diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20418-8.txt | 12168 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20418-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 243946 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20418-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 319854 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20418-h/20418-h.htm | 12287 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20418-h/images/image001.jpg | bin | 0 -> 69017 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20418.txt | 12168 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20418.zip | bin | 0 -> 243879 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
10 files changed, 36639 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20418-8.txt b/20418-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4accd66 --- /dev/null +++ b/20418-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12168 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lords of the North, by A. C. Laut + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lords of the North + +Author: A. C. Laut + +Release Date: January 22, 2007 [EBook #20418] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORDS OF THE NORTH *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + + + +LORDS + +OF THE + +NORTH + +BY + +A. C. LAUT + +TORONTO +WILLIAM BRIGGS + + +Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one +thousand nine hundred, by WILLIAM BRIGGS, at the Department of +Agriculture. + +[Illustration: + + LORDS + of the + NORTH + +by A. C. LAUT] + + +TO THE + +Pioneers and their Descendants + +WHOSE + +HEROISM WON THE LAND, + +THIS WORK + +IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. + + + + +ACKNOWLEDGMENT. + + +The author desires to express thanks to pioneers and fur traders of the +West for information, details and anecdotes bearing on the old life, +which are herein embodied; and would also acknowledge the assistance of +the history of the North-West Company and manuscripts of the +_Bourgeois_, compiled by Senator L. R. Masson; and the value of such +early works as those of Dr. George Bryce, Gunn, Hargraves, Ross and +others. + + + + +THE TRAPPER'S DEFIANCE. + + +"The adventurous spirits, who haunted the forest and plain, grew fond of +their wild life and affected a great contempt for civilization." + + You boxed-up, mewed-up artificials, + Pent in your piles of mortar and stone, + Hugging your finely spun judicials, + Adorning externals, externals alone, + Vaunting in prideful ostentation + Of the Juggernaut car, called Civilization-- + What know ye of freedom and life and God? + + Monkeys, that follow a showman's string, + Know more of freedom and less of care, + Cage birds, that flutter from perch to ring, + Have less of worry and surer fare. + Cursing the burdens, yourselves have bound, + In a maze of wants, running round and round-- + Are ye free men, or manniken slaves? + + Costly patches, adorning your walls, + Are all of earth's beauty ye care to know; + But ye strut about in soul-stifled halls + To play moth-life by a candle-glow-- + What soul has space for upward fling, + What manhood room for shoulder-swing, + Coffined and cramped from the vasts of God? + + The Spirit of Life, O atrophied soul, + In trappings of ease is not confined; + That touch from Infinite Will 'neath the Whole + In Nature's temple, not man's, is shrined! + From hovel-shed come out and be strong! + Be ye free! Be redeemed from the wrong, + Of soul-guilt, I charge you as sons of God! + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +I, Rufus Gillespie, trader and clerk for the North-West Company, which +ruled over an empire broader than Europe in the beginning of this +century, and with Indian allies and its own riotous _Bois-Brulés_, +carried war into the very heart of the vast territory claimed by its +rivals, the Honorable Hudson's Bay Company, have briefly related a few +stirring events of those boisterous days. Should the account here set +down be questioned, I appeal for confirmation to that missionary among +northern tribes, the famous priest, who is the son of the ill-fated girl +stolen by the wandering Iroquois. Lord Selkirk's narration of lawless +conflict with the Nor'-Westers and the verbal testimony of Red River +settlers, who are still living, will also substantiate what I have +stated; though allowance must be made for the violent partisan leaning +of witnesses, and from that, I--as a Nor'-Wester--do not claim to be +free. + +On the charges and counter-charges of cruelty bandied between white men +and red, I have nothing to say. Remembering how white soldiers from +eastern cities took the skin of a native chief for a trophy of victory, +and recalling the fiendish glee of Mandanes over a victim, I can only +conclude that neither race may blamelessly point the finger of reproach +at the other. + +Any variations in detail from actual occurrences as seen by my own eyes +are solely for the purpose of screening living descendants of those +whose lives are here portrayed from prying curiosity; but, in truth, +many experiences during the thrilling days of the fur companies were far +too harrowing for recital. I would fain have tempered some of the +incidents herein related to suit the sentiments of a milk-and-water age; +but that could be done only at the cost of truth. + +There is no French strain in my blood, so I have not that passionate +devotion to the wild daring of _l'ancien régime_, in which many of my +rugged companions under _Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest_ +gloried; but he would be very sluggish, indeed, who could not look back +with some degree of enthusiasm to the days of gentlemen adventurers in +no-man's-land, in a word, to the workings of the great fur trading +companies. Theirs were the trappers and runners, the _Coureurs des Bois_ +and _Bois-Brulés_, who traversed the immense solitudes of the pathless +west; theirs, the brigades of gay _voyageurs_ chanting hilarious +refrains in unison with the rhythmic sweep of paddle blades and +following unknown streams until they had explored from St. Lawrence to +MacKenzie River; and theirs, the merry lads of the north, blazing a +track through the wilderness and leaving from Atlantic to Pacific lonely +stockaded fur posts--footprints for the pioneers' guidance. The +whitewashed palisades of many little settlements on the rivers and lakes +of the far north are poor relics of the fur companies' ancient grandeur. +That broad domain stretching from Hudson Bay to the Pacific Ocean, +reclaimed from savagery for civilization, is the best monument to the +unheralded forerunners of empire. + +RUFUS GILLESPIE. + +WINNIPEG--ONE TIME FORT GARRY + FORMERLY RED RIVER SETTLEMENT, +_19th June, 18--_ + +Transcriber's note: Minor typos have been corrected. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE +CHAPTER I. +WHEREIN A LAD SEES MAKERS OF HISTORY 9 + +CHAPTER II. +A STRONG MAN IS BOWED 23 + +CHAPTER III. +NOVICE AND EXPERT 38 + +CHAPTER IV. +LAUNCHED INTO THE UNKNOWN 55 + +CHAPTER V. +CIVILIZATION'S VENEER RUBS OFF 70 + +CHAPTER VI. +A GIRDLE OF AGATES RECALLED 92 + +CHAPTER VII. +THE LORDS OF THE NORTH IN COUNCIL 99 + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE LITTLE STATUE ANIMATE 118 + +CHAPTER IX. +DECORATING A BIT OF STATUARY 131 + +CHAPTER X. +MORE STUDIES IN STATUARY 144 + +CHAPTER XI. +A SHUFFLING OF ALLEGIANCE 163 + +CHAPTER XII. +HOW A YOUTH BECAME A KING 181 + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE BUFFALO HUNT 200 + +CHAPTER XIV. +IN SLIPPERY PLACES 220 + +CHAPTER XV. +THE GOOD WHITE FATHER 234 + +CHAPTER XVI. +LE GRAND DIABLE SENDS BACK OUR MESSENGER 246 + +CHAPTER XVII. +THE PRICE OF BLOOD 253 + +CHAPTER XVIII. +LAPLANTE AND I RENEW ACQUAINTANCE 266 + +CHAPTER XIX. +WHEREIN LOUIS INTRIGUES 281 + +CHAPTER XX. +PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS 297 + +CHAPTER XXI. +LOUIS PAYS ME BACK 313 + +CHAPTER XXII. +A DAY OF RECKONING 327 + +CHAPTER XXIII. +THE IROQUOIS PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 341 + +CHAPTER XXIV. +FORT DOUGLAS CHANGES MASTERS 350 + +CHAPTER XXV. +HIS LORDSHIP TO THE RESCUE 368 + +CHAPTER XXVI. +FATHER HOLLAND AND I IN THE TOILS 378 + +CHAPTER XXVII. +UNDER ONE ROOF 389 + +CHAPTER XXVIII. +THE LAST OF LOUIS' ADVENTURES 409 + +CHAPTER XXIX. +THE PRIEST JOURNEYS TO A FAR COUNTRY 433 + + + + +LORDS OF THE NORTH + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHEREIN A LAD SEES MAKERS OF HISTORY + + +"Has any one seen Eric Hamilton?" I asked. + +For an hour, or more, I had been lounging about the sitting-room of a +club in Quebec City, waiting for my friend, who had promised to join me +at dinner that night. I threw aside a news-sheet, which I had exhausted +down to minutest advertisements, stretched myself and strolled across to +a group of old fur-traders, retired partners of the North-West Company, +who were engaged in heated discussion with some officers from the +Citadel. + +"Has any one seen Eric Hamilton?" I repeated, indifferent to the merits +of their dispute. + +"That's the tenth time you've asked that question," said my Uncle Jack +MacKenzie, looking up sharply, "the tenth time, Sir, by actual count," +and he puckered his brows at the interruption, just as he used to when I +was a little lad on his knee and chanced to break into one of his +hunting stories with a question at the wrong place. + +"Hang it," drawled Colonel Adderly, a squatty man with an over-fed look +on his bulging, red cheeks, "hang it, you don't expect Hamilton? The +baby must be teething," and he added more chaff at the expense of my +friend, who had been the subject of good-natured banter among club +members for devotion to his first-born. + +I saw Adderly's object was more to get away from the traders' arguments +than to answer me; and I returned the insolent challenge of his +unconcealed yawn in the faces of the elder men by drawing a chair up to +the company of McTavishes and Frobishers and McGillivrays and MacKenzies +and other retired veterans of the north country. + +"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said I, "what were you saying to Colonel +Adderly?" + +"Talk of your military conquests, Sir," my uncle continued, "Why, Sir, +our men have transformed a wilderness into an empire. They have blazed a +path from Labrador on the Atlantic to that rock on the Pacific, where my +esteemed kinsman, Sir Alexander MacKenzie, left his inscription of +discovery. Mark my words, Sir, the day will come when the names of David +Thompson and Simon Fraser and Sir Alexander MacKenzie will rank higher +in English annals than Braddock's and----" + +"Egad!" laughed the officer, amused at my uncle, who had been a leading +spirit in the North-West Company and whose enthusiasm knew no bounds, +"Egad! You gentlemen adventurers wouldn't need to have accomplished much +to eclipse Braddock." And he paused with a questioning supercilious +smile. "Sir Alexander was a first cousin of yours, was he not?" + +My uncle flushed hotly. That slighting reference to gentlemen +adventurers, with just a perceptible emphasis of the _adventurers_, was +not to his taste. + +"Pardon me, Sir," said he stiffly, "you forget that by the terms of +their charter, the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company have the +privilege of being known as gentlemen adventurers. And by the Lord, Sir, +'tis a gentleman adventurer and nothing else, that stock-jobbing +scoundrel of a Selkirk has proved himself! And he, sir, was neither +Nor'-Wester, nor Canadian, but an Englishman, like the commander of the +Citadel." My uncle puffed out these last words in the nature of a +defiance to the English officer, whose cheeks took on a deeper purplish +shade; but he returned the charge good-humoredly enough. + +"Nonsense, MacKenzie, my good friend," laughed he patronizingly, "if the +Right Honorable, the Earl of Selkirk, were such an adventurer, why