CHAPTER XIII

ROOFED!

The back windows commanded a view of the horse corral, and they could see that one side of it had been borne down by the rush of horses.  But what had frightened them was a mystery.  There was nothing whatever of a hostile mature to be seen.  They could detect no lurking foe among the pines, and when they passed outside, and went round the scattered huts, there was nothing to account for the disastrous panic.

“Parbleu!” exclaimed Jacques, looking around perplexedly.  “I think it must have been their own shadows of which they were afraid.  Do you not think that is so, m’sieur?”

“It looks like it,” said Douglas; but we must get those horses or the rebels will get us to-morrow; they can hardly overtake us before then.  If I remember rightly, there’s a snake-fence across the trail, about half-a-mile or so up the valley, which may stop them.  Now, if you, Jacques, go to the right, and you, Lagrange, to the left, while I take the trail—­I’m not quite so young and nimble as you two—­I dare say we’ll not be long before we have them back.  But I’d nearly forgotten about you, Dorothy.  It won’t do to—­”

“Nonsense, dad!  I’ll be perfectly safe here.  The sooner you get the horses back, the sooner we will be able to consider ourselves safe.”

This view of the case seemed to commend itself to Bastien, for without further ado he strode away to the left among the pines.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing else for it,” said Douglas.  “I think you’d better go inside again, Dorothy, and wait till we return.”

“And in the meantime I’ll pack the sleighs,” observed the girl.  “Leave me a gun, and I’ll be all right”

The rancher leant his gun against the window sill, and then departed hastily.

The deserted huts seemed very lonely indeed when they had gone, but Dorothy was a healthy, prairie-bred girl, and not given to torturing herself with vain imaginings.

She went indoors, and, for the next few minutes busied herself in cleaning up and stowing away the dinner things.  This done, she resolved to go outside, for a wonderful change had come about in the weather.  It was only too obvious that a new Spring had been born, and already its mild, quickening breath was weakening the grip of King Frost.

Dorothy walked over towards the pines.  She could detect a resinous, aromatic odour in the air.  Here and there a pile of snow on the flat boughs would lose its grip on the roughened surface and slip to earth with a hollow thud.  She skirted the outhouses, and then made for the long, low-roofed hut again.  She was passing a large pile of cord-wood which she noted was built in the form of a square, when, happening to look into it, she saw something that for the moment caused her heart to stop beating and paralysed her with fear.  It was a great gaunt cinnamon bear, which, seated on its haunches, was watching her with a look of comical surprise upon its preternaturally shrewd, human-like face.