"I soon learned," said the old soldier, "that it was the symbol of a totem, though I never knew why it was tattooed on the child's arm, nor by whom. Perhaps you can tell us of it, Ah-mo. It was something after this fashion."
Here the major drew a sketch of the design on a bit of paper.
"Yes," replied the Indian girl, regarding the sketch, "from this alone could I tell the clan of the warrior wearing it, his standing in the tribe, and who had tattooed the symbol. Even without the sketch I could have told you these things, for I have looked upon the original."
"When?" asked Edith, wonderingly.
"At the time when my father recognized his own handiwork on the arm of a captive."
"You then have seen our Donald and never told us of the meeting, nor what he said, nor anything!" exclaimed the white girl, in a grieved tone.
"I have seen him twice," replied Ah-mo, "but we have never exchanged words, nor do I think he knows who I am. The first time I saw him was shortly after my coming from Montreal, when I was on the river in a canoe with one of my girl friends. He was also in a canoe, but helplessly drifting, having broken his only paddle. I laughed at his predicament and would have let him drift, had not my companion mentioned his name. It was one esteemed by all of Indian blood, and though I knew not whether the young man bore any relation to my father's friend, I determined, for the sake of his name, to help him. We approached him so quietly that he did not hear us, tossed a paddle into his canoe, and were off almost before he knew of our presence. That was one time. The other was but a few weeks since, when I stood with my father and a captive was laid unconscious at our feet. My father knew him not, and but for the totem would never have recognized him."
"What is this totem?" inquired Edith.
"It is that of the Bear, the same to which my father belongs."
"And you, too, and your brothers?"