Of the three the Indian was the first to recover.
"Bo' jou', bo' jou'," said he, calmly.
Sam collected himself to a reply. Dick said nothing, but fell behind, with his rifle across his arm. All marched on in silence to where lay the dog-sledge, guarded by May-may-gwán. The Chippewa's keen eyes took in every detail of the scene, the overturning of the sledge, the muzzling of the dogs, the general nature of the equipment. If he made any deductions, he gave no sign, nor did he evince any further astonishment at finding these men so far north at such a time of year. Only, when he thought himself unobserved, he cast a glance of peculiar intelligence at the girl, who, after a moment's hesitation, returned it.
The occasion was one of elaborate courtesy. Sam ordered tea boiled, and offered his tobacco. Over the fire he ventured a more direct inquiry than his customary policy would have advised.
"My brother is a long journey from the Missináibie."
The Chippewa assented.
"Haukemah, then, hunts these districts."
The Chippewa replied no.
"My brother has left Haukemah."
Again the Chippewa denied, but after enjoying for a moment the baffling of the old man's intentions, he volunteered information.