"The Chippewa's a sort of public benefactor all round," said Dick.
The dogs yawned prodigiously, stretching their jaws after the severe muzzling. Sam began reflectively to undo the flaps of the sledge.
"Guess we'd better camp here," said he. "It's getting pretty late and we're due for one hell of a tramp to-morrow."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Some time during the night May-may-gwán rejoined them. Sam was awakened by the demonstration of the dogs, at first hostile, then friendly with recognition. He leaped to his feet, startled at the apparition of a human figure. Dick sat up alert at once. The fire had almost died, but between the glow of its embers and the light of the aurora sifted through the trees they made her out.
"Oh, for God's sake!" snarled Dick, and lay back again in his blankets, but in a moment resumed his sitting position. "She made her choice," he proffered vehemently, "make her stick to it! Make her stick to it. She can't change her mind every other second like this, and we don't need her!"
But Sam, piling dry wood on the fire, looked in her face.
"Shut up, Dick," he commanded sharply. "Something in this."
The young man stared at his companion an enigmatical instant, hesitating as to his reply.