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Updated: May 4, 2025
During this scene of gluttony, one of the chiefs entertained the assembly with a wild and most unmusical chant, to which he beat time on a sort of tambourine, while the women outside of the enclosure beat a similar accompaniment. "I say, master," whispered Jacques, "it seems to my observation that the fellow you called Redfeather eats less than any Injin I ever saw.
Whyte's burial, telling him of the death of his mother. Meanwhile, Redfeather and Jacques both of whom at their young master's earnest solicitation, agreed to winter at Stoney Creek cultivated each other's acquaintance sedulously.
Such was the delectable state of things the morning on which two canoes darted from the camp of the Knisteneux, amid many expressions of goodwill. 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.
"Misconna is with his tribe," replied the Indian, and a frown overspread his features as he spoke; "but Redfeather has been following in the track of his white friends; he has not seen his nation for many moons." The canoe Ascending the rapids The portage Deer shooting and life in the woods. We must now beg the patient reader to take a leap with us, not only through space, but also through time.
Ho, Redfeather! are you trying to stop the wind by looking it out of countenance?" The Indian rose, and walked towards the spot where the boys lay. "What was Redfeather thinking about?" said Charley, adopting the somewhat pompous style of speech occasionally used by Indians.
It need scarcely be added that the friendship which already subsisted between Jacques and Redfeather was now doubly cemented; nor will it create surprise when we say that the former, in the fulness of his heart, and from sheer inability to find adequate outlets for the expression of his feelings, offered Redfeather in succession all the articles of value he possessed, even to the much-loved rifle, and was seriously annoyed at their not being accepted.
That night, in the deep shadow of the trees, by the brook that murmured near the Indian camp, while the stars twinkled through the branches overhead, Charley introduced Redfeather to his friend Jacques Caradoc, and a friendship was struck up between the bold hunter and the red man that grew and strengthened as each successive day made them acquainted with their respective good qualities.
"Ah, Kate, my love," he cried, as they entered, "come here, lass, and mount guard. I've almost broke my heart in trying to convince that thick-headed goose that he can't set the table properly. Take it off my hands, like a good girl. Charley, my boy, you'll be pleased to hear that your old friend Redfeather is here." "Redfeather, father!" exclaimed Charley, in surprise.
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.
Jacques, Charley, and Harry proceeded by the river; while Redfeather and Hamilton, with a couple of men, launched their canoe on the lake and set off in pursuit. Crossing the country for about a mile, Jacques led his party to the point on the Duck River to which he had previously referred.
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