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Ambrose's ankles were loosed and, with an Indian's hand on either shoulder, he was guided through the grass around the edge of the trees. He speculated vainly on what this move portended. No attack, certainly; they were striking matches and lighting their pipes. Suddenly the dim figures in front were swallowed up. Immediately afterward Ambrose was led down an incline into a kind of pit.
Then he wrote a note and pinned it beside the store door. Carrying the bundles back to his cabin, he packed a grub-box and bore it down to the water. His preparations completed, he went to his shack to bid good-by to his four-footed pal. Job, instantly, comprehending that he was to be left behind, whimpered and nozzled so piteously that Ambrose's heart began to fail.
Her habit hung in tatters. Helen had preserved a remnant of style, as well as of pride, and perhaps a little strength. But her face was white, her eyes were big, and she limped. "Majesty!" she exclaimed. "What did you want to do to us? Kill us outright or make us homesick?" Of all of them, however, Ambrose's wife, Christine, the little French maid, had suffered the most in that long ride.
By Ambrose's orders the bags were piled up in an imposing array in the middle of the square. He knew the value of a dramatic display. The half-breeds who had been on duty for thirty-six hours, scattered to their homes up and down the river. Simon Grampierre and Tole remained with Ambrose. The york boat was left drawn up on the beach below the camp.
"Plenty more shells in my pocket." "Did you hear any talk?" asked Ambrose. "Are they coming over here?" "Talk no sense," said Tole. "Only yell. It is moch bad. They got whisky." "Whisky!" echoed Ambrose, aghast. "A big jug. It was in the store." Ambrose's heart sank. "Come," he said grimly. As Ambrose and Tole started in the gate they were hailed from the dark doorway under the porch.
He gave the most earnest attention to Ambrose's little difficulties, and did not rest till he was sure that they were cleared away; then he took up his squeaking quill-pen again, gave a push to his wig, and scribbled away harder than ever. During these hours of study the jackdaw's presence was a relief both to Ambrose and his master, though in a different way.
Ambrose's, before her whole heart and mind were disastrously set against her natural and honourable destiny. He was distinctly put out by finding Dora alone. As for Dora, she told a faltering tale of her father's having been called away to a poor patient who was a pensioner of her mother's, and of Mrs.
"He is so reech he put blankets on the floor to walk on, w'at you call carrpitt. Every day he has a white cloth on the table, and a little one to wipe his hands! I have seen it! And silver dishes!" "There is style for you!" said Peter, with a whimsical roll of his eye in Ambrose's direction. "There is moch farming by the river at Fort Enterprise," Poly went on; "and plaintee grain grow.
Shall I try to get him down?" In his excitement he spoke just as he would have done to David or Nancy. "No, no," said the doctor hastily, his face redder than usual, and putting his hand on Ambrose's shoulder, "he doesn't know you, you'd scare him away. Let me come." He mounted on the bench beside Ambrose and stretched his arm up through the boughs of the tree. "He knows my voice," he said.
"He has eyes like a lynx!" Ambrose's eyes, darting around the room, fell upon an album of snapshots lying on the table. He flung it open. When Gaviller came in he found them standing at the table, their backs to him. He heard Ambrose ask: "Who is that comical little guy?" Colina replied: "Ahcunazie, one of the Kakisa Indians in his winter clothes."
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