Radisson's face never changed as he asked the Crees how the fight had gone, and if Gib had been slain, and then drew Ruth and me down to him while he waited the answer.
"My father," said Uchichak slowly, "the Crees did not fight, for the enemy had gone. The Mighty One had fought for us and scattered them. But—" and he hesitated an instant, "as we came near, a gun was fired from the cave, and lightning shot across the snow. When we had sought the Chippewas, we found the Mighty One lying dead, and beneath his hoofs was the form of The Pike."
Uchichak paused. With a little shudder I remembered how I had seen the giant moose uprearing and striking out with hoofs and horns, and how he had stumbled across a man even as I fired. Ruth was sobbing quietly on Radisson's shoulder, and the old wanderer addressed us in English.
"Children, do not grieve. I am an old man, and have lived through more than most men. As for Gib, he has perished by the hand of God, even as I foretold that he would. Now listen carefully.
"You, Ruth, are of right named Marie de Courbelles. It were best to visit Montreal and Quebec, for there live your father's people, though he is dead long since, and there you may obtain your inheritance, which is a goodly one."
Ruth sobbed out that she wanted none of it, whereat the old man petted her head and smiled on me suddenly.
"Davie, you will care for the little maid?"
"An' she will let me, I will," was my low reply.
"Then I shall pass happy," and Radisson sighed as if a burden was off his mind. "I would that you had the old Bible of which you spoke, lass. I would like to hear once more the story of those days Christ spent in the wilderness. It hath ever attracted me strangely—I would that my days had been set where I might have known Him!"
And as Radisson voiced the age-old wish of the world, I bethought me that I still had the packet which The Keeper had put in my hands, and so drew it out hastily.