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-gwán. 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 Missináibie."
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 Missináibie," 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-gwán. 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."
The Chippewa twisted his feet into his snow-shoes, nodded to the white men, and swung away on the back trail in the direction whence our travellers had come. The girl, without more leave-taking, followed close at his back. For an instant the crunch of shoes splintered the frosty air. Then they rounded a bend. Silence fell swift as a hawk.
"Well, I'll be damned!" ejaculated Dick at last. "Do you think he was really up here visiting?"
"No, of course not," replied Sam. "Don't you see--"
"Then he came after the girl?"
"Good God, _no!_" answered Sam. "He--"
"Then he was after me," interrupted Dick again with growing excitement. "Why didn't you let me shoot him, Sam--"
"Will you shut up and listen to me?" demanded the old man, impatiently. "If he'd wanted you, he'd have got you when you were hurt last summer; and if he'd wanted the girl, he'd have got her then, too. It's all clear to me. He _has_ been visiting a friend,--perhaps his brother, as he said,--and he did spend less than three days in the visit. What did he come for? Let me tell you! That friend, or brother, is Jingoss, and he came up here to warn him that we're after him. The Chippewa suspected us a little on the Missináibie, but he wasn't sure. Probably he's had his eye on us ever since."
