Ti-ti-pu: a Boy of Red River
Copyright© 2024 by J. Macdonald Oxley
Chapter 8: On the Move Again
The procession that set forth for Pembina certainly presented a curious sight. It might have been intended to represent the triumph of savagery over civilization.
Decked out in their gayest garb, fully armed, and mounted upon spirited horses, the Indians pranced about in lordly style, giving orders to the unfortunate folk from over sea, who, although they were really so much superior to them, for the time being were completely in their power.
Mr. Macrae had succeeded in making an arrangement with the Indians that they should carry the young children upon their horses, for, of course, it would be out of the question for the little ones to walk, and this gave the riders the chance to have a good deal of amusement at the expense of the mothers of the children.
No sooner had the strange cavalcade got well under way than the rascals galloped off ahead, and were presently out of sight on the boundless prairie, while the bewildered, anxious mothers ran crying and pleading after them, until they fell exhausted upon the turf.
Ailie Macrae was among those thus carried off, and Hector pursued the Indian who held her until even his stout legs could not take another stride, while Dour and Dandy, barking fiercely, continued the chase a mile or two farther.
But, as he lay panting upon the grass, his first excitement having passed away, he began to reason the theory out. ‘That’s just a trick they’re playing on us,’ he said to himself. ‘They’ll bring the bairns back nae doot, but it’s a mean trick, and I’ll tell them so.’
And the boy was as good as his word. When the horsemen, having had their fun, came back to those on foot, with the children unharmed, and in most cases having greatly enjoyed the wild gallop, Hector made straight for his new friend, Wikonaie, and with high-pitched voice and vigorous gesture, made plain to him what he thought of the performance.
Wikonaie smiled at his passionate earnestness, and took no offence at his fearless scolding. ‘You talk big words,’ he said, in a tone of good-humoured admiration. ‘You be big chief some day. Me like you.’ This soft answer completely turned away Hector’s wrath, and, in spite of himself, a smile took possession of his flushed features.
‘Ha! Ha! Wikonaie,’ he cried, ‘ye’re a canny chiel. Ye ken right well how to get out of it.’
And so the matter ended between them, but it was a noticeable fact that, although some of the other Indians repeated the foolish trick, Wikonaie took no further part in it, and that henceforth it was little Ailie that rode upon his saddle, and was so happy there that she was always sorry when she had to dismount.
The procession could make but slow progress. The settlers were no less heavy of foot than of heart, and both women and men alike had to carry, up to the limit of their strength, such of their belongings as they could not possibly part with. Moreover, their English-made boots were not at all the right thing, and their poor feet swelled out and blistered inside them, until some could scarcely stand upright.
How they envied the Indians their soft moccasins, and how they vowed to themselves that they would put off their clumsy, uncomfortable boots for them at the first opportunity!
So they struggled on over the prairie, the weather, fortunately, continuing fine and warm, so that they could sleep in the open air at night without inconvenience. At last footsore, weary, and sad of heart, they reached their destination.—Pembina, a frontier settlement of the United States, where they were now to pass the long, cold winter.
Hector was rather sorry when the journey came to an end, tiresome as it was to his seniors. They went so slowly that he had plenty of time to roam at his will, and never without the company of Dour and Dandy. He would make excursions to the right and left of the line of march, and generally manage to find plenty to amuse and interest him.
‘Eh! but ye’re grand friends to have!’ he would cry to his faithful four-legged playmates after a wild scamper over the prairie, which set all three of them panting. ‘Ye ken as much as most ordinary folk, and ye can run faster and farther than the best man that ever lived. Indeed, I just wish I could run about half as fast myself. It would be a fine thing to be able to do,’ and then he would take their hairy heads between his hands, and rub his own face fondly between them.
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