Returning to her men, Loseis gave the signal, and the business of the night began. Loseis herself removed the pole that propped the warehouse door, and let it back softly against the wall. One of the Slavis was posted close to the men’s house with instructions to croak like a bull-bat if there was any sound of movement from within. Inside the warehouse Loseis would have been thankful to use her electric torch, but was afraid of precipitating a panic amongst the Slavis. However the fur had all been divided into half loads for a horse, each half load being a load for a man. Silently the endless procession wound in and out. A long line of little men waited in the moonlight at the door. Nobody stumbled, or dropped his load. There were a hundred bundles of fur. Afterwards the pack-saddles, saddle-cloths, hitching-gear had to go. Loseis breathed a little prayer of thankfulness when at last she propped the pole against the closed door, exactly as it had been before.
There was still the grub to be got from the store; but as this was passed out through the rear window, and carried away behind the warehouse, the danger was not so great.
The easterly sky was full of cool light when the hitch was thrown over the last pack, and pulled home. The head of the train had already started. Tatateecha rode first to make the trail. Conacher lingered to say good-by to Loseis. His heart failed him.
“Ah, come too,” he urged her. “Here are plenty of spare horses. Let me take care of you!”
“No, no, dearest!” she said. “Before we had gone twenty miles Gault would be up to us, and the Slavis would stampede. We’d have to wait for Gault’s Crees after all. But if you can only get the Slavis fifty or sixty miles from home into a strange country, you couldn’t drive them away from the grub-boxes. I am hoping that two days may pass before Gault discovers the loss of the fur.”
“He will see that the horses are gone,” objected Conacher.
“They are accustomed to wander from one meadow to another along the river.”
The last Indian had passed out of sight. Conacher took the girl in his arms. “You are asking the hardest thing in the world of me,” he groaned. “And that is to leave you!”
“Ah! don’t make it harder for me,” faltered Loseis. “It is the only way!”
“Damn the fur!” said Conacher. “It makes me out a mere fortune-hunter. I wish you had nothing!”