“How do you know?”
“A snowflake came down on my hand, and was rain before it more than touched the skin.”
A slight hiss from the embers emphasized the words, and Crawford straightened up. The storm was indeed close at hand. From the dark forest was coming a queer stir and rustle, then Crawford felt the touch of snow on his cheek. He leaped to his feet.
“Quick—our chance! If those rascals had only waited! In another hour it will be raining. Get our stuff together; we must travel along the ice until we can’t lift a foot! If we go fast and far enough, the trail will be covered.”
“Ah!” said Frontin. “I have just recollected something important.”
“What, then?” said Crawford impatiently.
“When Standing Bull delivered that belt to Maclish, he stated where the Star Woman lived—and the red Scot caught the words.”
“What of it?”
“Nothing.” Frontin rose, shrugged, and smiled thinly. “These stiff moccasins! But better stiff shoes than stiff toes. Ready—belay all! I’d give a year of life to be on the ocean again.”
The two men started into the darkness, feeling their way by the broken trail which the Dacotah had left. Ten minutes later they had gained the open sweep of the river below, while slushy rain pelted them and the storm burst with a rush and a wild howl.