She ran to the door. It was true; every tepee was gone from the meadow below. Except for certain litter abandoned in their haste there was no sign that a village had ever stood there. The Slavis had taken flight and vanished like a cloud of insects.
“Where have they gone?” demanded Loseis in astonishment. Though she had been born amongst them she did not understand this inscrutable, timid, savage race. It was impossible for any white man to know what went on inside their cramped skulls, Blackburn used to say. He had ruled them without making any attempt at understanding.
“Gone up river,” muttered Jimmy.
“For why?”
“They moch scare’.”
“But they are familiar with death. Death comes to all alike.”
Jimmy Moosenose cast an uneasy look towards the room where the dead man lay. He was near enough akin to the Slavis to share in their fears. “They think ver’ powerful strong spirit live in Blackburn’s body,” he muttered. “Now that spirit free they not know what it do to them.”
“Oh, what nonsense!” cried Loseis helplessly.
“What we do now?” asked Jimmy fearfully.
Loseis looked him over. “Are you man enough to ride all night?” she asked brusquely. “The trail is good.”