Charley repeated the question in Cree. Hooliam's answer was prompt and glib. "He says that the water was too low to bring a full load," translated Charley.
"Ask him when he means to go on," said Garth.
Hooliam gave a glance at the still tossing lake. "As soon as the wind dies or changes. This wind would blow him right back on the shore," such the gist of his answer by way of Charley.
"Tell him to let me know before he starts; and I'll tell him if we wish to go along," said Garth coolly.
"I want to have a talk with you," he added in a lower tone for Charley's benefit.
They sat down apart on the sand.
"What do you think of this outfit, Charley?" asked Garth.
The boy was surprised at the question. "Well," he said, "it does look a bit queer, their coming all this way with half a load. But you never can tell about these crazy niggers; they may have dumped out half their stuff on the bank somewhere, and left it to rot. A French range for the inspector has been lying on the point across the river for two months."
"Who is this Hooliam?" Garth asked.
"He boats back and forth pretty regular. He's a footless kind of breed—but straight, as far as I know. What do you care?" the boy asked curiously. "If he takes you on board, he's got to put you across."