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

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

  BRINGS THINGS TO A POINT.

  While Tony was being received at the old home, as already related, andMichel Rollin and Winklemann were rescuing their mothers, and IanMacdonald was busy transplanting his father's house, Mr SamuelRavenshaw was sitting disconsolate on the Little Mountain.

  Lest the reader should still harbour a false impression in regard tothat eminence, we repeat that the Little Mountain was not a mountain; itwas 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 mostprominent objects in the scene, because of their noise and glee andmischievous rapidity of action. To them the great floods had beennothing but a splendid holiday. Such camping out, such paddling in manywaters, such games and romps round booths and tents, such chasing ofcattle and pigs and poultry and other live stock, and, above all, suchbonfires! 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 Ravenshawdisconsolate. Seated in the opening of a tent he smoked his pipe, andlooked on at the riotous crew with a tear in each eye, and one, that hadoverflowed, at the point of his nose. The more these children laughedand shouted the more did the old gentleman feel inclined to weep. Therewas one small boy--a half-breed, with piercing black eyes and curlyhair, whose powers of mischief were so great that he was almost equal tothe lost Tony. He did his mischief quietly, and, as it were, withrestrained enthusiasm. For instance, this imp chanced to be passing agroup of Canadian buffalo-hunters seated round one of the camp-firesenjoying a can of tea. One of them raised a pannikin to his lips. Theimp was at his elbow like a flash of light; the elbow was tipped, by themerest accident, and half of the tea went over the hunter's legs. Theawful look of hypocritical self-condemnation put on by the imp was toomuch 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 strongdesire to embrace that boy on the spot, so vividly did he bring beforehis mind his beloved Tony!

  Sometimes the older people in that miscellaneous camp emulated thechildren in riotous behaviour. Of course, in such an assemblage therewere bad as well as good people, and some of the former, takingadvantage of the unprotected state of things, went about the camppilfering where opportunity offered. One of these was at last caught inthe act, and the exasperated people at once proceeded to execute summaryjustice. The thief was a big, strong, sulky-looking fellow. He waswell known as an incorrigible idler, who much preferred to live on thelabours of other men than to work. The captor was Baptiste Warder, thehalf-breed chief who had acted so conspicuous a part in the buffalo huntof the previous season.

  "Let's string him up," cried John Flett, as Warder, grasping the thief'scollar, led him into the middle of the camp.

  But there were two objections to this proceeding. First, it was deemedtoo 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 atas being disproportioned to the offence.

  "Duck him!" cried Sam Hayes.

  This was hailed as a good proposal, though some were of opinion it wastoo gentle. However, it was agreed to, with this addition, that theculprit's capote should be cut to pieces. In order to accomplish thelatter part of the ceremony with more ease, one of the men removed thecapote by the simple process of ripping the back up to the neck, andslitting the sleeves with a scalping-knife. The man here showed adisposition to resist, and began to struggle, but a quiet squeeze fromWarder convinced him that it was useless. He was then seized by fourmen, each of whom, grasping an arm or a leg, carried him down to thewater's edge. They passed Mr Ravenshaw in the opening of his tent. Herose and followed them.

  "Serves him right," said the old gentleman, on hearing who it was, andwhat 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 puta stop to such doings. Now, then, heave together--one, two, three--"

  The four powerful men hurled the thief into the air with vigour. Hewent well up and out, came down with a sounding splash, and disappearedamid shouts of laughter. He rose instantly, and with much splutteringregained the shore, where he was suffered to depart in peace by theexecutioners of the law, who returned quietly to their tents.

  Mr Ravenshaw was left alone, moralising on the depravity of humannature. The sun was setting in a blaze of golden light, and tipping thecalm waters of the flood with lines of liquid fire. Turning from thelovely scene with a sigh, the old trader was about to return to his tentwhen the sound of a voice arrested him. It came from a canoe which hadshot suddenly from a clump of half-submerged trees by which it had beenhitherto concealed.

  As the canoe approached, Mr Ravenshaw ascended a neighbouring mound towatch it. Soon it touched the shore, and three of its occupantslanded--an Indian and two boys. A woman who occupied the bow held thefrail bark steady. The Indian at once strode up towards the camp. Indoing so he had to pass the mound where Mr Ravenshaw was seated on aledge of rock. He looked at the trader, and stopped. At the samemoment the latter recognised Petawanaquat!

  If a mine had been sprung beneath his feet he could not have leaped upwith greater celerity. Then he stood for a moment rooted to the spot asif transformed into stone--with mouth open and eyes glaring.

  To behold his enemy standing thus calmly before him, as if they had onlyparted yesterday and were on the best of terms, with no expression onhis bronzed visage save that of grave solemnity, was almost too much forhim! He grasped convulsively the heavy stick which he usually carried.The thought of the foul wrong done him by the red man rushed into hismemory with overwhelming force. It did not occur to him to remember hisown evil conduct! With a roar of rage worthy of a buffalo bull herushed towards him. The red man stood firm. What the result would havebeen if they had met no one can tell, for at that moment an Indian boyran forward and planted himself right in front of the angry man.

  "Father!"

  Mr Ravenshaw dropped his cudgel and his jaw, and stood aghast! Thepainted 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 themwith 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 overby rubbing his own against it was a sight worth seeing.

