She drew off at last. In that moment she knew the unspeakable agony of an imperious will that finds itself balked. She nearly died of her rage. But she faced it out. She admitted to herself that she was balked. The last two days had matured her. Fortunately for her, under all the passion and wilfulness of her nature there was a solid substratum of commonsense. Commonsense warned her that it would be fatal to make the least move in the direction of the guns at the back of the store. She could not force the senseless savages to obey her; well, commonsense suggested that she use guile. Loseis had an inspiration.
Just inside the door of the store, behind a rough screen of wood, Blackburn had a little desk with a cover that lifted up. Loseis went to it, and took out a sizable book stoutly bound in gray linen and red leather. Every Slavi knew that book. It was Blackburn’s ledger. Loseis appeared around the screen carrying the ledger; and up-ending a box beside the door, sat herself upon it with the book spread on her knees.
“You wish to trade?” she said to the men at large. “It is good. Take what you want. I will put it down in the book.”
The eyes of the Slavis bolted; and they moved uneasily. The spell of their strangeness was broken. To their simple minds there was magic in those scratches by which white men’s thoughts might be conveyed to any distance that they chose; or stored up in a book to be brought out years afterwards unchanged. In particular, Blackburn’s ledger had always been held in superstitious awe as the source of his “strong medicine.”
Loseis looked at the man nearest her, and thumbed the pages of the book. “Mahtsonza,” she said; “a Stetson hat; two skins. A Mackinaw coat; five skins. Wah! you have two coats? Ten skins!”
Mahtsonza began to slide out of his stolen clothing.
Loseis turned to the next. “Ahchoogah; a bag of rice; one skin. The bag is spoiled, and you must pay for all. You can carry it away.”
There was a sudden rush for the door; but Loseis, springing up, barred the way. “I have all your names,” she cried. “Whatever is taken or spoiled will be written down, and all must pay a share!”
Then she stood aside and let them slink by, a ridiculously crestfallen crowd of little bravoes.
For the moment Loseis had won—but at no small cost. The instant they were out, the reaction set in. All the strength seemed to run out of her limbs; she sank down on the box covering her face with her hands. The fact of her appalling solitariness was made clear to her. She dared not look into the future.