They tried to follow McNab’s instructions and make good speed towards Lake Traverse, but all three suddenly found themselves very tired. The night before, after a hard day’s journey, they had had not a wink of sleep. It had been a night of continuous physical exertion and intense strain. Then came the meeting with Scar Face, and the anxious waiting for Murray and the Dakotas, capped by the excitement of the brief fight. The time had seemed long, yet in reality events had followed one another so swiftly that the sun even now was scarcely more than half-way up the sky.
“If I didn’t know we were going in the right direction, I should think we were headed north, not south,” said Walter, as he plodded wearily along. “It seems as if the sun must be on the way down, instead of up.”
Neil nodded. “I’m dead sleepy,” he admitted, “but we must try to keep on going till McNab overtakes us.”
“The firing has stopped,” put in Raoul. “The fight must be over.”
“Or else the noise doesn’t reach us here.”
If the fight was over, who had won? The answer to that question might mean life or death to the fugitives. Murray had fallen, but if the Dakotas had destroyed the Ojibwas, they might, even without his leadership, cross the river and continue the pursuit. The boys felt they must go on as long as they possibly could. They trudged doggedly on, casting many a glance behind them.
At last Neil, turning to look back, gave a cry of joy. A single horseman was on their trail, coming at good speed. He raised one long arm in the friendship sign. The three stopped short and dropped down to rest and let him overtake them. They were almost asleep when he reached them.
McNab reined in his horse and looked down at the weary figures with a grim smile. “Weel,” he said slowly, in his peculiar Scots’ English with its guttural suggestion of Dakota, “ye disappeart sa quick I thocht the prairie had swallowed ye.”
“Did the Saulteux win?” Neil roused himself to ask.
“Aye, an’ withoot losin’ a man. Scar Face himsel got a shot in the thigh, but it’s only a flesh wound. The ither side didna ken the number o’ the enemy, an’ they were mair nor a little upset by Murray’s fa’. When they found they coudna drive the Ojubwas fra the wee isle, they turnt tail theirsel an’ were awa’. If ye can mak it, we’d best be gettin’ ta that bit île des bois ower yon, where ye can be sleepin’ in the shade.”