"Is it all right with us again, Rufus, old man?"
That speech nigh snapped the strained cords.
"Of course," said I, gripping the extended hand, and I immediately coughed hard, to explain away the undue moisture welling into my eyes.
We all three sat as still and silent as a death-watch, Father Holland fumbling and pretending to pore over some holy volume, Eric with fingers tightly interlaced and upper teeth biting through lower lip, and I with clenched fists dug into jacket pockets and a thousand imaginary sounds singing wild tunes in my ears.
How the seconds crawled, and the minutes barely moved, and the hours seemed to heap up in a blockade and crush us with their leaden weight! Twice I sought relief for pent emotion by piling wood on the fire, though the night was mild, and by breaking the glowing embers into a shower of sparks. The soft, moccasined tread of Mandanes past our door startled Father Holland so that his book fell to the floor, while I shook like a leaf. Strange to say, Hamilton would not allow himself the luxury of a single movement, though the lowered brows tightened and teeth cut deeper into the under lip.
Dogs set up a barking at the other end of the village—a common enough occurrence where half-starved curs roved in packs—but I could not refrain from lounging with a show of indifference to the doorway, where I peered through the moon-silvered dusk. As usual, the Indians with shrill cry flew at the dogs to silence them. The noise seemed to be annoying my companions and was certainly unnerving me, so I shut the door and walked back to the fire.
The howl of dogs and squaws increased. I heard the angry undertone of men's voices. A hoarse roar broke from the Mandane lodges and rolled through the village like the sweep of coming hurricane. There was a fleet rush, a swift pattering of something pursued running round the rear of our lodge, with a shrieking mob of men and squaws after it. The dogs were barking furiously and snapping at the heels of the thing, whatever it was.
"A hostile!" exclaimed Hamilton, leaping up.
Hardly knowing what I did, I bounded towards the door and shot forward the bolt, with a vague fear that blood might be spilled on our threshold.
"For shame, man!" cried Father Holland, making to undo the latch.