where he took his duffle-bag, leaving the fur-pack on deck with Loup. The crew left the dark-skinned barbarian with the wicked-looking knife in his belt, which had not been taken from him, severely alone, though he met many an ugly look from the sailors, who he knew itched for a chance to wreak their vengeance on the great dog who had roughly handled two of their mates.
Although he was watched, for he was never out of sight of a sailor, evidently the orders were to treat the prisoner civilly. Escape was impossible, for his canoe had been slung on the deck-house, and to attempt to reach the shore by swimming would have been pure suicide. So he had the freedom of the ship, for clearly his captors were desirous of his good-will.
The black night closed in on the anchored ship with no sign of the fog lifting. Laroque obtained food from the galley, and fed his dog, fastened on the main-deck amidships; then, lighting his pipe, sat down on the fur-pack beside him. Now and then a petty officer, giving the tethered husky a wide berth, strolled by to assure himself that the Cree had not dissolved into the murk.
When his vigorous puffing had turned the pipe hot in his hand, Laroque took a piece of wire from his pocket and thrust one end into the bowl. For a space he smoked hard while he toyed with the head of the husky lying at his side. Often the dog would open his punishing jaws and close them gently on the hand of the man, at the same time voicing undying adoration in the low rumble in his deep throat.
