While Tony was being received at the old home, as already related, and
Michel Rollin and Winklemann were rescuing their mothers, and Ian
Macdonald was busy transplanting his father's house, Mr Samuel
Ravenshaw was sitting disconsolate on the Little Mountain.
Lest the reader should still harbour a false impression in regard to
that eminence, we repeat that the Little Mountain was not a mountain; it
was not even a hill. It was merely a gentle elevation of the prairie,
only recognisable as a height because of the surrounding flatness.
Among the settlers encamped on this spot the children were the most
prominent objects in the scene, because of their noise and glee and
mischievous rapidity of action. To them the great floods had been
nothing but a splendid holiday. Such camping out, such paddling in many
waters, such games and romps round booths and tents, such chasing of
cattle and pigs and poultry and other live stock, and, above all, such
bonfires! It was a glorious time! No lessons, no being looked after,
no restraint of any kind. Oh! it _was_ such fun!
It was the sight of this juvenile glee that made Mr Ravenshaw
disconsolate. Seated in the opening of a tent he smoked his pipe, and
looked on at the riotous crew with a tear in each eye, and one, that had
overflowed, at the point of his nose. The more these children laughed
and shouted the more did the old gentleman feel inclined to weep. There
was one small boy--a half-breed, with piercing black eyes and curly
hair, whose powers of mischief were so great that he was almost equal to
the lost Tony. He did his mischief quietly, and, as it were, with
restrained enthusiasm. For instance, this imp chanced to be passing a
group of Canadian buffalo-hunters seated round one of the camp-fires
enjoying a can of tea. One of them raised a pannikin to his lips. The
imp was at his elbow like a flash of light; the elbow was tipped, by the
merest accident, and half of the tea went over the hunter's legs. The
awful look of hypocritical self-condemnation put on by the imp was too
much for the hunter, who merely laughed, and told him to "get along"
which he did with a yell of triumph. Old Mr Ravenshaw felt a strong
desire to embrace that boy on the spot, so vividly did he bring before
his mind his beloved Tony!
Sometimes the older people in that miscellaneous camp emulated the
children in riotous behaviour. Of course, in such an assemblage there
were bad as well as good people, and some of the former, taking
advantage of the unprotected state of things, went about the camp
pilfering where opportunity offered. One of these was at last caught in
the act, and the exasperated people at once proceeded to execute summary
justice. The thief was a big, strong, sulky-looking fellow. He was
well known as an incorrigible idler, who much preferred to live on the
labours of other men than to work. The captor was Baptiste Warder, the
half-breed chief who had acted so conspicuous a part in the buffalo hunt
of the previous season.
"Let's string him up," cried John Flett, as Warder, grasping the thief's
collar, led him into the middle of the camp.
But there were two objections to this proceeding. First, it was deemed
too severe for the offence, and, second, there was not a tree or a post,
or any convenient object, whereon to hang him.
"Roast him alive!" suggested David Mowat, but this also was laughed at
as being disproportioned to the offence.
"Duck him!" cried Sam Hayes.
This was hailed as a good proposal, though some were of opinion it was
too gentle. However, it was agreed to, with this addition, that the
culprit's capote should be cut to pieces. In order to accomplish the
latter part of the ceremony with more ease, one of the men removed the
capote by the simple process of ripping the back up to the neck, and
slitting the sleeves with a scalping-knife. The man here showed a
disposition to resist, and began to struggle, but a quiet squeeze from
Warder convinced him that it was useless. He was then seized by four
men, each of whom, grasping an arm or a leg, carried him down to the
water's edge. They passed Mr Ravenshaw in the opening of his tent. He
rose and followed them.
"Serves him right," said the old gentleman, on hearing who it was, and
what he had done.
"Ay, he's done worse than that," said one of the men who carried him.
"It's only last Sunday that he stole a blanket out of old Renton's tent,
and that, too, when Mr Cockran was holding service here; but we'll put
a stop to such doings. Now, then, heave together--one, two, three--"
The four powerful men hurled the thief into the air with vigour. He
went well up and out, came down with a sounding splash, and disappeared
amid shouts of laughter. He rose instantly, and with much spluttering
regained the shore, where he was suffered to depart in peace by the
executioners of the law, who returned quietly to their tents.
Mr Ravenshaw was left alone, moralising on the depravity of human
nature. The sun was setting in a blaze of golden light, and tipping the
calm waters of the flood with lines of liquid fire. Turning from the
lovely scene with a sigh, the old trader was about to return to his tent
when the sound of a voice arrested him. It came from a canoe which had
shot suddenly from a clump of half-submerged trees by which it had been
hitherto concealed.
As the canoe approached, Mr Ravenshaw ascended a neighbouring mound to
watch it. Soon it touched the shore, and three of its occupants
landed--an Indian and two boys. A woman who occupied the bow held the
frail bark steady. The Indian at once strode up towards the camp. 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.
To behold his enemy standing thus calmly before him, as if they had only
parted yesterday and were on the best of terms, with no expression on
his bronzed visage save that of grave solemnity, was almost too much for
him! He grasped convulsively the heavy stick which he usually carried.
