I heard a shuffling rattle, and looking in a second time, saw the spidery monument sway, then fall with a dull hollow crash, scattering its curious freight in all directions. At the same time a yell from Stewart all but shattered my little remaining nerve, and he came leaping wildly across the fallen boxes towards the narrow egress.
"A'm comin' oot!" he bellowed; then Mackay, forcing up behind, and making strenuous endeavours to preserve his usual sangfroid, said weakly, "I guess I need a breath of air also, boys."
To make matters worse, the Captain, who had been warily prospecting around, now came rushing back, gesticulating energetically. "The whole tribe is quite close, and comin' fur us!" he announced in a loud whisper when he came near. Here was a predicament. The two eager individuals whose heads were thrust appealingly out of the window, groaned in anguish, for they could not get out without assistance, struggle as they might.
"You had better stay right where you are, boys, and we'll come in too," I said to them hurriedly, for the shuffling of many snowshoes now reached my ears, and there was no time to effect a rescue.
"Heaven knows what's goin' to be the end o' this," muttered the Captain as he swung his lank frame through the opening. It took some time for him to wriggle inside, and then I attempted the acrobatic performance necessary to make an entry. I was just a little late, for, looking around before making the final duck inwards I saw a number of wild-looking figures approaching quickly over the snow. The moon then encountered a belt of dense, fleecy clouds, and a welcome darkness enveloped the landscape just as Stewart, with a grunt of satisfaction, tugged me ingloriously into the odoriferous realms from which he had been so desperately anxious to escape, and shut the heavy barricade. A few minutes passed, during which time we were all but stifled by the pungent air; then our miseries were forgotten in the danger that threatened. Snowshoes hissed and skidded around our shelter, and deep, guttural exclamations in the Chinook tongue sounded on every side. And as I pieced together the various monosyllabic utterances, I refrained from translating them to my companions, although I had a dim idea that both Stewart and Mackay had fully decided that, whatever it might be, the strange structure in which they were was certainly no storehouse for dried caribou or salmon.
We had been barely five minutes in the dismal room, yet the time seemed an age. The Indians contented themselves with circling round each house in turn, keeping several yards distant from them, for a reason which was now painfully apparent to me. I could stand it no longer. "Boys," I said, "we've got to get out of this, lively, for the Indians will probably patrol about till sunrise, and half an hour will just about finish me."
"An' me," groaned Mackay.
The Captain, however, was not satisfied. "Look here, boys," he said, "I don't hitch on to yer meaning a bit. Are the Injuns afraid to go into their houses, or—I'm hanged if I can make out thish yer circus. Is this an Injun village, or is it not?" he demanded.
There was no need to hide it from him further. "No, Captain," I replied, "it's not."