Chapter 5: 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: