“Dat is ze news which Sibou bring to me. He say dat six days ago, ze stranger mans come to ze hunting camp to buy meat. He have with him fine dogs and two bad Indians. He offer for meat one good rifle and many cartridges, an’ Sibou sell him meat. Also he know him for ze stranger mans; but ze stranger he does not know Sibou, whose face was last winter mauled by a bald-faced grizzly to whom he did not give ze trail. The stranger mans he camp with the hunters for ze night, and ze two Indians they smoke with Sibou and ask questions, many questions.”
“Yes,” said Bracknell, as the chief paused. “What about?”
“hey ask about a white mans of ze name of Koona Dick!”
“Great Scott!”
“Also they ask if anything be known of anoder white mans a policemans who is lost, an’ Sibou, whose tongue is a silent one, ask ze name of ze policemans.”
“Did he get it?” asked the corporal quickly.
“Oui! Ze name was Corporal Bracknell, which is you.”
“By Jove, yes! But who———”
The half-breed checked him by raising his hand, and continued, “Sibou hav’ in mind dat ze trail was blown up for Rolf Gargrave, and he is cautious. He told of your sled which was found, and of ze dead wolves, but he say nodings dat we find you an’ dat you are with me; and presently the two bad Indians go back to the stranger mans who is in a tepee which Sibou has set for him. Sibou he follow, and he lie in ze snow outside ze tepee, and with his knife he cut a hole in the tepee dat he may see and hear. Ze stranger mans is by ze fire, and Sibou see ze face of him, whilst his men talk. When they tell of ze sled and ze dead wolves, ze white mans he smile as a man well pleased; an’ dat is everything, except dat next morning he go north with ze meat he hav’ bartered for. Such is ze tale of Sibou. What tink you, corporal?”