For an instant he thought hard. He was entirely unarmed, and the men's rifles stood just behind them. He would have to wait for reinforcements. It was surely almost time for Maurice and Peter to be back, and they must be warned of the danger before they entered the cabin.
"All right," he said, with sudden mildness. "If you can prove that the stones are really yours, I'm satisfied. The sack looked like my brother's, that's all."
Mitchell gave a contemptuous grin. The Canadians lighted their pipes again.
Fred felt that they watched him closely, however. He lounged about the cabin with assumed nonchalance for a quarter of an hour, and then ventured to go out on the pretext of bringing in a fresh log for the fire. But once outdoors, he put on his snowshoes and rushed down the trail to intercept his friends.
CHAPTER V
In deadly fear of hearing a shot or a shout from behind, Fred did not stop running until he was out of sight of the cabin. He knew the direction from which the hunters would be sure to return, and he posted himself in ambush, in a spot whence he could keep watch in front and rear.
Fortunately, he was not pursued. Fortunately, too, he had not very long to wait there, for it was bitter cold. In the course of half an hour, he discerned two black specks crossing a strip of barrens to the north.
Fred ran to meet them. The hunters had no deer, but each of them carried a great bunch of partridges.
"What's the matter? Is the camp on fire?" shouted Macgregor, as Fred dashed up.