“Where did you get that boat?” he asked.
“I didn’t steal it,” answered Hooliam impudently. “Traded my horse for it and some grub at Fort Cardigan.”
Cardigan was a Company post on the Spirit a hundred miles or so above the Crossing. Stonor saw that Hooliam was well provided with blankets, grub, ammunition, etc., and that it was not Company goods.
When Hooliam was ready to embark, he addressed the crowd in an Indian tongue which strongly resembled Beaver, which Stonor spoke, but had different inflections. Freely translated, his words were:
“I go, men. The moose-berry (i. e., red-coat) wills it. I don’t like moose-berries. Little juice and much stone. To eat moose-berries draws a man’s mouth up like a tobacco-bag when the string is pulled.”
They laughed, with deprecatory side-glances at the policeman. They were not aware that he spoke their tongue. Stonor had no intention of letting them know it, and kept an inscrutable face. They pushed off the dug-out, and Hooliam, with a derisive wave of the hand, headed up river. All remained on the shore, and Stonor, seeing that they expected something more of Hooliam, remained also.
He had gone about a third of a mile when Stonor saw him bring the dug-out around and ground her on the beach. He made no move to get out, but a woman appeared from out of the shrubbery and got in. She was too far away for Stonor to distinguish anything of her features; her figure looked matronly.
“Who is that?” he asked sharply.
Several voices answered. “Hooliam’s woman. Hooliam got old woman for his woman”—with scornful laughter. Now that Hooliam was gone, they were prepared to curry favour with the policeman.
Stonor was careful not to show the uneasiness he felt. This was his first intimation that Hooliam had a companion. He considered following him in another dug-out, but finally decided against it. The fact that he had taken the woman aboard in plain sight smacked merely of bravado. A long experience of the red race had taught Stonor that they love to shroud their movements in mystery from the whites, and that in their most mysterious acts there is not necessarily any significance.