“Three would not be too many in the canoe,” he said, “but two are better for hunting.”
“Very good. But we will want a fourth to make two in each canoe. Whom shall we invite?”
“Okématan’s counsel is,” answered the chief, “to take a brave who is young and strong and active; whose eye is quick and his hand steady; whose heart never comes into his throat when danger faces him; whose face does not grow pale at the sight of approaching death; whose heart is as the heart of the grisly bear for courage, and yet tender as the heart of a Paleface squaw; whose hand can accomplish whatever his head plans, and whose tongue is able to make a sick man smile.”
Davidson smiled to himself at this description, which the chief uttered with the sententious gravity that would have characterised his speech and bearing in a council of war.
“A most notable comrade, good Okématan; but where are we to find him, for I know nobody who comes near to that description.”
“He dwells in your own wigwam,” returned the chief.
“In Prairie Cottage?” exclaimed the other with a puzzled air. “You can’t mean my brother Peter, surely, for he is about as grave as yourself.”
“Okématan means the young brave who loves his little brother.”
“What! Archie Sinclair?” exclaimed Dan, with a surprised look. “I had no idea you had so high an opinion of him.”
“Okématan has seen much of Arch-ee: has watched him. He sees that he thinks nothing of himself; that he thinks always for the sick brother, Leetle Beel, and that he will yet be a great chief among the Palefaces.”