All along the rim of the bank there was rather a gaily-clad line of Indians and half-breeds, men and women, many of whom were waving salutations to members of the boat’s crew. The boys studied this line eagerly, but for some time none of them spoke.
“I see him!” said Jesse at last. “That’s Uncle Dick sitting up there on the bench.”
The others also identified their relative and friend as he sat quietly smoking and waiting for the boat to make her landing. At length he arose and came to the staging—a rather slender, bronzed man, with very brown face and eyes wrinkled at the corners. He wore an engineer’s garb of khaki and stiff-brimmed white hat.
The three boys took off their hats and gave a cheer as they saw him standing there smiling.
“How are you, Uncle Dick?” they all cried; and so eager were they that they could scarcely wait for the gang-plank to be run out.
Their uncle, Mr. Richard Wilcox, at that time employed in the engineering department of one of the Dominion railways, laughed rather happily as he bunched them in his arms when they came ashore. There was little chance for him to say anything for some time, so eager were the boys in their greeting of him.
“Well, you’re all here!” said he at length, breaking away to shake hands with Alex and Moise, who smiled very happily also, now coming up the bank. “How have they done, Alex?”
“Fine!” said the old hunter. “Couldn’t have been better!”
“This was good boys, all right,” affirmed Moise. “We’ll save her life plenty tam, but she’s good boy!”
“Did you have any trouble getting across, Alex?” asked Uncle Dick.