At first, Mr. Macrae refused to credit his own intelligence. The idea was too appalling, and in his slow, deliberate way he made the Indian leader repeat and reiterate his sinister communication.

Then, calling aside the seniors of his party, who had all been watching the parley with intent, anxious faces, he told them the startling truth.

Naturally enough, they likewise were at the outset incredulous, and stirred to righteous wrath. What had this howling mob of painted and befeathered Indians to do with them? They were not the lords of the land now, whatever they might have been before the coming of the white man. Lord Selkirk was the rightful owner of the broad, rich acres to which they had made so painful a pilgrimage, and they, the settlers, were the possessors in his name. Not one step would they budge. They had come to stay.

All this, and more, Mr. Macrae repeated to the Indian leader with the utmost emphasis, but he might as well have spared his breath.

‘Non no non!’ the fellow responded in his hybrid jargon. ’Must go way. No stay here. No food, no fire, no tepee. Go way down there,’ and he pointed due south.

While this parley was proceeding, the other members of his party had been quietly forming a circle about the band of settlers, drawing steadily closer until they were almost within touch of them. As it happened, little Ailie, her first fright having passed off, grew interested in the gay trappings of the Indians, and, ere her mother noticed, sidled towards one of them, in order to touch the feathers that adorned his leggings.

She was just beside his stirrup, when, with a quick movement, he reached down, grasped her under the arms, and swung her up before him, saying, in what was meant to be a soothing tone:

‘Ma jolie petite. You like ride eh?’ Ailie gave a scream of terror, that reached the ears of her mother and Hector at the same moment. The former stood transfixed, but Hector, whose position was somewhat behind the Indian, with the spring of a panther reached the pony’s withers, and the next moment had the Indian’s throat tightly clasped in his strong young hand.

The pony, frightened by the sudden addition of a second rider, at once began to buck and rear, so that even its expert owner could hardly retain his seat, doubly hampered as he was, holding Ailie, and being held by Hector.

Noting his predicament, his companions closed in upon him to give him help, and just at that moment Mrs. Macrae, her comely countenance aflame with maternal anger, darted into their midst, and reaching up, caught Ailie in her arms, crying: ‘Ma bonnie bairn! Are ye hurt?’ The Indian let go his burden readily enough, and turned to attack Hector.

But the latter was too quick for him. He had seen his mother’s action, and the instant Ailie was safely in her arms, he let go of the Indian’s throat, and threw himself to the ground, narrowly escaping being trampled upon by the ponies of the nearest Indians.

The whole thing happened so quickly that many of both parties saw nothing of it but the excitement it occasioned, and, for the moment, there was a complete break-up of the parley between Mr. Macrae and the Indian leader.

When order was in some measure restored, and Mr. Macrae had assured himself that neither of his children was in any wise injured, he once more gave attention to the serious situation which had so unexpectedly presented itself.

With considerable difficulty he made the Indian understand that he must have time to consider his astounding communication, and to consult with the other men of his party. To this the fellow, with much show of reluctance, at last consented, and a gruff command sent the whole cavalcade cantering off to a little distance, where they dismounted, and, squatting upon the turf in a sort of circle, proceeded to light their pipes, and talk in guttural tones of what had happened.

The Scots, that is to say the older men of the party, now gathered in a little knot, their countenances grown suddenly haggard, for they all realized that they were face to face with a crisis more menacing than anything they had previously encountered.

‘’Tis unco strange. I canna understand it at all,’ said Mr. Macrae. ’Noo that we are come here after sae great trouble they say we canna bide, but maun gang away doon to the States, where we dinna want to be.’

‘Let us gang ower to the fort there,’ suggested Saunders, pointing to the Hudson’s Bay fort, which stood on the bank of the river, about a quarter of a mile distant. ’Surely the Governor will take our pairt and winna let these savages have their way with us.’ This suggestion met with instant approval, and three of the party, including Mr. Macrae, were appointed to carry it out.

They at once set out across the prairie, while the other men rejoined the women, to await the result of the embassy.

But no sooner had the three got well started, than with whoops and yells the Indians sprang on their ponies and came cantering towards them, waving their weapons in a way that meant only one thing the Scotsmen must go no farther. Baffled and disheartened, the latter, after a futile attempt at parley with the Indians, walked slowly and in silence back to their companions.

The situation seemed as desperate as it was bewildering. They were utterly at a loss either to understand it or cope with it. Lord Selkirk had given them to believe that they would be warmly welcomed at Red River, and afforded all necessary assistance in settling down, and this was the way in which his promises were being fulfilled.

