The Fur Bringers Part 47

The six then mounted their own horses, and they set off at a swift lope away from the river--one leading Ambrose's horse.

They extended themselves in single file along a well-beaten trail.

This, Ambrose knew, was the way to the Kakisa River--their own country.

A chill struck to his breast. Any intelligible danger may be faced with a good heart, but to be cast among capricious and inscrutable savages, whom he could neither command nor comprehend, was enough to undermine the stoutest courage.

Nevertheless he strove with himself as he rode. "They cannot put it over me unless I knuckle under," he thought. "They're afraid of me.

No Indian that ever lived can face out a white man when the white man knows his power."

Several dogs followed them out of camp. There was one that the others all snapped at and drove from among them. Ambrose suddenly recognized Job, and his heart leaped up.

He had left him at Grampierre's the night before. The faithful little beast must have followed him down to the Kakisa camp and have been waiting for him ever since to return.

During the events of the last half-hour Job had no doubt been regarding his master from afar. The other dogs would not let him run at the horses' heels, but he followed indomitably in the rear.

Every time they went over a hill Ambrose saw him trotting patiently far behind in the trail. When they stopped to eat there was a joyful reunion.

Ambrose no longer felt friendless. He divided his rations with his humble follower. The Indians smiled. In this respect they evidently considered the formidable white man a little soft-headed.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A GLEAM OF HOPE.

In the middle of the third day of hard riding over a flower-starred prairie, and through belts of poplar bush, they came to the Kakisa River.

By this time Ambrose had become somewhat habituated to his captivity. At any rate, he was more philosophical. He had been treated well enough.

There was a village at the end of the trail. Hearing the astonishing news of what had happened, the people stared at Ambrose with their hard, bright eyes as at a phenomenon.

Ambrose figured that they had left Fort Enterprise a hundred and fifty miles behind. He looked at the river with interest. He had heard that no white man had ever descended it.

He saw a smoothly flowing brown flood some two hundred yards wide winding away between verdant willows. A smaller stream joined it at this point, and the teepees stretched along either bank.

Across the larger stream loomed a bold hill-point with a striking clump of pines upon it, and under the trees the gables of an Indian burying-ground like a village of toy houses.

The flat where the rivers joined was hemmed all around by low hills. On the right, half-way up the rise, a log shack dominated the village--and to it Ambrose's captors led him.

This was evidently intended to be his prison. Window and door were closely boarded up. The Indians tore the boards from the doorway and, casting off Ambrose's bonds, thrust him inside. They closed the door, leaving him in utter darkness. He heard them contriving a bar to keep him in.

Ambrose, after waving his arms about to restore the circulation, set to exploring his quarters by sense of touch. First he collided with a counter running across from side to side.

Behind, in the middle of the room, he found an iron cook-stove; against the right hand wall were tiers of empty shelves; at the back a bedstead filled with moldy hay; on the left side an empty chest, a table, and a chair.

Thus it was a combination of store and dwelling; no doubt it had been built for Gordon Strange's use when he came to trade with the Kakisas.

The window was over the table. Ambrose found it nailed down, besides being boarded up outside. He had no intention of submitting to the deprivation of light and air.

He picked up the chair and swinging it delivered a series of blows that shattered the gla.s.s, cracked the frame, and finally drove out the boards.

He found himself looking into the impa.s.sive faces of his jailers.

They did not even seem surprised, and made no demonstration against him.

Ambrose whistled. Job came running and scrambled over the window-sill into his master's arms.

Later one of the Indians came with strips of moose hide which he pinned across outside the window. From each strip dangled a row of bells, such as are fastened to dog-harness. It was cunningly contrived--Ambrose could not touch one of the strips ever so gently without giving an alarm.

Thereafter, as long as it was light, he could see them loafing and sleeping in the gra.s.s outside with their guns beside them. After dark their pipe-bowls glowed.

Three days of inexpressible tedium followed. Had it not been for Job, Ambrose felt he would have gone out of his mind. His window overlooked the teepee village, and his sole distraction from his thoughts lay in watching the Indians at work and play.

His jailers put up a teepee outside the shack. There were never less than three in sight, generally playing poker--and with their guns beside them.

Ambrose knowing the inconsequentiality of the Indian mind guessed that they must have had strong orders to keep them on guard so faithfully.

Any thought of escape was out of the question. He could not travel a hundred and fifty miles without a store of food. He sought to keep out a little from every meal that was served him, but he got barely enough for him and Job, too.

On the fourth day the arrival of the main body of Indians from Fort Enterprise created a diversion. They came straggling slowly on foot down the hill to the flat, extreme weariness marked in their heavy gait and their sagging backs.

Only Watusk rode a horse. Every other beast was requisitioned to carry the loot from the store. Some of the men--and all the women bore packs also. This was why they had been so long on the way.

True to their savage nature they had taken more than they could carry.

As Ambrose learned later, there were goods scattered wantonly all along the trail.

Ambrose naturally antic.i.p.ated some change in his own condition as a result of the arrival of Watusk. But nothing happened immediately. The patient squaws set to work to make camp, and by nightfall the village of teepees was increased fourfold.

In the motionless twilight each cone gave a perpendicular thread of smoke to the thin cloud that hung low over the flat.

As the darkness increased the teepees became faintly luminous from the fires within, and the streets gleamed like strings of pale j.a.panese lanterns. Ambrose, expecting visitors, watched at his window until late.

None came.

In the morning he made the man who brought his breakfast understand by signs that he wished to speak with Watusk. The chief did not, however, vouchsafe him a call.

To-day it transpired that the Indians were only making a temporary halt below. After a few hours' rest they got in motion again, and all afternoon were engaged in ferrying their baggage across the river in dugouts and in swimming their horses over.

On the following morning, with the exception of Watusk's lodge and half a dozen others, all the teepees were struck, and the whole body of the people crossed the river and disappeared behind the hill. All on that side was no man's land, still written down "unexplored" on the maps.

Thereafter day succeeded day without any break in the monotony of Ambrose's imprisonment. He occasionally made out the portly figure of Watusk in his frock coat, but received no word from him.

It was now the 20th of September, and the poplar boughs were bare. Every morning now the gra.s.s was covered with rime, and to-day a flurry of snow fell. Winter would increase the difficulties of escape tenfold.

Ambrose speculated endlessly on what might be happening at Fort Enterprise. He thought, too, of Peter Minot who was relying on him to steer the hazarded fortunes of the firm into port--and groaned at his impotence.

As with all solitary prisoners, throughout the long hours Ambrose's mind preyed upon itself. True, he had Job, who was friend and consoler in his dumb way, but Job was only a dog.

To joke or to swear at his jailers was like trying to make a noise in a vacuum. Not to be able to make himself felt became a positive torture to Ambrose.