“You know who did it?” asked Watusk sharply.

“I will not speak until I have proof,” Ambrose said warily.

“What happened to the men you left on guard?”

“They say they play jack-pot with a lantern near the door,” said Watusk.  “See not’ing.  Hear not’ing.  Poof! she is all burn!”

“H-m!” said Ambrose.

They were now among the people.

“Speak to them!” he cried.  “Tell them if they keep quiet Ambrose Doane will pay for the flour that is burned up, and will grind them some more.  Tell them to wait, and I promise to make things right.  Tell them if they make trouble to-night the police will come and take them away, and their children will starve!”

Watusk did, indeed, move among the men speaking to them, but with a half-hearted air.  He cut a pitiful figure.  It was not clear whether he was unwilling to oppose them or afraid.

Ambrose did not even know what Watusk was saying to them.  At any rate the men ignored their leader.  Ambrose was wild at the necessity which made him dependent on such a poor creature.

He followed Watusk, imploring them in English to keep their heads.  Some of the sense of what he said must have reached them through his tones and gestures, but they only turned sullen, suspicious shoulders upon him.

That Ambrose should take the part of his known enemy, John Gaviller, seemed to their simple minds to smack of double-dealing.

The roof of the burning shack fell in, sending a lovely eruption of sparks to the black sky.  At the same moment as if by a signal one of the savages brandished his gun aloft and broke into a passionate denunciation.

Once more Ambrose heard the name of Gaviller.  Instantly the crowd was in an uproar again.  Cries of angry approval answered the speaker from every throat.  The man was beside himself.  He waved his gun in the direction of the river.

Ambrose waited to hear no more.  He saw what was coming.  Black horror faced him.  He ran to the river, straining every nerve.  He heard them behind him.  Then it was that he so bitterly reproached himself for having left the york boat within reach.

Leaping down the bank, he put his back under the bow and struggled to push it off.  He would gladly have sacrificed it.  It was too heavy for him to budge.  Tole Grampierre and Greer reached his side.

“Quick!” cried Ambrose breathlessly.  “Set her adrift!”

But at that moment the whole tribe came pouring over the bank like a flood.  Ambrose and the breed sprang into the bow of the boat in an endeavor to hold it against them.  Old Simon presently joined them.

“Back!  Back!” cried Ambrose.  “For God’s sake listen to me, men!  Go to your lodges and talk until morning.  The truth will be clear in the daylight!  The police are coming.  They will give you justice.

“Justice is on your side now.  If you break the white man’s law he will wipe you out!  Where is your leader?  He knows the truth of what I say.  Watusk is not here!  He won’t risk his neck!”