Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
Already he was kneeling, fumbling with the straps of his snowshoes. "You go find your father. Follow trail to camp. Then you send him here. I hide in woods." "No no. They'll find you, and that West would shoot you." "Onistah know tricks. They no find him." He fastened the snow-webs on her feet while she was still protesting. She glanced again at the dog-train jogging steadily forward.
The socks inside them were of duffle and the leggings of strouds, both materials manufactured for the Hudson's Bay Company for its trappers. The day was comparatively warm, but the snow was not slushy nor very deep. None the less she was glad when they reached the trapping ground and Onistah called a halt for dinner.
Beresford, watching him idly, noticed that he toed in. Therefore he was probably a Cree trapper. But the Crees were usually indolent travelers. They did not cover ground as this man was doing. The man was an Indian. The soldier presently certified his first guess as to that. But not until the native was almost at the store did he recognize him as Onistah.
And she hoped that he would stay in the country and marry Sleeping Dawn. McRae fitted Jessie's snowshoes. "You'll be hame before the dark, lass," he said, a little anxiously. "Yes, Father." The hunter turned to Onistah. "She's in your care, lad. Gin the weather changes, or threatens to, let the traps go and strike for the toon. You're no' to tak chances."
"You all well?" he asked, with the imperturbable facial mask of his race that concealed all emotion. She nodded. "Good," he went on. "Your father pray the Great Spirit keep you safe." "Where is Father?" He looked in the direction from which he had come. "We go Jasper's cabin your father, red soldier, American trader, Onistah. You gone. Big storm snow sleet. No can go farther.
"Don't ask me questions. Do like I tell you." The girl took one look at his heavy, brutal face and did as she was told. Onistah would find her. When she did not show up at the rendezvous, he would follow her trail and discover that something was amiss. Good old Onistah never had failed her. He was true as tried steel and in all the North woods there was no better tracker. There would be a fight.
But he guarded the expression of it as though it were a vice. "Maybe Onistah has heard his mother say something about it," Jessie suggested. "Like enough. There'll be nae harm in askin' the lad." But the Blackfoot had little to tell. He had been told by Stokimatis that Sleeping Dawn was his cousin, but he had never quite believed it.
"Where your snowshoes?" "West took them to keep me here. I'm making a pair. Come. We'll finish them." They moved toward the house. Onistah stopped. The girl followed his eyes. They were fastened on a laden dog-train with two men moving across a lake near the shore of which the cabin had been built. Her fear-filled gaze came back to the Indian. "It's West and Mr. Whaley. What'll we do?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking