Saddle and bridle were transferred to one of the fresher horses, and the man was bidden to mount. His hands were tied behind him; and his feet tied with a loose thong under the horse’s belly. The Slavis yelled in derision, and slapped their thighs. Conacher would have given a good deal to have understood the epithets they bestowed on the prisoner. A leading rein was improvised out of a piece of tracking line. Tying blanket and food to his own saddle, Conacher mounted, and rode off leading the other horse.
For a long time he could hear the laughter of the Slavis. He wondered if they could make any more of the situation than he could, or if their laughter was as meaningless as it sounded. In the hands of these crack-brained savages, he bitterly reflected, rested not only the fate of that fortune in skins, but also the hope of Loseis and him receiving help from the outside world.
CHAPTER XVII
THE MEETING
Three hours later the two horses were still jogging in the same manner along the forest trail. In the beginning the prisoner had sought to make as much trouble as possible by beating his heels against his horse’s ribs, rendering the animal almost unmanageable. Conacher had then put him in front, telling him to beat away, whereupon the Slavi had become very quiet. The tiring horse hung back more and more, and in order to make any progress at all, Conacher had been obliged to take the lead, and pull the other after.
The moon was now high. Little moonlight penetrated through the trees, but the general brightness made traveling easier. A slow trot was the best that Conacher could get out of the horses. Even that pace was not without danger at night. Had not the trail been freshly cleaned up that day for the passage of the fur train, they could not have done it.
Conacher figured that he was within two or three miles of the Slavi village. In two hours more he would make Blackburn’s Post. His heart leaped at the thought of rousing Loseis up in the middle of the night. How astonished she would be! He would hold her in his arms again! He urged his horse forward, and gave the leading rein a jerk.
Not but what he had certain doubts, too, of his reception. Loseis might blame him for returning; would want to send him away again perhaps. Conacher firmly shook his head in the darkness. No! whatever the truth of the situation, it was better for them to remain together. Nothing should persuade him to leave her again.
As Conacher, dreaming, jogged along between the half-seen pillars of the pines rising into obscurity, his wearied horse threw up his head and whinnied. The rider instinctively drew up to listen. A sound of fear broke from the man behind. Presently, out of the stillness of the forest came a faint, answering whinny from ahead. Clapping heels to his horse, Conacher rode to meet it.
The Slavi moaned in fear. “Stop!” he said. “It is not good. There is nobody here.”
“Ha!” said Conacher. “You have found your English, eh?” He continued to urge his horse forward.