The keenest ears
could scarcely have distinguished the soft lapping of muffled paddles;
and no one heard the moccasined tread of ambushed Indians
reconnoitring. Seventeen Sioux stepped from their canoes, stole from
cover to cover, and looked out on the unsuspecting sleepers. Then the
Indians as noiselessly slipped back to their canoes to carry word of
the discovery to a band of marauders.
[Illustration: "The soldiers marched out from Mount Royal."]
Something had occurred at Fort St. Charles without M. de la Verendrye's
knowledge. Hilarious with their new possessions of firearms, and
perhaps, also, mad with the brandy of which Father Aulneau had
complained, a few mischievous Crees had fired from the fort on
wandering Sioux of the prairie.
"Who--fire--on--us?" demanded the outraged Sioux.
"The French," laughed the Crees.
The Sioux at once went back to a band of one hundred and thirty
warriors. "Tigers of the plains" the Sioux were called, and now the
tigers' blood was up. They set out to slay the first white man seen.
By chance, he was one Bourassa, coasting by himself. Taking him
captive, they had tied him to burn him, when a slave squaw rushed out,
crying: "What would you do? This Frenchman is a friend of the Sioux!
He saved my life! If you desire to be avenged, go farther on! You
will find a camp of Frenchmen, among whom is the son of the white
chief!"
The _voyageur_ was at once unbound, and scouts scattered to find the
white men.
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