Chapter 7Quietly, Joe turned another page of his book, glancing up at Dubois’s bunk. Dubois was resting and he didn’t want to wake him. Dubois’s health was getting worse every day. He wouldn’t eat. And he coughed at night. Sometimes for hours.
But no matter what Joe said, Dubois wouldn’t give up the woods for work in the kitchen. Every day, he followed Joe into the wild, bearing the cold, the tremendous labor, unwilling to part with him. But though Dubois had been spared any serious disease, frostbite, or even fever for the time being, Joe wondered how long his luck would last.
When was Vascali going to send for him? What was that bastard waiting for?
Dubois was weakening, his amazing life force dimming every day.
Today was Christmas Eve and tomorrow, they’d have a day to rest. Joe wis
