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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Misconna's foot is swift," replied the Indian, "and the wood is thick. It is wasting time to follow him through the bushes." "What would you advise then?" exclaimed Charley, in a hurried voice. "I see that you have some plan to propose." "The wood is thick," answered Redfeather, "but the lake and the river are open. Let one party go by the lake, and one party by the river."
Park, addressing the Indian as he resumed his seat; "your knife did us good service that time, my fine fellow." Redfeather, who was the only pure native in the brigade, acknowledged the compliment with a smile. "Ah, oui," replied the guide, whose features had now lost their stern expression. "These Injins are always ready enough with their knives.
In fact, he wanted nothing, save the hunting-knife, the rifle, and the powder-horn, to constitute him a perfect specimen of a thorough backwoodsman. Redfeather and Louis were similarly costumed; and a noble trio they looked as they sat modestly in a corner, talking to each other in whispers, and endeavouring, as much as possible, to curtail their colossal proportions.
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."
I don't know anything definitely, for Mr Whyte is by no means communicative." "An' please, master," put in Jacques, "when do you mean to let us off from this place? I guess the bourgeois won't be over pleased if we waste time here." "We'll start this forenoon, Jacques. I and Redfeather shall go along with you, as I intended to take a run up to the creek about this time at any rate.
At length the old chief rose, and after complimenting Redfeather on his bravery in general, and admitting that he had shown much love to his people on all occasions, went into the subject of his quitting them at some length.
"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." We must now beg the patient reader to take a leap with us, not only through space, but also through time.
Have you the skins and dried meat packed, Redfeather?" To this the Indian replied in the affirmative, and the others having finished breakfast, the whole party rose to prepare for departure, and set about loading their canoes forthwith.
He told him of things about the Great Spirit which he did not know before, and he asked Redfeather to go and help him to speak to the Indians about these strange things. Redfeather would not go. He loved his people too much, and he thought that the words of the missionary seemed foolishness. But he has thought much about it since.
In fact, this meeting did take place on the following day, when Redfeather, returning from a successful hunt, with part of a deer on his shoulders, entered Charley's tent, in which the travellers had spent the previous day and night, and discovered the guide gravely discussing a venison steak before the fire.
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