Never had he seen such a crew. There were no Indians among them.
Lithe, quick-moving, bare-headed, their naked arms and shoulders
gleaming in the ghostly illumination, they were racing against
time with the boiling tar and pitch in the cauldron. They did not
see the approach of the canoe, and Bateese did not draw their
attention to it. Quietly he drove the birchbark under the shadow
of the big bateau. Hands were waiting to seize and steady it.
Carrigan caught but a glimpse of the faces. In another instant the
girl was aboard the scow, and Bateese was bending over him. A
second time he was picked up like a child in the chimpanzee-like
arms of the half-breed. The moonlight showed him a scow bigger
than he had ever seen on the upper river, and two-thirds of it
seemed to be cabin. Into this cabin Bateese carried him, and in
darkness laid him upon what Carrigan thought must be a cot built
against the wall. He made no sound, but let himself fall limply
upon it. He listened to Bateese as he moved about, and closed his
eyes when Bateese struck a match. A moment later he heard the door
of the cabin close behind the half-breed. Not until then did he
open his eyes and sit up.
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