"Them Injuns must have something for eating in they houses," spoke Mac thoughtfully, gazing at the rude structures intently.
"But we have nothing to barter, and we know they won't sell," I broke in impatiently.
He made no reply to my remark, but turned to Stewart, who was evidently in a fit of deep mental abstraction: "What's your idea, Stewart, ma man?" he asked insinuatingly, and that individual responded promptly.
"I am wi' ye, Mac, every time, but I hope it's no' a graveyard like the last we tackled." They threw down their sleigh-ropes simultaneously, and were half-way to the village before I had recovered myself.
"Hold hard!" I roared. "What——"
Mac's substantial figure spun round at once. "We'll be back in a meenit," he whispered mysteriously.
I loosened Dave from his harness, and hastened after the doughty pair, expecting every instant to hear sounds of deadly strife, but all remained silent as a tomb, and I shuddered with painful recollections. I found them cavorting around the largest edifice in the group in a manner that under different circumstances would have seemed ludicrous.
"There's naebody in the hooses," cried Stewart gleefully. "The whole tribe must have gone out moose-hunting."
Not infrequently a village is entirely deserted in this way, and I heaved a sigh of relief. "But they may be back at any time," I said, glancing fearfully round.