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There's not an hour to lose!" Watusk made no move. The fiery spirit he had swallowed was lending a deceitful warmth to his veins. He began to feel like a hero. His eyes narrowed and glittered. "Suppose I don' do it?" he muttered. The inspectors white eyebrows went up. "Then I will go and take the men I want," he said coolly. "You dead before you gone far," said Watusk.
He followed Watusk, imploring them in English to keep their heads. Some of the sense of what he said must have reached them through his tones and gestures, but they only turned sullen, suspicious shoulders upon him. That Ambrose should take the part of his known enemy, John Gaviller, seemed to their simple minds to smack of double-dealing.
He said, still without meeting Ambrose's eye: "Myengeen say you kill Tom Moosa. You got to take our law." "It's a lie!" cried Ambrose, suffocating with indignation. Watusk shrugged and disappeared. It was useless for Ambrose to shout at any of the others. He fumed in silence. The Indians gave his dangerous eyes a wide berth.
So it was Colonel Egerton, thought Ambrose, commander of B district of the police, and known affectionately from Caribou Lake to the Arctic as Patch-pants Egerton, or simply as "the old man." He was a veteran of two Indian uprisings. Ambrose felt still further reassured. Watusk, still swaggering, nevertheless visibly weakened.
With luck they could be back with the red-coats in two weeks or three. Meanwhile the mill was grinding blithely. Ambrose, who desired at all costs to keep the Indians in ignorance of what was happening, for fear they might get out of hand, sent Germain Grampierre to his father's house to get what little flour they had, and carry it to Watusk to feed the Kakisas for that day.
But next morning when they came back she heard Myengeen say to Watusk that Gordon Strange had sent word that they must tie Ambrose Doane up and carry him away. "She said it was soon known throughout the tribe that if the police came everybody was to say that Ambrose Doane made all the trouble. She said he was tied up and carried away on a horse.
This was the critical moment. The fate of the nineteen boys and their white-haired leader hung by a hair. Ambrose held his breath under the gag. A cry, an untoward movement would have caused an immediate slaughter. The Indians' eyes glittered, their teeth showed, they fingered their rifles. A single word from their leader would have sufficed. Watusk longed to speak it, and could not.
Whether or not it saved him in the end, it was sweet to hear himself justified. Colina continued: "Nesis said that Watusk often complained to Mr. Strange that my father was always making the goods dearer and the fur cheaper. Mr. Strange told him to wait a little while and he would see great changes.
However, he immediately rode back to the Kakisa village with three troopers. In an hour he sent one of the men back for Watusk. In two hours they all returned without Nesis. Ambrose's heart sank like a stone. By instinct he strove to conceal his discouragement from his enemies under a nonchalant air.
You got trouble with Gaviller. That is not my trouble. All I want is flour." "You shall have it!" cried Ambrose boldly. "Enough to-morrow morning to feed every family. Enough in three days to fill your order." Watusk appeared to be a little taken aback, by the prompt granting of his demand. "Where will you get it?" he asked. "I will get it," Ambrose said. "That is enough."
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