The men paused to consult. Presently the sound of approaching hoofs was heard; and the four men sent across country rode into the square, driving before them four mounted Indians, who were immediately recognizable as belonging to Gault; one of them indeed was Watusk, whom Loseis and Conacher had good cause to remember. He was brought up to Sergeant Ferrie.
“Where is Gault?” demanded the policeman.
“We leave him here, half hour ago,” answered Watusk sullenly. “He tell us to go home.”
“Told you to go home!” said Ferrie, astonished.
“He know you are coming,” Watusk went on impassively. “This man Hooliam,” pointing to one of his companions, “was at the Slavi village to see a girl when you ride past. He jomp in a canoe and paddle fas’ to tell Gault that Blackburn’s daughter and Yellowhead are not dead. They are comin’ back with four red-coats.”
“What did Gault say to that?” Ferrie asked with a hard smile.
“He jus’ smile,” said Watusk. “He look on the groun’ and tap his leg with his little whip. Bam-bye he say: ‘All right, boys. Get your horses and ride home. I will wait here for them.’ And we go.”
“Then he’s still here!” cried Ferrie.
Watusk pointed to Blackburn’s house.
“Gault! Come out!” cried Ferrie in a strong voice.