These mistakes were soon rectified, and
shouldering their beds, they carried them down to the boat and tossed
them in. Meanwhile Mr. Park, who had been watching the movements of
the boys with a peculiar smile, that filled them with confusion, went
round the different camps to see that nothing was left behind. The
men were all in their places with oars ready, and the boats floating
on the calm water, a yard or two from shore, with the exception of
the guide's boat, the stern of which still rested on the sand
awaiting Mr. Park.
"Who does this belong to?" shouted that gentleman, holding up a cloth
cap, part of which was of a mottled brown and part deep blue.
Harry instantly tore the covering from his head, and discovered that
among his numerous mistakes he had put on the head-dress of one of
the Indians who had brought him to the camp. To do him justice the
cap was not unlike his own, excepting that it was a little more
mottled and dirty in colour, besides being decorated with a gaudy but
very much crushed and broken feather.
"You had better change with our friend here, I think," said Mr. Park,
grinning from ear to ear, as he tossed the cap to its owner, while
Harry handed the other to the Indian, amid the laughter of the crew.
"Never mind, boy," added Mr. Park, in an encouraging tone, "you'll
make a voyageur yet.--Now then, lads, give way;" and with a nod to
the Indians, who stood on the shore watching their departure, the
trader sprang into the boat and took his place beside the two boys.
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