the +deuce did the Beaver Club down at Montreal receive him with open mouths +and open arms and----" + +"And open hearts, Sir, you may say," interrupted my Uncle MacKenzie. +"And I'd thank you not to 'good-friend' me," he added tartly. + +Now, the Beaver Club was an organization at Nor'-Westers renowned for +its hospitality. Founded in 1785, originally composed of but nineteen +members and afterwards extended only to men who had served in the _Pays +d'En Haut_, it soon acquired a reputation for entertaining in regal +style. Why the vertebrae of colonial gentlemen should sometimes lose the +independent, upright rigidity of self-respect on contact with old world +nobility, I know not. But instantly, Colonel Adderly's reference to Lord +Selkirk and the Beaver Club called up the picture of a banquet in +Montreal, when I was a lad of seven, or thereabouts. I had been tricked +out in some Highland costume especially pleasing to the Earl--cap, +kilts, dirk and all--and was taken by my Uncle Jack MacKenzie to the +Beaver Club. Here, in a room, that glittered with lights, was a table +steaming with things, which caught and held my boyish eyes; and all +about were crowds of guests, gentlemen, who had been invited in the +quaint language of the club, "To discuss the merits of bear, beaver and +venison." The great Sir Alexander MacKenzie, with his title fresh from +the king, and his feat of exploring the river now known by his name and +pushing through the mountain fastnesses to the Pacific on all men's +lips--was to my Uncle Jack's right. Simon Fraser and David Thompson and +other famous explorers, who were heroes to my imagination, were there +too. In these men and what they said of their wonderful voyages I was +far more interested than in the young, keen-faced man with a tie, that +came up in ruffles to his ears, and with an imperial decoration on his +breast, which told me he was Lord Selkirk. + +I remember when the huge salvers and platters were cleared away, I was +placed on the table to execute the sword dance. I must have acquitted +myself with some credit; for the gentlemen set up a prodigious clapping, +though I recall nothing but a snapping of my fingers, a wave of my cap +and a whirl of lights and faces around my dizzy head. Then my uncle took +me between his knees, promising to let me sit up to the end if I were +good, and more wine was passed. + +"That's enough for you, you young cub," says my kinsman, promptly +inverting the wine-glass before me. + +"O Uncle MacKenzie," said I with a wry face, "do you measure your own +wine so?" + +Whereat, the noble Earl shouted, "Bravo! here's for you, Mr. MacKenzie." + +And all the gentlemen set up a laugh and my uncle smiled and called to +the butler, "Here, Johnson, toddy for one, glass of hot water, pure, for +other." + +But when Johnson brought back the glasses, I observed Uncle MacKenzie +kept the toddy. "There, my boy, there's Adam's ale for you," said he, +and into the glass of hot water he popped a peppermint lozenge. + +"Fie!" laughed Sir Alexander to my uncle's right, "Fie to cheat the +little man!" + +"His is the best wine of the cellar," vowed His Lordship; and I drank my +peppermint with as much gusto and self-importance as any man of them. + +Then followed toasts, such a list of toasts as only men inured to tests +of strength could take. Ironical toasts to the North-West Passage, whose +myth Sir Alexander had dispelled; toasts to the discoverer of the +MacKenzie River, which brought storms of applause that shook the house; +toasts to "our distinguished guest," whose suave response disarmed all +suspicion; toasts to the "Northern winterers," poor devils, who were +serving the cause by undergoing a life-long term of Arctic exile; toasts +to "the merry lads of the north," who only served in the ranks without +attaining to the honor of partnership; toasts enough, in all conscience, +to drown the memory of every man present. Thanks to my Uncle Jack +MacKenzie, all my toasts were taken in peppermint, and the picture in my +mind of that banquet is as clear to-day as it was when I sat at the +table. What would I not give to be back at the Beaver Club, living it +all over again and hearing Sir Alexander MacKenzie with his flashing +hero-eyes and quick, passionate gestures, recounting that wonderful +voyage of his with a sulky crew into a region of hostiles; telling of +those long interminable winters of Arctic night, when the great explorer +sounded the depths of utter despair in service for the company and knew +not whether he faced madness or starvation; and thrilling the whole +assembly with a description of his first glimpse of the Pacific! Perhaps +it was what I heard that night--who can tell--that drew me to the wild +life of after years. But I was too young, then, to recognize fully the +greatness of those men. Indeed, my country was then and is yet too +young; for if their greatness be recognized, it is forgotten and +unhonored. + +I think I must have fallen asleep on my uncle's knee; for I next +remember sleepily looking about and noticing that many of the gentlemen +had slid down in their chairs and with closed eyes were breathing +heavily. Others had slipped to the floor and were sound asleep. This +shocked me and I was at once wide awake. My uncle was sitting very erect +and his arm around my waist had the tight grasp that usually preceded +some sharp rebuke. I looked up and found his face grown suddenly so hard +and stern, I was all affright lest my sleeping had offended him. His +eyes were fastened on Lord Selkirk with a piercing, angry gaze. His +Lordship was not nodding, not a bit of it. How brilliant he seemed to my +childish fancy! He was leaning forward, questioning those Nor'-Westers, +who had received him with open arms, and open hearts. And the wine had +mounted to the head of the good Nor'-Westers and they were now also +receiving the strange nobleman with open mouths, pouring out to him a +full account of their profits, the extent of the vast, unknown game +preserve, and how their methods so far surpassed those of the Hudson's +Bay, their rival's stock had fallen in value from 250 to 50 per cent. + +The more information they gave, the more His Lordship plied them with +questions. + +"I must say," whispered Uncle Jack to Sir Alexander MacKenzie, "if any +Hudson's Bay man asked such pointed questions on North-West business, +I'd give myself the pleasure of ejecting him from this room." + +Then, I knew his anger was against Lord Selkirk and not against me for +sleeping. + +"Nonsense," retorted Sir Alexander, who had cut active connection with +the Nor'-Westers some years before, "there's no ground for suspicion." +But he seemed uneasy at the turn things had taken. + +"Has your Lordship some colonization scheme that you ask such pointed +questions?" demanded my uncle, addressing the Earl. The nobleman turned +quickly to him and said something about the Highlanders and Prince +Edward's Island, which I did not understand. The rest of that evening +fades from my thoughts; for I was carried home in Mr. Jack MacKenzie's +arms. + +And all these things happened some ten or twelve years before that wordy +sword-play between this same uncle of mine and the English colonel from +the Citadel. + +"We erred, Sir, through too great hospitality," my uncle was saying to +the colonel. "How could we know that Selkirk would purchase controlling +interest in Hudson's Bay stock? How could we know he'd secure a land +grant in the very heart of our domain?" + +"I don't object to his land, nor to his colonists, nor to his dower of +ponies and muskets and bayonets to every mother's son of them," broke in +another of the retired traders, "but I do object to his drilling those +same colonists, to his importing a field battery and bringing out that +little ram of a McDonell from the Army to egg the settlers on! It's bad +enough to pillage our fort; but this proclamation to expel Nor'-Westers +from what is claimed as Hudson's Bay Territory----" + +"Just listen to this," cries my uncle pulling out a copy of the +obnoxious proclamation and reading aloud an order for the expulsion of +all rivals to the Hudson's Bay Company from the northern territory. + +"Where can Hamilton be?" said I, losing interest in the traders' quarrel +as soon as they went into details. + +"Home with his wifie," half sneered the officer in a nagging way, that +irritated me, though the remark was, doubtless, true. "Home with his +wifie," he repeated in a sing-song, paying no attention to the +elucidation of a subject he had raised. "Good old man, Hamilton, but +since marriage, utterly gone to the bad!" + +"To the what?" I queried, taking him up short. This officer, with the +pudding cheeks and patronizing insolence, had a provoking trick of +always keeping just inside the bounds of what one might resent. "To the +what, did you say Hamilton had gone?" + +"To the domestics," says he laughing, then to the others, as if he had +listened to every word of the explanations, "and if His Little +Excellency, Governor MacDonell, by the grace of Lord Selkirk, ruler over +gentlemen adventurers in no-man's-land, expels the good Nor'-Westers +from nowhere to somewhere else, what do the good Nor'-Westers intend +doing to the Little Tyrant?" + +"Charles the First him," responds a wag of the club. + +"Where's your Cromwell?" laughs the colonel. + +"Our Cromwell's a Cameron, temper of a Lucifer, oaths before action," +answers the wag. + +"Tuts!" exclaims Uncle Jack testily. "We'll settle His Lordship's little +martinet of the plains. Warrant for his arrest! Fetch him out!" + +"Warrant 43rd King George III. will do it," added one of the partners +who had looked the matter up. + +"43rd King George III. doesn't give jurisdiction for trial in Lower +Canada, if offense be committed elsewhere," interjects a lawyer with +show of importance. + +"A Daniel come to judgment," laughs the colonel, winking as my uncle's +wrath rose. + +"Pah!" says Mr. Jack MacKenzie in disgust, stamping on the floor with +both feet. "You lawyers needn't think you'll have your pickings when fur +companies quarrel. We'll ship him out, that's all. Neither of the +companies wants to advertise its profits--" + +"Or its methods--ahem!" interjects the colonel. + +"And its private business," adds my uncle, looking daggers at Adderly, +"by going to court." + +Then they all rose to go to the dining-room; and as I stepped out to +have a look down the street for Hamilton, I heard Colonel Adderly's last +fling--"Pretty rascals, you gentlemen adventurers are, so shy and coy +about law courts." + +It was a dark night, with a few lonely stars in mid-heaven, a sickle +moon cutting the horizon cloud-rim and a noisy March wind that boded +snow from The Labrador, or sleet from the Gulf. + +When Eric Hamilton left the Hudson's Bay Company's service at York +Factory on Hudson Bay and came to live in Quebec, I was but a student at +Laval. It was at my Uncle MacKenzie's that I met the tall, dark, sinewy, +taciturn man, whose influence was to play such a strange part in my +life; and when these two talked of their adventures in the far, lone +land of the north, I could no more conceal my awe-struck admiration than +a girl could on first discovering her own charms in a looking-glass. I +think he must have noticed my boyish reverence, for once he condescended +to ask about the velvet cap and green sash and long blue coat which made +up the Laval costume, and in a moment I was talking to him as volubly as +if he were the boy and I, the great Hudson's Bay trader. + +"It makes me feel quite like a boy again," he had said on resuming +conversation with Mr. MacKenzie. "By Jove! Sir, I can hardly realize I +went into that country a lad of fifteen, like your nephew, and here I +am, out of it, an old man." + +"Pah, Eric man," says my uncle, "you'll be finding a wife one of these +days and renewing your youth." + +"Uncle," I broke out when the Hudson's Bay