It was a
mark they had seen all winter, and now it was headed as before
for the west.
When night came down, they camped in a hollow. They were used to
snow camps. In the morning they went on, but wind and snow had
hidden their tell-tale guide.
What was the next move? Rolf did not ask, but wondered.
Quonab evidently was puzzled.
At length Rolf ventured: "He surely lives by some river -- that
way -- and within a day's journey. This track is gone, but we
may strike a fresh one. We'll know it when we see it."
The friendly look came back to the Indian's face. "You are
Nibowaka."
They had not gone half a mile before they found a fresh track --
their old acquaintance. Even Skookum showed his hostile
recognition. And in a few minutes it led them to a shanty. They
slipped off their snowshoes, and hung them in a tree. Quonab
opened the door without knocking. They entered, and in a moment
were face to face with a lanky, ill-favoured white man that all
three, including Skookum, recognized as Hoag, the man they had
met at the trader's.
That worthy made a quick reach for his rifle, but Quonab covered
him and said in tones that brooked no discussion, "Sit down!"
Hoag did so, sullenly, then growled: "All right; my partners will
be here in ten minutes.
Pages:
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223