He was thinking grimly of these things when a young squaw came lightly
up from somewhere and stopped for a second beside De Courtenay. She
looked keenly at him, and stooping, picked up the knife.
"Another turn to the wheel, M'sieu," said that intrepid venturer; "what
next?"
As if his thought had reached out among the shadows of the wood where
stood the death tepee and touched its object, Edmonton Ridgar appeared
among the lodges. He was bare-headed, and McElroy saw that his face was
deep-lined and anxious, filled with a sadness at which he could but
marvel and he passed within a stone's throw without so much as a glance
at his superior.
No captive was this man, passing where he listed, but McElroy noticed
the keen eyes watching his every move.
What was he among this silent tribe with their war-paint and their
distrust of white men?
It was a hopeless puzzle, and the factor laid it grimly aside. Next to
the closed and impregnable front of his own post what time he passed
from its sight, this cold aloofness of his chief trader cut to inmost
soul.
But these things were that life of the great North-west whose
unspeakable lure thralled men's souls to the death, and he was content.
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