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 gra.s.s, his first excitement having pa.s.sed 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 hors.e.m.e.n, 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 pa.s.sionate 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 pa.s.s 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.

At Pembina, they were well received by the residents, who seemed glad to have such an addition to their numbers, and, with their aid and advice, they at once set about getting ready the huts or tents that would be their only homes for many months to come. With all who could help lending a hand, these simple habitations did not take long to put up, and in the course of a few days, each family had their own little dwelling, such as it was, and the whole party felt in better spirits than they had done for many a day.

Mr. Macrae's hut was one of the best of the little group. Taking the Highland cottage as his model, he constructed out of sods, wood, and canvas, the latter serving for the roof, a really snug affair with a 'b.u.t.t' and a 'ben,' that gave him much satisfaction, and of which Hector was immensely proud, as it was the only 'residence' in the camp having two rooms.

Shelter having thus been secured, the next thing to be taken into account was the food question. Happily the answer to this lay right around them. The country was rich in game. From the frisky rabbit to the lordly buffalo, the prairie or the woods offered the hunter rich reward for his skill and patience.

To Hector's vast delight, his father bought a gun for him as well as for himself.

'Ye're a big laddie now,' said Mr. Macrae, his grave features lighting up with a rare smile of love and pride, as he watched the boy fondling the firearm as a mother would her baby, 'and it is right you should learn to use the gun. Be verra careful with it, laddie, and dinna forget that powder and bullets are very scarce, and maun na be wasted.'

Hector, of course, promised to be as economical as possible of ammunition, and, having thanked his father over and over again, rushed off to show his gun to the other boys in the party.

Naturally his first essay as a hunter was against the rabbits, that were quite plentiful in the clumps of trees which were a feature of the country. With Dour and Dandy bounding and barking beside him, and a young half-breed with whom he had picked up an acquaintance as his companion, he set off very proudly and confidently. Baptiste had promised to guide him to the best places for the bunnies, and Hector said confidently to his mother, as, with no small anxiety in her eye and voice, she was warning him to be careful in handling the gun: 'To be sure, mither, to be sure; I'll take the best o' care o' myself and the gun, and, mither, I'll bring ye back as many rabbits as I can carry.'

It was a boyish boast, for he had yet to shoot his first rabbit; but Hector had that happy quality, 'a gude conceit of himself,' and it was a great help to him in life.

Reaching the woods, the dogs, with the fine intelligence of their n.o.ble race, ceased bounding and barking aimlessly, and, with lowered heads, ran silently hither and thither seeking for game. They were not long in picking up a brace of bunnies that gave a fine chance for a shot ere they leaped away out of range.

'Shoot 'em--queek!' cried Baptiste excitedly.

Hector threw the gun to his shoulder with all speed, and pulled the trigger without stopping to take aim. Naturally the charge of shot buried itself harmlessly in the side of a tree, and the panic-stricken rabbits vanished unhurt.

'Bah!' cried Hector, in disgust at his miserable markmanship. 'I did na touch them! Eh, Baptiste, but they're awfu' smart!'

Baptiste, considerately doing his best to smother a smile, nodded in a.s.sent and muttered something about trying again.

Another chance soon came, but Hector had no better luck, and he began to realize that shooting the long-eared, long-legged little creatures was not so easy as he had at first imagined. Having failed for the third time, he handed the gun, in disgust, to the half-breed, saying: 'Here, Baptiste, you try.'

Baptiste eagerly seized the fire-arm, and the next rabbit that was started he tumbled over neatly. Another and another was shot in quick succession, and then, returning the gun with a grateful smile, Baptiste said: 'Now you shoot.'

Hector's next attempt, happily, was not a miss, and encouraged by this, he kept on with varying success, until, between him and Baptiste, nearly a dozen rabbits had been bowled over. Then, satisfied with their bag, they hastened homeward to proudly exhibit the results of their day's hunting.

