The Red Man's Revenge: A Tale of The Red River Flood

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  A TERRIBLE DISASTER AND A JOYFUL MEETING.

  We left Ian Macdonald, it will be remembered, far away in the westernwilderness, suffering from the wounds received during his memorable andsuccessful combat with a grizzly bear. These wounds were much moreserious than had at first been supposed, and, despite the carefulnursing of Vic Ravenshaw and Michel Rollin, he grew so weak from loss ofblood that it became evident to all of them that they should have totake up their abode in that wild unpeopled spot for a considerableperiod of time. They therefore planned and built a small log-hut in awood well stocked with game, and on the margin of a little stream wherefish abounded.

  At first Victor resolved to ride to the nearest fort of the fur-tradersand fetch a doctor, or the means of conveying their wounded friend to aplace where better attendance and shelter were to be had, butinsurmountable difficulties lay in the way. There were no doctors inthe land! The nearest abode of civilised man was several hundred milesdistant, and neither he nor Rollin knew the way to any place whatever.They had depended entirely on Ian as a guide, and now that he washelpless, so were they! It would have been difficult for them even tohave found their way back to the Red River Settlement without the aid ofthe scholastic backwoodsman. They were constrained, therefore, to restwhere they were, hoping from day to day that Ian would regain strengthsufficient to bear the fatigue of a journey. Thus the winter slowlyslipped away, and wild-fowl--the harbingers of spring--were beginning toawake the echoes of the northern woods before Ian felt himself strongenough to commence the journey homewards.

  That winter, with all its vicissitudes, hopes, fears, adventures, andpleasures, we must pass over in absolute silence, and re-introduce ourthree friends on the evening of a fine spring day, while riding over asweep of prairie land in the direction of a thick belt of forest.

  "The river must be somewhere hereabouts," said Ian, reining up on aneminence, and gazing earnestly round him.

  "Vas you ever here before?" asked Rollin.

  "Ay, once, but not at this precise spot. I don't quite recognise it. Ihope my long illness has not damaged my memory."

  "If we don't reach the river soon," said Victor, with something ofweariness in his tone, "this poor brute will give in."

  Victor referred to his horse, which had been reduced by some unknowndisease to skin and bone.

  "However, I'm well able to walk," he continued, more cheerfully; "and itcan't be long before we shall fall in with the river, and some Indians,who will sell or lend us a canoe."

  "Ah! my cheval is not much more better dan your von," said Rollin; andhe spoke the truth, for his horse was afflicted with the same diseasethat had attacked that of Victor. Ian's steed, however, was inexcellent condition.

  That night the invalid horses were freed from all their troubles by apack of wolves while their owners were asleep. They had been "hobbled"so carelessly that they had broken loose and strayed far from theencampment. Being weak they fell an easy prey to their sneakingenemies.

  Next day, however, the three friends reached the river of which theywere in search, found a family of Indians there who bartered with them acanoe and some provisions for the remaining horse, and continued theirhomeward journey by water.

  For a time all went well. The river was in high flood, for thesnow-fall there, as elsewhere, had been unusually heavy, but all threewere expert voyageurs, and succeeded in steering past difficulties ofall kinds, until one afternoon, when good fortune seemed to forsake themutterly. They began by running the canoe against a sunk tree, or snag,and were obliged to put ashore to avoid sinking. The damage was,however, easily remedied; and while Ian was busy with the repairs hiscomrades prepared a hot dinner, which meal they usually ate cold in thecanoe. Next they broke a paddle. This was also easily replaced. Afterthat they ventured to run a rapid which almost proved too much for them;it nearly overturned the canoe, and filled it so full of water that theywere compelled to land again, unload, and empty it.

  "Dat is too bad," observed Rollin, with a growl of discontent.

  "It might have been worse," said Ian.

  "Bah!" returned Rollin.

  "Pooh!" ejaculated Victor.

  "Very good," said Ian; "I only hope the truth of my remark mayn't beproved to both of you."

  It has been asserted by the enemies of Ian Macdonald that thecatastrophe which followed was the result of a desire on his part toprove the truth of his own remark, but we acquit him of such baseness.Certain it is, however, that the very next rapid they came to they ranstraight down upon a big stone over which the water was curling in grandfury.

  "Hallo!" shouted Ian, in sudden alarm, dipping his paddle powerfully onthe right.

  "Hi!" yelled Rollin, losing his head and dipping wildly on the sameside--which was wrong.

  "Look out!" roared Victor.

