“Which way?” asked Loseis.
“Southwest,” said Conacher; “because that is the direction they would least expect us to take. At daylight we’ll turn, and lay our proper course northwest. Save your horses.”
They set off at an easy trot. When the horses settled to their work, they let the reins lie loose on their necks. It was safest to let these prairie-bred beasts choose their own footing. Now the North Star must be kept over the horse’s right flank. Conacher chose a bright star in the southwest for a beacon. As they rode they exchanged experiences. Mary-Lou said:
“Las’ night all the Crees around the post is after you, so I have no trouble. I walk around the side of the hill, and cross the creek, and climb the ridge. I hide in the bush till daylight. I hear you cry: ‘Good-by! Good-by!’ across the river. That cry it hurt my heart though I know it is a fool. I t’ink maybe you break a leg on the cut-bank. In the morning I see where some Crees is camp beside the trail, and I go around them. Then I go back to the trail and run to the Slavi village. I am there before the sun is half way up the sky. I sleep long.”
“What did you do when the Cree came in?” asked Loseis.
“Wah! He come down from the prairie when nobody is lookin’ that way. All are scare’! I snatch up a shawl and put it over my head like the ot’er women. I stay with the ot’er women. He not know me. Bam-bye he go back again.”
The course they were following led them roughly parallel with Blackburn’s Lake. When the moon rose they could see it palely gleaming in the distance. It was an exhilarating ride; the wind created by their own passage blew cool about their faces; the exercise of riding kept them tingling. With every additional mile that they put between them and their enemies their hearts rose. Conacher attempted to sing. But though there was no danger in raising the voice here, the great brooding silence was too much for him. In spite of themselves they talked in undertones.
Just before dawn they spelled alongside a poplar bluff to allow the horses to graze. Here the humans enjoyed the luxury of a fire again, and the stimulus of hot food. Though the meal was only of smoked fish without sauce or bread, such a complete sense of comfort is not to be had under civilized conditions. They groaned at the necessity of breaking camp.
After a two-hour rest they saddled, and turned at right angles to their former course. The sun had risen in a cloudless sky, and the air was like wine. At mid-morning they calculated that they were abreast of Old Wives’ Slough again, but now many miles to the westward. Coming to another sapphire-colored slough lying under a rather prominent rise to the eastward, which had a well-grown poplar bluff on its slope, Conacher called a halt for the balance of the day.
“We need sleep,” he said; “moreover it is just possible if they ride west to-day, that they might catch sight of us from some height or another. The horses will be well hidden alongside the bluff yonder.”