man had gone home, "how old +is Mr. Hamilton?" + +"Fifteen years older than you are, boy, and I pray Heaven you may have +half as much of the man in you at thirty as he has," returns my uncle +mentally measuring me with that stern eye of his. At that information, +my heart gave a curious, jubilant thud. Henceforth, I no longer looked +upon Mr. Hamilton with the same awe that a choir boy entertains for a +bishop. Something of comradeship sprang up between us, and before that +year had passed we were as boon companions as man and boy could be. But +Hamilton presently spoiled it all by fulfilling my uncle's prediction +and finding a wife, a beautiful, fair-haired, frail slip of a girl, near +enough the twenties to patronize me and too much of the young lady to +find pleasure in an awkward lad. That meant an end to our rides and +walks and sails down the St. Lawrence and long evening talks; but I took +my revenge by assuming the airs of a man of forty, at which Hamilton +quizzed me not a little and his wife, Miriam, laughed. When I surprised +them all by jumping suddenly from boyhood to manhood--"like a tadpole +into a mosquito," as my Uncle Jack facetiously remarked. Meanwhile, a +son and heir came to my friend's home and I had to be thankful for a +humble third place. + +And so it came that I was waiting for Eric's arrival at the Quebec Club +that night, peering from the porch for sight of him and calculating how +long it would take to ride from the Chateau Bigot above Charlesbourg, +where he was staying. Stepping outside, I was surprised to see the form +of a horse beneath the lantern of the arched gateway; and my surprise +increased on nearer inspection. As I walked up, the creature gave a +whinny and I recognized Hamilton's horse, lathered with sweat, +unblanketed and shivering. The possibility of an accident hardly +suggested itself before I observed the bridle-rein had been slung over +the hitching-post and heard steps hurrying to the side door of the +club-house. + +"Is that you, Eric?" I called. + +There was no answer; so I led the horse to the stable boy and hurried +back to see if Hamilton were inside. The sitting room was deserted; but +Eric's well-known, tall figure was entering the dining-room. And a +curious figure he presented to the questioning looks of the club men. In +one hand was his riding whip, in the other, his gloves. He wore the +buckskin coat of a trapper and in the belt were two pistols. One sleeve +was torn from wrist to elbow and his boots were scratched as if they had +been combed by an iron rake. His broad-brimmed hat was still on, +slouched down over his eyes like that of a scout. + +"Gad! Hamilton," exclaimed Uncle Jack MacKenzie, who was facing Eric as +I came up behind, "have you been in a race or a fight?" and he gave him +the look of suspicion one might give an intoxicated man. + +"Is it a cold night?" asked the colonel punctiliously, gazing hard at +the still-strapped hat. + +Not a word came from Hamilton. + +"How's the cold in your head?" continued Adderly, pompously trying to +stare Hamilton's hat off. + +"Here I am, old man! What's kept you?" and I rushed forward but quickly +checked myself; for Hamilton turned slowly towards me and instead of +erect bearing, clear glance, firm mouth, I saw a head that was bowed, +eyes that burned like fire, and parched, parted, wordless lips. + +If the colonel had not been stuffing himself like the turkey guzzler +that he was, he would have seen something unspeakably terrible written +on Hamilton's silent face. + +"Did the little wifie let him off for a night's play?" sneered Adderly. + +Barely were the words out, when Hamilton's teeth clenched behind the +open lips, giving him an ugly, furious expression, strange to his face. +He took a quick stride towards the officer, raised his whip and brought +it down with the full strength of his shoulder in one cutting blow +across the baggy, purplish cheeks of the insolent speaker. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A STRONG MAN IS BOWED + + +The whole thing was so unexpected that for one moment not a man in the +room drew breath. Then the colonel sprang up with the bellow of an +enraged bull, overturning the table in his rush, and a dozen club +members were pulling him back from Eric. + +"Eric Hamilton, are you mad?" I cried. "What do you mean?" + +But Hamilton stood motionless as if he saw none of us. Except that his +breath was labored, he wore precisely the same strange, distracted air +he had on entering the club. + +"Hold back!" I implored; for Adderly was striking right and left to get +free from the men. "Hold back! There's a mistake! Something's wrong!" + +"Reptile!" roared the colonel. "Cowardly reptile, you shall pay for +this!" + +"There's a mistake," I shouted, above the clamor of exclamations. + +"Glad the mistake landed where it did, all the same," whispered Uncle +Jack MacKenzie in my ear, "but get him out of this. Drunk--or a +scandal," says my uncle, who always expressed himself in explosives +when excited. "Side room--here--lead him in--drunk--by Jove--drunk!" + +"Never," I returned passionately. I knew both Hamilton and his wife too +well to tolerate either insinuation. But we led him like a dazed being +into a side office, where Mr. Jack MacKenzie promptly turned the key and +took up a posture with his back against the door. + +"Now, Sir," he broke out sternly, "if it's neither drink, nor a +scandal----" There, he stopped; for Hamilton, utterly unconscious of us, +moved, rather than walked, automatically across the room. Throwing his +hat down, he bowed his head over both arms above the mantel-piece. + +My uncle and I looked from the silent man to each other. Raising his +brows in question, Mr. Jack MacKenzie touched his forehead and whispered +across to me--"Mad?" + +At that, though the word was spoken barely above a breath, Eric turned +slowly round and faced us with blood-shot, gleaming eyes. He made as +though he would speak, sank into the armchair before the grate and +pressed both hands against his forehead. + +"Mad," he repeated in a voice low as a moan, framing his words slowly +and with great effort. "By Jove, men, you should know me better than to +mouth such rot under your breath. To-night, I'd sell my soul, sell my +soul to be mad, really mad, to know that all I think has happened, +hadn't happened at all--" and his speech was broken by a sharp intake of +breath. + +"Out with it, man, for the Lord's sake," shouted my uncle, now convinced +that Eric was not drunk and jumping to conclusions--as he was wont to do +when excited--regarding a possible scandal. + +"Out with it, man! We'll stand by you! Has that blasted red-faced +turkey----" + +"Pray, spare your histrionics, for the present," Eric cut in with the +icy self-possession bred by a lifetime's danger, dispelling my uncle's +second suspicion with a quiet scorn that revealed nothing. + +"What the----" began my kinsman, "what did you strike him for?" + +"Did I strike somebody?" asked Hamilton absently. + +Again my uncle flashed a questioning look at me, but this time his face +showed his conviction so plainly no word was needed. + +"Did I strike somebody? Wish you'd apologize----" + +"Apologize!" thundered my uncle. "I'll do nothing of the kind. Served +him right. 'Twas a pretty way, a pretty way, indeed, to speak of any +man's wife----" But the word "wife" had not been uttered before Eric +threw out his hands in an imploring gesture. + +"Don't!" he cried out sharply in the suffering tone of a man under the +operating knife. "Don't! It all comes back! It is true! It is true! I +can't get away from it! It is no nightmare. My God, men, how can I tell +you? There's no way of saying it! It is impossible--preposterous--some +monstrous joke--it's quite impossible I tell you--it couldn't have +happened--such things don't happen--couldn't happen--to her--of all +women! But she's gone--she's gone----" + +"See here, Hamilton," cried my uncle, utterly beside himself with +excitement, "are we to understand you are talking of your wife, or--or +some other woman?" + +"See here, Hamilton," I reiterated, quite heedless of the brutality of +our questions and with a thousand wild suspicions flashing into my mind. +"Is it your wife, Miriam, and your boy?" + +But he heard neither of us. + +"They were there--they waved to me from the garden at the edge of the +woods as I entered the forest. Only this morning, both waving to me as I +rode away--and when I returned from the city at noon, they were gone! I +looked to the window as I came back. The curtain moved and I thought my +boy was hiding, but it was only the wind. We've searched every nook from +cellar to attic. His toys were littered about and I fancied I heard his +voice everywhere, but no! No--no--and we've been hunting house and +garden for hours----" + +"And the forest?" questioned Uncle Jack, the trapper instinct of former +days suddenly re-awakening. + +"The forest is waist-deep with snow! Besides we beat through the bush +everywhere, and there wasn't a track, nor broken twig, where they could +have passed." His torn clothes bore evidence to the thoroughness of that +search. + +"Nonsense," my uncle burst out, beginning to bluster. "They've been +driven to town without leaving word!" + +"No sleigh was at Chateau Bigot this morning," returned Hamilton. + +"But the road, Eric?" I questioned, recalling how the old manor-house +stood well back in the center of a cleared plateau in the forest. +"Couldn't they have gone down the road to those Indian encampments?" + +"The road is impassable for sleighs, let alone walking, and their winter +wraps are all in the house. For Heaven's sake, men, suggest something! +Don't madden me with these useless questions!" + +But in spite of Eric's entreaty my excitable kinsman subjected the +frenzied man to such a fire of questions as might have sublimated +pre-natal knowledge. And I stood back listening and pieced the +distracted, broken answers into some sort of coherency till the whole +tragic scene at the Chateau on that spring day of the year 1815, became +ineffaceably stamped on my memory. + +Causeless, with neither warning nor the slightest premonition of danger, +the greatest curse which can befall a man came upon my friend Eric +Hamilton. However fond a husband may be, there are things worse for his +wife than death which he may well dread, and it was one of these +tragedies which almost drove poor Hamilton out of his reason and changed +the whole course of my own life. In broad daylight, his young wife and +infant son disappeared as suddenly and completely as if blotted out of +existence. + +That morning, Eric light-heartedly kissed wife and child good-by and +waved them a farewell that was to be the last. He rode down the winding +forest path to Quebec and they stood where the Chateau garden merged +into the forest of Charlesbourg Mountain. At noon, when he returned, for +him there existed neither wife nor child. For any trace of them that +could be found, both might have been supernaturally spirited away. The +great house, that had re-echoed to the boy's prattle, was deathly still; +and neither wife, nor child, answered his call. The nurse was summoned. +She was positive _Madame_ was amusing the boy across the hall, and +reassuringly bustled off to find mother and son in the next room, and +the next, and yet the next; to discover each in succession empty. + +Alarm spread to the Chateau servants. The simple _habitant_ maids were +questioned, but their only response was white-faced, blank amazement. + +_Madame_ not returned! + +_Madame_ not back! + +Mon Dieu! What had happened? And all the superstition of hillside lore +added to the fear on each anxious face. Shortly after Monsieur went to +the city, _Madame_ had taken her little son out as usual for a morning +airing, and had been seen walking up and down the paths tracked through +the garden snow. Had _Monsieur_ examined the clearing between the