aid
nothing. He got up, and reached out his hands as if to ask them back;
and when Fyles refused, he went away, drawing his blanket high over
his shoulders. It was wont before to lie loosely about him, to show his
badges of captaincy and alliance.

This was about the time that the Indians were making ready for the
buffalo, and when their chief took to his lodge, and refused to leave
it, they came to ask him why. And they were told. They were for making
trouble, but the old chief said the quarrel was his own: he would settle
it in his own way. He would not go to the hunt. Konto, he said, should
take his place; and when his braves came back there should be great
feasting, for then the matter would be ended.

Half the course of the moon and more, and Athabasca came out of his
lodge--the first time in the sunlight since the day of his disgrace. He
and his daughter sat silent and watchful at the door. There had been no
word between Fyles and Athabasca, no word between Mitawawa and Fyles.
The Fort was well-nigh tenantless, for the half-breeds also had gone
after buffalo, and only the trader, a clerk, and a half-breed cook were
left.

Mitawawa gave a little cry of impatience: she had held her peace so long
that even her slow Indian nature could endure no more. "What will my
father Athabasca do?" she asked. "With idleness the flesh grows soft,
and the iron melts from the arm."

"But when the thoughts are stone, the body is as that of the Mighty Men
of the Kimash Hills. When the bow is long drawn, beware the arrow."

"It is no answer," she said: "what will my father do?"

"They were of gold," he answered, "that never grew rusty. My people were
full of wonder when they stood before me, and the tribes had envy as
they passed. It is a hundred moons and one red midsummer moon since the
Great Company put them on my shoulders. They were light to carry, but it
was as if I bore an army. No other chief was like me. That is all over.
When the tribes pass they will laugh, and my people will scorn me if I
do not come out to meet them with the yokes of gold."

"But what will my father do?" she persisted.

"I have had many thoughts, and at night I have called on the Spirits who
rule. From the top of the Hill of Graves I have beaten the soft drum,
and called, and sung the hymn which wakes the sleeping Spirits: and I
know the way."

"What is the way?" Her eyes filled with a kind of fear or trouble, and
many times they shifted from th