“What he done to your daughter ain’t all—­I don’t care if he treated her like a queen of the realm all the time,” Ray interrupted harshly.  “That makes no difference to neither me nor Chan.  The main thing is—­he brought us out here, away from the claim—­and gave us months of the worst hell I ever hope to spend.  I guess you ain’t forgotten what Chan found out in Snowy Gulch—­that the claim’s recorded—­in old Hiram’s name.  This Darby’s got a letter in his pocket from Hiram’s brother that would stand in any court.  We’ve got to get that first.  If Darby was an angel I’d mash him under my heel just the same; we’ve gone too far to start crawfishing.  Just let me see him tied up in front of me—­”

Beatrice did not linger to hear more.  She had her answer:  only in Ben’s continued concealment lay the least hope of his salvation.  These wolves about the fire meant what they said.  But already her plans were shaping; and now she saw the light.

In the kyack of venison lay her own and her lover’s safety:  it contained enough nutritious food to sustain them until the fall rains could swell the Yuga and enable them to escape down to the Indian encampment.  Her mind was swift and keen as never before:  swiftly she perfected the last detail of her plan.  The canoe, due to Ben’s foresight, was securely hidden in a maze of tall reeds on the lake shore:  they were certain to overlook it.  The cavern, however, was almost certain to be discovered in the next day’s search.  They must make their escape to-night.

Ben, though terribly weakened, would be able to walk a short distance with her help.  They could slip into the deepest forest, concealing themselves in the coverts until the three men had given up the search and gone away.  She would take their robes and blankets to keep them warm; a camp fire would of course reveal their hiding place.  The work could easily be accomplished in the midnight shadows:  deliverance, salvation, life itself depended on the tide of fate in the next few hours.

She intended to steal the kyack of dried meat without which Ben and herself could not live.  She crept back farther into the underbrush; then waited, scarcely breathing, while the fire died down.  Already the three men were preparing to go to their bunks.  Chan had already lain down; her father was removing his coat and boots.  Ray, however, still sat in the firelight.

The moments passed.  Would he never rise and go?  The fire, however, was dying:  its circle of ruddy light ever drew inward.  The kyack was quite in the shadow now, yet she dared not attempt its theft until the three men were asleep.  She waited, thrilling with excitement.

Chan and Neilson were seemingly asleep, and now Ray was knocking the ashes from his pipe.  He yawned, stretching wide his arms; then, as if held by some intriguing thought, sat almost motionless, gazing into the graying coals.  Presently Beatrice heard him curse, softly, in the shadows.