With that he shoved the canoe off into the stream, and paddling was resumed with redoubled vigour.
They proceeded in silence till the blush of rosy day in the east dispelled the intense darkness. Then, pulling ashore, they kindled a small fire, and, while the chief re-gummed the seams of the canoe, which leaked a little, the others prepared and ate a hasty breakfast.
They were still engaged with this meal, and discussing, not very hopefully, the possibility of reaching Red River Settlement and returning in time to render relief to Dan—supposing that he should require relief—when the sound of fast-dipping paddles was heard beyond the bend of the river just below them.
Another moment, and four large canoes, each manned by eight men, swept into view, their red sides glowing in the morning sun, and their occupants driving the water behind them in foam by the vigour of their strokes.
At first it was supposed that this was another band of Indians proceeding, possibly, to join that from which they had just escaped; but the fugitives were speedily undeceived by the appearance of the men as they drew nearer.
“I would be thinkin’ that the man in the bow o’ the first canoe is Antoine Dechamp,” said Fergus, as he stood peering over the bushes at the advancing brigade.
“I’m sure it’s Dechamp. I’d know him a mile off,” said Archie.
“Ay, an’ they hev got sight o’ the smoke of our fire, too,” added Fergus.
“It is Dechamp,” said Okématan, decisively, as he stepped into the open and held up his hand to the new arrivals.
A cheer was raised by those in the canoes when the Cree chief was recognised, and the flotilla, coming on at full speed, soon reached the bank.