house +and the forest? _Monsieur_ could see for himself the snow was too deep +and crusty among the trees for _Madame_ to go twenty paces into the +woods. Besides, foot-marks could be traced from the garden to the bush. +He need not fear wild animals. They were receding into the mountains as +spring advanced. Let him take another look about the open; and Hamilton +tore out-doors, followed by the whole household; but from the Chateau in +the center of the glade to the encircling border of snow-laden +evergreens there was no trace of wife or child. + +Then Eric laughed at his own growing fears. Miriam must be in the house. +So the search of the old hall, that had once resounded to the drunken +tread of gay French grandees, began again. From hidden chamber in the +vaulted cellar to attic rooms above, not a corner of the Chateau was +left unexplored. Had any one come and driven her to the city? But that +was impossible. The roads were drifted the height of a horse and there +were no marks of sleigh runners on either side of the riding path. Could +she possibly have ventured a few yards down the main road to an +encampment of Indians, whose squaws after Indian custom made much of the +white baby? Neither did that suggestion bring relief; for the Indians +had broken camp early in the morning and there was only a dirty patch of +littered snow, where the wigwams had been. + +The alarm now became a panic. Hamilton, half-crazed and unable to +believe his own senses, began wondering whether he had nightmare. He +thought he might waken up presently and find the dead weight smothering +his chest had been the boy snuggling close. He was vaguely conscious it +was strange of him to continue sleeping with that noise of shouting men +and whining hounds and snapping branches going on in the forest. The +child's lightest cry generally broke the spell of a nightmare; but the +din of terrified searchers rushing through the woods and of echoes +rolling eerily back from the white hills convinced him this was no +dream-land. Then, the distinct crackle of trampled brushwood and the +scratch of spines across his face called him back to an unendurable +reality. + +"The thing is utterly impossible, Hamilton," I cried, when in short +jerky sentences, as if afraid to give thought rein, he had answered my +uncle's questioning. "Impossible! Utterly impossible!" + +"I would to God it were!" he moaned. + +"It was daylight, Eric?" asked Mr. Jack MacKenzie. + +He nodded moodily. + +"And she couldn't be lost in Charlesbourg forest?" I added, taking up +the interrogations where my uncle left off. + +"No trace--not a footprint!" + +"And you're quite sure she isn't in the house?" replied my relative. + +"Quite!" he answered passionately. + +"And there was an Indian encampment a few yards down the road?" +continued Mr. MacKenzie, undeterred. + +"Oh! What has that to do with it?" he asked petulantly, springing to his +feet. "They'd moved off long before I went back. Besides, Indians don't +run off with white women. Haven't I spent my life among them? I should +know their ways!" + +"But my dear fellow!" responded the elder trader, "so do I know their +ways. If she isn't in the Chateau and isn't in the woods and isn't in +the garden, can't you see, the Indian encampment is the only possible +explanation?" + +The lines on his face deepened. Fire flashed from his gleaming eyes, and +if ever I have seen murder written on the countenance of man, it was on +Hamilton's. + +"What tribe were they, anyway?" I asked, trying to speak indifferently, +for every question was knife-play on a wound. + +"Mongrel curs, neither one thing nor the other, Iroquois canoemen, +French half-breeds intermarried with Sioux squaws! They're all connected +with the North-West Company's crews. The Nor'-Westers leave here for +Fort William when the ice breaks up. This riff-raff will follow in their +own dug-outs!" + +"Know any of them?" persisted my uncle. + +"No, I don't think I--Let me see! By Jove! Yes, Gillespie!" he shouted, +"Le Grand Diable was among them!" + +"What about Diable?" I asked, pinning him down to the subject, for his +mind was lost in angry memories. + +"What about him? He's my one enemy among the Indians," he answered in +tones thick and ominously low. "I thrashed him within an inch of his +life at Isle ŕ la Crosse. Being a Nor'-Wester, he thought it fine game +to pillage the kit of a Hudson's Bay; so he stole a silver-mounted +fowling-piece which my grandfather had at Culloden. By Jove, Gillespie! +The Nor'-Westers have a deal of blood to answer for, stirring up those +Indians against traders; and if they've brought this on me----" + +"Did you get it back?" I interrupted, referring to the fowling-piece, +neither my uncle, nor I, offering any defense for the Nor'-Westers. I +knew there were two sides to this complaint from a Hudson's Bay man. + +"No! That's why I nearly finished him; but the more I clubbed, the more +he jabbered impertinence, '_Cooloo! cooloo! qu' importe!_ It doesn't +matter!' By Jove! I made it matter!" + +"Is that all about Diable, Eric?" continued my uncle. + +He ran his fingers distractedly back through his long, black hair, rose, +and, coming over to me, laid a trembling hand on each shoulder. + +"Gillespie!" he muttered through hard-set teeth. "It isn't all. I didn't +think at the time, but the morning after the row with that red devil I +found a dagger stuck on the outside of my hut-door. The point was +through a fresh sprouted leaflet. A withered twig hung over the blade." + +"Man! Are you mad?" cried Jack MacKenzie. "He must be the very devil +himself. You weren't married then--He couldn't mean----" + +"I thought it was an Indian threat," interjected Hamilton, "that if I +had downed him in the fall, when the branches were bare, he meant to +have his revenge in spring when the leaves were green; but you know I +left the country that fall." + +"You were wrong, Eric!" I blurted out impetuously, the terrible +significance of that threat dawning upon me. "That wasn't the meaning at +all." + +Then I stopped; for Hamilton was like a palsied man, and no one asked +what those tokens of a leaflet pierced by a dagger and an old branch +hanging to the knife might mean. + +Mr. Jack MacKenzie was the first to pull himself together. + +"Come," he shouted. "Gather up your wits! To the camping ground!" and he +threw open the door. + +Thereupon, we three flung through the club-room to the astonishment of +the gossips, who had been waiting outside for developments in the +quarrel with Colonel Adderly. At the outer porch, Hamilton laid a hand +on Mr. MacKenzie's shoulder. + +"Don't come," he begged hurriedly. "There's a storm blowing. It's rough +weather, and a rough road, full of drifts! Make my peace with the man I +struck." + +Then Eric and I whisked out into the blackness of a boisterous, windy +night. A moment later, our horses were dashing over iced cobble-stones +with the clatter of pistol-shots. + +"It will snow," said I, feeling a few flakes driven through the darkness +against my face; but to this remark Hamilton was heedless. + +"It will snow, Eric," I repeated. "The wind's veered north. We must get +out to the camp before all traces are covered. How far by the Beauport +road?" + +"Five miles," said he, and I knew by the sudden scream and plunge of his +horse that spurs were dug into raw sides. We turned down that steep, +break-neck, tortuous street leading from Upper Town to the valley of the +St. Charles. The wet thaw of mid-day had frozen and the road was +slippery as a toboggan slide. We reined our horses in tightly, to +prevent a perilous stumbling of fore-feet, and by zigzagging from side +to side managed to reach the foot of the hill without a single fall. +Here, we again gave them the bit; and we were presently thundering +across the bridge in a way that brought the keeper out cursing and +yelling for his toll. I tossed a coin over my shoulder and we galloped +up the elm-lined avenue leading to that Charlesbourg retreat, where +French Bacchanalians caroused before the British conquest, passed the +thatch-roofed cots of _habitants_ and, turning suddenly to the right, +followed a seldom frequented road, where snow was drifted heavily. Here +we had to slacken pace, our beasts sinking to their haunches and +snorting through the white billows like a modern snow-plow. + +Hamilton had spoken not a word. + +Clouds were massing on the north. Overhead a few stars glittered against +the black, and the angry wind had the most mournful wail I have ever +heard. How the weird undertones came like the cries of a tortured child, +and the loud gusts with the shriek of demons! + +"Gillespie," called Eric's voice tremulous with anguish, +"listen--Rufus--listen! Do you hear anything? Do you hear any one +calling for help? Is that a child crying?" + +"No, Eric, old man," said I, shivering in my saddle. "I hear--I hear +nothing at all but the wind." + +But my hesitancy belied the truth of that answer; for we both heard +sounds, which no one can interpret but he whose well beloved is lost in +the storm. + +And the wind burst upon us again, catching my empty denial and tossing +the words to upper air with eldritch laughter. Then there was a lull, +and I felt rather than heard the choking back of stifled moans and knew +that the man by my side, who had held iron grip of himself before other +eyes, was now giving vent to grief in the blackness of night. + +At last a red light gleamed from the window of a low cot. That was the +signal for us to turn abruptly to the left, entering the forest by a +narrow bridle-path that twisted among the cedars. As if to look down in +pity, the moon shone for a moment above the ragged edge of a storm +cloud, and all the snow-laden evergreens stood out stately, shadowy and +spectral, like mourners for the dead. + +Again the road took to right-about at a sharp angle and the broad +Chateau, with its noble portico and numerous windows all alight, +suddenly loomed up in the center of a forest-clearing on the mountain +side. Where the path to the garden crossed a frozen stream was a small +open space. Here the Indians had been encamped. We hallooed for servants +and by lantern light examined every square inch of the smoked snow and +rubbish heaps. Bits of tin in profusion, stones for the fire, tent +canvas, ends of ropes and tattered rags lay everywhere over the black +patch. Snow was beginning to fall heavily in great flakes that obscured +earth and air. Not a thing had we found to indicate any trace of the +lost woman and child, until I caught sight of a tiny, blue string +beneath a piece of rusty metal. Kicking the tin aside, I caught the +ribbon up. When I saw on the lower end a child's finely beaded moccasin, +I confess I had rather felt the point of Le Grand Diable's dagger at my +own heart than have shown that simple thing to Hamilton. + +Then the snow-storm broke upon us in white billows blotting out +everything. We spread a sheet on the ground to preserve any marks of +the campers, but the drifting wind drove us indoors and we were +compelled to cease searching. All night long Eric and I sat before the +roaring grate fire of the hunting-room, he leaning forward with chin in +his palms and saying few words, I offering futile suggestions and +uttering mad threats, but both utterly at a loss what to do. We knew +enough of Indian character to know what not to do. That was, raise an +outcry, which might hasten the cruelty of Le Grand Diable. