A little way beyond at the ashes of a fire a warrior stirred, lifted a head, and peered toward the tepee of captives; then, satisfied that all was well, lay down again to slumber. Back and forth, back and forth paced the solitary watcher. De Courtenay within was quivering from head to foot with the knowledge that something was happening. As he stood so the pacing figure halted a moment before the opening.
“S-s-t!” it whispered; “warn Ma'amselle!” then walked away.
Swift on the words another figure crept noiselessly to the lodge door.
“M'sieu,” said Edmonton Ridgar, beneath his breath, “give me the factor's shoulders. Do you take his feet and follow,—softly, for your life. Bring the maid.”
De Courtenay stepped back, groped for Maren, took her head in his hands, and brought her ear up to his lips.
“Rescue!” he breathed; “Ridgar and Dupre. We carry our friend of the fort here. Follow.”
He loosed her and bent to lift McElroy.
With all her courage leaping at the turn, Maren quietly raised the flap and in a moment they were all outside among the sleeping camp.
With measured tread Dupre came up to them, walked with them as they moved silently back, and was on the turn when Maren touched his arm.
“This way,” she whispered; “straight ahead.”