None of the Slavis had ever approached the store. Apparently they were pursuing their ordinary avocations as if nothing had happened; the dogs and the children fought; the women fished, cooked the meals, and made moccasins; the men loafed and smoked. As she looked down at them the sight of their inhuman indifference caused Loseis’ heart to burn. Senseless animals! she ejaculated to herself a dozen times a day.
Mary-Lou came out of the store. The Indian girl was unable either to apply her hands to any work or to sit still. Her copper face had become grayish, and her eyes were distracted with terror. She looked down over the tepees, biting her lip.
“More have come,” she said hoarsely.
“You imagine that,” said Loseis. “I have seen nobody come.”
“They not let you see them come,” said Mary-Lou. “Sleep in their friends’ tepees. But I see more canoes in the creek.”
“Well, what of it?” said Loseis with a grand parade of indifference. “They’re harmless.”
“Like coyotes,” said Mary-Lou. “They are sitting down to wait for us to die!”
Loseis sprang up nervously. Her face was working. “You are like a raven croaking all day!” she cried. “That does no good!”
Mary-Lou caught hold of Loseis imploringly. “Let us go from here!” she begged. “All night I listen! . . . My brain is turned to ice. I don’t know what I am doing! . . . As soon as it is dark let us take horses and go. They not know until to-morrow that we are gone. Never catch us then. It is only ondred-feefty mile to Fort Good Hope. . . .”
Loseis detached the clinging hands. “It’s no good going on this way,” she said harshly. “I will not run from Slavis.”