Conacher shook his head. “This will be his second big circle around the slough,” he said. “If he repeats the maneuver he will pass to the south of us. I don’t like the notion of being hemmed in. We’ve got to think of to-night. If they are making the slough their headquarters they will camp there. Unless we head Mary-Lou off she would ride right into them.”
“We must be close upon the trail between the Slavi village and the slough,” said Loseis.
“But we’re still too near the slough. We must make further south.”
Once more they took to the grass. For several hours they saw no more of the searchers. They made their last spell in a poplar bluff (as the patches of scrub are called) overlooking the trail between the lake and the slough, but much nearer the former.
They had not been there long when they were filled with disquietude by the sight of another of the Crees approaching from the direction of the Slavi village.
“He’s been in to look about,” said Conacher. “Natural enough.” As the man drew closer he added with a certain relief: “He doesn’t look as if he had discovered anything important. I guess Mary-Lou has side-stepped him.”
Their thoughts were given a sudden new turn, when the Cree turning out of the trail, put his horse directly for the bluff, Conacher and Loseis hastily retreated within the thickest part of the miniature wood. The Cree could not ride in among the little trees. Dismounting, he tied his horse.
Then began a grim game of I Spy with death for the stakes. Conacher and Loseis enjoyed a certain advantage, because they were aware of their danger, while the redskin was not. He was merely following general instructions to search all likely places of concealment. He was taking no particular care to muffle the sound of his progress, and they could generally follow it. When he went one way they went the other. But there were harrowing periods when they could hear nothing. The bluff was over an acre in extent, and it was impossible to see more than half a dozen yards through the thickly springing stems. Once he caught them in a corner, and they were almost forced out into the open. Another time they actually had a glimpse of his passing. They stood frozen in their tracks. With what thankful hearts they heard him return to his horse at last. They flung themselves down to let the hideous strain relax.
They ate again. Satisfied now, that they had done their utmost, they rolled up in their blankets, and slept for eight hours on end. It was twilight when they awoke. They ate the last of the food they had brought.
“It will be prairie chicken for breakfast if Mary-Lou doesn’t come,” remarked Conacher.