“I could make out but two men,” Blaise replied.
“You couldn’t be certain there weren’t three,” Hugh argued, “unless you can see much better at night than I can.”
Blaise shook his head doubtfully. “The canoe was headed for the long point. They must be some of Ohrante’s men.”
“None of them was big enough to be Ohrante himself. We could see them well enough to make sure of that.”
The brothers waited in the shadow for several minutes, then ventured on. As they came out from the shelter of the islands, a light southeast breeze, that barely rippled the water, struck them.
“A favorable enough wind, if we want to go direct to the Kaministikwia,” remarked Hugh, “but do we?”
“It is at the Kaministikwia where we must sell the furs.”
“But how about our revenge on Ohrante? Are we to let him meet those reinforcements at his Torture Island, and then go on capturing innocent people and putting them to death for his own pleasure? Ohrante is a menace to both white men and Ojibwas, Blaise.”
“Yes, I know that,” the younger lad replied slowly, “but what can you and I alone do against him and his band and the new braves who come to join him? I am as eager as you to see Ohrante destroyed. I long to avenge my father by doing the deed with my own hands, but we must plan cautiously. If we are over rash, we shall fail.”
“What would you do then, Blaise?”