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +NOVICE AND EXPERT. + + +Though many years have passed since that dismal storm in the spring of +1815, when Hamilton and I spent a long disconsolate night of enforced +waiting, I still hear the roaring of the northern gale, driving round +the house-corners as if it would wrench all eaves from the roof. It +shrieked across the garden like malignant furies, rushed with the boom +of a sea through the cedars and pines, and tore up the mountain slope +till all the many voices of the forest were echoing back a thousand +tumultuous discords. Again, I see Hamilton gazing at the leaping flames +of the log fire, as if their frenzied motion reflected something of his +own burning grief. Then, the agony of our utter helplessness, as long as +the storm raged, would prove too great for his self-control. Rising, he +would pace back and forward the full length of the hunting-room till his +eye would be caught by some object with which the boy had played. He +would put this carefully away, as one lays aside the belongings of the +dead. Afterwards, lanterns, which we had placed on the oak center table +on coming in, began to smoke and give out a pungent, burning smell, and +each of us involuntarily walked across to a window and drew aside the +curtains to see how daylight was coming on. The white glare of early +morning flooded the room, but the snow-storm had changed to driving +sleet and the panes were iced from corner to corner with frozen +rain-drift. How we dragged through two more days, while the gale raved +with unabated fury, I do not know. Poor Eric was for rushing into the +blinding whirl, that turned earth and air into one white tornado; but he +could not see twice the length of his own arm, and we prevailed on him +to come back. On the third night, the wind fell like a thing that had +fretted out its strength. Morning revealed an ocean of billowy drifts, +crusted over by the frozen sleet and reflecting a white dazzle that made +one's eyes blink. Great icicles hung from the naked branches of the +sheeted pines and snow was wreathed in fantastic forms among the cedars. + +We had laid our plans while we waited. After lifting the canvas from the +camping-ground and seeking in vain for more trace of the fugitives, we +despatched a dozen different search-parties that very morning, Eric +leading those who were to go on the river-side of the Chateau, and I +some well-trained bushrangers picked from the _habitants_ of the +hillside, who could track the forest to every Indian haunt within a +week's march of the city. After putting my men on a trail with +instructions to send back an Indian courier to report each night, I +hunted up an old _habitant_ guide, named Paul Larocque, who had often +helped me to thread the woods of Quebec after big game. Now Paul was +habitually as silent as a dumb animal, and sportsmen had nicknamed him +The Mute; but what he lacked in speech he made up like other wild +creatures in a wonderful acuteness of eye and ear. Indeed, it was +commonly believed among trappers that Paul possessed some nameless sense +by which he could actually _feel_ the presence of an enemy before +ordinary men could either see, or hear. For my part, I would be willing +to pit that "feel" of Paul's against the nose of any hound that +dog-fanciers could back. + +"Paul," said I, as the _habitant_ stood before me licking the short stem +of an inverted clay pipe, "there's an Indian, a bad Indian, an Iroquois, +Paul,"--I was particular in describing the Indian as an Iroquois, for +Paul's wife was a Huron from Lorette--"An Iroquois, who stole a white +woman and a little boy from the Chateau three days ago, in the morning." + +There, I paused to let the facts soak in; for The Mute digested +information in small morsels. Grizzled, stunted and chunky, he was not +at all the picturesque figure which fancy has painted of his class. +Instead of the red toque, which artists place on the heads of +_habitants_, he wore a cloth cap with ear flaps coming down to be tied +under his chin. His jacket was an ill-fitting garment, the cast-off coat +of some well-to-do man, and his trousers slouched in ample folds above +brightly beaded moccasins. When I paused, Paul fixed his eyes on an +invisible spot in the snow and ruminated. Then he hitched the baggy +trousers up, pulled the red scarf, that held them to his waist, +tighter, and, taking his eyes off the snow, looked up for me to go on. + +"That Iroquois, who belongs to the North-West trappers----" + +"_Pays d'En Haut?_" asks Paul, speaking for the first time. + +"Yes," I answered, "and they all disappeared with the woman and the +child the day before the storm." + +The Mute's eyes were back on the snow. + +"Now," said I, "I'll make you a rich man if you take me straight to the +place where he's hiding." + +Paul's eyes looked up with the question of how much. + +"Five pounds a day." This was four more than we paid for the cariboo +hunts. + +Again he stood thinking, then darted off into the forest like a hare; +but I knew his strange, silent ways, and confidently awaited his return. +How he could get two pair of snow-shoes and two poles inside of five +minutes, I do not attempt to explain, unless some of his numerous +half-breed youngsters were at hand in the woods; but he was back again +all equipped for a long tramp, and as soon as I had laced on the +racquets, we were skimming over the drift like a boat on billows. In the +mazy confusion of snow and underbrush, no one but Paul would have found +and kept that tangled, forest path. Where great trunks had fallen across +the way, Paul planted his pole and took the barrier at a bound. Then he +raced on at a gait which was neither a run nor a walk, but an easy trot +common to the _coureurs-des-bois_. The encased branches snapped like +glass when we brushed past, and so heavily were snow and icicles frozen +to the trees we might have been in some grotesque crystal-walled cavern. +The _habitant_ spoke not a word, but on we pressed over the brushwood, +now so packed with snow and crusted ice, our snow-shoes were not once +tripped by loose branches, and we glided from drift to drift. In vain I +tried to discern a trail by the broken thicket on either side, and I +noticed that my guide was keeping his course by following the marks +blazed on trees. At one place we came to a steep, clear slope, where the +earth had fallen sheer away from the hillside and snow had filled the +incline. First prodding forward to feel if the snow-bank were solid, +Paul promptly sat down on the rear end of his snow-shoes, and, quicker +than I can tell it, tobogganed down to the valley. I came leaping +clumsily from point to point with my pole, like a ski-jumping Norwegian, +risking my neck at every bound. Then we coursed along the valley, the +_habitant's_ eyes still on the trees, and once he stopped to emit a +gurgling laugh at a badly hacked trunk, beneath which was a snowed-up +sap trough; but I could not divine whether Paul's mirth were over a +prospect of sugaring-off in the maple-woods, or at some foolish +_habitant_ who had tapped the maple too early. How often had I known my +guide to exhaust city athletes in these swift marches of his! But I had +been schooled to his pace from boyhood and kept up with him at every +step, though we were going so fast I lost all track of my bearings. + +"Where to, Paul?" I asked with a vague suspicion that we were heading +for the Huron village at Lorette. "To Lorette, Paul?" + +But Paul condescended only a grunt and whisked suddenly round a headland +up a narrow gorge, which seemed to lead to the very heart of the +mountains and might have sheltered any number of fugitives. In the gorge +we stopped to take a light meal of gingerbread horses--a cake that is +the peculiar glory of the _habitant_--dried herrings and sea biscuits. +By the sun, I knew it was long past noon and that we had been traveling +northwest. I also vaguely guessed that Paul's object was to intercept +the North-West trappers, if they had planned to slip away from the St. +Lawrence through the bush to the Upper Ottawa, where they could meet +north-bound boats. But not one syllable had my taciturn guide uttered. +Clambering up the steep, snowy banks of the gorge, we found ourselves in +the upper reaches of a mountain, where the trees fell away in scraggy +clumps and the snow stretched up clear and unbroken to the hill-crest. +Paul grunted, licked his pipe-stem significantly and pointed his pole to +the hill-top. The dark peak of a solitary wigwam appeared above the +snow. He pointed again to the fringe of woods below us. A dozen wigwams +were visible among the trees and smoke curled up from a central +camp-fire. + +"_Voilŕ, Monsieur?_" said the _habitant_, which made four words for that +day. + +The Mute then fell to my rear and we first approached the general camp. +The campers were evidently thieves as well as hunters; for frozen pork +hung with venison from the branches of several trees. The sap trough +might also have belonged to them, which would explain Paul's laugh, as +the whole paraphernalia of a sugaring-off was on the outskirts of the +encampment. + +"Not the Indians we're after," said I, noting the signs of permanency; +but Paul Larocque shoved me forward with the end of his pole and a +curious, almost intelligent, expression came on the dull, pock-pitted +face. Strangely enough, as I looked over my shoulder to the guide, I +caught sight of an Indian figure climbing up the bank in our very +tracks. The significance of this incident was to reveal itself later. + +As usual, a pack of savage dogs flew out to announce our coming with +furious barking. But I declare the _habitant_ was so much like any +ragged Indian, the creatures recognized him and left off their vicious +snarl. Only the shrill-voiced children, who rushed from the wigwams; +evinced either surprise or interest in our arrival. Men and women were +haunched about the fire, above which simmered several pots with the +savory odor of cooking meat. I do not think a soul of the company as +much as turned a head on our approach. Though they saw us plainly, they +sat stolid and imperturbable, after the manner of their race, waiting +for us to announce ourselves. Some of the squaws and half-breed women +were heaping bark on the fire. Indians sat straight-backed round the +circle. White men, vagabond trappers from anywhere and everywhere, lay +in all variety of lazy attitudes on buffalo robes and caribou skins. + +I had known, as every one familiar with Quebec's family histories must +know, that the sons of old seigneurs sometimes inherited the adventurous +spirit, which led their ancestors of three centuries ago to exchange the +gayeties of the French court for the wild life of the new world. +I was aware this spirit frequently transformed seigneurs +into bush-rangers and descendants of the royal blood into +_coureurs-des-bois_. But it is one thing to know a fact, another to see +that fact in living embodiment; and in this case, the living embodiment +was Louis Laplante, a school-fellow of Laval, whom, to my amazement, I +now saw, with a beard of some months' growth and clad in buckskin, lying +at full length on his back among that villainous band of nondescript +trappers. Something of the surprise I felt must have shown on my face, +for as Louis recognized me he uttered a shout of laughter. + +"Hullo, Gillespie!" he called with the saucy nonchalance which made him +both a favorite and a torment at the seminary. "Are you among the +prophets?" and he sat up making room for me on his buffalo robe. + +"I'll wager, Louis," said I, shaking his hand heartily and accepting the +proffered seat, "I'll wager it's prophets spelt with an 'f' brings you +here." For the young rake had been one of the most notorious borrowers +at the seminary. + +"Good boy!" laughed he, giving my shoulder a clap. "I see your time was +not wasted with me. Now, what the devil," he asked as I surveyed the +motley throng of fat, coarse-faced squaws and hard-looking men who +surrounded him, "now, what the devil's brought you here?" + +"What's the same, to yourself, Louis lad?" said I. He laughed the merry, +heedless laugh that had been the distraction of the class-room. + +"Do you need to ask with such a galaxy of nut-brown maidens?" and Louis +looked with the assurance of privileged impudence straight across the +fire into the hideous, angry