nd all the women bore packs
also. This was why they had been so long on the way.

True to their savage nature they had taken more than they could carry.
As Ambrose learned later, there were goods scattered wantonly all along
the trail.

Ambrose naturally anticipated some change in his own condition as a
result of the arrival of Watusk. But nothing happened immediately. The
patient squaws set to work to make camp, and by nightfall the village of
teepees was increased fourfold.

In the motionless twilight each cone gave a perpendicular thread of smoke
to the thin cloud that hung low over the flat.

As the darkness increased the teepees became faintly luminous from the
fires within, and the streets gleamed like strings of pale Japanese
lanterns. Ambrose, expecting visitors, watched at his window until late.

None came.

In the morning he made the man who brought his breakfast understand by
signs that he wished to speak with Watusk. The chief did not, however,
vouchsafe him a call.

To-day it transpired that the Indians were only making a temporary halt
below. After a few hours' rest they got in motion again, and all
afternoon were engaged in ferrying their baggage across the river in
dugouts and in swimming their horses over.

On the following morning, with the exception of Watusk's lodge and half a
dozen others, all the teepees were struck, and the whole body of the
people crossed the river and disappeared behind the hill. All on that
side was no man's land, still written down "unexplored" on the maps.

Thereafter day succeeded day without any break in the monotony of
Ambrose's imprisonment. He occasionally made out the portly figure of
Watusk in his frock coat, but received no word from him.

It was now the 20th of September, and the poplar boughs were bare. Every
morning now the grass was covered with rime, and to-day a flurry of snow
fell. Winter would increase the difficulties of escape tenfold.

Ambrose speculated endlessly on what might be happening at Fort
Enterprise. He thought, too, of Peter Minot who was relying on him to
steer the hazarded fortunes of the firm into port--and groaned at his
impotence.

As with all solitary prisoners, throughout the long hours Ambrose's mind
preyed upon itself. True, he had Job, who was friend and consoler in his
dumb way, but Job was only a dog.

To joke or to swear at his jailers was like trying to make a noise in a
vacuum. Not to be able to make hi