'Weel done, laddie, weel done!' exclaimed Mrs. Macrae, patting Hector fondly. 'Ye'll be getting us mony a gude dinner, I'm thinking.'

CHAPTER IX

The Buffalo Hunt

Soon after the arrival of the Selkirk settlers at Pembina, the people of the place set about preparing for the great fall buffalo hunt, and they cordially invited the Scots to join them.

The latter accepted the kind invitation eagerly, and all the men who had a little money to spare purchased guns and ammunition from the store-keepers.

For days the settlement and the Scotch camp were full of bustle.

Ponies had to be provided for all the hunters, provisions prepared, as they would be away probably for ten days or so, and a number of other things attended to.

Mr. Macrae, having decided to go himself, at first wanted Hector to remain behind with his mother, but the boy pleaded so earnestly to be taken, and the loving, self-sacrificing mother, though she dreaded some mishap, so warmly supported his plea, that, to his abounding joy, his father consented.

It was an odd-looking cavalcade that set forth from Pembina on a bright, bracing October morning. The Scotsmen looked very awkward as, mounted upon Indian ponies, some of which were so small that the long legs of the riders almost touched the ground, they strove to carry their guns and keep their seats with some sort of dignity.

The Pembina folk, whether white or half-breed, were all good riders, and, having taken the pick of the ponies, as was only natural, looked remarkably well, while half-a-score Indians who were to act as guides galloped hither and thither, whooping and brandishing their guns by way of showing off.

Hector was delighted with the pony that fell to him, a st.u.r.dy, piebald creature, in quite good condition and full of life, but not at all vicious. No knight of old sallying forth in full armour could have felt prouder than did the Scotch laddie, as, with Dour and Dandy barking and pretending to bite the pony's nose, he took his place in the motley procession.

'Eh, father, but isn't this just grand!' he cried, enthusiastically, as he cantered beside his father, whose stalwart frame looked bigger than ever as he rode solemnly upon a steed that, a.s.suredly, had never carried so weighty a rider before. 'See what a fine horse I have, and he's that good, too! Oh, but I hope we'll be sure to find the buffalo!'

'Ye need na fash yersel', laddie,' responded Mr. Macrae, with one of his wise, kind smiles. 'Ye'll have plenty of riding upon your little horse, and we're likely enough to find the buffalo, for these folk ken just where to look for them. So be patient an' ye'll have your desire.'

They travelled for two days due west, and then made camp on a lovely spot beside a clear flowing stream, where a clump of trees afforded them both shade and firewood. Farther west stretched the prairie where roamed the n.o.ble animal of whom they were in quest.

Soon after dawn the next morning the whole camp was astir, and after a hurried meal everybody got ready for the day's business. The weather was all that could be wished, and spirits ran high.

'Ye'll keep as near to me as ye can, eh, laddie?' said Mr. Macrae to Hector. 'There'll be mony ways o' getting hurt, e'en though ye may be careful.'

'Yes, father, I'll try,' answered Hector promptly, but in his heart he felt that once the chase really began his speedy pony, with only his light weight to carry, must soon run away from the scarcely larger animal that had his father's two hundred pounds upon his back.

A veteran hunter, nick-named Buffalo Carter, took entire charge of the hunt, and under his short, sharp commands the party was divided up, and sent off in different directions.

There were six in the party to which Mr. Macrae and Hector were a.s.signed, and their captain--so to speak--was a shrewd, good-humoured half-breed, Narcisse by name, who had killed many score of buffalo in the course of his career. He had taken a liking to Hector, and he greatly admired Dour and Dandy, who, having vented their superfluous spirits, were now trotting quietly along beside Hector's pony, and he said to him in a sort of aside: 'You keep close to me, eh! _mon pet.i.t ami_. Kill big buffalo for sure, eh!'

Hector responded with a grateful smile. 'I will that if I can, but your fine horse will likely run away from my pony.'