Kars awoke with a start. He was sitting up with his blankets flung back. The touch of a brown hand upon his shoulder had banished completely the last of his deep slumber.
"Boss come. Him dark—good."
The Indian had said all he felt to be necessary. He stood gazing down at the great shadowy figure sitting up on the bunk.
"You're an infernal nuisance," Kars protested. But he swung himself round and stood up. "Everything ready?" he went on, strapping a revolver belt about his waist. "Boss Bill? He ready?" He picked up his heavy automatic lying on the table at the head of his bunk, and examined it with his fingers to ascertain if the clip of cartridges was full. He reached under the bunk for some spare clips. Then he drew on his pea-jacket and buttoned it up.
"Boss Bill all ready. Him by hospital."
"Good. Then come right on. Go tell Boss Bill. I go to the river."
The dusky Indian shadow melted away in the darkness. Kars watched it go. Then he filled up a brandy flask and thrust it into his pocket. A moment later he passed down to the water's edge, only diverging to exchange a few parting words with Abe Dodds who was in charge of the defences.
Bill Brudenell sat in the middle of the canoe, a smallish, thickly coated figure with a beaver cap pressed low down on his iron gray head. Kars and the Indian were at the paddles, kneeling and resting against the struts. Kars was in the bow. He was a skilled paddle, but just now the Indian claimed responsibility for their destination and the landing. Charley, in consequence, felt his importance. Besides, there was the praise for his skilful navigation yet to come.
The rhythmic pressure of the paddles was perfectly muffled. The stream was with them. It was a swift and silent progress. For all his knowledge and experience Kars had difficulty in recognizing their course. Then there were possible submerged boulders and other "snags" and their danger to the frail craft. But these things were quite undisturbing to the scout. His sight seemed to possess something of feline powers. His sense of locality, and of danger, were something almost uncanny on the water. He had made their present journey once before, and his sureness was characteristic of his native instincts.
The journey occupied perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then a low spoken order came from the Indian.