“For your heaviness, you mean,” interrupted the invalid.
“No; I mean what I say, Billie, for you are light-headed as well as light-hearted—a sort o’ human balloon, ready to go up like a rocket at any time—so that even an or’nary man like me weighs you down. Besides, Oké, he steers better than me and I shoot better than him. Also, I like the hardest work, so I always take the bow.”
Arranging things according to directions, the Indian held the canoe steady while the brothers stepped carefully in—for they had learned from experience that the birch-bark canoe, besides being easily broken, is apt to overturn on small provocation.
“Let not Arch-ee go near the river-bank on either side,” said the chief in a warning voice, as he was about to shove the frail bark out upon the glassy water. “The Saulteaux might catch him. And let him not go far up or down stream. Let him keep among the reeds round the island. There are many ducks there. Shoot plenty, as if Arch-ee had no suspicion—no fear of Indians.”
“I say, Oké,” demanded the lad, with what was meant for an overwhelming frown, “do you mean to hint that I have any fear of the Indians?”
“Okématan has the belief that Arch-ee never knew fear at all,” returned the chief, earnestly; “that he has the courage of the young buffalo-bull.”
“Well, I’m not quite so sure o’ that,” returned the boy, with a modest look. “I would not myself put it quite so strong, you know. But you’re a wise chief, and I hope you’ve got a lot of brothers as wise as yourself. Good-bye, Oké—shove off. Now, then, mind how you steer, Little Bill.”