Charley translated. Hooliam looked sagely astern, spat, and answered in Cree.
"He says there'll be a breeze by and by," said Charley.
The scarcely veiled insolence of this reply caused Garth inwardly to fume. However, reflecting that, after all, Hooliam ought to know more about navigation than he, he possessed his soul in patience for another half-hour. There was still no sign of wind; and it was growing very hot in the sun. Garth, setting his jaw, drew out his watch.
"Tell him I'll give him just fifteen minutes longer," he said quietly. "If we're not under way by that time, there's going to be trouble."
Hooliam received the message with apparent indifference. Garth held his watch in his hand. Three minutes before the expiration of the time, he had Charley convey a final warning to the breed. Hooliam suddenly became voluble and expostulatory.
"He says the boys won't work when there's a breeze coming up," said Charley.
"You tell him, then, that I will take command of this boat, and run her myself," said Garth.
At the last moment the orders were hastily given. The mast was reluctantly taken down, and hung over the side; the cargo was shifted back, and the sweeps run out. The breeds rowed half-heartedly, with furtive scowls for the moon-i-yas who made them work.
After a couple of hours during which they covered a scant three miles, a breeze did spring up from astern; whereupon the whole business of raising the mast was gone through with again. Little by little it freshened, and the Loseis began to forge ahead, making a pleasant little murmur under her forefoot. The hearts of the three passengers rose in unison.
But they had not sailed two miles more, when the exasperated Garth discovered that Hooliam was slyly edging his craft inside a point of the shore. At first the breed unblushingly denied any intention of stopping; but when it became apparent that he could not round the point without hauling down the sail, he coolly admitted that he was going to land.