  He might as well have roared "Look in," for any good that could havecome of it. There was a crash; the canoe burst up and doubled down, thebow was hurled high in the air, the rest of it lay out limp, anddisappeared. Rollin went clean over the rock, Victor went round it, andIan, after grasping it for a second, went under it apparently, for, likethe canoe, he disappeared. That rapid treated these voyagers roughly.Of the three, Michel Rollin appeared to suffer most. After sending himround the stone in a rush of foam that caused his arms and legs to goround like a mad windmill, it sucked him down, rubbed his head on theboulders at the bottom, shot him up feet foremost into the air, receivedhim on its raging breast again, spun him round like a teetotum, and, atlast, hurled him almost contemptuously upon a sandbank at its foot.

  Ian and Victor also received a severe buffeting before gaining the samesandbank, where they faced each other in a blaze of surprise and horror!

  Unable to find words to express their feelings, they turnedsimultaneously, and waded in silence from the sandbank to the shore.

  Here a consultation of the most doleful character that can be imaginedwas entered into.

  "Everything lost," said Ian, sitting down on a bank, and wringing thewater out of his garments.

  "Not even a gun saved," said Victor gravely.

  "No, nor von mout'ful of pemmican," cried Rollin, wildly grasping hishair and glaring.

  The poor fellow seemed to his friends to have gone suddenly mad, for theglare of despair turned to a grin of wild amusement, accompanied by astrange laugh, as he pointed straight before him, and became, as itwere, transfixed.

  Turning to look in the direction indicated, they beheld a small Indianboy, absolutely naked, remarkably brown, and gazing at them with a lookof wonder that was never equalled by the most astonished owl known tonatural history.

  Seeing that he was observed, the boy turned and fled like an antelope.Rollin uttered a yell, and bounded away in pursuit. The half-breedcould easily have caught him, but he did not wish to do so. He merelyuttered an appalling shriek now and then to cause the urchin to increasehis speed. The result was that the boy led his pursuer straight to thewigwam of his father, which was just what Rollin wanted. It stood but ashort distance from the scene of the wreck.

  And now, when, to all appearance, they had reached the lowest turn inthe wheel of fortune, they were raised to the highest heights of joy,for the Indian proved to be friendly, supplied them with provisions tocontinue their journey, and gave them a good bow and quiver of arrows ontheir simple promise to reward him if he should visit them at Red Riverin the course of the summer. He had not a canoe to lend them, however.They were therefore constrained to complete their journey over theprairies on foot.

  "You see, I said that things might be worse," said Ian, as they lay ontheir backs beside each other that night after supper, each rolled inhis blanket and gazing complacently at the stars.

  "Yes, but you did not say that they might also be better. Why did notyour prophetic soul enable you to see further and tell of our presentstate of comparative good fortune, Mr Wiseman?" asked Victor with asigh of contentment.

  "I did not prophesy
, Vic; I only talked of what _might_ be."

  "Vat is dat you say? vat _might_ be?" exclaimed Rollin. "Ah! vat _is_is vorse. Here am me, go to bed vidout my smok. Dat is most shockablestate I has yet arrive to."

  "Poor fellows!" said Ian, in a tone of commiseration.

  "You indeed lose everything when you lose that on which your happinessdepends."

  "Bah!" ejaculated Rollin, as he turned his back on his comrades and wentto sleep.

  A feeling of sadness as well as drowsiness came over Victor as he laythere blinking at the stars. The loss of their canoe and all itscontents was but a small matter compared with the failure of theirenterprise, for was he not now returning home, while Tony still remaineda captive with the red man? Ian's thoughts were also tinged withsadness and disappointment on the same account. Nevertheless, heexperienced a slight gleam of comfort as the spirit of slumber stoleover him, for had he not, after all, succeeded in killing a grizzlybear, and was not the magnificent claw collar round his neck at thatvery moment, with one of the claw-points rendering him, so to speak,pleasantly uncomfortable? and would he not soon see Elsie? and--.Thought stopped short at this point, and remained there--or left him--weknow not which.

  Again we venture to skip. Passing over much of that long and toilsomejourney on foot, we resume the thread of our tale at the point when ourthree travellers, emerging suddenly from a clump of wood one day, cameunexpectedly to the margin of an unknown sea!

  "Lak Vinnipeg have busted hisself, an' cover all de vorld," exclaimedRollin, with a look of real alarm at his companions.

  "The Red River has overflowed, and the land is flooded," said Ian, in alow solemn voice.

  "Surely, surely," said Victor, in sudden anxiety, "there must have beenmany houses destroyed, since the water has come so far, but--but,father's house stands high."

  Ian's face wore a troubled look as he replied--

  "Ay, boy, but the water has come more than twelve miles over the plains,for I know this spot well. It must be deep--very deep--at the WillowCreek."

  "Vat shall ye do vidout bot or canoe?"