face of a big squaw, who was glaring at me. +The creature was one to command attention. She might have been a great, +bronze statue, a type of some ancient goddess, a symbol of fury, or +cruelty. Her eyes fastened themselves on mine and held me, whether I +would or no, while her whole face darkened. + +"The lady evidently objects to having her place usurped, Louis," I +remarked, for he was watching the silent duel between the native woman's +questioning eyes and mine. + +"The gentleman wants to know if the lady objects to having her place +usurped?" called Louis to the squaw. + +At that the woman flinched and looked to Laplante. Of course, she did +not understand our words; but I think she was suspicious we were +laughing at her. There was a vindictive flash across her face, then the +usual impenetrable expression of the Indian came over her features. I +noticed that her cheeks and forehead were scarred, and a cut had laid +open her upper lip from nose to teeth. + +"You must know that the lady is the daughter of a chief and a fighter," +whispered Louis in my ear. + +I might have known she was above common rank from the extraordinary +number of trinkets she wore. Pendants hung from her ears like the +pendulum of a clock. She had a double necklace of polished bear's claws +and around her waist was a girdle of agates, which to me proclaimed that +she was of a far-western tribe. In the girdle was an ivory-handled +knife, which had doubtless given as many scars as its owner displayed. + +"What tribe, Louis?" I asked. + +"I'll be hanged, now, if I'm not jealous," he began. "You'll stare the +lady out of countenance----" But at this moment the Indian who had come +up the bank behind us came round and interrupted Laplante's merriment by +tossing a piece of bethumbed paper between my comrade's knees. + +"The deuce!" exclaimed Louis, bulging his tongue into one cheek and +glancing at me with a queer, quizzical look as he unfolded and read the +paper. + +If he had not spoken I might not have turned; but having turned I could +not but notice two things. Louis jerked back from me, as if I might try +to read the soiled note in his hand, and in raising the paper displayed +on the back the stamp of the commissariat department from Quebec +Citadel. + +Neither Laplante's suppressed surprise, nor my observations of his +movement, escaped the big squaw. She came quickly round the fire to us +both. + +"Give me that," she commanded, holding out her hand to the French youth. + +"The deuce I will," he returned, twisting the paper up in his clenched +fist. Half in jest, half in earnest, just as Louis used to be punished +at the seminary, she gave him a prompt box on the ear. He took it in +perfect good-nature. And the whole encampment laughed. The squaw went +back to the other side of the fire. Laplante leaned forward and threw +the paper towards the flames; but without his knowledge, he overshot the +mark; and when the trader was looking elsewhere the big squaw stooped, +picked up the coveted note and slipped it into her skirt pocket. + +"Now, Louis, nonsense aside," I began. + +"With all my soul, if I have one," said he, lying back languidly with a +perceptible cooling of the cordiality he had first evinced. + +I told him my errand, and that I wished to search every wigwam for trace +of the lost woman and child. He listened with shut eyes. + +"It isn't," I explained in a low voice, eager to arouse his interest, +"it isn't in the least, Laplante, that we suspect these people; but you +know the kidnappers might have traded the clothing to your people----" + +"Oh! Go ahead!" he interjected impatiently. "Don't beat round the bush! +What do you want of me?" + +"To go through the tents with me and help me. By Jove! Laplante! I +thought at least a spark of the man would suggest that without my +speaking," I broke out hotly. + +He was on his feet with an alacrity that brought old Paul Larocque round +to my side and the squaw to his. + +"Curse you," he cried out roughly, shoving the squaw back. For a moment +I was uncertain whether he were addressing the woman or myself. "You +mind your own business and go to your Indian! Here, Gillespie, I'll do +the tents with you. Get off with you," he muttered at the squaw, +rumbling out a lingo of persuasive expletives; and he led the way to the +first wigwam. + +But the squaw was not to be dismissed; for when I followed the +Frenchman, she closed in behind looking thunder, not at her abuser, but +at me; and The Mute, fearing foul play and pole in hand, loyally brought +up the rear of our strange procession. I shall not retail that search +through robes and skins and blankets and boxes, in foul-smelling, +vermin-infested wigwams. It was fruitless. I only recall the lowering +face of the big squaw looking over my shoulder at every turn, with +heavy brows contracted and gashed lips grinning an evil, malicious +challenge. I thought she kept her hands uncomfortably near the ivory +handle in the agate belt; but Larocque, good fellow, never took his +beady eyes off those same hands and kept a grip of the leaping pole. + +Thus we examined the tents and made a circuit of the people round the +fire, but found nothing to reveal the whereabouts of Miriam and the +child. Laplante and I were on one side of the robe, Larocque and the +squaw on the other. + +"And why is that tent apart from the rest and who is in it?" I asked +Laplante, pointing to the lone tepee on the crest of the hill. + +The fire cracked so loudly I became aware there was ominous silence +among the loungers of the camp. They were listening as well as watching. +Up to this time I had not thought they were paying the slightest +attention to us. Laplante was not answering, and when I faced him +suddenly I found the squaw's eyes fastened on his, holding them whether +he would or no, just as she had mine. + +"Eh! man?" I cried, seizing him fiercely, a nameless suspicion getting +possession of me. "Why don't you answer?" + +The spell was broken. He turned to me nonchalantly, as he used to face +accusers in the school-days of long ago, and spoke almost gently, with +downcast eyes, and a quiet, deprecating smile. + +"You know, Rufus," he answered, using the schoolboy name. "We should +have told you before. But remember we didn't invite you here. We didn't +lead you into it." + +"Well?" I demanded. + +"Well," he replied in a voice too low for any of the listeners but the +squaw to hear, "there's a very bad case of smallpox up in that tent and +we're keeping the man apart till he gets better. That, in fact, is why +we're all here. You must go. It is not safe." + +"Thanks, Laplante," said I. "Good-by." But he did not offer me his hand +when I made to take leave. + +"Come," he said. "I'll go as far as the gorge with you;" and he stood on +the embankment and waved as we passed into the lengthening shadows of +the valley. + +Now, in these days of health officers and vaccination, people can have +no idea of the terrors of a smallpox scourge at the beginning of this +century. The _habitant_ is as indifferent to smallpox as to measles, and +accepts both as dispensations of Providence by exposing his children to +the contagion as early as possible; but I was not so minded, and hurried +down the gorge as fast as my snow-shoes would carry me. Then I +remembered that the Indian population of the north had been reduced to a +skeleton of its former numbers by the pestilence in 1780, and recalled +that my Uncle Jack had said the native's superstitious dread of this +disease knew no bounds. That recollection checked my sudden flight. If +the Indians had such fear, why had this band camped within a mile of +the pest tent? It would be more like Indian character to reverse +Samaritan practises and leave the victim to die. This man might, of +course, be a French-Canadian trapper, but I would take no risks of a +trick, so I ordered Paul to lead me back to that tepee. + +The Mute seemed to understand I had no wish to be seen by the campers. +He skirted round the base of the hill till we were on the side remote +from the tribe. Then he motioned me to remain in the gorge while he +scrambled up the cliff to reconnoitre. I knew he received a surprise as +soon as his head was on a level with the top of the bank; for he curled +himself up behind a snow-pile and gave a low whistle for me. I was +beside him with one bound. We were not twenty pole-lengths from the +wigwam. There was no appearance of life. The tent flaps had been laced +up and a solitary watch-dog was tied to a stake before the entrance. +Down the valley the setting sun shone through the naked trees like a +wall of fire, and dyed all the glistening snow-drifts primrose and opal. +At one place in the forest the red light burst through and struck +against the tent on the hill-top, giving the skins a peculiar appearance +of being streaked with blood. The faintest breath of wind, a mere sigh +of moving air-currents peculiar to snow-padded areas, came up from the +woods with far-away echoes of the trappers' voices. Perhaps this was +heard by the watch-dog, or it may have felt the disturbing presence of +my half-wild _habitant_ guide; for it sat back on its haunches and +throwing up its head, let out the most doleful howlings imaginable. + +"Oh! _Monsieur_," shuddered out the superstitious habitant shivering +like an aspen leaf, "sick man moan,--moan,--moan hard! He die, +_Monsieur_, he die, he die now when dog cry lak dat," and full of fear +he scrambled down into the gorge, making silent gestures for me to +follow. + +For a time--but not long, I must acknowledge--I lay there alone, +watching and listening. Paul's ears might hear the moans of a sick man, +mine could not: nor would I return to the Chateau without ascertaining +for a certainty what was in that wigwam. Slipping off the snow-shoes, I +rose and tip-toed over the snow with the full intention of silencing the +dog with my pole; but I was suddenly arrested by the distinct sound of +pain-racked groaning. Then the brute of a dog detected my approach and +with a furious leaping that almost hung him with his own rope set up a +vicious barking. Suddenly the black head of an Indian, or trapper, +popped through the tent flaps and a voice shouted in perfect +English--"Go away! Go away! The pest! The pest!" + +"Who has smallpox?" I bawled back. + +"A trader, a Nor'-Wester," said he. "If you have anything for him lay it +on the snow and I'll come for it." + +As honor pledged me to serve Hamilton until he found his wife, I was not +particularly anxious to exchange civilities at close range with a man +from a smallpox tent; so I quickly retraced my way to the gorge and +hurried homeward with The Mute. My old school-fellow's sudden change +towards me when he received the letter written on Citadel paper, and the +big squaw's suspicion of my every movement, now came back to me with a +significance I had not felt when I was at the camp. Either intuitions +like those of my _habitant_ guide, which instinctively put out feelers +with the caution of an insect's antennć for the presence of vague, +unknown evil, lay dormant in my own nature and had been aroused by the +incidents at the camp, or else the mind, by the mere fact of holding +information in solution, widens its own knowledge. For now, in addition +to the letter from the Citadel and the squaw's animosity, came the one +missing factor--Adderly. I felt, rather than knew, that Louis Laplante +had deceived me. Had he lied? A lie is the clumsy invention of the +novice. An expert accomplishes his deceit without anything so grossly +and tangibly honest as a lie; and Louis was an expert. Though I had not +a vestige of proof, I could have sworn that Adderly and the squaw and +Louis were leagued against me for some dark purpose. I was indeed +learning the first lessons of the trapper's life: never to open my lips +on my own affairs to another man, and never to believe another man when +he opened his lips to me. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LAUNCHED INTO THE UNKNOWN + + +"You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head off," ejaculated +Mr. Jack MacKenzie, with ferocious emphasis. I had been relating my +experience with the campers; and was recounting how the man put his head +out of the tent and warned me of smallpox. But my uncle was a gentleman +of the old school and had a fine contempt for quarantine. + +"Knocked his head off, knocked his head off, Sir," he continued, +explosively. "Make it a point to knock the head off anything that stands +in your way, Sir----" + +"But you don't suppose," I expostulated, about to voice my own +suspicions. + +"_Suppose!_" he roared out. "I make it a point never to _suppose_ +anything. I act on facts, Sir! You wanted to go into that wigwam; didn't +you? Well then, why the deuce didn't you go, and knock the head off +anything that opposed you?" + +Being highly successful in all his own dealings, Mr. Jack MacKenzie +could not tolerate failure in other people. A month of vigilant +searching had yielded not the slightest inkling of Miriam and the child; +and this fact ignited all the gunpowder of my uncle's fiery +temperament. We had felt so sure Le Grand Diable's band of vagabonds +would hang about till the brigades of the North-West Company's tripmen +set out for the north, all our efforts were spent in a vain search for +some trace of the rascals in the vicinity of Quebec. His gypsy +nondescripts would hardly dare to keep the things taken from Miriam and +the child. These would be traded to other tribes; so day and night, Mr. +MacKenzie, Eric and I, with hired spies, dogged the footsteps of +trappers, who were awaiting the breaking up of the ice; shadowed +_voyageurs_, who passed idle days in the dram-shops of Lower Town, and +scrutinized every native who crossed our path, ever on the alert for a +glimpse of Diable, or his associates. Diligently we tracked all Indian +trails through Charlesbourg forest and examined every wigwam within a +week's march of the city. Le Grand Diable was not likely to be among his +ancestral enemies at Lorette, but his half-breed followers might have +traded with the Hurons; and the lodges at Lorette were also searched. +Watches were set along the St. Lawrence, so no one could approach an +opening before the ice broke up, or launch a canoe after the water had +cleared, without our knowledge. But Le Grand Diable and his band had +vanished as mysteriously as Miriam. It was as impossible to learn where +the Iroquois had gone as to follow the wind. His disappearance was +altogether as unaccountable as the lost woman's, and this, of itself, +confirmed our suspicions. Had he sold, or slain his captives, he would +not have remained in hiding; and the very fruitlessness of the search +redoubled our zeal. + +The conviction that Louis Laplante had, somehow or other, played me +false, stuck in my mind like the depression of a bad dream. Again and +again, I related the circumstances to my uncle; but he "pished," and +"tushed," and "pooh-poohed," the very idea of any kidnappers remaining +so near the city and giving me free run of their wigwams. My reasonless +persistence was beginning to irritate him. Indeed, on one occasion, he +informed me that I had as many vagaries in my head as a "bed-ridden +hag," and with great fervor he "wished to the Lord there was a law in +this land for the ham-stringing of such fool idiots, as that _habitant_ +Mute, who led me such a wild-goose chase." + +In spite of this and many other jeremiades, I once more donned +snow-shoes and with Paul for guide paid a second visit to the campers of +the gorge. And a second time, I was welcomed by Louis and taken through +the wigwams. The smallpox tent was no longer on the crest of the hill; +and when I asked after the patient, Louis without a word pointed +solemnly to a snow-mound, where the man lay buried. But I did not see +the big squaw, nor the face that had emerged from the tent flaps to wave +me off; and when I also inquired after these, Louis' face darkened. He +told me bluntly I was asking too many questions and began to swear in a +mongrel jargon of French and English that my conduct was an insult he +would take from no man. But Louis was ever short of temper. I remembered +that of old. Presently his little flare-up died down, and he told me +that the woman and her husband had gone north through the woods to join +some crews on the Upper Ottawa. From the talk of the others, I gathered +that, having disposed of their hunt to the commissariat department at +the Citadel, they intended to follow the same trail within a few days. I +tried without questioning to learn what crews they were to join; but +whether with purpose, or by chance, the conversation drifted from my +lead and I had to return to the city without satisfaction on that point. + +Meanwhile, Hamilton rested neither night nor day. In the morning with a +few hurried words he would outline the plan for the day. At night he +rode back to the Chateau with such eager questioning in his eyes when +they met mine, I knew he had nothing better to report to me, than I to +him. After a silent meal, he would ride through the dark forest on a +fresh mount. How and where he passed those sleepless nights, I do not +know. Thus had a month slipped away; and we had done everything and +accomplished nothing. Baffled, I had gone to confer with Mr. Jack +MacKenzie and had, as usual, exasperated him with the reiterated +conviction that Adderly and the Citadel writing paper and Louis Laplante +had some connection with the malign influence that was balking our +efforts. + +"Fudge!" exclaims my uncle, stamping about his study and puffing with +indignation. "You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head +off!" + +"You've said that several times already, Mr. MacKenzie," I put in, +having a touch of his own peppery temper from my mother's side. "What +about Adderly's rage?" + +"Adderly's been in Montreal since the night of the row. For the Lord's +sake, boy, do you expect to find the woman by believing in that bloated +bugaboo?" + +"But the Citadel paper?" I persisted. + +"Of course you've never been told, Rufus Gillespie," he began, choking +down his impatience with the magnitude of my stupidity, "that the +commissariat buys supplies from hunters?" + +"That doesn't explain the big squaw's suspicions and Louis' own +conduct." + +"That Louis!" says my uncle. "Pah! That son of an inflated old seigneur! +A fig for the buck! Not enough brains in his pate to fill a peanut!" + +"But there might be enough evil in his heart to wreck a life," and that +was the first argument to pierce my uncle's scepticism. The keen eyes +glanced out at me as if there might be some hope for my intelligence, +and he took several turns about the room. + +"Hm! If you're of that mind, you'd better go out and excavate the +smallpox," was his sententious conclusion. "And if it's a hoax, you'd +better----" and he puckered his brows in thought. + +"What?" I asked eagerly. + +"Join the traders' crews and track the villains west," he answered with +the promptitude of one who decides quickly and without vacillation. "O +Lord! If I were only young! But to think of a man too stout and old to +buckle on his own snow-shoes hankering for that life again!" And my +uncle heaved a deep sigh. + +Now, no one, who has not lived the wild, free life of the northern +trader, can understand the strange fascinations which for the moment +eclipsed in this courteous and chivalrous old gentleman's mind all +thought of the poor woman, with whom my own fate was interwoven. But I, +who have lived in the lonely fastnesses of the splendid freedom, know +full well what surging recollections of danger and daring, of success +and defeat, of action in which one faces and laughs at death, and calm +in which one sounds the unutterable depths of very infinity--thronged +the old trader's soul. Indeed, when he spoke, it was as if the sentence +of my own life had been pronounced; and my whole being rose up to salute +destiny. I take it, there is in every one some secret and cherished +desire for a chosen vocation to which each looks forward with hope up to +the meridian of life, and to which many look back with regret after the +meridian. Of prophetic instincts and intuitions and impressions and +feelings and much more of the same kind going under a different name, I +say nothing, I only set down as a fact, to be explained how it may, +that all the way out to the gorge, with Paul, The Mute leading for a +third time, I could have sworn there would be no corpse in that +snow-covered grave. For was it not written in my inner consciousness +that destiny had appointed me to the wild, free life of the north? So I +was not surprised when Paul Larocque's spade struck sharply on a box. +Indians sleep their last sleep in the skins of the chase. Nor was I in +the least amazed when that same spade pried up the lid of cached +provisions instead of a coffin. Then I had ocular proof of what I knew +before, that Louis in word and conduct--but chiefly in conduct, which is +the way of the expert had--lied outrageously to me. + +When the ice broke up at the end of April, hunters were off for their +summer retreats and _voyageurs_ set out on the annual trip to the _Pays +d'En Haut_. This year the Hudson's Bay Company had organized a strong +fleet of canoemen under Mr. Colin Robertson, a former Nor'-Wester, to +proceed to Red River settlement by way of the Ottawa and the Sault +instead of entering the fur preserve by the usual route of Hudson Bay +and York Factory. From Le Grand Diable's former association with the +North-West Company it was probable he would be in Robertson's brigade. +Among the _voyageurs_ of both companies there was not a more expert +canoeman than this treacherous, thievish Iroquois. As steersman, he +could take a crew safely through knife-edge rocks with the swift +certainty of arrow flight. In spite of a reputation for embodying the +vices of white man and red--which gave him his unsavory title--it seemed +unlikely that the Hudson's Bay Company, now in the thick of an +aggressive campaign against its great rival, and about to despatch an +important flotilla from Montreal to Athabasca by way of the +Nor'-Westers' route, would dispense with the services of this dexterous +_voyageur_. On the other hand, the Nor'-Westers might bribe the Iroquois +to stay with them. + +Acting on these alternative possibilities, Hamilton and I determined to +track the fugitives north. We could leave hirelings to shadow the +movements of Indian bands about Quebec. Eric could re-engage with the +Hudson's Bay and get passage north with Colin Robertson's brigade, which +was to leave Lachine in a few weeks. My uncle had been a famous +_Bourgeois_ of the great North-West Company in his younger days, and +could secure me an immediate commission in the North-West Company. Thus +we could accompany the _voyageurs_ and runners of both companies. + +Hamilton's arrangements were easily made; and my uncle not only obtained +the commission for me, but, with a hearty clap on my back and a "Bravo, +boy! I knew the fur trader's fever would break out in you yet!" pinned +to the breast of my inner waistcoat the showy gold medallion which the +_Bourgeois_ wore on festive occasions. In very truth I oft had need of +its inspiriting motto: _Fortitude in Distress_. + +Feudal lords of the middle ages never waged more ruthless war on each +other than the two great fur trading companies of the north at the +beginning of the nineteenth century. Pierre de Raddison and Grosselier, +gentlemen adventurers of New France, first followed the waters of the +Outawa (Ottawa) northward, and passed from Lake Superior (the _kelche +gamme_ of Indian lore) to the great unknown fur preserve between Hudson +Bay and the Pacific Ocean; but the fur monopolists of the French court +in Quebec jealously obstructed