The feeling of dread was deepened when toward evening he saw canoes gliding down the river, filled with natives. He believed they would stop at Hishu, but, instead, they pushed steadily on in deep silence. He ran to the bank of the river, and watched them until they had disappeared around a bend in the distance. He noted that one craft ran close to the shore, and a tall, lithe figure stepped lightly in. He could not tell who this passenger was, but it increased his anxiety. Why had not the Hishus stopped? What did they mean by going by without a word? Had they, too, turned against him? He felt that their action had something to do with the stolen woman and child. But how could they know about it so far off in the wilderness, while he, only a few hundred yards away, had been in entire ignorance?
Anxiously now he discussed the whole question with his companions. Would Dan and the constable return, and the Hishus with them? If so, their position at the village would be unenviable. Or had the Indians gone down to meet the Big Lakes? This latter idea gave them some relief. Anyway, they considered it safer to be prepared, and if the worst came they could fade away into the wilderness. A couple of cayuses, grazing in a wild meadow, several miles from Hishu, were caught and brought to the village to be held in readiness, while packs of food were made up for a speedy departure. In addition to these precautions Shifty Nick each day patrolled the river for miles below Hishu. He lived upon the trail. By day he scanned the river for the slightest object, while at night his alert ears were strained for the faintest paddle dip. It had often been said that Shifty could sleep in the saddle, and could see with his eyes closed.
Days passed and nothing happened. The river gave no sign, and the air breathed no secrets. But late one afternoon Shifty rode madly into Hishu, leaped from the cayuse, and burst into the store.
"They're comin'!" he shouted. "Five miles down river."
Siwash Bill dropped the rifle he was cleaning and stared.
"How many?" he gasped. "Injuns, too?"
"No, only one canoe. Injuns nowhere in sight. All whites but one, an' that's Nadu. Now we've got to act, an' what's yer plan? Are ye goin' to let 'em git through Hishu?"
"How long 'fore they'll git here, Nick?" questioned the squaw man, who was now thinking deeply.
"'Bout two hours. Heavy tide that."
"Two hours. It'll be quite dark then," Bill mused, as he glanced toward the window. "Two hours. Let me see. Thar's Dan; he's a divil, an' the Yellow-leg's 'bout as bad. The rest'll be easy to handle, eh?"