
vomans an’ l’Indien be los’ certainement; dey gone au nord, loook
for toi, an’—ha, ha! c’est drôle—you den comme here! Bien, c’est
bon comme ça; Ah tol’ to you dat you mus’ be au Hodson Baie
Compagnie, hein?”
“Oui.” Jules spoke quietly, resolved not to let his tormentor know
of his sufferings.
“You be keel dans le matin, an’ Ah goin’ shoot toi, Verbaux; den
mabbe Ah go fin’ dat femme?” he laughed and stepped nearer to
Jules.
The latter heard the Indian close to his feet, though he could not
see him, and raising his tied legs, he shot them forward viciously
with a straight hip thrust and caught the other in the stomach.
“Dam’ toi to l’enfer!” Le Pendu coughed as he lurched out of the
tepee. “Ah feex toi for dat!” and he swore fiercely.
Jules heard him move away, coughing hard, and was satisfied. “Ah
geeve heem good keeck!” and he felt more comfortable. Then, “Los’,
bon Dieu? Non! not los’! Marie! Marie! eef Ah could onlee fin’ toi an’
Le Grand, eef Ah could seulement see you vonce h’aga’n an’ tell to
vous dat—Ah, non! no encore; not so, Marie; mais Ah vant see toi—
an’ eet ees feenesh dis taime!” He spoke aloud and his voice
trembled. He rolled over on his stomach, rested his chin on the hard,
lumpy ground; the change of position lightened the strain of the
bindings and he slept.
Day had just broken across the high skies when they woke him,
severed his feet-thongs, and led him out into the yard. It was bitterly
cold, and tears of chill welled in the corners of Jules’s eyes as his
guards stood him by one of the log houses, facing the east.
He looked at the heavens, over which swung veils of different
colours that changed continually. The yard was crowded with Indians
and trappers; they were silent, in a semicircle, their blankets
fluttering slightly in the wind of the dawn that blew across between
the buildings. Five of them, grouped together in front of him, had
guns. Everything was still, and Jules thought of his lonely, free life
that he loved. He looked passionately on the forests that showed
black and uneven beyond the post walls, and his keener senses felt
the glorious, fierce winds that swept the wastes. He saw, not his
executioners, not the death-hungry crowd, not the stiff houses, but
the white country, and far away a hut that stood desolate between
two giant pines; he saw the child’s cap, and then a form, a slight
figure, stood before his dream-eyes; beside it a strong face, with
long black hair about it, looked at him, and Le Grand’s voice came to
his dream-ears. “Ah, Dieu!” he whispered, and knelt there in the
snow with bowed head. The crowd shuffled uneasily, then one by
one they took off their caps, all but Le Pendu, who held a gun and
grunted contemptuously. Slowly the dark vaults above lightened and
faint yellow beams stole, far-reaching, over the dark spruce.
“Bénissez, vous bon Dieu, ma femme et mon ami, si c’est votre
volonté dat Ah die ains’. B’en, c’est fini!” He stood up and faced the
east again.
A candle-lantern approached, and the factor came into the circle.
“Aire ye ready, me lads?” he asked.
“Mm-hm!” answered Le Pendu; no one else spoke.
“Verbaux!”—the chief turned to Jules—“I’ll gie ye a chaince mair,
mon, for ye life, If ye’ll gie me yere worrd o’ hanair not to gang awa’,
an’ to bide here an’ trap for me, I’ll let ye go. Me bruither, God rest
his soule! told me of ye, an’ said ye cud be truisted when ye
promeesed.”
Jules straightened up proudly. “Ah’m no h’afraid of la mort, M’sieu’
le Facteur, an’ Jules Verbaux he no can be forcé to do vat he no vant
to do!” he answered.
The Scotchman shook his head slowly. “I’m vera sorry,” he said,
stepping back; he nodded to the shooting squad. They moved
forward, cocking their guns, then stopped. A picture of a woman,
alone, destitute, maybe hounded by an Indian; the reflection of a
rugged face, of a strong form now bent of wounds, yet doing what
he could for his sake, passed rapidly before Jules; then came the
thought of the child: this was its mother after all. The craving to see
Marie again some time, to find her, the heart’s cry for her, was too
strong, and won at last. The deep voice spoke hoarsely.
“Ah geeve ma promesse, M’sieu’ Le Facteur,” Jules said.
A long sigh came from the men; Le Pendu cursed under his
breath.
“I’m glad, Verbaux! Cut him loose,” and the factor went away.
Some one parted his wrist-thongs and Verbaux was free, alone in
the yard; from beyond a tepee Le Pendu shook his fist at him and
disappeared.
Jules went to the gates and walked out to the edge of the dark
woods. The smell of the trees drove him to madness, and he
caressed the rough bark of a tall hemlock. “Ah go fas’, dey no catch
me!” he thought, and looked back. Nothing stirred at the post; the
gray light made shapes dimly visible. “Non! Jules he geeve hees
promesse, he no can go,” he whispered, and went into the yard
again. He felt friendless and alone; nowhere to go, no one to speak
to, no one to say a kind word to Her, or tell him of Her.
Hesitatingly he wandered to his prison tepee and threw himself on
the cold earth. At first he regretted his weakness, then he condoned
it with thoughts of Marie. “Somme taime Ah fin’ dat fille, eef Le
Grand he ees h’alive an’ stay veet’ her’ an’ Ah know dat he do dat!”
Then he resigned himself to the situation, and stepped gravely out
among the fires that crackled cheerily for the morning meals at
Hudson Bay Company’s Poste Reliance.
 XX

THE QUEST

There were but few squaws to be seen. “Dey no arriver encore,”

Jules muttered. The voyageurs nodded to him in a friendly way; the
Indians seemed not to notice his presence, and Le Pendu scowled
openly. Verbaux approached one of the fires where French-
Canadians breakfasted, and they made room for him to sit. One of
them offered Jules his pannikin and plate and motioned toward the
food—a caribou-stew that simmered in an iron pot and gave off
appetising vapours. Verbaux ate silently; no one spoke to him, and
he did not feel the necessity of speech. His meal finished, he went to
the factor’s house and asked for orders; and as he stood listening to
what the factor said, his eyes wandered longingly through the forest
tops, and focused themselves on a white strip of barren that was the
horizon, many miles beyond the trees.
“I’ll gie ye dogs, sledge, food, an’ blankit to start wi’; ye’ll sattle
wi’ yere fierst lot o’ skin!”
The old prison tepee was given him as his home; five mangy
brutes were turned over to his care as his team; a medium-light
sledge, two thin blankets, some tea and pemmican completed his
indebtedness to the Hudson Bay Company. He smiled a trifle bitterly
when the factor concluded his orders by “Do yere worrk weel, mon,
an’ ye’ll be recht; eef ye don’t I’ll make ye that feine ye canna be
sweeped!” and the throb for freedom and Her came over him hard,
but he answered quietly enough, “Oui, M’sieu’ le Facteur,” then
turned away, leading the scrawny dogs and dragging the sledge and
outfit.
All day he worked steadily, patching up the rotten skins of his
tepee, and bringing boughs for his bed. He made his own fire, ate
alone, and lived apart from the other inhabitants of the post. When
night came again his home was comfortable and warm, and he slept
with the prayer for Marie on his lips.
Long before any one was awake the next morning he started off,
taking all his food and his blankets. He travelled as fast as his dogs
could go until evening, then built a temporary camp at the edge of
the open country. He fastened the team after supper, put on his
snow-shoes, and crossed out from under the black timber to the
barrens. A light breeze was blowing and Jules inhaled great lungsful
of its strength. The cold stars glittered above him, and the crust
crackled sharply under his weight. In the centre of the space he
stopped. Behind and beyond showed the skirts of the woods, like
black cords drawn about a white sheet. Shooting comets trailed and
flashed athwart the studded heavens, and he wondered whence
they came and whither they went. There was no sound but that of
the icy myriads as they moved along over the crust, impelled by the
breeze.
“Eef Ah onlee could go an’ loook! Eef Ah could go—have liberté
vonce h’aga’n!” and Jules sighed. “Dat no possible; somme taime Ah
get ’way, tell le facteur dat Ah go, an’ den go queeck—somme taime,
mabbe!” He retraced his way slowly, lingering over each step that
took him toward the things that belonged to the Company. The dark
line heightened as he went, and when he reached the woods again
he could see the shifting reflection of his fire. He came to the bough
camp, wrapped himself in his blankets, and passed into the
unconsciousness of sleep while the darkness hung on, then little by
little gave way to the irresistible power of another sun.
This day Jules set forty traps, and in four days had twenty marten,
nineteen sable, three fox (one gray), six wolverine, five lynx, and a
beaver (that he killed on a neighbouring pond).
 The fifth day he set out for the post again. A strong northerly
storm was on, and the sleet dashed against him with dizzying
strength as he slowly forced his way against it. He broke the trail,
and the dogs followed on his heels, whining and shivering, their long
hair clustered with white and their tails dragging heavily. The wind
sang riotously in Jules’s ears, and their inner rims were covered with
the blowing drift; the hair in his nose froze solid, and prickled as he
breathed; and the gusts found their way inside the thick muffler and
chilled his body. But he loved it, and fought his way steadily to
Reliance.
A few trappers were in the open when Verbaux entered the yard,
and they grunted surprisedly as they saw the tall, gaunt figure
leading the team and sledge.
“’ave success?” asked one.
Jules nodded and went to his tepee, fed the dogs, gathered up his
skins, and sought the factor.
“Voilà! Dat h’anough for you?” he asked.
“Aye, that’s guid!” the Scotchman answered, and counted the
pelts. “That’s guid, mon,” he repeated, but Verbaux had gone out of
the store.
Jules passed close to Le Pendu’s camp on the way to his own, and
he stopped suddenly. Lying at one side were Le Pendu’s snow-shoes,
and it was their remarkable and unpleasantly familiar shape that
caught Jules’s attention; they were long and narrow, turning up at
the toe and heel, with thin lacings.