  It had been a concerted plan between Tony and Victor that the latter wasto keep a little in the background while the former should advance andperplex his father a little before making himself known, but Tony hadover-estimated his powers of restraint. His heart was too large for sotrifling a part. He acted up to the promptings of nature, as we haveseen, and absolutely howled with joy.

  "Don't choke him, Tony," remonstrated Victor; "mind, you are strongerthan 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 tosay that when Tony had had his face washed and stood forth his old selfin all respects--except that he looked two or three sizes larger, moresunburnt, 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 ofcomposure, which was clearly hypocritical, ordered tea. This was soongot ready, and the joyful party seated themselves round the camp-fire,which now sent its ruddy blaze and towering column of sparks into thedarkening sky.

  Victor was not long in running over the chief outlines of their longchase, and also explained the motives of the red man--as far as heunderstood them--in bringing Tony back.

&nbs
p; "Well, Vic," said Mr Ravenshaw, with a puzzled look, "it's a strangeway of taking his revenge of me. But after all, when I look at himthere, sucking away at his calumet with that pleased, grave face, Ican'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 myopinion of Petawanaquat. Anyhow, his notion of revenge is better thanmine. It must be pleasanter to him now to have made us all so happythan if he had kept Tony altogether, or put a bullet through _me_. It'sa clever dodge, too, for the rascal has laid me under an obligationwhich I can never repay--made me his debtor for life, in fact. It'sperplexing, Vic; very much so, but satisfactory at the same time."

  There were still more perplexing things in store for old SamuelRavenshaw 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 wentin the morning for some pemmican."

  Before Victor had time to reply, Ian himself stepped out of thesurrounding darkness. Just previous to this the party had been joinedby Herr Winklemann and Michel Rollin, who, after seeing their respectivemothers made as comfortable as possible in the circumstances, had beengoing about the camp chatting with their numerous friends. LouisLambert had also joined the circle, and Peegwish stood modestly in thebackground.

  "Come along, Ian, we were just talking of you," said Mr Ravenshawheartily, as he rose and extended his hand, for the disagreeables of hislast meeting with the young man had been obliterated by the subsequentkindness of Ian in going off to aid in the search for Tony.

  Ian returned the grasp with good will, but he soon destroyed the goodunderstanding by deliberately, and it seemed unwisely, referring to thetwo points which still rankled in the old man's breast.

  "Tut, man," said Mr Ravenshaw, a little testily, "why drag in thesubjects 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-daywhich 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 thehousehold to boot, for all that I care."

  "I come here to claim a right," went on Ian, in a calm voice. "It iswell known that Samuel Ravenshaw is a man of his word; that what hepromises he is sure to perform; that he never draws back from anagreement."

  This speech took Mr Ravenshaw by surprise. He looked round until hiseyes 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," saidthe boy.

  At the name Tonyquat, which was the only word of the sentence heunderstood, Petawanaquat cast a look of affection on Tony, while hisfather and the others burst into a laugh at the child's sententiousgravity. But Tony maintained his Indian air, and gazed solemnly at thefire.

  "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. Iwill sell this knoll to your father, and give my daughter to _you_, whenyou take that house, and with your own unaided hands place it on the topof this knoll!'"

  "Well, you have a good memory, Ian. These are the words I used when Iwished to convince you of the impossibility of your obtaining what youwanted," said Mr Ravenshaw, with the determined air of a man who isresolved not to be turned from his purpose.

  "What you wanted to convince me of," rejoined Ian, "has nothing to dowith the question. It is what you _said_ that I have to do with."

  Again the irascible fur-trader's temper gave way as he said--

  "Well, what I said I have said, and what I said I'll stick to."

  "Just so," returned Ian, with a peculiar smile, "and, knowing this, Ihave come here to claim the knoll for my father and Elsie for myself."

  This was such a glaring absurdity in the old gentleman's eyes that heuttered a short contemptuous laugh. At that moment Angus Macdonaldappeared upon the scene. His look of amazement at beholding his son maybe imagined. Angus was not, however, demonstrative.

  He only stepped across the fire, and gave Ian a crushing squeeze of thehand.

  "It iss fery glad to see you I am, my poy, but it is taken py surprise Iam, _whatever_. An' ho!" (as his eyes fell on Tony), "it iss the childyou hef found. Well, it iss a happy father you will pe this night, MrRuvnshaw. I wish you choy. Don't let me stop you, whatever. It wasssomething interesting you would pe telling these chentlemen when I cameup."

  "I was just going to tell them, father," said Ian, resting a hand on hissire's shoulder, "that I have come straight from Willow Creek with thenews that this day I have, with my own unaided hands,"--he cast asidelong glance at the old gentleman--"transported your house to MrRavenshaw's knoll, and have asked Elsie Ravenshaw to be my wife, andbeen accepted."

  "Moreover," continued Ian, in a calm, steady tone, "my father's biggestbarn has, without any assistance from any one, stranded itself on MrRavenshaw's lawn!"

  "Bless me, Ian, iss it jokin' ye are?"

  "No, father. It's in earnest I am."

  Good reader, the aspect of the party--especially of old Ravenshaw andAngus--on hearing these announcements is beyond our powers ofdescription; we therefore prefer to leave it to your own vividimagination.