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The chief gave an order, and the Little Skins were brought. The fires still burned brightly, and the breathing of the pines, as a slight wind rose and stirred them, came softly over. The Indians stood off at the command of the chief. Macavoy drew back to the wall, dropped the musk-ox skin to the ground, and stripped himself to the waist.
Their presence had not been discovered, and if they could but surprise the Indians the Fort might easily be theirs. They made a detour, and after an hour came upon the Fort from behind. Pierre himself went forward cautiously, leaving Macavoy in command. When he came again he said: "It's a fine sight, and the way is open. They are feasting and dancing.
"They've spoke sharp words in me teeth," he continued, "and they'll pay for it. Bounce! sweat! brag! wind! is it? There's dancin' beyant this night, me darlins!" "Are you sure you'll not run away when they come on?" said Pierre, a little ironically. "Is that the word av a frind?" replied Macavoy, a hand fumbling in his hair. "Did you never run away when faced?" Pierre asked pitilessly.
What occurred in the tent Pierre never quite knew, but presently he saw Wonta run out in a frightened way, followed by the five half-breeds, who carried themselves awkwardly. Behind them again, with head shaking from one side to the other, travelled Macavoy; and they all marched away towards the Fort. "Well," said Pierre to Wonta, "he is amusing, eh? so big a coward, eh?"
"Come, mon ami," said Pierre, "for to-morrow we travel far." "And what for that?" said Macavoy. Pierre whispered in his ear: "To make you a king, my lovely bully." Pierre had determined to establish a kingdom, not for gain, but for conquest's sake. But because he knew that the thing would pall, he took with him Macavoy the giant, to make him king instead.
"I'd have it out with her," said he. "She called you a bully and a brag." "Out with her?" cried Macavoy. "How can ye have it out wid a woman?" "Fight her," said Pierre pensively. "Fight her? fight her? Holy smoke! How can you fight a woman?" "Why, what do you fight?" asked Pierre innocently. Macavoy grinned in a wild kind of fashion. "Faith, then, y'are a fool.
"Poor divil, poor divil, she'd always a throat for that; but it's a horrible death to die, I'm thinkin'." Macavoy's chin dropped on his breast. When the sun was falling below Little Red Hill, Macavoy came to Wonta's tent. Pierre was not far away.
Wonta had a sense of humour also, and when Pierre told her what was required of her, she laughed with a quick little gurgle, and showed as handsome a set of teeth as the half-breed's; which said much for her. She promised to do as he wished. So it chanced when Macavoy was at his favourite seat beneath the pine, talking to a gaping audience, Wonta and a number of Indian girls passed by.
Pierre was interested, for in his primitive mind he knew that, however wild a promise, life is so wild in its events, there comes the hour for redemption of all I O U's. Meanwhile, weeks, months, and even a couple of years passed, Macavoy and Pierre coming and going, sometimes together, sometimes not, in all manner of words at war, in all manner of fact at peace.
"I'll shut the door meself, thin," she added; "for 'twas I that lift it opin, Tim." She started up, but gave a cry like a wailing wind, and fell back. "The door is shut," said Pierre. "But the child the child!" said Macavoy, tears running down his face and beard. Once Macavoy the giant ruled a tribe of Northern people, achieving the dignity by the hands of Pierre, who called him King Macavoy.
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