  Rollin's question was not heeded, for at that moment two canoes wereseen in the distance coming from the direction of Lake Winnipeg. Onewas paddled by an Indian, the other by a squaw and a boy. They madestraight for the spot where our travellers were standing. As they drewnear, Victor hailed them. The boy in the bow of the foremost canoe wasobserved to cease paddling. As he drew nearer, his eyes were seen toblaze, and eager astonishment was depicted on his painted face. Whenthe canoe touched land he leaped of it, and, with a yell that would havedone credit to the wildest redskin in the prairie, rushed at Victor,leaped into his arms, and, shouting "Vic! Vic!" besmeared his face withcharcoal, ochre, vermilion, and kisses!

  To say that Victor was taken by surprise would be feeble language. Ofcourse he prepared for self-defence, at the first furious rush, but theshout of "Vic!" opened his eyes; he not only submitted to be kissed, butreturned the embrace with tenfold interest, and mixed up the charcoal,ochre, and vermilion with his mouth and pose and Tony's tears of joy.

  Oh, it was an amazing sight, the meeting of these brothers. It is hardto say whether the eyes or the mouth of the onlookers opened widest.Petawanaquat was the only one who retained his composure. The eyes ofMeekeye were moistened despite her native stoicism, but her husbandstood erect with a grave sad countenance, and his blanket folded, withhis arms in classic fashion, on his breast. As for Rollin, he became,and remained for some time, a petrifaction of amazement.

  When the first burst was over, Victor turned to Petawanaquat, and as helooked at his stern visage a dark frown settled on his own, and he felta clenching of his fists, as he addressed the Indian in his nativetongue.

  "What made you take him away?" he demanded indignantly.

  "Revenge," answered the red man, with dignified calmness.

  "And what induces you now to bring him back?" asked Victor, in somesurprise.

  "Forgiveness," answered Petawanaquat.

  For a few moments Victor gazed at the calm countenance of the Indian insilent surprise.

  "What do you mean?" he asked, with a puzzled look.

  "Listen," replied the Indian slowly. "Petawanaquat loves revenge. Hehas tasted revenge. It is sweet, but the Indian has discovered a newfountain. The old white father thirsts for his child. Does not thewhite man's Book say, `If your enemy thirst, give him drink?' The redman brings Tonyquat back in order that he may heap coals of fire on theold white father's head. The Great Spirit has taught Petawanaquat thatforgiveness is sweeter than revenge."

  He stopped abruptly. Victor still looked at him with a puzzledexpression.

  "Well," he said, smiling slightly, "I have no doubt that my father willforgive you, now that you have brought back the child."

  A gleam, which seemed to have a touch of scorn in it, shot from theIndian's eye as he rejoined--

  "When Petawanaquat brings back Tonyquat, it is a proof that _he_forgives the old white father."

  This was all that the Indian would condescend to say. The motives whichhad decided him to return good for evil were too hazy and complex forhim clearly to understand, much less explain. He took refuge,therefore, in dignified silence.

  Victor was too happy in the recovery of his brother to push theinvestigation further, or to cherish feelings of ill-will. He thereforewent up to the Indian, and, with a smile of candour on his face, heldout his hand, which the latter grasped and shook, exclaiming "Wat-chee!"under the belief that these words formed an essential part of everywhite man's salutation.

  This matter had barely been settled when a man came out of the woods andapproached them. He was one of the Red River settlers, but personallyunknown to any of them. From him they heard of the condition of thesettlement. Of course they asked many eager questions about their ownkindred after he had mentioned the chief points of the disastrous flood.

  "And what of my father, Samuel Ravenshaw?" asked Victor anxiously.

  "What! the old man at Willow Creek, whose daughter is married toLambert?"

  "Married to Lambert!" exclaimed Ian, turning deadly pale.

  "Ay, or engaged to be, I'm not sure which," replied the man. "Oh, he'sall right. The Willow Creek house stands too high to be washed away.The family still lives in it--in the upper rooms."

  "And Angus Macdonald, what of him?" asked Ian.

  "An' ma mere--my moder, ole Liz Rollin, an' ole Daddy, has you hear ofdem?" demanded Rollin.

  At the mention of old Liz the man's face became grave.

  "Angus Macdonald and his sister," he said, "are well, and with theRavenshaws, I believe, or at the Little Mountain, their house beingconsidered in danger; but old Liz Rollin," he added, turning to theanxious half-breed, "has been carried away with her hut, nobody knowswhere. They say that her old father and the mother of Winklemann havegone along with her."

  Words cannot describe the state of mind into which this informationthrew poor Michel Rollin. He insisted on seizing one of the canoes andsetting off at once. As his companions were equally anxious to reachtheir flooded homes an arrangement was soon come to. Petawanaquat putTony into the middle of his canoe with Victor, while Ian took the bowpaddle. Michel took the steering paddle of the other canoe, and Meekeyeseated herself in the bow.

  Thus they launched out upon the waters of the flood, and, bidding adieuto the settler who had given them such startling information, were soonpaddling might and main in the direction of the settlement.