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Updated: May 4, 2025
Redfeather was the first who had bounded like a deer into the woods in pursuit of the fugitive. Those who remained assisted Charley and his friends to convey the body of Mr. Whyte into an adjoining room, where they placed him on a bed. He was quite dead, the murderer's aim having been terribly true.
Redfeather, too, his best and dearest friend, had been induced to return to his tribe for the purpose of mediating between some of the turbulent members of it and the white men who had gone to settle among them, so that the prospect of again associating with his red friend was an additional element in his satisfaction.
"Yes, I do," replied Charley; "and, by the way, one of them the ringleader is a man with whom you are acquainted, at least by name. You've heard of an Indian called Misconna?" "What!" exclaimed Harry, with a look of surprise; "you don't mean the blackguard mentioned by Redfeather, long ago, when he told us his story on the shores of Lake Winnipeg the man who killed poor Jacques's young wife?"
You remember that in the struggle described by Redfeather the trapper and Misconna had neither of them seen each other, Redfeather having felled the latter before the former reached the scene of action a scene which, he has since told me, he witnessed at a distance, while rushing to the rescue of his wife so that Misconna is utterly ignorant of the fact that the husband of his victim is now so near him; indeed, he does not know that she had a husband at all.
And who do you think this man Jacques is? You'd never guess. He's the trapper whom Redfeather told us of long ago, and whose wife was killed by the Indians. He and Redfeather have met, and are very fond of each other. How often in the midst of these wild excursions have my thoughts wandered to you, Harry! The fellows I meet with here are all kind-hearted, merry companions, but none like yourself.
For an instant everyone stood aghast at this precipitate termination to the discussion, and then, springing forward in a body, with drawn knives, the Indians rushed upon the white men, who in a close phalanx, with such weapons as came first to hand, stood to receive them. At this moment Redfeather stepped forward unarmed between the belligerents, and, turning to the Indians, said
The old gentleman himself had just galloped away in the direction of the lower fort, to visit Charley, who was now formally installed there; Kate was busy in the kitchen giving directions about dinner; and Jacques was away with Redfeather, visiting his numerous friends in the settlement: so that, for the first time since his arrival, Harry found himself at the hour of ten in the morning utterly lone, and with nothing very definite to do.
His friends know that he has never feared to face danger or death in their defence, and that, if it were necessary, he would do so still. But Redfeather is going to leave his people now. His heart is heavy at the thought.
But with the stoicism that was natural to him, Jacques submitted to circumstances which he could not alter, and contented himself with assuring Redfeather that if he lived till next spring he would most certainly "make tracks for the great lake," and settle down at the missionary's station along with him. This promise was made at the end of the wharf of Stoney Creek the morning on which Mr.
"By all means 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.
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