"No," cried Flora, "I can tell by their faces that the hunt has failed. They have found no caribou and are in a bad mood. You had better leave me here."
"Not if we have to fight the whole tribe," declared Dunvegan.
But his eyes, only, saw the Crees coming up to the sun-scalded camp. His mental vision focused on the image of Desirée Lazard. He had told Basil Dreaulond that he was anxious to complete his mission and return to Oxford House. And Basil had smiled, knowing well why! Now was he doubly anxious. Flora's news had a perturbing effect. He hungered for a sight of Desirée singing gayly within the stockades. He yearned for the chance of conflict to sweep the Nor'wester's shadow from her path.
CHAPTER III
AN ULTIMATUM
The Cree bucks came slowly up the point, forming a sort of respectful retinue to Running Wolf, his son, Three Feathers, and others of the head men whose dignity of tribal status allowed them to stalk in front.
Slovenly squaws and dirty, round-eyed children now appeared from the dark interiors of wigwams which before had shown no sign of life. These began to cluck their derision and to indulge in shrieking laughs of ridicule to the visible discomfiture of the hunters. Half-tamed curs as fierce looking as their wolf ancestors grew bold enough with the advent of the masters to issue from various hiding-places and organize a snapping charge upon Dunvegan. They rushed in a body, howling wickedly and baring vicious, chisel-like fangs, but the chief trader plucked a stick from a tepee fire and belabored their hard heads till they retreated faster than they had charged.
Wild uproar spread through the camp. The dogs' battle snarls were changed to lugubrious wailings of defeat. Old women rated the mongrels, ordering them back to their places. The braves shouted injunctions of silence upon the squaws, while the children added to the climax by scuttling and shrieking out of sheer contagion.
Running Wolf obtained quiet at last by a violence of gesture that threatened to tear his arms from their sockets. With the quiet came his reprimand to his people, delivered in deep-throated Cree, and their instant assumption of meekness vouched for the acid quality of his phrases. Then he approached Dunvegan, with Three Feathers at his heels.