“How in hell did you get here?” demanded Langmuir in a voice of extreme bitterness, which was not really bitter.
“Been waitin’ for you since yesterday,” said Conacher airily. “I cut across the prairie north of Blackburn’s Post, and came down the Mud River to head you off. Got a map of the river for you, chief, such as it is.”
“Well, I’m damned!” said Langmuir solemnly. And the others echoed him in varying tones: “I’m damned!”
Conacher was not yet done surprising them. As they turned to climb the bank, he said somewhat nervously: “I’ve got a couple of guests with me. . . .”
Loseis stepped into view above. In breeches and Stetson, smiling merrily, yet a little apprehensively, too, she made an enchanting figure. The rents in her clothes, the marks of hardship in her face, only set off the bravery of her spirit. To those white men so long parted from the women of their race, it was like a miracle.
“Miss Blackburn, gentlemen,” Conacher sang out. “Mr. Langmuir; Mr. Jordan; Mr. Seely.”
They snatched off their hats. “Pleased to meet you,” they mumbled sheepishly.
“Merciful Heaven! am I awake or dreaming!” Langmuir murmured to himself.
CHAPTER XXV
CONCLUSION
The meeting at the mouth of the Mud River was the beginning of a still longer journey for Loseis. But it was never again allowed to become an arduous one for her. All hands, white and red, joined together to smooth her way. She reigned the undisputed Princess of Langmuir’s party, holding them in subjection with her smile.