Any other white man but Reivers would have shuddered at the terrible, primitive story which the wail told. Reivers smiled. His old luck was with him. The camp was short of meat and the hunters had given up hopes of making a kill.
With deft, experienced fingers he unloosed the flap of the tepee. There was no noise. Suddenly the old squaw’s wail ceased; those in the tepee looked up from their scanty supper. The Snow-Burner was standing inside the tepee, the flap closed behind him.
There were six people in the tepee, the old squaw, an old man, two young hunters, a young girl, and Tillie. They were gathered around the fire-stone in the centre, making a scant meal of frozen fish. Tillie, by virtue of her position, had the warmest place and the most fish.
No one spoke a word as they became aware of his presence. Only on Tillie’s face there came a look in which the traces of hunger vanished. Reivers stood looking down at the group for a moment in silence. Then he strode forward, thrust Tillie to one side and sat down in her place. For Reivers knew Indians.
“Feed me,” he commanded, tossing his grub-bag to her.
He did not look at her as she placed before him the entire contents of the bag. Having served him she retired and sat down behind him, awaiting his pleasure. Reivers ate leisurely of the bountiful supply of cold meat that remained of his supply. When he had his fill he tossed small portions to the old squaw, the old man and the young girl.
“Hunters are mighty,” he mocked in the Chippewa tongue, as the young men avidly eyed the meat. “They kill what they eat. The meat they do not kill would stick in their mighty throats.”
Last of all he beckoned Tillie to come to his side and eat what remained.
“Men eat meat,” he continued, looking over the heads of the two hunters. “Old people and children are content with frozen fish. When I was here before there were men in this camp. There was meat in the tepees. The dogs had meat. Now I see the men are all gone.”
One of the hunters raised his arms above his head, a gesture indicating strength, and let them fall resignedly to his side, a sign of despair.