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"I should think it was," retorted Victor; "the sun is already up, and you may be sure that Petawanaquat has tramped some miles this morning. Come, Peegwish, close your eyes a bit for fear they jump out. What have you got to give us, eh? Robbiboo, ducks, and no, is it tea? Well, we are in luck to have fallen in with you."
"What a noisy goose you are!" said Victor, on learning the cause of the cry. "There is reason for haste, however," said Ian, rising from a close inspection of the trail. "Some one has been here in the night watching us. Why he didn't join us if a friend, or kill us if an enemy, puzzles me. If there were horse-tracks about I should say it must have been Petawanaquat himself.
In doing so he had to pass the mound where Mr Ravenshaw was seated on a ledge of rock. He looked at the trader, and stopped. At the same moment the latter recognised Petawanaquat! If a mine had been sprung beneath his feet he could not have leaped up with greater celerity. Then he stood for a moment rooted to the spot as if transformed into stone with mouth open and eyes glaring.
And he was right. His labour had not been in vain, though it was not given to him at that time to see the fruit thereof. We have said that Petawanaquat had smoked and pondered deeply in the evenings that winter over his wigwam fire.
But the pursuers were too experienced to be thrown off the scent by such a well-known device as walking up stream in the water. They followed the brook until they came to the place where Petawanaquat had once more betaken himself to dry land.
"Ho, look here!" exclaimed Tony, fitting a blunt arrow to the string, and pointing up at a tree, among the branches of which sat a bird resembling a grey hen in size and colour. Petawanaquat stopped, let the butt of his gun fall to the ground, rested his hands on the muzzle, and smiled approval. The arrow flew, hit the bird on its astonished eye, and brought it down. "Good!
"Revenge," answered the red man, with dignified calmness. "And what induces you now to bring him back?" asked Victor, in some surprise. "Forgiveness," answered Petawanaquat. For a few moments Victor gazed at the calm countenance of the Indian in silent surprise. "What do you mean?" he asked, with a puzzled look. "Listen," replied the Indian slowly. "Petawanaquat loves revenge.
In this sequestered spot Petawanaquat could, by turning to the right hand, seek the rugged haunts of the grizzly near and the Rocky Mountain goat; or, by turning to the left, ride after the buffalo on his own undulating plains.
Having observed the child's habits, Petawanaquat paddled his canoe to the same point and hid it and himself among the overhanging bushes of the creek. In the course of his gambols Tony approached the place. One stroke of the paddle sent the light birch-bark canoe like an arrow across the stream. The Indian sprang on shore.
Here the trail diverged for a considerable distance southward, and then turned sharply to the west, in which direction it went in a straight line for many miles, as if Petawanaquat had made up his mind to cross the Rocky Mountains, and throw poor Tony into the Pacific!
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