Si-wash was silent, too. But that was his way, the way of his race. His impassive face yielded no indication of what was passing behind it. If he feared his companion's mood he gave no sign. Possibly he did not. Possibly he realized that here, here on the wild, chaotic trail he was master; certainly that his chances were equal with the other.
The fire burned low. Si-wash kicked the embers together with his moccasined foot. Then he rose and shuffled to the wood pile and replenished it. For a moment he watched the flicker of the flames as they licked round the dead, inflammable bark, and in desperation Audie broke the awful silence.
"When'll the sled be ready for the road again?" she demanded, without serious interest.
Si-wash's eyes drifted to the cumbersome vehicle.
"I finish him two days," he said, holding up two fingers to impress his assurance upon her.
"Most of the food was saved," Audie went on. "It was the other things that were lost."
The Indian nodded.
"Sure. We freeze but for fire. Him cook-pots go. Only one him saved. Blanket him go. So him go the——"
"Go and get wood, you red son-of-a-moose," cried Leo with sudden vehemence. "Don't stand there yapping like a yellow cur."
The man's bloodshot eyes blazed up furiously into the Indian's face. For a moment Audie feared another outbreak such as she had witnessed before. She even feared for Si-wash's wretched life. But the Indian understood his companion's mood and moved silently off to obey. He admitted to himself that the man was mad; and he had a curious dread of people who were possessed of such a devil.