Conacher pressed the hair back from her forehead. He had been watching through the window, and his face was dark. “It makes me see red to have that man speak to you,” he muttered. “What was he after?”
“Wanted to know where I’d been?” said Loseis. “Of course I didn’t tell him. But I’m afraid I gave away a good deal in my face. I have him badly worried. I hope it won’t cause him to sit up to-night, or set a watch on us.”
“All is arranged then?”
“Yes. Tatateecha will land a hundred men in the second river meadow at ten o’clock. They will wait there until it becomes dark. We’ll only have about four hours of darkness, and the moon will be shining. It cannot be helped; we must put our trust in silence. Slavis are the quietest animals there are.”
A few hours later, Loseis, sleeping in the kitchen, was awakened by Mary-Lou who said that Gault was coming across.
“He must be allowed to come in,” said Loseis. “Say that I am sleeping. It will give me a moment to prepare.”
She hastened into the other room. Awakening Conacher, she said:
“Gault is coming. I must let him in here in order to put his suspicions to sleep. Get under the bed.”
Conacher, still bemused with sleep, obeyed her; and Loseis, with a rapid survey of the room, gathered up whatever was his, and thrust it after him. The robe of raccoons’ tails hung down over the edge of the bed concealing all. She went to the door.
“Come in,” she said, affecting to conceal a yawn.