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"Those man'll been my cousin, too," said Moise, pointing to the new-comers. "She'll been glad to see us, both of her. Her name is Billy and Richard. Ole Richard, his Injun name was been At-tick 'The Reindeer. Also she'll say," he added, "she'll ain't got some tea nor sugar. Allons! I think maybe we'll eat some dish of tea."
The two boys ran rapidly to meet Moise, and overwhelmed him with questions asked all at once. "How's everything?" demanded Rob, "and where's Jesse?" "Oh, those boy, she'll been all right," said Moise. "She'll be on camp seex, h'eight mile below here, up above, maybe so. My cousins Billy and At-tick, come through with us they'll portage half-way to-day.
Presently, as Alex had said, the dugout showed its nose around the bend. At-tick and Billy, Jesse's two friends, were on the tracking line, and in the stern of the dugout, doing most of the labor of getting up-stream, was an old, wrinkle-faced, gray-haired and gray-bearded man, old Picheu himself, in his time one of the most famous among the hunters of the Crees, as the boys later learned.
Some of us will change, but men like At-tick, the old Indian who brought Jess across the trail, and like old Picheu, below here, aren't apt to change very much." John was once more puzzling at the map which the boys had made for themselves, following the old Mackenzie records.
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