But one night it seemed as if he could not get to sleep, he felt so conscience-stricken, and at last, unable to bear it any longer, he rolled out of his blankets, and kneeled against a tree-trunk.
A minute later his uncle, who had been out with some of his men setting traps, returned, and seeing Raoul, exclaimed in a tone of surprise:
"Hullo, my boy, what's the matter? Have you had a scare while I was away?"
Raoul, blushing deeply, rose to his feet, and with eyes fixed on the ground, murmured:
"No, sir, I was just saying my prayers, as I ought to have done every night, but I felt ashamed to."
It was on the tip of La Tour's tongue to say:
"Oh! leave that to your aunt. She can pray enough for both of us."
But he kept the words back, and with an indulgent smile which implied plainly that he thought the boy's occupation was of small consequence, he said in a kindly tone:
"Well, you'd better get back into your blankets again. We're going to have a stormy night, if I am not greatly mistaken."
That he had not mis-read the weather signs became evident ere midnight, for a snow-storm set in which grew in violence hour by hour, until by daylight it was so furious that not even Charles La Tour had the hardihood to brave it.
CHAPTER V
THE MOOSE HUNT
For several days the storm continued, and during that time no member of the party dared to leave camp, except to gather wood for the fire, which by great exertion and care was kept burning.
It was a miserable time for all. La Tour fumed and fretted at the delay, and the other whites shared his feelings, although the Indians seemed stolidly content with the forced inaction.
Temporary tents had been hastily made out of spruce boughs, and these being covered thickly with snow, afforded passable protection; yet they were poor places in which to spend a long day, and their occupants soon grew utterly weary of them.
Raoul was hard put to it to while away the dreary hours. His uncle was in too ill a humour to be pleasant company, and so the boy fell back upon the society of the men, who were inclined to be rough in their ways and coarse in speech.
On the evening of the third day of the storm La Tour called Raoul to him, and said in a sneering tone:
"How much good can your prayers do, think you? If you were to pray for the storm to stop, would it have any effect? You certainly couldn't wish a better chance to show what you can do."
Raoul was sorely puzzled to reply. He suspected that his uncle was only seeking to make fun of him, and yet it did not seem right to respond in the same spirit, thus making a jest of what was so sacred.
Looking very confused, he kept silence, until La Tour exclaimed impatiently:
"Have you lost your tongue? Why don't you answer me?"
"Because I don't know what to say," murmured Raoul. "Aunt Constance told me that we must not expect every prayer to be answered right away, and maybe even if she were to pray for the storm to stop it would not do it."
At this point La Tour's better nature asserted itself. He began to feel ashamed at thus teasing the boy, and to be impressed by his evident sincerity, so patting him affectionately upon the shoulder, he said:
"Don't mind my foolish words, Raoul. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or to weaken your faith. Keep on doing what you feel to be right, even if you are made fun of by those who ought to know better."
Raoul was deeply touched by these words, and thenceforward admired his uncle more than ever.
Ere he closed his eyes that night he did pray fervently for the storm to abate, and then curled up in his blankets to sleep as soundly as if in his own snug bed in Fort St. Louis.
He was awakened next morning by his uncle giving orders to the men in so cheery a tone that it was evident there had been a great change in his spirits; and, in making his way out of the half-buried tent, Raoul at once understood the reason, for the storm was all over, and the sun shone dazzlingly upon a world of spotless white.
"Good!" cried Raoul joyously. "Now we needn't stay here any longer. I am so glad," and he felt like dancing a little by way of expressing his feelings.
In his delight at the return of fine weather he might have forgotten to be thankful for the answer to his prayer, had not Monsieur La Tour reminded him by calling out:
"Good-morning, Raoul. You see the snow has ceased, and perhaps it was your prayers that caused it to stop."
Raoul laughed, and shook his head in disclaimer of such being the case.
"And now, uncle, we can be off again, can't we?" he responded. "I hope we won't have any more such storms."
In their journey across country they presently came to the region where huge moose, the grandest of all antlered animals, were to be found, and La Tour, as their supply of food was running low, decided to halt for a few days, in order that they might have a moose hunt.
This was good news to the whole party, and there was keen competition among the members to be allowed to take part in the hunt, La Tour's purpose being to have one-half of the men accompany him, while the rest remained at the camp.
Raoul took it for granted that he was to go, and was quite dismayed when his uncle let fall a remark which implied that he was to stay behind.
"Why, uncle," he exclaimed, "am I not to go with you?"
"Well, I hadn't thought about it, Raoul," was the reply. "Won't it be rather hard work for you to keep up with us? And then there may be some danger, you know."
"Oh, but I don't mind either the hard work or the danger," Raoul promptly responded. "Please let me go too, uncle, I want to so much."
"Very well then," replied La Tour, good-naturedly. "You can come along, but you'll have to look after yourself, for I'm going to give my whole attention to the moose."
Mounted upon broad snow-shoes, which enabled them to travel with ease and speed over the deepest snow, the hunting-party set forth amid the cheers of those who regretfully remained behind. They were all in high spirits, and the men made little boasts among themselves as to which of them would be the first to sight a moose, and to get the first shot at one.
"This heavy fall of snow will make things easier for us," Monsieur La Tour said to Raoul, as they tramped along together. "The big fellows will not be able to run very fast through such deep drifts."
It was not until mid-day drew near that signs of moose were seen, and then one of the keen-sighted Indians, who was in the van, came hurrying back to announce that he had found fresh tracks in the snow.
After examining them La Tour consulted for a moment with his companions, and then laid out his plan of campaign, which was that the party should spread out in a wide line, so as to cover as much ground as possible, and yet keep within hearing of signals, so as to be able to gather together again at the proper time.
"As for you, Raoul, you had better follow me," he said. "You'll not miss any of the excitement, and you'll be less likely to get astray."
This suited Raoul perfectly, and having seen to it that his gun was ready for instant action he followed his uncle's lead, although it was no easy matter to keep pace with his rapid stride.
On they went through the forest, with every sense alert to detect the proximity of their prey.
Presently La Tour stopped short, and bent his gaze intently to the right. Raoul looked in the same direction, but at first could not make out anything, yet from his uncle's action, it was plain that he must have sighted a moose, for he began to creep forward stealthily, with his gun held in readiness to fire.
Raoul, holding his breath, kept close behind, and at last his eyes fell upon a dark form scarcely distinguishable from the thick evergreen against which it stood.
"There he is! I see him!" he whispered to himself, while his heart throbbed wildly.
Just then La Tour levelled his gun, and the silence was shattered by its startling report.