It was full day and the Slavis were packing the horses, in the spongy meadow, when the four big men rode violently down the little pine-clad point. Instantly the Slavis jumped on horses and scattered far and wide in the sea of grass.
Gault had his eye on Tatateecha. “Let them go,” he shouted to his men. He caught the plump headman by the collar as he was climbing on a horse, and flung him in the grass. “Now then!” he said with an oath. “Where’s the white man?” It was a simple matter to signify Conacher’s curling yellow hair and blue eyes.
Another discomfiture awaited the furious trader. Tatateecha, delighted to find that Conacher, and not himself, was the object of Gault’s wrath, gave, in signs, a graphic and perfectly truthful account of how Etzooah had arrived the night before and had given Conacher a letter; and how Conacher after reading the letter had put Etzooah on a horse tied hand and foot and had ridden back, leading him. Tatateecha said nothing about the letter Conacher had given him, which was burning a hole in his stomach at that moment.
Gault swore violently, and Tatateecha edged out of reach of his boot. The trader was forced to apply to Moale in his perplexity. “What do you make of it?” he said. “Etzooah was not tied up when we found him?”
Moale shrugged. “One thing is clear,” he said, “We’ve passed Conacher somewhere.”
“Then catch fresh horses and we’ll ride back!” shouted Gault.
“The fur? . . .” suggested Moale, casting desirous eyes on the scattered bales.
“To hell with the fur! I’m going to get that white man first!”
At six o’clock in the morning they were back at the Slavi village. Splashing through the ford, the first native they came upon was a bent crone, too old to get out of the way. Out of her dim eyes she looked at Gault with indifferent scorn. In reply to the usual question about the white man with the curling hair the color of the sun, she told in signs that he had ridden there in the night when the paleness of the sky was in the north (midnight). Etzooah was not with him then. The white man turned out his horse, took a canoe, and paddled down river.
“Gone back to the girl,” growled Gault. “But what in hell could have warned him that we were laying for him in the trail!”