And no noise, please." His voice was low and stern.
Silently, and as swiftly as was consistent with silence, Little Thunder
led his band of pack horses along the upper trail, the trader and
Cameron bringing up the rear with the other ponies. For about half a
mile they proceeded in this direction, then, turning sharply to the
right, they cut across through the straggling woods, and so came upon
the lower trail, beyond the encampment of the Stonies and well out of
sight of it.
"We camp here," said Raven briefly. "But remember, no noise."
"What about visiting their camp?" enquired Cameron.
"There is no immediate hurry."
He spoke a few words to Little Thunder in Indian.
"Little Thunder thinks they may be Blackfeet. We can't be too careful.
Now let's get grub."
Cameron made no reply. The trader's hesitating manner awakened all his
former suspicions. He was firmly convinced the Indians were Stonies and
he resolved that come what might he would make his escape to their camp.
Without unloading their packs they built their fire upon a large flat
rock and there, crouching about it, for the mists were chilly, they had
their supper.
In undertones Raven and Little Thunder conversed in the Indian speech.
The gay careless air of the trader had given place to one of keen,
purposeful determination.
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