"MacNair say no kill," said the Indian gravely.
"Not kill!" cried the girl. "He is crazy! What is he thinking of?" But the Indian was already out of ear-shot. Chloe glanced about her for her revolver. An evil-faced half-breed, dragging his body from the hips, pulled himself toward it, hunching along with his bare hands digging into the crust of the snow. The girl reached it a second before him. The man cursed her shrilly and sank into the snow, crying aloud like a child.
Suddenly Chloe realized that the battle had surged beyond her. Shots and hoarse cries arose from the scrub beyond the storehouse, while all about her, in the trampled snow, wounded men cursed and prayed, and dead men froze in the slush of their own heart's blood. The girl followed into the scrub, and to her surprise came face to face with the Louchoux girl, who was carrying armfuls of dry brushwood, which she piled against the corner of the storehouse.
Chloe glanced into the black eyes that glowed like living coals. The Indian girl added her armful to the pile and, drawing matches from her pocket, dropped to her knees in the snow. She pointed toward the log storehouse.
"Lapierre ran inside," she said.
With a wild laugh Chloe passed on. The scrub thinned toward the point of the peninsula, where the rim-rocks rose sheer two hundred feet above the level of the lake. Chloe caught sight of MacNair's Indians leaping before her, and, beyond, the crowding knot of men who gave ground before the rush of the Yellow Knives. One by one the men dropped, writhing, into the snow. The others gave ground rapidly, shooting at their advancing enemies, cursing, crowding—but always giving ground.
At last they were upon the rim-rocks, huddled together like cattle. Chloe could see them outlined distinctly against the sky. They fired one last scattering volley, and then the ranks thinned suddenly; many were leaping over the edge, while others, throwing down their rifles, advanced with arms raised high above their heads. Some Indians fired, and two of these pitched forward. Then MacNair bellowed a hoarse order, and the firing ceased, and the Indians bound the prisoners with thongs of babiche.
The girl found herself close to the edge of the high plateau. She leaned far over and peered downward. Upon the white snow of the rocks, close to the foot of the cliff, lay several dark forms. She drew back and turned to MacNair, but he had gone. A puff of smoke arose into the air above the tops of the scrub-trees, and Chloe knew that the storehouse was burning. The smoke increased in volume and rolled heavily skyward upon the light breeze. She could hear the crackle of flames, and the smell of burning spruce was in the air.
She pushed forward into the cordon of Indians which surrounded the burning building, glancing hurriedly from face to face, searching for MacNair. Upon the edge of the little clearing which surrounded the storehouse she saw the Louchoux girl bending over a form that lay stretched in the snow. Swiftly she made her way to the girl's side. She was bending over the inert form of Big Lena. The big woman opened her eyes, and with a cry Chloe dropped to her knees by her side.
"Ay ain't hurt much," Lena muttered weakly. "Vun faller shoot me on de head, but de bullet yump off sidevays. Ju bet MacNair, he gif dem haal!"