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Updated: June 11, 2025
He had taken no part in the looting of the store. But Ambrose Doane would have none of it. He persuaded Watusk to give the order to break camp and fly back to the Kakisa River. Doane promised the bewildered Indian that he would make good terms for the offenders with the police when they came. "Doane's contention that he was a prisoner among the Kakisas is unsupported.
Watusk did, indeed, move among the men speaking to them, but with a half-hearted air. He cut a pitiful figure. It was not clear whether he was unwilling to oppose them or afraid. Ambrose did not even know what Watusk was saying to them. At any rate the men ignored their leader. Ambrose was wild at the necessity which made him dependent on such a poor creature.
The water flew in cascades from the frantic paddles of the boat-men. Arriving on the other side, Ambrose was secured on a horse, as on his first journey, and instantly despatched inland with his usual guard. As he was carried away they were dragging up the dugouts and concealing them under the willows. Watusk was sending men to watch from the cemetery on top of the bold hill.
On the fourth day the arrival of the main body of Indians from Fort Enterprise created a diversion. They came straggling slowly on foot down the hill to the flat, extreme weariness marked in their heavy gait and their sagging backs. Only Watusk rode a horse. Every other beast was requisitioned to carry the loot from the store. Some of the men and all the women bore packs also.
In each case the knotted handkerchief was offered with the same spoken formula. Ambrose asked what it was they said. "This is give-away dance," Watusk explained. "He is say: 'This my knife, this my blanket, this my silk-worked moccasins. What he want to give. After he got give it."
As Watusk gave no sign of stirring, he was seized by many hands and boosted over the edge of the pit. He rolled over, knocking down some of the bushes and finally rose to his feet, standing with wretched, hang-dog mien. His appearance, with the frock coat all rubbed with earth and the military gear hanging askew, caused the troopers to shout with laughter.
"Where you get the flour?" asked Watusk politely. "I borrowed Gaviller's mill to grind it," Ambrose answered in kind. Watusk's eyes narrowed. He puffed out his cheeks a little, and Ambrose saw that an oration was impending. "I hope there will be no trouble," the Indian began self-importantly. "Always when there is trouble the red man get blame.
They both laughed at that. "He told Watusk that if John Gaviller died he, Strange, would settle all the trouble, and then the Company would make him the trader for good. He told Watusk that when he got to be trader he would soon fix Ambrose Doane, too. "Mr. Strange was always telling Watusk to tell the Kakisas that my father hated them, but that he, Strange, was their friend.
Ambrose attempted to cry out in his angry astonishment, but only a muffled groan issued through the handkerchief. He was not visible to the troopers where he stood in the corner, and he could not move. "Is Ambrose Doane there?" demanded the officer. Watusk quickly turned and spoke a sentence in Kakisa. Ambrose saw the look of craft in his yellow face.
Inspector Egerton laughed until his little paunch shook. "Come," he said good-naturedly, "I haven't got time to exchange heroics with you. Run along and bring in your people. I'll give you half an hour." The inspector drew out his watch, and took note of the time. He then turned to address his sergeant, leaving Watusk in mid air, so to speak.
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