“Then you camped near here for several days?” persisted Louis.
“To the north, other side Tête de Boeuf.”
“You left the fresh buffalo skull on the mountain?” put in Neil.
Murray silently pointed to his Assiniboin companion, who apparently understood nothing of the conversation. Then the half-breed asked abruptly, “Who told you that? Kolbach?”
“We found the newly painted skull and your tracks,” said Neil. “I spoke to him this morning about them and he said you put the skull there.”
Le Murrai Noir’s face had darkened at every mention of the DeMeuron. He demanded savagely, “What else he tell you?” And, before Neil could answer, added a string of violent abuse of his former companion.
“Kolbach told me nothing,” the boy hastened to reply, “nothing except that he had been traveling with you, but had left you and was going on alone. He seemed to be in a hurry.”
Murray’s eyes were fastened on Neil’s honest, freckled face. His only reply was an abrupt grunt, he turned to Louis. “You stay here long? I sell you bag pemmican, good pemmican, for furs.”
Louis ignored the question. “We thank you for your offer,” he said, “but we have no need of pemmican. We have plenty of food.” This was not strictly true, but he wanted no dealings with Murray.
Murray cast a look about the cabin, dimly lighted by the fire on the hearth. “We go now,” he said abruptly.