Leaping Squirrel was up early, and when the others awoke they found he had just returned from the forest with a big bundle of young sassafras shoots to make a more comfortable seat for Mary on the improvised sleigh. , As soon as they had made a meagre breakfast of biscuits, they set off along the shore, the two men drawing Mary behind them as they had done the previous evening. When they had been on their way for about an hour, the forest on their left gave way to stony outcrop which soon became a cliff, some thirty feet in height. Having followed it for about two hundred yards, they came upon the entrance to a low cave. The Indian called on Roger to halt and crawled into it. A moment later he gave a cry of delight, and emerged dragging after him a small, birchbark canoe. He had come up-river in it and had hidden it there, but feared that it might have been found and stolen in his absence.
It was just large enough to hold the three of them, with Roger in the stem, his legs apart so that Mary could lie between them and rest against him, while Leaping Squirrel knelt in the prow and steered the little craft by dexterous twists of his paddle.
As they were going with the current, their speed was several times as swift as it had been while dragging Mary on the sleigh and it was infinitely more comfortable for her. During the course of the next three hours they travelled at least thirty miles; but it was dangerous going as, here and there, rocks and shallows had to be avoided, and with the canoe so heavily loaded a single misjudgment in steering by the Indian could have proved disastrous.
Well before midday they left the wide St. Lawrence for a tributary, which made the going very much harder and slower as they went upstream. Leaping Squirrel began to sweat profusely and, from time to time, had to pull into the bank so that he could rest. But after an hour and a half of laborious paddling he had a piece of good fortune.
They came to a cliff from which protruded a small, wooden staging about six feet above the water. On it an Indian, who had climbed down from the cliff top, was fishing for salmon by means of a pole, at the end of which there was what looked like a huge, coarse-string butterfly net. Leaping Squirrel hailed him and they spoke together in their native tongue, then the Indian picked up two fish he had caught, scaled the cliff and disappeared into the forest that fringed it.
Turning back to his companions, Leaping Squirrel said, 'That man is an Onnchataronon; not of Leaping Squirrel's tribe. But, like all tribes north of Great Lakes, we have in Common the Algonquin tongue—while the Five Nations, who live south of lakes, all speak Iroquois tongue. If he is good runner, within two hours he be with Leaping Squirrel's people. For taking message he receive good reward. Help will be sent and, instead of making camp again, before sunset big welcome by great chief Morning Star, Leaping Squirrel's father.'
He then recommenced to paddle, but less strenuously, so that in the next three hours the canoe progressed up stream only a few miles. On rounding a bend in the river they saw coming rapidly toward them a big war canoe. As it approached, they could see that it was manned by twenty warriors; then, when it turned about, that it was made from one huge, hollowed out tree trunk. There were loud, happy shouts of greeting, a rope was thrown to Leaping Squirrel and, towed by the big canoe, the small one was borne upstream at a fine, steady speed.
Later that afternoon the canoes drew in to a landing stage, inland from which was a large clearing in the forest. They had been sighted some way off by a look-out, and his horn blowing had brought scores of braves running from the Indian settlement. At the sight of Leaping Squirrel there were excited whoops of joy. In spite of his tattered garments he made a figure of great dignity as he stepped ashore, and was received by an elderly warrior wearing a mantle of wolf-skins and a head-dress from which rose buffalo horns.
For some moments Leaping Squirrel spoke in his own language to this dignitary, who then welcomed Roger and Mary in French-Canadian patois, and earnestly assured them that his whole tribe was their debtors for having saved the Chiefs son. An Indian carrying-chair, with a comfortable bark seat, was brought and Mary lifted into it; then, with the whole company chattering excitedly, they were escorted to the big village, which was hidden from the landing stage by a grove of chestnut trees, just showing their young green. Through them ran a narrow, twisting path, along which the company, led by Leaping Squirrel, wound its way in a single file.
Beyond the grove lay an open space some two acres in extent. The greater part of it was enclosed by a palisade of stakes, with bands of porcupine quills round them. Backing on to the palisade was a great circle of tepees and wigwams, the former round-roofed, the latter tent-shaped. In the centre of the enclosure there rose a carved and painted totem pole, twenty feet in height with, beside it, a much shorter, uncarved pole painted bright red. Beyond them was a habitation many times larger than any of the others, which Roger knew must be the Longhouse, in which the Chief lived and where councils were held when the weather was inclement.
Leaping Squirrel led his visitors to a tepee which had already been prepared for them. It contained no furniture, except for two big tubs full of fresh water for washing in. It was spotlessly clean and two thick piles of furs and blankets spread on the beaten earth floor promised to serve as comfortable beds. He said that after their fatiguing joumey they needed a few hours' rest, then he would present them to his father. Meanwhile, refreshments would be brought and Mary's ankle would receive attention.
A quarter of an hour after leaving them he returned with several young squaws, some carrying bowls of broth and others of rice mixed with deer meat; others brought flagons of Indian beer and spruce, with handleless cups to drink from. Both the bowls and cups were beautifully carved, and when Roger remarked on this, Leaping Squirrel said that his people were good carvers and spent much of their time in the winter making such articles, and animals or toys for their children, out of yellow pine, walnut and black cherry.
Roger also expressed surprise at there being rice with the deer meat, as he had seen none in New York or on their journey north. 'It is wild rice,' his host told him. 'It grows in the swamps on shores of the Great Lakes. Every season many squaws go there in canoe, gather armfuls of the rice and flail kernels into baskets.'
When the meal was finished and the things cleared away, Leaping Squirrel brought in two very old squaws, who removed the splint from Mary's ankle, carefully examined it, smeared it with a pungent grease, then re-bandaged it. With much salaaming they left the tepee, drawing the curtain of hides that served as the door. Then Roger and Mary dozed for two hours in the semi-darkness.
Twilight was falling when Leaping Squirrel came to them again, followed by two naked 'foreheads' with a carrying-chair, into which Mary was lifted. As they left the tepee, she and Roger saw that the great open space was now occupied by several hundred people.
Furthest from the centre there stood long lines of squaws wearing gaily-coloured blankets, and forehead bands of bright beads which kept in place their long, dark hair, parted in the centre and falling to the shoulders. Nearer in there squatted semi-circles of braves, dressed in a variety of fringed garments made from the skins of animals and decorated with tufts of bright feathers, bear claws, opossum and beaver tails. Some wore necklaces of shells, others of intricately-carved wooden beads or semiprecious stones. Their headbands were of painted leather, from the scalp lock of each dangled a single, scarlet feather, and their expressionless faces were daubed with circles and lines of red, yellow and black paint.
Facing them, in a single semi-circle, sat the elders of the tribe. Their garments were richer; ermine and sable, with belts of wampum, and they wore necklaces of stone beads as large as pigeon eggs. All of them, with one exception, wore head-dresses of eagle feathers reaching to their shoulders. The exception was Leaping Squirrel's father, Morning Star, who sat in the centre with his back to the totem pole. His head-dress fell on either side of his lined face, right to the ground, and his robe was made of supple skin, from which all the hair had been removed so that hieroglyphics representing his deeds of valour could be painted on it. He was wearing a number of medals presented to him by Governors of Canada for the assistance he had given the British. His leggings were of snake skin and he wore heavy bracelets and anklets of gold.