“B’jou’!” came the half-breed’s voice. “I got heem. What you do dat man Bray, huh?”
“I took care of him, all right,” said Denis, smiling. “He’s gone back to Fort Vermilion, and you’ll find your camp waiting as you left it. When you’re at the fort, go in to Bray’s store and he’ll settle with you for whatever grub he used.”
The ’breed grunted deep satisfaction at this information. Denis pulled in the canoe. To his delight, he found his duffel bag, blankets, and the rifle exactly as he had left them.
“Mebbeso you make for pay?” suggested Napoleon diffidently.
Denis reflected.
“The man Bray sent you to find—the man named Cowley—has a camp halfway up this shore,” he returned. “I’m going to arrest him. Also a ’breed named Petwanisip. Cowley has some fine pelts up there, and you can have your pick. Want to come along?”
This did not strike Napoleon’s fancy.
“Mebbeso I come back. I’m want for sleep now,” he said, which was a lie, since he had probably slept all the preceding afternoon, after reaching the head of the lake. “Huh? Mebbeso I come back dere to-morrow.”
Denis chuckled.
“There’s a bunch of four white men down at the foot of the lake,” he rejoined. “They have rifles, and they’ll be up here to-morrow——”