“It is George,” cried Babette, naming an Indian servant. “See, he recognizes us.”
The hunter descended the bank, and instead of going to inspect his kill waited for them to come up. As they did so a smile crumpled his grave copper-coloured face.
“How!” he said. “Very glad to see you, Miss Joy and Miss Babette. My words are not as my heart, for my tongue is not easy of speech. But glad am I to behold you, glad as if your coming were the breath of the south spring wind upon the cheek.”
Joy laughed with pleasure. “Not more glad than are we, George. And you must not belittle that tongue of yours. If you only knew it you talk poetry. But tell me, how are things at the Lodge? All right, I hope, and Nanette and the papoose, they are well?”
“They are well,” answered the Indian. “But we dwell not alone. With us are Rayner and two men of the Kwikpak tribe. They are bad men.”
“Rayner!” as she echoed the name Joy’s eyes flashed fire.
“Yes, with two bad men of the Kwikpak tribe.”
“When did they arrive?” asked Joy quickly.
“At nightfall five days ago. They were very weary, having followed the trail hard and long. Rayner brought word from you that he stay to look for some man, but he brought no word of your coming.”
“No, I dare say not,” answered Joy sharply. “He would not expect us so soon. We also have pushed the trail hard. What has Mr. Rayner been doing since he arrived, George?”