Kakisas under his thumb. He will stop at nothing now;
may be insane. The position of the women is a frightful one.

"MARTIN STONOR."

Stonor took Tole's pack-horse with its load of grub, and the breed tied
his bed and rations for three days behind his saddle. Stonor gripped his
hand.

"So long, kid! Ride like hell. It's the most you can do for me."

* * * * *

Eight hours later, Stonor, haggard with anxiety and fatigue, and driving
his spent horses before him, rode among the tepees of the village beside
Swan Lake. That single day had aged him ten years. His second coming was
received with a significant lack of surprise. The Indians were
ostentatiously engaged at their customary occupations: mending boats and
other gear, cleaning guns, etc. Stonor doubted if such a picture of
universal industry had ever been offered there. Dismounting, he called
peremptorily for Myengeen.

The head man came to him with a certain air of boldness, that slowly
withered, however, under the fire that leaped up in the white man's
weary blue eyes. Under his savage inscrutability the signs of fidgets
became perceptible. Perhaps he had not expected the trooper to brave him
single-handed, but had hoped for more time to obliterate tracks, and let
matters quiet down. Many a dark breast within hearing quailed at the
sound of the policeman's ringing voice, though his words were not
understood. The one determined man struck more terror than a troop.

"Myengeen, you and your people have defied the law! Swift and terrible
punishment awaits you. Don't think you can escape it. You have carried
off a white woman. Such a thing was never known. If a single hair of her
head is harmed, God help you! Where is she?"

Myengeen's reply was a pantomime of general denial.

Stonor marched him back of the tepees where the Kakisas' horses were
feeding on the flat. He silently pointed to their hanging heads and
sweaty flanks. Many of the beasts were still too weary to feed: one or
two were lying down done for. Stonor pointed out certain peculiarities
in their feet, and indicated that he had been following those tracks.
This mute testimony impressed Myengeen more than words; his eyes bolted;
he took refuge in making believe not to understand.

Stonor's inability to command them in their own tongue made him feel
maddeningly impotent.

"Where is the woman who speaks English?" he cried, pointing to his o