Imbrie looked over and saw them talking. “Let him alone,” he said harshly. “Come over here and get your breakfast.”
“Go,” said Stonor with his eyes and lips. “If he attempted to ill-treat you in my sight I——”
She understood, and went without demur. Imbrie motioned her to a place beside him and put a plate before her. She went through the motions of eating, but her eyes never left Stonor’s face. Stonor closed his eyes and considered their situation. Frightful enough it was in good sooth, yet it might have been worse. For as he lay quiet he felt his powers returning. Beyond a slight nausea he was himself again. He thanked God for a hard skull.
Meanwhile the breed woman was bragging of her exploit. She spoke in English for the pleasure it gave her to triumph over the whites.
“He gave Mary his canoe and made for the bench.”
“I know that,” said Imbrie. “Go on.”
“Well, as soon as Mary had bound up her leg she wanted to start. But her leg got worse on the way. When it came time to spell, she had to untie me and let me cook, while she kept watch over me with the gun—my gun that Stonor gave her. It was at this place that we spelled. When we went on, her leg kept getting worse, and soon she said we’d have to stop for the night. So I made camp. Then she ordered me to come up to her and get my hands tied, and patted the gun as a sort of hint. I went up to her all right, and when she put down the gun and took up the rope, I snatched up the gun, and then I had her!”
The woman and Imbrie roared with laughter.
“Then I just took her knife and her food, and went,” the woman said, callously.
“Damned inhuman—!” Stonor cried involuntarily.