“What is that noise?” Frontin started.
“The bark of a wolf,” said Crawford.
Frontin jerked to his feet. “Then I have learned something,” he said drily, “for until now I have never heard of a wolf swimming.”
He strode away into the trees, and presently returned with Standing Bull and two Dacotah warriors. They joined Crawford and listened. Once more that long wolf-call came up from the water below. At this moment another Dacotah hurried to join them, with eager words.
“Le Talon says that he hears the voice of his brother Black Kettle!”
Standing Bull uttered a sharp exclamation, and the three Dacotah vanished.
“There is a path down to the water,” said the chief. “Let us wait. If the Stone Men are down there, the path must be closed.”
The three remained silent. They heard nothing more for a long space. The dark star-glinting lake, where all the constellations of the sky were mirrored in placid glory, gave up no further sound—until, abruptly, a musket crashed out from the shore below. Two made answer from the water, with ruddy flashes, and then pealed up a sharp chorus of yells. Again silence ensued, until Standing Bull spoke up.
“The Stone Men are on the lake in canoes. Fear not, my young men will close this cliff trail——”
A rumbling crash of rock, a yell, and then a triumphant Dacotah whoop came close on his words to show their truth. Again silence. Crawford waited, with hope tugging at him. If Black Kettle had arrived, Perrot and the Dacotah warriors under Yellow Sky must have come up!