The river issued out of the lake by means of a wide, shallow, brawling rapid. At the present high stage of water, there was but one possible place to ford, and this could not be managed even on horseback without danger of a wetting. At the point where the trail forked, Conacher backed his horse into the arm which ran down the bank, and held him there blocking the way. The Slavis jabbered angrily from one to another; the whole train was brought to a stand.
Tatateecha approached Conacher to expostulate. The white man pointed with his whip down the main trail. Tatateecha attempting to speak again, Conacher suddenly urged his horse forward, and cutting the Indian’s horse smartly across the flank, sent him careering down the main trail, the only way that was open. The train got in motion again. The other Slavis, seeing that Conacher meant what he said, filed past him sullenly. The people across the river fell silent. Conacher fell in at the tail of the procession again. Ten minutes later his feather-headed Slavis were singing and chaffing each other in the best temper imaginable.
But Conacher had to keep a sharp look-out for deserters. Time and again, one or another of the Slavis edged his horse in among the trees with the object of circling around and gaining the trail behind Conacher. The white man found that he could best defeat this maneuver by falling back a quarter of a mile. In that position he would come face to face with the astonished deserter, who thought he had already eluded him. Caught in the act, they made no attempt to resist his commanding voice. When they spelled at last, Conacher, without appearing to, anxiously counted his men. He had lost one. With dinner in prospect there was no danger of their making off. As soon as they had eaten he distributed plugs of tobacco.
Upon reaching the lake the trail turned sharp to the eastward for some miles. In order to provide a firm footing it had to encircle the edge of the wooded country, far back from the water. The vast lake meadows at this season were like a saturated sponge underfoot. For three sleeps, Tatateecha explained, they would be traveling alongside these meadows; and then, climbing through a pass in the hills, would come to the prairie, where they would find the buffalo grass which made horses fat. This bottom grass filled them up, but did not stick to their ribs. Tatateecha was very ingenious in the sign language. When they spelled he was perfectly good-humored again; attaching himself to Conacher like a friendly child.
For two full hours they allowed the horses to feed, before rounding them up again. Conacher would dearly have liked to sleep (as all the Slavis did) but dared not. However, because of the tobacco he had handed out, or because they were getting too far away from home, or for some other reason, the Slavis appeared to have reconciled themselves. There were no further attempts to desert. It was impossible to tell what was going on inside their skulls.
Then for five hours longer they continued on their way. The character of the route never changed. For mile after mile the brown ribbon of earth threaded in and out amongst the trunks of the pines, climbing the little unevenness of ground; crossing small water-courses. On their left hand the vast sea of grass was generally in sight through the trees, with a suggestion of water on the horizon; sometimes for considerable distances the trail followed the actual line between grass and timber.
At about six o’clock they halted for the night. It seemed a pity not to take advantage of the four remaining hours of daylight; but when Conacher looked at the grass-fed horses, sweaty and drooping, he perceived the necessity for camping. The horses were turned out in the grass; the Slavis built their fire at the foot of the bank; while Conacher spread his bed on top in a grove of pines running out to a point, whence he could survey both horses and men.
He spent the early part of the evening fraternizing with his men amidst great laughter when, as frequently happened, the language of signs broke down. About eight o’clock he retired to his own little fire above, and rolled up in a blanket. The sun had not yet sunk out of sight; but it was planned to start at four next morning. As he lay there day-dreaming, he was greatly astonished to see a Slavi Indian quietly approaching between the trees at the back of the point.
He sat up. All the Slavis looked very much alike to him; but he instantly recognized that this was not one of those who had accompanied him all day. There was a suggestion of secrecy in his approach. A rather better physical specimen than the average Slavi, his face bore the childish, deceitful grin that was characteristic of them all. His teeth were blackened and broken; on the whole, an unpleasant-looking individual. He held out an envelope towards Conacher; and the young man leaped to his feet full of a vague alarm.
“Who are you?” he asked involuntarily.