The Stonies had no doubt as to his meaning. Their hearts were filled with black rage against the unscrupulous trader, but their insane thirst for the "fire-water" swept from their minds every other consideration but that of determination to gratify this mad lust. Unconsciously they ranged themselves beside Cameron, their hands going to their belts. Quietly Raven spoke a few rapid words to Little Thunder, who, slowly putting up his knife, made a brief but vigourous harangue to the Stonies, the result of which was seen in the doubtful glances which they cast upon Cameron from time to time.
"Come on!" cried Cameron again, laying his hand upon the nearest Indian. "Let's go to your camp. Take your furs. He is a thief, a robber, a bad man. All that," sweeping his hand towards Raven's goods, "no good. This," kicking the keg, "bad. Kill you."
These words they could not entirely understand, but his gestures were sufficiently eloquent and significant. There was an ugly gleam in Raven's eyes and an ugly curl to his thin lips, but he only smiled.
"Come," he said, waving his hand toward the furs, "take them away.
Tell them we don't want to trade, Little Thunder." He pulled out his flask, slowly took a drink, and passed it to Little Thunder, who greedily followed his example. "Tell them we don't want to trade at all," insisted Raven.
Little Thunder volubly explained the trader's wishes.
"Good-bye," said Raven, offering his hand to White Cloud. "Good friends," he added, once more passing him his flask.
"Don't!" said Cameron, laying his hand again upon the Indian's arm.
For a single instant White Cloud paused.
"Huh!" grunted Little Thunder in contempt. "Big chief scared."
Quickly the Stony shook off Cameron's hand, seized the flask and, putting it to his lips, drained it dry.
"Come," said Cameron to the other Stony. "Come with me."
Raven uttered a warning word to Little Thunder. The Indians stood for some moments uncertain, their heads bowed upon their breasts.
Then White Cloud, throwing back his head and looking Cameron full in the face, said--"Good man. Good man. Me no go."
"Then I go alone," cried Cameron, springing off into the darkness.
As he turned his foot caught the pile of wood brought for the fire.
He tripped and stumbled almost to the ground. Before he could recover himself Little Thunder, swift as a wildcat, leaped upon his back with his ever-ready knife in his upraised hand, but before he could strike, Cameron had turned himself and throwing the Indian off had struggled to his feet.
"Hold there!" cried Raven with a terrible oath, flinging himself upon the struggling pair.
A moment or two the Stonies hesitated, then they too seized Cameron and between them all they bore him fighting to the ground.
"Keep back! Keep back!" cried Raven in a terrible voice to Little Thunder, who, knife in hand, was dancing round, seeking an opportunity to strike. "Will you lie still, or shall I knock your head in?" said Raven to Cameron through his clenched teeth, with one hand on his throat and the other poising a revolver over his head. Cameron gave up the struggle.
"Speak and quick!" cried Raven, his face working with passion, his voice thick and husky, his breath coming in quick gasps from the fury that possessed him.
"All right," said Cameron. "Let me up. You have beaten me this time."
Raven sprang to his feet.
"Let him up!" he said. "Now, then, Cameron, give me your word you won't try to escape."
"No, I will not! I'll see you hanged first," said Cameron.
Raven deliberately drew his pistol and said slowly:
"I have saved your life twice already, but the time is past for any more trifling. Now you've got to take it."
At this Little Thunder spoke a word, pointing toward the camp of the Stonies. Raven hesitated, then with an oath he strode toward Cameron and thrusting his pistol in his face said in tones of cold and concentrated rage:
"Listen to me, you fool! Your life is hanging by a hair trigger that goes off with a feather touch. I give you one more chance.
Move hand or foot and the bullet in this gun will pass neatly through your eye. So help me God Almighty!"
He spoke to Little Thunder, still keeping Cameron covered with his gun. The Indian slipped quietly behind Cameron and swiftly threw a line over his shoulders and, drawing it tight, bound his arms to his side. Again and again he repeated this operation till Cameron stood swathed in the coils of the rope like a mummy, inwardly raging, not so much at his captor, but at himself and his stupid bungling of his break for liberty. His helpless and absurd appearance seemed to restore Raven's good humour.
"Now, then," he said, turning to the Stonies and resuming his careless air, "we will finish our little business. Sit down, Mr. Cameron," he continued, with a pleasant smile. "It may be less dignified, but it is much more comfortable."
Once more he took out his flask and passed it round, forgetting to take it back from his Indian visitors, who continued to drink from it in turn.
"Listen," he said. "I give you all you see here for your furs and a pony to pack them. That is my last word. Quick, yes or no?
Tell them no more trifling, Little Thunder. The moon is high. We start in ten minutes."
There was no further haggling. The Indians seemed to recognise that the time for that was past. After a brief consultation they grunted their acceptance and proceeded to pack up their goods, but with no good will. More vividly than any in the company they realised the immensity of the fraud that was being perpetrated upon them. They were being robbed of their whole winter's kill and that of some of their friends as well, but they were helpless in the grip of their mad passion for the trader's fire-water. Disgusted with themselves and filled with black rage against the man who had so pitilessly stripped them bare of the profits of a year's toil and privation, how gladly would they have put their knives into his back, but they knew his sort by only too bitter experience and they knew that at his hands they need expect no pity.
