"’Wolves never did this,’ replied Jenner in a husky voice; ’but a knife has been used.’ "’You mean—you mean——’ "’Look ye, shipmate, at that round wound in the neck.’ "’Well?’ "’After stunning him by a blow, Urbain Gautier has punctured the boy’s throat, and sucked his blood, like a weazel or a vampire, or some such thing, and ended actually by cutting a slice from his arm!’ "The whole details of this act of horror seemed but too complete, and gradually we were compelled to accept the fact, the more so when I recalled his strange remark of the preceding evening. We became sick and giddy; the white landscape swam round and round us, and while covering up the remains with snow we fell repeatedly with excess of weakness, and then returned to the little thicket—returned slowly, to find that our band was lessened by three, for in addition to Tom Dacres, two other poor fellows had just breathed their last. Urbain’s fierce black eyes questioned us in stern silence as we approached. "’Did you find the boy?’ asked Captain Benson, who had been singeing the hair off a fur cap of Dacres, and cutting it into strips for us to chew, which we did thankfully. "’Yes, he is dead. Let us think no more of it at present,’ said I. "Black fury gathered in Urbain’s sombre visage as we came close to him, and he growled out—’I buried him at the foot of the old tree, shipmate; so, _diable!_ say what you like, or that which is safer, think what you like.’ "I was too weak to resent this, or to confront him, and so turned away. The captain divided some of the dead men’s clothes among us, but these Urbain declined to share, or in the strips of scorched fur, for his strength seemed to have been completely renovated during the night; and after covering our poor companions with snow, we again set forth wearily towards the south-east, and, weak though, we were, we cast many a backward glance to the thicket where our three dead shipmates lay side by side. About noon a covey of white winter grouse were near us; we all fired at once. Whether it was that we were bad shots, that our hands were weak, that our eyes miscalculated the distance, or our aim wavered, I know not, but every bird escaped, and with moans of despair we reloaded. Then, to add to our troubles, it was found that only three of us, to wit, the captain, Urbain, and myself, had dry powder left. On and on yet to the south-east, through the blinding and trackless waste of snow!