'So long, Angus. Sorry you're not staying the night. I'll have to finish off the bottle with my own neck now. The frost's getting sharp all right. I guess it isn't safe to stay.'
'We'll soon be clear of the river, anyway. The current's strong, with wind the right way.'
'That's so. Well, good biz, Angus.'
'S'long, Alf. Keep right till I see you in the summer.'
The last rope was thrown over, a dark sail hoisted, then the boat swept down, like a huge bird, towards the tree-covered point.
Here, concealed behind a sparse kanikanik bluff, a passenger awaited the boat. He was angry and dissatisfied enough. As minutes dragged past, he uttered many an invective against the absent personage, who had robbed him of the small treasure on which he had in great part depended for future enterprise. When the horn brayed discordantly forth, he slung the rifle carefully across his back, then crept forth to gaze along the wide reach of the river. Presently the black monster appeared. He stamped upon the rock to warm his half-frozen feet, then let himself carefully down the steep incline. A minute later he stood upon the shingle, at the spot where Muskwah had encountered his fate. The boat bore down over the cold waters, the steersman responded to his signals. With a distinct feeling of relief he found himself floating rapidly away from an inhospitable region.
Menotah did not proceed directly to the point. She turned very slightly aside to visit the hut, their rude home, which yet was for her filled and over-shadowed with the most blissful memories of life. There, she felt instinctively, might be found decisive answer to that torturing fear which now began to gnaw at the innocent heart of love. She must know at once whether the mysterious figure had erred, or whether he had spoken with the conviction that knowledge brings.
Never, not when the heart was at its lightest, had she sped through the forest with such hasty flight. Her sobbing breath—distress of mind and body—came and went in short hot stabs, as she burst from the last bushes upon the clearing. The hut was black and silent. There were no warm rays streaming from the half-open door. The only sound within was the melancholy chirping of a discursive frog.
Her shadow flitted across the threshold, then she sprang to the opposite corner, to dig away the loose dust soil with her trembling, slender fingers. The box of yellow stones. By this time she knew he would not depart without them, for he had lately explained to her their value.