he let several days go by
without prayers, just because he had not the courage to kneel down
before the others.

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