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You know well enough that I can manage it; besides, you're a heavy buffalo, and more able to track than I." "Nay, lad," replied Bounce, shaking his head, "you'll only run the risk o' gettin' a wet skin mayhap somethin' worse." "Now, that's too bad. D'ye think nobody can manage a canoe but yourself? Come, Redhand, do let me go." "It's not safe, boy.
There was a savage gruffness in the way in which McLeod said this that surprised the visitors, for his sturdy-looking and honest countenance seemed to accord ill with such tones. "An' may I ask who he is?" said Redhand. "Oh yes, his name's Macgregor you can't see him to-night, though. There'll be bloody work here before long if he don't turn over a new leaf "
"We are, sir, at your service. It's gettin' late and we've a good bit to go yet, before we come to the place where we mean to camp, so you'd better come at once." "Certainly; by all means; let us embark without delay," replied the artist, pocketing his sketch-book. "Pardon me, sir," said Redhand, with some hesitation, "are you alone?"
"Ah, Redhand!" exclaimed March, "you're a terrible fellow for duty an' business, an' all that sort o' thing. It's always `time to be off, or `time to think o' this or that, or `we mustn't put off, with you. Why won't ye let us take a breathin' spell once in a way to enjoy ourselves, eh?" The old man pointed to the sun. "You've enjoyed yourself late enough to-day, han't ye?"
The force of the current was so great, however, that not one of the party dared move, and it seemed for a moment as if all of them would be lost, when Bertram rushed forward, and, seizing Bounce by the arm, dragged him still nearer the bank, and relieved the strain upon the others. Just then, Redhand came to the rescue, and in another moment the two men were safe upon the land.
Redhand had no definite object in view when, with the assistance of March Marston, he lifted the canoe and placed it in the stream to ascertain that it was water-tight, and then replaced it on the bank with the paddles close beside it.
"Make your mind easy on that pint," returned Redhand; "we'll talk of it in the mornin'." While the old trapper and the artist were conversing, Bounce had busied himself in stringing the claws of the grisly bear on a strip of deerskin, for the purpose of making a collar. A necklace of this description is very highly prized among Indians, especially when the claws are large.
Redhand pointed to the tree as he spoke, and the others started up with alacrity, for the little touch of romance connected with the incident, combined with their comparatively destitute condition, and their ignorance of what the concealed treasure might be, powerfully stirred their curiosity. Arming themselves with strong staves, they began to dig away the earth at the roots of the poplar.
After a few minutes' hard work, Bounce rose to wipe the perspiration from his brow, and said "Wot for didn't ye tell us o' this before, Redhand?" "Because I wasn't sure the cache might not have bin discovered long ago, and I didn't want to risk disappointin' ye."
At length they took up their pipes, which had been forgotten in the excitement, and refilled them with the intention of having a last quiet whiff before lying down. "Ho!" exclaimed Redhand, who still continued to turn over the pages of the book, "here's a face I know. Where saw ye that Indian?"
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