She lifted her head and flung a hand across her eyes. "No good cry," she murmured. "Come on!"
Nesis led the way out through the hole they had dug. Job followed
Ambrose. Outside, for greater safety, he took the dog in his arms.
The moon had sunk behind the hill across the river, but it was still dangerously bright. Nesis took hold of Ambrose's sleeve and pointed off to the right. She whispered in his ear:
"Ev'ry tam feel what is under your foot before step hard."
She did not make directly for the river, but led him step by step up the hill toward a growth of timber that promised safety. The first hundred yards was the most difficult.
They rose above the shack into the line of vision of the guards in front, had they elevated their eyes. Nesis, crouching, moved like a cat after a bird.
Ambrose followed, scarcely daring to breathe. Even the dog understood and lay as if dead in Ambrose's arms.
The danger decreased with every step. When they gained the trees they could fairly count themselves safe. Even if an alarm were raised now it would take time to find them in the dark.
Nesis, still leading Ambrose, pattered ahead as if every twig in the bush was familiar to her. She did not strike down to the river until they had gone a good way around the side of the hill.
This brought them to the water's edge at a point a third of a mile or more below the teepees. Ambrose distinguished a bark canoe drawn up beneath the willows. In it lay the outfit she had provided.