Eight months of toil focussed in the moment.  The faint creaking of the shoes came ever louder down the wind.  Once it paused.  Dick caught his breath.  Had the traveller discovered anything suspicious?  He glanced behind him.

“Where’s the girl?” he hissed between his teeth.  “Damn her, she’s warned him!”

But almost with Sam’s reply the creaking began again, and after an instant of indetermination continued its course.

Then suddenly the woodsmen, with a simultaneous movement, raised their rifles, and with equal unanimity lowered them, gasping with astonishment.  Dick’s enemy, Ah-tek, the renegade Chippewa of Haukemah’s band on the Missinaibie, stepped from the concealment of the bushes.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Of the three the Indian was the first to recover.

“Bo’ jou’, bo’ jou’,” said he, calmly.

Sam collected himself to a reply.  Dick said nothing, but fell behind, with his rifle across his arm.  All marched on in silence to where lay the dog-sledge, guarded by May-may-gwan.  The Chippewa’s keen eyes took in every detail of the scene, the overturning of the sledge, the muzzling of the dogs, the general nature of the equipment.  If he made any deductions, he gave no sign, nor did he evince any further astonishment at finding these men so far north at such a time of year.  Only, when he thought himself unobserved, he cast a glance of peculiar intelligence at the girl, who, after a moment’s hesitation, returned it.

The occasion was one of elaborate courtesy.  Sam ordered tea boiled, and offered his tobacco.  Over the fire he ventured a more direct inquiry than his customary policy would have advised.

“My brother is a long journey from the Missinaibie.”

The Chippewa assented.

“Haukemah, then, hunts these districts.”

The Chippewa replied no.

“My brother has left Haukemah.”

Again the Chippewa denied, but after enjoying for a moment the baffling of the old man’s intentions, he volunteered information.

“The trapper of this district is my brother.  I have visited him.”

“It was a short visit for so long a journey.  The trail is but three days old.”

Ah-tek assented gravely.  Evidently he cared very little whether or not his explanation was accepted.

“How many days to Winnipeg?” asked Sam.

“I have never been there,” replied the Indian.

“We have summered in the region of the Missinaibie,” proffered Sam.  “Now we go to Winnipeg.”

The Indian’s inscrutable countenance gave no indication as to whether or not he believed this.  After a moment he knocked the ashes from his pipe and arose, casting another sharp glance at May-may-gwan.  She had been busy at the sledge.  Now she approached, carrying simply her own blankets and clothing.

“This man,” said she to the two, “is of my people.  He returns to them.  I go with him.”