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The Osprey’s little boat had to make three trips to ferry their party and its supplies to the north shore of the bay the natives called Massaquoit. Rufus, Sinclair, and the crew seemed forlorn to see their new friends leave. Rufus leaned closer to whisper in Duncan’s ear.
“Yes, Rufus,” Duncan replied, trying to match the solemnity of the request, “if the beast of Champlain ever approaches you, you may assure it you are a friend of mine.” He hesitated, then added, “But never again call him the beast. Call him the keeper of the lake.” Rufus pumped his head and nodded energetically.
“I’d gladly take such a maelstrom to hear ye play the pipes, McCallum,” the mate from Caithness declared with a wide grin. “I’ll be hearing those echoes for months.” Sinclair extended his hand. “Fare thee we
