orses. "If they see you, all is
lost," he warned.

And the warning came just in time. With that animal instinct of
nearness, which is neither sight, nor smell, my favorite broncho put
forward his ears and whinnied sharply. Both Diable and the squaw noted
the act and turned; but Louis had knocked me forward face down into the
tent.

With an oath, he threw himself on his couch. "Take my saddle," he said.
"I steal another. Do your do before morning. I no more have nothing to
do with you, till I pay you back all the same!"

And he was presently fast asleep, or pretending to be.

CHAPTER XIX

WHEREIN LOUIS INTRIGUES

Next morning Le Grand Diable would set out for the north. This night,
then, was my last chance to rescue Miriam. "Do your do before morning!"
How Laplante's words echoed in my ears! I had told Miriam a stormy night
was to be the signal for our attempt; and now the rising moon was
dispelling any vague haziness that might have helped to conceal us. In
an hour, the whole camp would be bright as day in clear, silver light.
Presently, the clatter of the lodges ceased. Only an occasional snarl
from the dogs, or the angry squeals of my bronchos kicking the Indian
ponies, broke the utter stillness. There was not even a wind to drown
foot-treads, and every lodge of the camp was reflected across the ground
in elongated shadows as distinct as a crayon figure on white paper. What
if some watchful Indian should discover our moving shadows? La Robe
Noire's fate flashed back and I shuddered.

Flinging up impatiently from the robes, I looked from the tent way. Some
dog of the pack gave the short, sharp bark of a fox. Then, but for the
crunching of my horses over the turf some yards away, there was
silence. I could hear the heavy breathing of people in near-by lodges.
Up from the wooded valley came the far-off purr of a stream over stony
bottom and the low washing sound only accentuated the stillness. The
shrill cry of some lonely night-bird stabbed the atmosphere with a throb
of pain. Again the dog snapped out a bark and again there was utter
quiet.

"One chance in a thousand," said I to myself, "only one in a thousand;
but I'll take it!" And I stepped from the tent. This time the wakeful
dog let out a mouthful of quick barkings. Jerking off my boots--I had
not yet taken to the native custom of moccasins--I dodged across the
roadway into the exaggerated shadow of some Indian camp truckery. Here I
fell flat to