“I’ll trade with you,” said Crawford. “Now listen, ye redbeard Scots rogue! For the work ye’ve done this day, I mean to put ye in hell—mark that well! Your Indians won’t stop me now, for fear o’ the Star Woman. Shall we make a bargain, or fight it out between us, here and now?”
Maclish was furious, but held his temper back. With a trade in view, no canny Scot has ever been known to lose his head.
“What’s the proposition?”
“I’ll go on to the Spirit Lake with you and ten of your men. We’ll get this message, then settle our own quarrel. Meantime, my men are to be let go unhindered, back to the bay. They’re not to be prisoners——”
“Ay.” Maclish fingered his red beard, angrily. “Ay, we ha’ sore need o’ men at the south posts, after the way Iberville stripped us. If they’ll take company service, they’ll be gladly welcomed. H’m! So you and I go on alone, then?”
“And I,” spoke up Frontin. Maclish darted a glance at him.
“And who are ye?”
“My friend,” said Crawford. “Take the trade or leave it. After we get the message from the Star Woman, we’ll settle our quarrel. I’ll put ye in hell for this day’s work, mind that!”
Maclish blew on his fingers and pondered. If Crawford were in a trap, Maclish certainly was in a quandary. The Scot had laid out a great programme—alliance with the Star Woman, all the Dacotah and southern trade drawn up to the bay posts, himself a great man after the manner of Henry Kelsey, a lord of the north! And now he was within actual reach of this Star Woman, provided he did not lose his head. Offend the Stone Men he dared not, and to kill Crawford now would certainly offend them.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “And to-morrow at the Spirit Lake I’ll break your bit neck wi’ my two hands! The Assiniboine chief and nine men go on with us. The others take your men back safe to the Cree country.”