Bela, however, made no move to go. She was painstakingly plucking blades of grass.
"Well, wa't you waitin' for?" demanded Musq'oosis.
"Sam walkin' this way," she said with an inscrutable face. "Got no blanket. Be cold to-night, I think."
"Wa! More foolishness!" he cried. "Let him shake a little. Cure his hot mad maybe."
"White man get sick with cold," persisted Bela. "Not lak us. What good my waitin', if he get sick?"
Musq'oosis held up both his hands. "There is not'ing lak a woman!" he cried. "Go to your mot'er. I will paddle by the lake and give him a rabbit robe."
Bela's eyes flashed a warm look on him. She got up without speaking, and hastened away.
About half-past nine, while it was still light, Sam found himself walked out. He built a fire on the pine needles above the stony beach and sat down with his back against a tree. The goose provided him with another meal. He was two hours' journey beyond the mouth of Hah-wah-sepi.
Wading across the bar of that stream, he had guessed his proximity to the Indian village as described by Bela, but his pride would not allow him to apply there for shelter.