The thought of the foul wrong done him by the red man rushed into his
memory with overwhelming force. It did not occur to him to remember his
own evil conduct! With a roar of rage worthy of a buffalo bull he
rushed towards him. The red man stood firm. What the result would have
been if they had met no one can tell, for at that moment an Indian boy
ran forward and planted himself right in front of the angry man.
"Father!"
Mr Ravenshaw dropped his cudgel and his jaw, and stood aghast! The
painted face was that of a savage, but the voice was the voice of Tony!
The old man shut his mouth and opened his arms. Tony sprang into them
with a wild cheer that ended in a burst of joyful tears!
The way in which that boy hugged his sire and painted his face all over
by rubbing his own against it was a sight worth seeing.
It had been a concerted plan between Tony and Victor that the latter was
to keep a little in the background while the former should advance and
perplex his father a little before making himself known, but Tony had
over-estimated his powers of restraint. His heart was too large for so
trifling a part. He acted up to the promptings of nature, as we have
seen, and absolutely howled with joy.
"Don't choke him, Tony," remonstrated Victor; "mind, you are stronger
than you used to be."
"Ha! Choke me?" gasped Mr Ravenshaw; "try it, my boy; just try it!"
Tony did try it. But we must not prolong this scene. It is enough to
say that when Tony had had his face washed and stood forth his old self
in all respects--except that he looked two or three sizes larger, more
sunburnt, and more manly--his father quietly betook himself to his tent,
and remained there for a time in solitude.
Thereafter he came out, and assuming a free-and-easy, off-hand look of
composure, which was clearly hypocritical, ordered tea. This was soon
got ready, and the joyful party seated themselves round the camp-fire,
which now sent its ruddy blaze and towering column of sparks into the
darkening sky.
Victor was not long in running over the chief outlines of their long
chase, and also explained the motives of the red man--as far as he
understood them--in bringing Tony back.
"Well, Vic," said Mr Ravenshaw, with a puzzled look, "it's a strange
way of taking his revenge of me. But after all, when I look at him
there, sucking away at his calumet with that pleased, grave face, I
can't help thinkin' that you and I, Christians though we call ourselves,
have something to learn from the savage. I've been mistaken, Vic, in my
opinion of Petawanaquat. Anyhow, his notion of revenge is better than
mine. It must be pleasanter to him now to have made us all so happy
than if he had kept Tony altogether, or put a bullet through _me_. It's
a clever dodge, too, for the rascal has laid me under an obligation
which I can never repay--made me his debtor for life, in fact. It's
perplexing, Vic; very much so, but satisfactory at the same time."
There were still more perplexing things in store for old Samuel
Ravenshaw that night.
"But why did you not bring Ian Macdonald along with you, Vic?" he asked.
"I expect his father here this evening from Fort Garry, where he went
in the morning for some pemmican."
Before Victor had time to reply, Ian himself stepped out of the
surrounding darkness. Just previous to this the party had been joined
by Herr Winklemann and Michel Rollin, who, after seeing their respective
mothers made as comfortable as possible in the circumstances, had been
going about the camp chatting with their numerous friends. Louis
Lambert had also joined the circle, and Peegwish stood modestly in the
background.
"Come along, Ian, we were just talking of you," said Mr Ravenshaw
heartily, as he rose and extended his hand, for the disagreeables of his
last meeting with the young man had been obliterated by the subsequent
kindness of Ian in going off to aid in the search for Tony.
Ian returned the grasp with good will, but he soon destroyed the good
understanding by deliberately, and it seemed unwisely, referring to the
two points which still rankled in the old man's breast.
"Tut, man," said Mr Ravenshaw, a little testily, "why drag in the
subjects of the knoll and my Elsie to-night, of all nights in the year?"
"Because I cannot avoid it," said Ian. "Events have occurred to-day
which compel me to speak of them--of the knoll, at least."
"Oh, for the matter of that," interrupted the old gentleman angrily,
"you may speak of Elsie too, and the old woman, and Cora, and all the
household to boot, for all that I care."
"I come here to claim a right," went on Ian, in a calm voice. "It is
well known that Samuel Ravenshaw is a man of his word; that what he
promises he is sure to perform; that he never draws back from an
agreement."
This speech took Mr Ravenshaw by surprise. He looked round until his
eyes rested on Tony. Then he said, in a slightly sarcastic tone--
"What you say is true. Even Tony knows that."
"Tonyquat knows that what Ian says of his white father is true," said
the boy.
At the name Tonyquat, which was the only word of the sentence he
understood, Petawanaquat cast a look of affection on Tony, while his
father and the others burst into a laugh at the child's sententious
gravity. But Tony maintained his Indian air, and gazed solemnly at the
fire.
"Well, go on, Ian," said the old gentleman, in somewhat better humour.
"You remember our last meeting in the smoking-box on the knoll?"
continued Ian.
"Too well," said the other, shortly.
"Part of what you said was in the following words: `Mark what I say. I
will sell this knoll to your father, and give my daughter to _you_, when
you take that house, and with your own unaided hands place it on the top
of this knoll!'"
"Well, you have a good memory, Ian. These are the words I used when I
wished to convince you of the impossibility of your obtaining what you
wanted," said Mr Ravenshaw, with the determined air of a man who is
resolved not to be turned from his purpose.
"What you wanted to convince me of," rejoined Ian, "has nothing to do
with the question. It is what you _said_ that I have to do with."