The calm suggestion brought an expression of repugnance to the chief trader's face.
"I can't do that!" he objected.
"It is well," remarked the Ojibway. "I have counseled."
"As a prisoner he cannot do us any harm," Dunvegan persisted.
"I have counseled," Maskwa repeated. "When Strong Father wishes it had been done he will remember my counsel."
He dismissed the subject with habitual unconcern and devoted a few minutes to spying upon the camping preparations of the Nor'west fur train. With the movements of skilled woodsmen they set about it. First of all, they stepped out of their snowshoe loops and diligently used the raquettes as shovels, clearing the snow away and banking it up till a long rectangle of ground lay bare. While some thickly carpeted the cleared space with balsam brush taken from the foot of the ridge others chopped dead pines into firewood and built a long stringer of flame the entire length of the camp ground.
Then the dogs were unharnessed and the sledges drawn up by thongs into handy trees out of reach of these huskies, who otherwise would destroy the furs while the men slept. After that the Nor'west drivers and guards threw themselves down by the fires to prepare their supper of dried meat and tea, having already stuck the dogs' portion of frozen whitefish upon twigs to thaw by the fierce blaze.
From the height Dunvegan and Maskwa watched it all.
"They know how to make camp, all right," the chief trader observed.
The Ojibway nodded briefly. "They have also traveled many trails," he supplemented judicially.