“Mes enfans,” said Jacob, “I have been turning over in my mind about your sister, and have come to the resolution of going up the river alone without any one to accompany me. I know the Indians; they are a suspicious people, they deal much in stratagems, and they are apt to expect treachery in others. Perhaps they have had some reason; for the white men have not always kept good faith with them, which I take to be the greater shame, as they have God’s laws to guide and teach them to be true and just in their dealing, which the poor benighted heathen have not, the more’s the pity. Now, d’ye see, if the Indians see two stout lads with me, they will say to themselves, there may be more left behind, skulking in ambush. So, boys, I go to the camp alone; and, God willing, I will bring back your sister, or die in the attempt. I shall not go single-handed; see, I have here scarlet-cloth, beads, and powder and shot. I carry no firewater; it is a sin and a shame to tempt these poor wretches to their own destruction; it makes fiends of them at once.”
It was to no purpose that Hector and Louis passionately besought old Jacob to let them share the dangers of the expedition; the old man was firm, and would not be moved from his purpose.
“Look you, boys,” he said, “if I do not return by the beginning of the rice harvest, you may suppose that evil has befallen me and the girl; then I would advise you to take care for your own safety, for if they do not respect my grey head, neither will they spare your young ones. In such case, make yourselves a good canoe--a dug-out _[FN: Log canoe.]_ will do--and go down the lake till you are stopped by the rapids; _[FN: Crook’s Rapids.]_ make a portage there; but as your craft is too weighty to carry far, e’en leave her and chop out another, and go down to the Falls; _[FN: Heeley’s Falls, on the Trent.]_ then, if you do not like to be at any further trouble, you may make out your journey to the Bay _[FN: Bay Quinte.]_ on foot, coasting along the river; there you will fall in with settlers who know old Jacob Morelle--aye, and your two fathers--and they will put you in the way of returning home. If I were to try ever so to put you on the old Indian trail in the woods, though I know it myself right well, you might be lost, and maybe never return home again. I leave my traps and my rifle with you; I shall not need them: if I come back I may claim the things; if not, they are yours. So now I have said my say, had my _talk_, as the Indians say. Farewell. But first let us pray to Him who alone can bring this matter to a safe issue.” And the old man devoutly kneeled down, and prayed for a blessing on his voyage and on those he was leaving; and then hastened down to the beach, and the boys, with full hearts, watched the canoe till it was lost to their sight on the wide waters of the lake.