Read Online Adventures of Radisson by Martin Fournier - Free Book Online Page A

with their own. And then in the days to come, they would be able to rely on his experience to flush out bigger game. The arrangement suited them and they quickly agreed to continue with the Algonquin.
    As the hares were roasting over the fire, the man could not stop talking. He went on at length about his hunting exploits, complaining that there wasn’t much game around the Iroquois villages compared to where he came from, north of the St. Lawrence. He knew a great place to hunt, he told them, east of where they were, and offered to take them there the next day. There, he told them, they’d be close to the Dutch colony, where almost nobody hunted, and where they’d be sure to bag themselves some big game. The young men agreed.
    A little later, having noticed that he looked different, the Algonquin questioned Radisson about his origins.
    â€œYou’re not an Iroquois, are you?”
    â€œI’m French,” replied Radisson. “I was adopted two months ago by a family from the Bear clan. I live in the village of Coutu, not far from here. I am happy there.”
    Since the situation was clear enough for all to see, Radisson’s companions felt a little uncomfortable, but preferred not to let their feelings show.
    â€œI’ve met a Frenchman or two in my time,” the former Algonquin continued. “If you ask me, you’ll be far better off with the Iroquois. They’re the best warriors in the world. Great hunters, too— although not as good as the Algonquins.”
    Enthralled by the incessant chatter of their new acquaintance, the three young Iroquois let him take over the conversation completely. Radisson found it all somewhat strange.
    â€œThat your dog?” he asked.
    Radisson nodded. “Come here, boy. Here’s something to eat.” The Algonquin threw Bo a scrap of meat, which he swallowed with a single gulp. “You know that a hunting dog can come in very useful?” he continued. “I’ll show you tomorrow. Unless you’ve been bad to him, he’ll help us track our game. You’ll soon see I know what I’m doing. Like hunting, do you?”
    â€œYes,” Radisson replied.
    â€œLike travelling, do you?” the mysterious Algonquin asked him again. “The best hunting grounds are far from here, you know. We could all head west together, head for the mountains.”
    No one replied.
    â€œI’ll lead the way,” added the Algonquin. “You’ll see, Radisson. Have some more, boy.”
    And the Algonquin threw Bo another chunk of meat. His interest in the dog was beginning to get on Radisson’s nerves. Like he was trying to win it over. It was his dog, after all, his faithful companion, not some stranger’s. Anyways, there was no way he’d be telling him its name.
    â€œWhen I was back home,” the man went on, “every winter we would go hunting with our dogs, great big dogs, much bigger than this one here. And we would always return home with more game than our toboggans could carry.”
    At nightfall, after turning the young men’s heads with his fine words, the Algonquin stepped away from the fire for a moment. A bit later, he motioned to Radisson to join him: he wanted to show him tracks he said had been left by game. But no matter how closely they stared, Radisson couldn’t see a thing. Bo didn’t either, although that didn’t stop him from sniffing all around them excitedly. As soon as they had their backs turned and the three Iroquois couldn’t hear them, the man asked Radisson under his breath if he spoke Algonquin.
    â€œA little,” he replied.
    Delighted, the man continued in his mother tongue.
    â€œWant to go back to Trois-Rivières?” he asked. “I know the way. It’ll be easy if there are two of us. What do you say?”
    Taken aback by a proposal that came completely out of the blue, in a language that reminded him terribly of