Faces turned in the direction whence they had come, the ten figures with the dog teams remained poised in perfect silence, anxious, eager, expectant. Then, quite near, the wilderness voice they awaited spoke out abruptly.
"Yir-r-r-ee-ee!" echoed the weird, panicky screech of a lynx.
Maskwa curved his hands about his mouth and replied with the horned owl's full-throated whoop.
"Kee-yoo-oo-oo-oo!" he quavered in a quick, ever-diminishing tremolo.
At the pre-arranged signal the rest of the Oxford House force moved swiftly up and passed through Brondel's guardless gate. Two Indians had been left with the bound prisoners and the Nor'west sledge teams in the fringe of the timber.
"Are you ready, men?" Dunvegan asked.
"Aye, aye, sir," cried Connear quaintly. "This is what we have all been waiting for."
To the chief trader it was an incredible thing that they reached the buildings in the center of the yard without any alarm being raised. The giddés whined. Instantly a howling response arose from the quarters where the fort dogs were kept. Gripping their arms tightly, the invaders waited for the uproar that should follow the huskies' wailing and for the man-to-man struggle which must succeed the awakening of the post.
No uproar came! The expected onslaught failed to materialize!
Even Maskwa became mystified. "Strong Father," he whispered, "this is beyond my wisdom."