“The Red River has overflowed, and the land is flooded,” said Ian, in a low solemn voice.
“Surely, surely,” said Victor, in sudden anxiety, “there must have been many houses destroyed, since the water has come so far, but—but, father’s house stands high.”
Ian’s face wore a troubled look as he replied—
“Ay, boy, but the water has come more than twelve miles over the plains, for I know this spot well. It must be deep—very deep—at the Willow Creek.”
“Vat shall ye do vidout bot or canoe?”
Rollin’s question was not heeded, for at that moment two canoes were seen in the distance coming from the direction of Lake Winnipeg. One was paddled by an Indian, the other by a squaw and a boy. They made straight for the spot where our travellers were standing. As they drew near, Victor hailed them. The boy in the bow of the foremost canoe was observed to cease paddling. As he drew nearer, his eyes were seen to blaze, and eager astonishment was depicted on his painted face. When the canoe touched land he leaped of it, and, with a yell that would have done credit to the wildest redskin in the prairie, rushed at Victor, leaped into his arms, and, shouting “Vic! Vic!” besmeared his face with charcoal, ochre, vermilion, and kisses!
To say that Victor was taken by surprise would be feeble language. Of course he prepared for self-defence, at the first furious rush, but the shout of “Vic!” opened his eyes; he not only submitted to be kissed, but returned the embrace with tenfold interest, and mixed up the charcoal, ochre, and vermilion with his mouth and pose and Tony’s tears of joy.
Oh, it was an amazing sight, the meeting of these brothers. It is hard to say whether the eyes or the mouth of the onlookers opened widest. Petawanaquat was the only one who retained his composure. The eyes of Meekeye were moistened despite her native stoicism, but her husband stood erect with a grave sad countenance, and his blanket folded, with his arms in classic fashion, on his breast. As for Rollin, he became, and remained for some time, a petrifaction of amazement.
When the first burst was over, Victor turned to Petawanaquat, and as he looked at his stern visage a dark frown settled on his own, and he felt a clenching of his fists, as he addressed the Indian in his native tongue.
“What made you take him away?” he demanded indignantly.