"So! But thou hast seen the rifles and the burning water, the blankets, the tea and the molasses which are the price to be paid. I know that thou hast seen them." At the words the Chief started a little, then he made a mumbling admission:
"Yes, I have seen them. They are a great price."
"But who pays?"
"I know not. A white man, that is all I know. The rest is known to Chigmok alone."
Bènard considered the answer for a moment, and entertaining no doubt that it was the true one, wasted no further time in that direction.
"Whither has the white maiden been carried?"
Chief George waved his hand to the East. "Through the woods to the lake of Little Moose, there to meet the man who pays the price."
"These words are the words of truth?" asked the trapper, harshly. "If thou liest——"
"Wherefore should I lie, since so much is already known to thee?" interrupted the Indian.
"It would be unwise," agreed Bènard, and then asked: "What is to be done to the white girl by the man who pays the price?"