“Ah rememb’ maintenant! Dat le track Ah see long ’go’ par dat
femme mort près de Lac la Pluie!” he muttered, and went on.
The winter days, weeks, and months rolled sluggishly by. Verbaux
kept to his promise and worked faithfully and hard. To be sure, he
got good pay for his skins from the factor, and this he saved
carefully. He had brought his dogs to perfect form and they held the
reputation of being the fastest team on the post. The Indians had
grown to like Jules, while the voyageurs were outspoken in their
admiration for his great skill in the forests, and for his wonderful
sagacity and cunning in setting traps. His luck had been phenomenal
up to the close of the season, and represented a good share of the
entire take of the post. Le Pendu was always ugly, but Jules laughed
in his face and snapped his fingers at him.
Five long months had passed since he had given his word to stay
with Factor Donalds. The snows had all gone; in their place the
spring gray-green of the barren tundra showed, suggestive of hot
suns and warm skies. In the forests the undergrowth was thick, and
bright, tender leaves appeared from day to day. The birches spread
their budding limbs hungrily to the southern winds that came
caressingly from warmer climes, and the winter masses shrivelled on
their trunks and died. The ice had melted from the lakes and rivers,
and their cold waters shone dancingly in the lengthening days.
Snow-shoes were laid away, and in their stead graceful bark canoes
lay daintily on the beach before the post at the lake edge. The dogs
strolled lazily about, their work finished for some months. And still
Jules remained. One night he pushed a canoe from the shore, and
leaping in sent it flying over the calm waters with long, sweeping
strokes of his paddle. Some distance out he ceased paddling and
drifted. The darkness was warm, the night air laden with the odours
of the fresh things of early summer; the still waters mirrored the tiny
bright lamps of the heavens, and as he watched and lived in the
silence of the waters a gleaming crescent lifted its horns above the
trees and cast long, glancing rays across the lake. Jules was kneeling
in the canoe, resting his hands on the paddle, that lay athwart the
craft.
“La lune, by gar she mak’ bon signe!” he said aloud as he noted
that both tips of the new moon pointed strongly upward. Higher and
higher it rose; the shining dew on his tanned shirt shone gray and
the little drops of moisture on his cap gleamed in the blue-white
sheen. The light swirls of trout as they rose to the surface here and
there broke the silence; from far beyond in the marshes came the
solitary qu-a-a-ck of a duck; the hoarse croaking of a heron sounded
faintly; then the dull, booming calls of the marsh bittern floated up
out of a distant valley stream.
“Ah mus’ go to-mor’,” Verbaux decided as he listened to these
sounds of the summer wilderness; the heartache to find Marie
overpowered him. He paddled slowly back, dipping the blade lightly
into the dark waters; the soft lap of the little wave at the bow of the
canoe sounded like liquid music to his ears, and he sighed as it
ceased and changed to the harsh, sandy grating of land. He lifted
the light craft, carried it on shore and turned it over, then he went to
the tepee and lay down to sleep. “For de las’ taime,” he promised
himself as he felt nature’s unconsciousness approaching.
The hard patter of rain on the skins woke him, and he got up and
looked out. The heavens were dark and lowering, and the rain
poured in thin sheets from the low-hanging clouds; it coursed in
streamlets from the roofs of the buildings and twisted its way out
under the stockade, furrowing deeper as he watched it. The roar of
the falling drops in the forest came to him murmuringly. A heavy fog
spread across the big lake, motionless and thick; the air was tinged
with warmth. Jules made his preparations to go: he tied up his
blankets, putting his food, tea, and the clothes he had made
between them. Then he ate a cold breakfast and went out in the wet
to the factor’s house.
The Scotchman listened to Verbaux’s frank admission of his
intended departure, then he laughed.
“Na, na, ye’ll no be gangin’ awhile yit. I want ye to bide and wait
for the big brigade that’ll coom now damn soon,” he answered.
“Ah tak’ back ma promesse!” Jules said, shrugging his shoulders
as he left; but the factor only laughed again incredulously.
Verbaux waited all day in his tepee; he called his dogs and
caressed them for the last time. In the afternoon the rain ceased
and only the drip, drip from the soaking roofs remained of the earlier
splashing fall. The trappers and Indians were in their tepees, some
asleep, others talking, their voices sounding muffled and dead in the
damp air.
Jules listened; no one moved. He took up his meagre load, left the
tepee, crossed the yard, and went out of the gate unnoticed. His
team leader trotted up to him, and Verbaux patted the big shaggy
head kindly. The dark mist rolled upon the bank and enshrouded the
trees; Jules disappeared into it, and soon a light scratching sound
was audible, then an instant’s gurgle of disturbed water. That slight
sound was heard by a figure that appeared dimly on the bank. It
listened, then ran back to the post and hurried to Jules’s tepee,
glanced in, saw that it was stripped of everything, and rushed,
calling loudly, to the Store.
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