And loiter he did. I sauntered and watched while the prisoner and
Singing Arrow threw glances that proved them no tyros in the game of
love and life. The comedy was pleasing, and I did not wonder that the
guards tilted their heads to one side, and looked on with grins.
Singing Arrow bridled, and drew away and then drew near. All was going
as we planned, till Pemaou and a band of his Hurons came around the
corner of the house.
I had done Pemaou the justice to hate him when I first saw him. And
one does not hate an inferior. He had as keen a mind as I have ever
known, and he was not hampered by any of the scruples and decencies
that interfere with a white man. So he was my superior in resource. I
knew, as I saw him look at me now, that my share in the game was over.
He had seen me listening to Longuant. Where had my wits been lagging
that I had not foreseen that he would have spies watching me, and would
trace some connection between the prisoner and myself? Well, there was
nothing left me but to stroll away. I did not dare go in the direction
of the canoes; it would be unwise to seek Cadillac; so I turned boldly
to the Ottawa camp. Hardly knowing what I planned, I asked for
Longuant.
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