Gordon Duncan in his turn outlined a hunt for the caribou that were yet to come, which, if his dream came true, was to be the mightiest hunt of all time.
In the end, with their splendid imaginations on fire, the old man and the young interpreter returned to their people to inspire them in turn with high hope and with dreams of wild adventure.
A long time that night Johnny lay awake among his deerskins. There were thoughts enough to keep him awake. A whole tribe of little brown people now were dependent upon the skill and prowess of Gordon Duncan in organizing a hunt. Most of the actual execution must fall upon Johnny’s young shoulders, for Gordon Duncan was old. Little wonder, then, that he did not sleep.
“We are trusting all to this one grand endeavor,” he told himself. “Little of our caribou meat is left. If the next drove does not pass this way, if we fail in the hunt, then we too must starve.” He thought of Faye Duncan and her aged grandsire and wished they had not chosen to come.
“We must succeed,” he told himself. “We must! MUST!”
The plan they were to follow, the ancient plan used by the Eskimos, was not a complicated one. Yet it required skill and prowess. As the drove came in from the rolling hills to the south they were to be directed by native drivers on a course that would take them across a narrow, shallow stretch of water that lay between two lakes.
As they neared this narrow stretch of water the caribou would find themselves cut off by native drivers and imaginary natives built of stone piles and deerskins. They would then take to a deeper, broader stretch of water which would force them to swim. At the far bank, in ambush the hunters would wait with drawn bows.
“If we succeed,” Johnny thought. “If we do.” He had visions of a long journey over hard packed snow with meat aplenty on Tico’s sled, and after that a long, long rest in a cabin somewhere on at the back of beyond.
“And after that?” He thought of Timmie, the old man’s one time pal, and his green gold. The season would not be over until that mystery was solved or abandoned forever.
“If we succeed?” he thought again. He remembered the fear that Gordon Duncan and Faye had shown on meeting white men. Would they return to that cottage that Faye called home? Who could tell?