I marveled at the credulity of the poor creatures, and suggested that it was wrong so to deceive them, whereat Radisson looked queerly at me. As Ruth failed to agree, I dropped the subject for the time, although I liked not to continue in such standing, which to my mind savored of deceit and well-nigh blasphemy. By this you may see that I was no little changed from the young lout who had slipped out of the Purple Heather at Rathesby to skip the prayers—as well I might be, after the horror of that voyage and its ending.
We traveled each in a separate canoe, seeing little of each other save at the halting places. On one of these occasions Radisson told me why he had ordered no mention made of Gib. It seemed that the fellow was of no little reputation among the Chippewas, even as was Radisson among other tribes, and if his return to the New World were known things might go ill.
Ruth made light of the hardships of those first days, although Brave Heart's men treated her with all consideration. Both she and I gained some slight knowledge of the art of paddling, and I found that the scurvy had altogether disappeared, whereat I thanked God most fervently.
It seemed that the Chippewa chief, Soan-ge-ta-ha, was one of the greatest among his own people. He was not so old as Radisson, but his face held a stern, implacable aspect which at times set me athrill with fear of the man. I prayed that we might never have him to face as an enemy, nor at that time did such an event seem probable.
And as we paddled I grew ever more amazed at the great size of this new land, which seemed to have neither limit nor end. On we went, crossing from one stream to another. We had been with the six Chippewas for eight days, and on the fifth day after meeting the four others Soan-ge-ta-ha announced the post was only three days' journey off. Of this we were right glad, and if Radisson felt in any other wise he gave no sign.
But we were not destined to accompany the six farther, for here happened one of those wonderful things which showed ever more plainly that the hand of God was over us, guiding and protecting us from hidden dangers. We had just made ready to embark when Soan-ge-ta-ha lifted his hand in a warning gesture, and Grim gave a low growl. As he did so, the bushes on the farther side of our camping-place parted, and out stepped two men.
But what men they were! Ruth gave a little cry and settled back within my arm, while the Chippewas emitted a grunt of surprise. Both the men were Indians—just such savages as Radisson had described to us while on the "Lass." Naked to the waist like our own six, the face and breast of each was hideously painted with red and white paint, and they wore pantaloons of skin, beaded and fringed wondrously. Each was taller than the average man, and their heads were in part shaven so that a single long lock of hair was left, and in this were twisted eagle feathers. As they came closer I saw that for all their sturdiness these were old men, in years if not in vigor. They carried no muskets, but at their belts were hatchets and knives. For an instant we all stared as if rooted to the ground, then to my utter amazement Radisson leaped forward and threw his arms about the first savage.
"My brother—my brother!" he cried out in French, all his heart in his voice. "Am I dreaming or bewitched? Can this thing be possible?" He turned and caught the other likewise. "And you, Swift Arrow—is it you or some ghost of the olden days?"
As if this were not surprise enough for me, these grave painted savages of the New World made dignified response in French. Nay, it was poor French enough, yet Ruth and I could sense it with ease.
"Now are we indeed happy," spoke the older of the two, paying no heed to us who watched in amazement. "My brother, many snows ago you left us. We heard that you had gone to the Great Father across the big water. Then it was borne to us that you were far in the north, here among the snows.