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Updated: June 11, 2025
As they took their places Ambrose was struck by the pretty, wistful face of a girl who knelt on the floor behind Watusk. It had a fine quality that distinguished it sharply from the stolid flat countenances of her sisters. It was more than pretty; it was tragically beautiful, though she was little more than a child.
Watusk, still without looking at him directly, spoke a word to some Indians within call, and Ambrose was immediately seized by a dozen hands. He was finally bound hand and foot with thongs of hide. This was no more than he expected, still he did not submit without a fierce but ineffectual struggle.
The most he could distinguish at the distance was the difference between fat and slender. In the middle of the morning he saw Watusk ride forth, accompanied by four men that he guessed were the councilors. Watusk now had a military aspect. On his head he wore a pith helmet, and across the frock coat a broad red sash like a field marshal's.
"See my children, white man! Brave as the white-face mountain bear! Swift as flying duck! This only a few my men. Toward the setting sun I got so many more wait my call. "By the big lake I got 'nother great army. Let white men tak' care how they treat us bad. To-morrow red man's day come. He got Watusk lead him now. Watusk see through white man's bluff!"
However, he quickly reflected that it was only by exercising his wits that he could hope to help Nesis. He took the detestable hand and returned an offhand greeting. "You mak' beeg mistak' you try run away," said Watusk. "You mos' safe here." "How is that?" asked Ambrose warily. "I your friend," said Watusk. Ambrose suppressed the inclination to laugh.
The animals jostled each other, bit and squealed, stamped their forefeet, and tossed their manes. The men were silent. It made a weird scene in the fading moonlight. Men and horses partook of a ghostly quality; the faces nearest him blank, oval patches, faintly phosphorescent, were like symbols of the tragedy of mankind. Watusk kept Ambrose at his side.
"There is one member of the tribe beside Watusk who can speak English," he went on. "In the interest of justice I ask you to find her." "Who is it?" "Her name is Nesis. She is the youngest of the four wives of Watusk." Ambrose told her story briefly and baldly. "So!" said the inspector with a peculiar smile. "According to your own story you eloped with Watusk's wife. Upon my word!
"Pretty soon things would get so bad, he explained, that the Company would take John Gaviller away and make him the trader. He told Watusk to wait until the grain was thrashed next year, meaning last summer, and there would be great trouble. "He said if Watusk did everything he told him he would make Watusk a great man.
All on that side was no man's land, still written down "unexplored" on the maps. Thereafter day succeeded day without any break in the monotony of Ambrose's imprisonment. He occasionally made out the portly figure of Watusk in his frock coat, but received no word from him. It was now the 20th of September, and the poplar boughs were bare.
"He's trying to find out how much Nesis told me," he thought. Aloud he said, with a shrug like Watusk himself: "Well, I'll be glad when it blows over." "Two three day I let you out," Watusk said soothingly. "You can have anything you want." "How is Nesis?" demanded Ambrose abruptly. There was a subtle change in Watusk's eyes; no muscle of his face altered. "She all right," he said coolly.
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