One evening, however, Petawanaquat seemed more troubled than usual, and held frequent earnest consultations with Meekeye in an undertone, in the midst of which Tony could distinguish a few words, such as “tracks,” “white strangers,” “encampment,” etcetera. Before going to rest the Indian smoked an extra pipe, and then said—
“Tonyquat is a brave boy!”
“Yes,” answered Tony, with an air of gravity quite equal to that of his red father. The few months he had been in captivity had indeed wrought an almost miraculous change in the child. His ideas were much more manly. Even his speech had lost its childish lisp, and he had begun to express himself somewhat in the allegorical language of the American Indian. Under the influence of a will stronger than his own he had proved himself an apt scholar.
“Tonyquat is a boy who keeps his word?” continued the other, with a keen glance.
Tony turned his large eyes full on the Indian.
“Has my Indian father ever found Tonyquat telling lies?”
To this Petawanaquat said “Good,” and smoked his pipe with increasing vigour, while Tony sat with his hands clasped over one knee, gazing sternly at the fire, as though he were engaged in consulting on matters of life and death. He glanced, however, for one instant at Meekeye, to see that she observed his staid demeanour. The same glance revealed to Tony the fact that Meekeye’s right foot was rather near the fire, with the red-hot end of a log close to it. Tony’s own left foot chanced to rest on the other and unburnt end of the same log. A very gentle motion on his part sufficed to bring Meekeye’s toes and the fire into contact. She drew back with a sudden start, but was too much of an Indian to scream. Tony was enough of one to remain motionless and abstracted like a brown statue. The slightest possible twitch at one corner of Petawanaquat’s mouth showed that he had observed the movement, but his brow did not relax as he said—
“Tonyquat must make his red father a promise. White men are coming here. They travel towards the setting sun. If they hear the voice of Tonyquat they will take him away.”
“Will they take me to my own father?” cried Tony, forgetting his rôle in the excitement of the moment.
“Petawanaquat has said that the white strangers travel towards the setting sun. Red River lies in the direction of the rising sun. Would Tonyquat like to go with white strangers into the mountains?”