In their extremity they sought guidance and strength from God, and, to the amazement of the Indians, who had again drawn closer, the stately music of the Psalms rose from their midst, followed by the sonorous voice of Saunders, laying before the Lord of all the anguish of their hearts.

When their prayers were over they all felt more composed in mind, although no light had come to them concerning the crisis.

The Indians again withdrew a little distance, and Hector, who was as curious as he was courageous, and whose eye had been taken by the gay feathers and beaded buckskins of the Indian leader, which certainly made a brave show, went over towards him for a closer inspection, Dour and Dandy following at his heels.

The Indian, noting the movement, advanced to meet him with an amiable grin, and, just before they came together, threw himself off his cayuse, as much as to say: ’See, I’m willing to be on even terms with you.’ He was rather a fine-looking fellow, and Hector, little as he yet knew about the red men of the plain, somehow felt that this was no ordinary one.

He towered above the boy as they stood side by side, and, smiling mischievously, he lifted the latter’s thick cap from his head, and went through the motion of scalping him. The next instant, his teasing expression changed to one of lively admiration, he thrust his hands into Hector’s curly locks, exclaiming: ‘Ti-ti-pu! Ti-ti-pu!’

Hector, for a moment, was somewhat startled, but he did not betray it. Dour and Dandy, however, did not quite like the proceedings, and growled menacingly through their glistening teeth. The fact of the matter was the Indian had never seen such a poll of golden curly locks before, and, accustomed as he was to the straight, black, limp tresses of his own people, they seemed to him something almost supernatural. Thenceforward he would call Hector nothing but ‘Ti-ti-pu,’ and the nickname stuck like a burr, until only the gravest members of his own party hardly ever thought of calling him anything else.

In sore perplexity the Scots took counsel together as to what they should do. Their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted, and although they had amongst them all a good deal of money, of what use was it if the hostile residents would not sell them anything?

‘It wad seem as though we maun go ewa’ doon south for the winter at any rate,’ said Mr. Macrae, in a tone of profound despondency. ’The ways of Providence are beyond our ken. We maun just trust that the Lord will guide us, and provide for our necessities.’

The Indian leader was then informed that, if they were allowed to obtain a supply of provisions, and such other things as would be necessary for the journey, they would obey their orders and go down to the United States.

This was assented to, and, after some further parley, most of the Indians went away, leaving the rest of their number on guard. The settlers, with heavy hearts, made preparations for the night.

Among the older members of the little band of pilgrims, to whom the promised land seemed about to prove so bitter a disappointment, there was not much sleep that night, and the morning found them haggard, weary and depressed. But after they had all, like one great family, united in prayer and the singing of the Psalms, they became more composed. They were in God’s hands, and dark as everything now looked, He would send light in the end.

Soon after sunrise, the Indians reappeared in force, this time in quite good humour, the settlers having already agreed to obey their orders, and Mr. Macrae had little difficulty in making arrangements with them to conduct the party to Pembina.

Under other circumstances, the settlement of the terms would have been very amusing, for on the one side the language employed was a mixture of Gaelic and English, and on the other of Indian jargon and mongrel French, so that a great deal had to be made out by means of signs and gestures, and contortions of countenances. Hector watched the proceedings with intense interest. To tell the truth, after his first fear of them had passed away, and he realized that they were not going to kill and scalp his people, he was quite taken by the Indians, and eager to get upon friendly terms with them.

By the leader he was particularly attracted, and, in exchange for the nickname the Indian had given him, he, on his part, got the red man to give him a name whereby to call him, namely, Wikonaie, which he presently shortened to Wikon.

His friendship with the Indian, Hector’s father looked upon with approval. He himself was perhaps of too unbending a nature to make any advances towards a more amiable footing, but he was very glad to see Hector accomplish it in his frank, boyish way.

Word was given that the start for Pembina would be made early the next morning; and one of the bitter things the settlers had to endure was being deprived of all their arms. Poor Rob McEwen had to part with his greatest treasure, a flintlock that his father had carried and used to good effect in the battle of Culloden, and who can blame him if the tears stood in his grey eyes as, after fondling the firearm as tenderly as if it were a baby, he let it go from him never to get it back? But even harder perhaps was the case of Jeanie Sinclair, who had to part with her marriage ring, whose glitter caught the eye of a big Indian, who would not be denied the gleaming treasure.

In spite of all their troubles, the settlers did not forget to sing their Psalm and to join with one of their elders in earnest prayer, ere they sadly turned their faces southward.