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He sees Indians whom he does not know, and must approach with a light step. Perhaps they are enemies. "'Do Knisteneux hunt at night, prowling in the bed of a stream? said the girl, still regarding me with a keen glance. I am not one of them. My husband and I travel with them for a time. We do not desire to see blood.
The feast which was given by the Knisteneux in honour of the visit of our two friends was provided on a more moderate scale than usual, in order to accommodate the capacities of the "white men;" three days' allowance being cooked for each man.
However, the Knisteneux are a brave race; and when I told them that the hearts of their enemies trembled when they heard of them, I told nothing but the truth; for the Chipewyans are a miserable set, and not much given to fighting."
He was made a chief!" "Ah!" cried Charley, "I'm glad of that. And Wabisca, what came of her? Did Misconna get her?" "She is my wife," replied Redfeather. "Your wife! Why, I thought I heard the voyageurs call your wife the white swan." "Wabisca is white in the language of the Knisteneux. She is beautiful in form, and my comrades call her the white swan."
The whole band of Chipewyans was entirely routed, with the exception of four who escaped, and the trapper whose flight I have described; all the rest were slain, and their scalps hung at the belts of the victorious Knisteneux warriors, while only one of our party was killed.
The whole band of Chipewyans was entirely routed, with the exception of four who escaped, and the trapper whose flight I have described; all the rest were slain, and their scalps hung at the belts of the victorious Knisteneux warriors, while only one of our party was killed.
"Listen: Redfeather does not take the part of his white friends against his comrades. You know that he never failed you in the war- path, and he would not fail you now if your cause were just. But the eyes of his comrades are shut. Redfeather knows what they do not know. He is a friend of the Knisteneux.
From the other side of the brake six of our band rushed forward and levelled their guns at him. For one moment the trapper paused to cast a glance at the mangled corpse of his wife, as if to make quite sure that she was dead; and then uttering a howl of despair, he hurled his axe with a giant's force at the Knisteneux, and disappeared over the precipitous bank of the stream.
A solitary Indian, whom they had met with on the way to their new home, had informed them that a large band of Knisteneux had lately migrated to a river about four days' journey beyond the lake, at which they halted; and when the new fort was just beginning to spring up, our friend Charley and the interpreter, Jacques Caradoc, were ordered by Mr Whyte to make a canoe, and then, embarking in it, to proceed to the Indian camp, to inform the natives of their rare good luck in having a band of white men come to settle near their lands to trade with them.
Such was the delectable state of things the morning on which two canoes darted from the camp of the Knisteneux, amid many expressions of good-will. One canoe contained our two friends, Charley and Jacques; the other, Redfeather and his wife Wabisca. A few strokes of the paddle shot them out into the stream, which carried them rapidly away from the scene of their late festivities.
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