"
"I see him now, Tayoga! What could a man want at such a place on such
a night? It must be a farmer out late, or perhaps a wandering hunter!"
"Nay, Dagaeoga, it is not a farmer, nor yet a wandering hunter. The
shoulders are set too squarely. The figure is too upright. And even
without these differences we would be sure that it is not the farmer,
nor yet the wandering hunter, because it is some one else whom we
know."
"What do you mean, Tayoga?"
"Look! Look closely, Dagaeoga!"
"Now the wind drives aside the white veil of snow and I see him
better. His figure is surely familiar!"
"Aye, Dagaeoga, it is! And do you not know him?"
"St. Luc! As sure as we live, Tayoga, it's St. Luc."
"Yes," said the hunter, who had not spoken hitherto. "It's St. Luc,
and I could reach him from here with a rifle shot."
"But you must not! You must not fire upon him!" exclaimed Robert.
Willet laughed.
"I wasn't thinking of doing so," he said. "And now it's too
late. St. Luc has gone."
The dark figure vanished from beside the trunk, and Robert saw only
the lofty slope, and the whirling snow. He passed his hands before his
eyes.
"Did we really see him?" he said.
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