“We’re all in the same boat,” Smoke answered.

“Not on your life.  It’s a-comin’ to you straight down the pike.”

“What is?”

“You ain’t heard the news?”

Smoke shook his head.

“The bachelors told me.  They just got the word.  To-night it comes off, though it’s months ahead of the calendar.”

Smoke shrugged his shoulders.

“Ain’t interested in hearin’?” Shorty teased.

“I’m waiting to hear.”

“Well, Danny’s wife just told the bachelors,” Shorty paused impressively.  “An’ the bachelors told me, of course, that the maidens’ fires is due to be lighted to-night.  That’s all.  Now how do you like it?”

“I don’t get your drift, Shorty.”

“Don’t, eh?  Why, it’s plain open and shut.  They’s a skirt after you, an’ that skirt is goin’ to light a fire, an’ that skirt’s name is Labiskwee.  Oh, I’ve been watchin’ her watch you when you ain’t lookin’.  She ain’t never lighted her fire.  Said she wouldn’t marry a Indian.  An’ now, when she lights her fire, it’s a cinch it’s my poor old friend Smoke.”

“It sounds like a syllogism,” Smoke said, with a sinking heart reviewing Labiskwee’s actions of the past several days.

“Cinch is shorter to pronounce,” Shorty returned.  “An’ that’s always the way—­just as we’re workin’ up our get-away, along comes a skirt to complicate everything.  We ain’t got no luck.  Hey!  Listen to that, Smoke!”

Three ancient squaws had halted midway between the bachelors’ camp and the camp of McCan, and the oldest was declaiming in shrill falsetto.

Smoke recognized the names, but not all the words, and Shorty translated with melancholy glee.

“Labiskwee, the daughter of Snass, the Rainmaker, the Great Chief, lights her first maiden’s fire to-night.  Maka, the daughter of Owits, the Wolf-Runner—­”

The recital ran through the names of a dozen maidens, and then the three heralds tottered on their way to make announcement at the next fires.

The bachelors, who had sworn youthful oaths to speak to no maidens, were uninterested in the approaching ceremony, and to show their disdain they made preparations for immediate departure on a mission set them by Snass and upon which they had planned to start the following morning.  Not satisfied with the old hunters’ estimates of the caribou, Snass had decided that the run was split.  The task set the bachelors was to scout to the north and west in quest of the second division of the great herd.

Smoke, troubled by Labiskwee’s fire-lighting, announced that he would accompany the bachelors.  But first he talked with Shorty and with McCan.

“You be there on the third day, Smoke,” Shorty said.  “We’ll have the outfit an’ the dogs.”

“But remember,” Smoke cautioned, “if there is any slip-up in meeting me, you keep on going and get out to the Yukon.  That’s flat.  If you make it, you can come back for me in the summer.  If I get the chance, I’ll make it, and come back for you.”