Despite the rough ground and our loads, we must have made full ten or twelve miles that day, and with nightfall camped beside a river of goodly size, making our dinner from a hare which Grim fetched in. It was late before I could sleep, the woods around being filled with strange noises and the calls of birds and animals. In the morning I had my first sight of the men of the New World.
I was about building a fire, on a big rock by the river's edge, when I heard a voice from the water. Looking up, I saw three canoes poised noiselessly in the stream, each bearing two dark-skinned men whose hair was hung in braids and who were naked to the waist. Their faces were not painted, as in Radisson's stories, and all were staring at me as at some wondrous marvel.
I cried out and sprang for a fusil, but the paddles swept down once, and even as Radisson awoke the first Indian leaped ashore. I was trying to load a fusil in haste, but Radisson sprang up and halted me after a quick look at the red men.
"Down with the gun, lad. These be friends."
"Down with the gun, lad. These be friends."
All six of them landed now, but stopped their advance with a guttural word of surprise at sight of the old wanderer. I laid my hand on Grim's bristling neck.
"What cheer!" said Radisson in English. "Has Soan-ge-ta-ha forgotten his friend the White Eagle?"
One of the Indians, older than the rest, gravely took the extended hand of Radisson and made reply in very good English, to my surprise.