GANAWA SPEAKS
Bruce Henley knew enough of Indian etiquette to realize that his friend
and Indian father would not ask him why he and the boy had come to the
Indian country, and what their plans were for the future. He also
realized that he must tell Ganawa the whole story.
A few days later, when he and Ray were alone in the tepee with Ganawa,
Bruce unburdened his mind to the Chippewa hunter, who was now looked
upon by the Indians as the father and protector of the two Americans
who had for some mysterious reasons come to the region of the Upper
Great Lake.
“My father,” he began, “I must now tell you why your white sons have
come to the Chippewa country. We know that the Chippewas and the
Ottawas still love the French better than the English. We know that
many Americans, or Englishmen, as the Indians call them, lost their
lives at Mackinac twelve years ago, but we had a very good reason for
coming to your country, although we knew that we might meet many
dangers.”
“The English are brave men,” replied Ganawa. “I know that at that time
an Englishman, whom the whites called Alexander Henry, came to Mackinac
and to the Sault, and that our brother Wawatam adopted him as his son
and saved his life. He is a very brave man; he has now left my people
and has gone to trade with the Indians who live far to the west of us
in the buffalo country. But I will now listen to my son, so I may learn
why he and his little brother have come to our country. You have not
come to trade because you have not brought many goods like the brave
Englishman.”
“I shall truthfully tell my father why we have come,” Bruce then
resumed. “It is now about four years ago that my boyhood friend, Jack
Dutton, went to the country of the Big Lake to trade and to trap beaver
and marten. I wanted to go with him, but I had a mother and a sister
for whom I had to make a home. My sister is now married to a good man,
and my mother lives with her, and I was free to leave the colony of
Vermont, where my white friends are living.”
“My son, I hear your words,” Ganawa replied, when Bruce was silent. “If
you will tell me where your white brother is trading and hunting, it
may be that I can lead you to him, unless he is living in the country
of our enemies, the Sioux.”
“My father,” Bruce took up the story, “I cannot tell you where my
friend is living. After he had been gone a year, he sent me a letter
through some traders, saying that next summer he would look for me at
Mackinac or at the Big Rapids that run out of the Big Lake. He said in
his letter that I should not start till he wrote again, but he has
never written again. Now, my father, I have told you all I know of my
friend.
“I fear,” Bruce continued when Ganawa did not speak, “that some evil
thing has come to my friend. Perhaps he is sick and cannot travel.
Perhaps he is held as a captive among the Indians, or he may have lost
his life in the woods or in a storm on the Big Lake. Perhaps some bad
white man or Indian has robbed and killed him.”
“My son,” Ganawa took up the talk, “you have not told me much. Was your
brother tall, did he have brown hair, and did he walk with a long
step?”
“Yes, my father,” Bruce warmly assented, “such was my friend. A tall
man, thick brown hair, and he walks with a long stride.”
“I have seen your brother,” Ganawa declared. “But you, my sons, should
have looked for him on the island of Mackinac, where many Indians and
traders assemble every spring. But Mackinac is in the Lake of the
Hurons, more than a hundred miles by water from our camp.”
“My father,” replied Bruce eagerly, “we did visit Mackinac before we
came to your camp, and he was not there. We talked to Indians and white
traders, but none of them knew him or had seen him either this spring
or last spring. A trader told us to travel to your camp on the lake
through which runs the cold river between the Big Lake and the Lake of
the Hurons. We travelled to your camp, you have become our father, and
now we pray you that you tell us when and where you saw our brother.”
“I saw your brother at the Great Sault at the time of the strawberry
moon. It was twelve or more moons ago. He had with him a Canadian, and
Hamogeesik and his friends tried to rob him of his goods. But your
brother showed a bold heart. He talked to the Indians while he was
leaning on his gun and in his belt he showed two pistols and a
hunting-knife. He told them if harm came to him and his men and if his
goods were taken from him, the English soldiers at Mackinac would hear
of it and would punish the guilty. He did not say with words that he
would fight for his goods, but he told them with his eyes that he and
his man would fight. Hamogeesik is a coward and he and his friends
slunk away like dogs.
“During the night the moon stood south of the Big Lake and when a
gentle wind sprang up from the east, your brother put all his goods in
his boat and he and his man sailed away.
“When the sun rose and the Indians learned that your brother had sailed
away, they laughed at Hamogeesik and said: ‘Hamogeesik, you are a fool,
but the white trader is wise and brave,’ and they gave him a new Indian
name, which means the Brave White Man. Now I have told you all I know
of your brother, but to what part or to which bay or island of the Big
Lake your brother and his man sailed away I cannot tell you.”