sembled Beaver, which Stonor spoke, but had
different inflections. Freely translated, his words were:

"I go, men. The moose-berry (_i. e._, red-coat) wills it. I don't like
moose-berries. Little juice and much stone. To eat moose-berries draws a
man's mouth up like a tobacco-bag when the string is pulled."

They laughed, with deprecatory side-glances at the policeman. They were
not aware that he spoke their tongue. Stonor had no intention of letting
them know it, and kept an inscrutable face. They pushed off the dug-out,
and Hooliam, with a derisive wave of the hand, headed up river. All
remained on the shore, and Stonor, seeing that they expected something
more of Hooliam, remained also.

He had gone about a third of a mile when Stonor saw him bring the
dug-out around and ground her on the beach. He made no move to get out,
but a woman appeared from out of the shrubbery and got in. She was too
far away for Stonor to distinguish anything of her features; her figure
looked matronly.

"Who is that?" he asked sharply.

Several voices answered. "Hooliam's woman. Hooliam got old woman for his
woman"--with scornful laughter. Now that Hooliam was gone, they were
prepared to curry favour with the policeman.

Stonor was careful not to show the uneasiness he felt. This was his
first intimation that Hooliam had a companion. He considered following
him in another dug-out, but finally decided against it. The fact that he
had taken the woman aboard in plain sight smacked merely of bravado. A
long experience of the red race had taught Stonor that they love to
shroud their movements in mystery from the whites, and that in their
most mysterious acts there is not necessarily any significance.

Hooliam, with a wave of his paddle, resumed his journey, and presently
disappeared around a bend. Stonor turned on his heel and left the beach,
followed by the people. They awaited his next move somewhat
apprehensively, displaying an anxiety to please which suggested bad
consciences. Stonor, however, contented himself with offering some
private admonitions to Shose Cardinal, who seemed to take them in good
part. He then prepared to return to the post. The people speeded his
departure with relieved faces.

That night Stonor camped on the prairie half-way home. As he lay wooing
sleep under the stars, his horse cropping companionably near by, a new
thought caused him to sit up suddenly in his blankets.

"He mentioned the name Ernest Imbrie.