Free Adventures of Radisson by Martin Fournier Page A

hands of this stranger, there was nothing for it but to do as he said.
    At first light, they reached the spot where the Algonquin’s canoe lay hidden. They threw it into the water and started paddling as fast as they could. In the pale light of the new day, Bo followed them from afar, barking at them from the shore, as if to say, “Take me with you, Radisson!” Distraught, the young Frenchman looked back for an instant and watched his dear companion disappear forever.

    R ADISSON WAS CONVINCED the Iroquois were hot on their heels and would slaughter them at any moment. He paddled with the energy born of desperation. They needed to get as far away as they could, as quickly as they could. The Algonquin didn’t even want to stop when night came. At first light the next day, after twenty-four hours of uninterrupted exertion, they finally set foot on dry land. After carefully hiding the canoe, they took refuge in the woods to rest for the day. The stop gave Radisson time to think over everything that had just happened to him: another tragic event.
    The Algonquin, who was called Negamabat, laid out the rules for the entire journey: they would travel only at night and rest during the day, when they would hide from the Iroquois in the woods. They must not talk during the day, but could whisper to each other, only when strictly necessary, at night.
    Radisson felt betrayed. He now understood that Negamabat used him to make his getaway, used his youthful strength and endurance, because alone Negamabat could never have managed to paddle so far, so quickly, through so much danger. He had guessed that Radisson shared his desire to return to Trois-Rivières to be reunited with his family and had taken full advantage of it. Radisson was haunted by the murder of Serontatié. How bitterly he regretted it. Bringing about the death of his three companions had only put his own life in jeopardy. Now Katari, Ganaha, and Garagonké would hate him and all the Iroquois would search for him everywhere, their hearts filled with rage. If they found him, they would slaughter him without pity. What a mess!
    Radisson hated Negamabat for dragging him into this terrible situation. He hated him even more when he realized he hadn’t even bothered to take their victims’ bows and arrows so they could hunt without making a sound. There was no way they could use muskets: that would draw too much attention to themselves. Fishing in the river was also too risky. With so little to eat, Radisson’s stomach was beginning to grumble. Berries and roots were not enough. The journey back to Trois-Rivières was shaping up to be arduous indeed.
    For three nights, they paddled back down the river that Radisson had gone up as a prisoner. The Algonquin knew the way like the back of his hand; at least he had been telling the truth. Their days of half-sleep and worry were no better than half-restful. The task facing them was huge. Gradually, Radisson’s cold fury gave way to a cold analysis of the situation. Now that he had made the fatal mistake of killing the very people who had welcomed him as a son, there was no going back. All he could hope for was to make good his escape. They must reach New France and find refuge there at all costs. He poured all his energy and intelligence into reaching their goal. Even though he hated Negamabat, he had to acknowledge his cool-headedness and his skill, his courage and his stamina. Whether they were navigating along the water in the dark, dragging their canoe up onto the bank to avoid rapids, or forced to portage, Negamabat remained a dependable guide. In this regard, Radisson trusted him completely.
    All the same, the long days of waiting were unbearable.
    For three days in a row, Radisson broke one of the Algonquin’s rules. He armed himself with a long stick and went hunting, not far away from their hideaway. And it was just as well he did: for two days running, he managed to kill a porcupine.