Fortunately for both, the savage did not see the 87 perch and went away. Later, Rodney, cramped and sore, crept out in quest of a drink of water. On his return a sound inside attracted his notice and listening, he heard sobbing. It was Louis. With a cry of joy the little fellow threw himself into Rodney’s arms, saying, “I thought you had run away. Caughnega said you had. He was hunting for you last night, and this morning I told him about this place but he came back and said you were not here.”
“Don’t you ever tell him where I am when he’s hunting for me. He hates me and would like to kill me. But how came you here?”
“Maman was cross like a bear and François whipped me.”
“And she let him do it?”
“Non, but she was so cross I wouldn’t tell her. François was tipsy.”
“The drunken dog! I’d like to horsewhip him. Well, you run back, and when Ahneota is sober tell him I’ve not run away but will come back when the carousal is ended. Don’t say anything to any one else about me. If François beats you again tell Maman.”
Louis turned back toward the village and, at a turn in the path, met the tipsy François. Rodney saw the meeting, and concealed himself behind a tree.
The voyageur had no arms other than the knife in his belt. When he saw Louis he cried, “Hé bien! Tiens! prends cela,” slapping the little fellow’s face and knocking him down.
Seeing this Rodney was infuriated and forgot all 88 caution. In a few bounds he reached the voyageur and, as the latter turned, hit him a stinging blow on the nose, following it with a well directed one on the Frenchman’s chin. The fellow went down like a log and Rodney on top of him. He rolled the dazed man on to his face and bound his arms behind his back with a leather thong he carried.
“I’ll fix you if you ever strike Louis again. You get back to the village and, if you want to live, you behave yourself.”