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The travellers were enjoying the comforting shelter and warmth. Neither of them seemed particularly talkative. Presently Grey roused himself. Extreme heat after extreme cold always has a somnolent effect on those who experience it. "We'd best get the stuff off the sleigh, Chillingwood," said he. "Rainy-Moon's above the average Indian for honesty, but, nevertheless, we don't need to take chances.
And he even fancied he heard the shuffling of Rainy-Moon's moccasins over the beaten snow just outside the door. He turned his face in the direction. The expression of his great hungry eyes was malevolent. Whatever moral fear might have been his, there could be no doubt that he would carry his purpose out. He gripped his pistol firmly and moved towards the door.
Grey's head was now hanging forward and his chin rested on his chest. There came the sound of Rainy-Moon's voice adjuring the dogs outside the door of the dugout. The trapper's eyes flashed evilly in the direction of the unconscious Indian. " to do what I wanted," he resumed. "No more no less; and I set out on foot." He was anxiously watching for Grey's collapse.
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