the explorers' efforts to open up the +vast territory. De Raddison was compelled to carry his project to the +English court, and the English court, with a liberality not unusual in +those days, promptly deeded over the whole domain, the extent, locality +and wealth of which there was utter ignorance, to a fur trading +organization,--the newly formed "Company of Adventurers of England, +trading into Hudson's Bay," incorporated in 1670 with Prince Rupert +named as first governor. If monopolists of New France, through envy, +sacrificed Quebec's first claim to the unknown land, Frontenac made +haste to repair the loss. Father Albanel, a Jesuit, and other +missionaries led the way westward to the _Pays d'En Haut_. De Raddison +twice changed his allegiance, and when Quebec fell into the hands of the +British nearly a century later, the French traders were as active in the +northern fur preserve as their great rivals, the Ancient and Honorable +Hudson's Bay Company; but the Englishmen kept near the bay and the +Frenchmen with their _coureurs-des-bois_ pushed westward along the +chain of water-ays leading from Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg to the +Saskatchewan and Athabasca. Then came the Conquest, with the downfall of +French trade in the north country. But there remained the +_coureurs-des-bois_, or wood-rangers, the _Metis_, or French +half-breeds, the _Bois-Brulés_, or plain runners--so called, it is +supposed, from the trapper's custom of blazing his path through the +forest. And on the ruins of French barter grew up a thriving English +trade, organized for the most part by enterprising citizens of Quebec +and Montreal, and absorbing within itself all the cast-off servants of +the old French companies. Such was the origin of the X. Y. and +North-West Companies towards the beginning of the nineteenth century. Of +these the most energetic and powerful--and therefore the most to be +feared by the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company--was the +North-West Company, "_Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest_," as +the partners designated themselves. + +From the time that the North-Westers gratuitously poured their secrets +into the ears of Lord Selkirk, and Lord Selkirk shrewdly got control of +the Hudson's Bay Company and began to infuse Nor'-Westers' zeal into the +stagnant workings of the older company, there arose such a feud among +these lords of the north as may be likened only to the pillaging of +robber barons in the middle ages. And this feud was at its height when I +cast in my lot with the North-West Fur Company, Nor'-Westers had reaped +a harvest of profits by leaving the beaten track of trade and pushing +boldly northward into the remote MacKenzie River region. This year the +Hudson's Bay had determined to enter the same area and employed a former +Nor'-Wester, Mr. Colin Robertson, to conduct a flotilla of canoes from +Lachine, Montreal, by way of the Nor'-Westers' route up the Ottawa to +the Saskatchewan and Athabasca. But while the Hudson's Bay Company could +ship their peltries directly to England from the bay, the Nor'-Westers +labored under the disadvantage of many delays and trans-shipments before +their goods reached seaboard at Montreal. Indeed, I have heard my uncle +tell of orders which he sent from the north to England in October. The +things ordered in October would be sent from London in March to reach +Montreal in mid-summer. There they would be re-packed in small +quantities for portaging and despatched from Montreal with the +Nor'-Western _voyageurs_ the following May, and if destined for the far +north would not reach the end of their long trip until October--two +years from the time of the order. Yet, under such conditions had the +Nor'-Westers increased in prosperity, while the Hudson's Bay, with its +annual ships at York Factory and Churchill, declined. + +When Lord Selkirk took hold of the Hudson's Bay there was a change. Once +a feud has begun, I know very well it is impossible to apportion the +blame each side deserves. Whether Selkirk timed his acts of aggression +during the American war of 1812-1814, when the route of the +Nor'-Westers was rendered unsafe--who can say? Whether he brought +colonists into the very heart of the disputed territory for the sake of +the colonists, or to be drilled into an army of defense for The Hudson's +Bay Company--who can say? Whether he induced his company to grant him a +vast area of land at the junction of the Red and Assiniboine +rivers--against which a minority of stockholders protested--for the sake +of these same colonists, or to hold a strategical point past which +North-Westers' cargoes must go--who can say? On these subjects, which +have been so hotly discussed both inside and outside law courts, without +any definite decision that I have ever heard, I refuse to pass judgment. +I can but relate events as I saw them and leave to each the right of a +personal decision. + +In 1815, Nor'-Westers' canoes were to leave Ste. Anne de Beaupré, twenty +miles east of Quebec, instead of Ste. Anne on the Ottawa, the usual +point of departure. We had not our full complement of men. Some of the +Indians and half-breeds had gone northwest overland through the bush to +a point on the Ottawa River north of Chaudičre Falls, where they were +awaiting us, and Hamilton, through the courtesy of my uncle, was able to +come with us in our boats as far as Lachine. + +I was never a grasping trader, but I provided myself before setting out +with every worthless gew-gaw and flashy trifle that could tempt the +native to betray Indian secrets. Lest these should fail, I added to my +stock a dozen as fine new flint-locks as could corrupt the soul of an +Indian, and without consideration for the enemy's scalp also equipped +myself with a box of wicked-looking hunting-knives. These things I +placed in square cases and sat upon them when we were in barges, or +pillowed my head upon them at night, never losing sight of them except +on long portages where Indians conveyed our cargo on their backs. + +A man on a less venturesome quest than mine could hardly have set out +with the brigades of canoemen for the north country and not have been +thrilled like a lad on first escape from school's leading strings. There +we were, twenty craft strong, with clerks, traders, one steersman and +eight willowy, copper-skin paddlers in each long birch canoe. No +oriental prince could be more gorgeously appareled than these gay +_voyageurs_. Flaunting red handkerchiefs banded their foreheads and held +back the lank, black hair. Buckskin smocks, fringed with leather down +the sleeves and beaded lavishly in bright colors, were drawn tight at +the waist by sashes of flaming crimson, green and blue. In addition to +the fringe of leather down the trouser seams, some in our company had +little bells fastened from knee to ankle. It was a strange sight to see +each of these reckless denizens of forest and plain pause reverently +before the chapel of _La Bonne Sainte Anne_, cross himself, invoke her +protection on the voyage and drop some offering in the treasury box +before hurrying to his place in the canoe. One Indian left the miniature +of a carved boat in the hands of the priest at the porch. It was his +votive gift to the saint and may be seen there to this day. + +As we were embarking I noticed Eric had not come down and the canoes +were already gliding about the wharf awaiting the head steersman's +signal. I had last seen him on the church steps and ran back from the +river to learn the cause of his delay. Now Hamilton is not a Catholic; +neither is he a Protestant; but I would not have good people ascribe his +misfortunes to this lack of creed, for a trader in the far north loses +denominational distinctions and a better man I have never known. What, +then, was my surprise to meet him face to face coming out of the chapel +with tears coursing down his cheeks and floor-dust thick upon his knees? +Women know what to do and say in such a case. A man must be dumb, or +blunder; so I could but link my arm through his and lead him silently +down to my own canoe. + +A single wave of the chief steersman's hand, and out swept the paddles +in a perfect harmony of motion. Then someone struck up a _voyageurs'_ +ballad and the canoemen unconsciously kept time with the beat of the +song. The valley seemed filled with the voices of those deep-chested, +strong singers, and the chimes of Ste. Anne clashed out a last sweet +farewell. + +"Cheer up, old man!" said I to Eric, who was sitting with face buried in +his hands. "Cheer up! Do you hear the bells? It's a God-speed for you!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +CIVILIZATION'S VENEER RUBS OFF + + +My uncle accompanied our flotilla as far as Lachine and occupied a place +in my division of canoes. Many were the admonitions he launched out like +thunderbolts whenever his craft and mine chanced to glide abreast. + +"If you lay hands on that skunk," he had said, the malodorous epithet +being his designation for Louis Laplante, "If you lay hands on that +skunk, don't be a simpleton. Skin him, Sir, by the Lord, skin him! Let +him play the ostrich act! Keep your own counsel and work him for all +you're worth! Let him play his deceitful game! By Jove! Give the villain +rope enough to hang himself! Gain your end! Afterwards forget and +forgive if you like; but, by the Lord, remember and don't ignore the +fact, that repentance can't turn a skunk into an innocent, pussy cat!" + +And so Mr. Jack MacKenzie continued to warn me all the way from Quebec +to Montreal, mixing his metaphors as topers mix drinks. But I had long +since learned not to remonstrate against these outbursts of explosive +eloquence--not though all the canons of Laval literati should be +outraged. "What, Sir?" he had roared out when I, in full conceit of new +knowledge, had audaciously ventured to pull him up, once in my student +days. "What, Sir? Don't talk to me of your book-fangled balderdash! Is +language for the use of man, or man for the use of language?" and he +quoted from Hamlet's soliloquy in a way that set me packing my pedant +lore in the unused lumber-room of brain lobes. And so, I say, Mr. Jack +MacKenzie continued to pour instructions into my ear for the venturesome +life on which I had entered. "The lad's a fool, only a fool," he said, +still harping on Louis, "and mind you answer the fool according to his +folly!" + +"Most men are fools first, and then knaves, knaves because they have +been fools," I returned to my uncle, "and I fancy Laplante has graduated +from the fool stage by this time, and is a full diploma knave!" + +"That's all true," he retorted, "but don't you forget there's always +fool enough left in the knave to give you your opportunity, if you're +not a fool. Joint in the armor, lad! Use your cutlass there." + +Apart from the peppery discourses of my kinsman, I remember very little +of the trip up the St. Lawrence from Ste. Anne to Lachine with Eric +sitting dazed and silent opposite me. We, of course, followed the river +channel between the Island of Orleans and the north shore; and whenever +our boats drew near the mainland, came whiffs of crisp, frosty air from +the dank ravines, where snow patches yet lay in the shadow. Then the +fleet would sidle towards the island and there would be the fresh, +spring odor of damp, uncovered mold, with a vague suggestiveness of +violets and May-flowers and ferns bursting with a rush through the black +clods. The purple folds of the mountains, with their wavy outlines +fading in the haze of distance, lay on the north as they lie to-day; and +everywhere on the hills were the white cots of _habitant_ hamlets with +chapel spires pointing above tree-tops. At the western end of the +island, where boats sheer out into mid-current, came the dull, heavy +roar of the cataract and above the north shore rose great, billowy +clouds of foam. With a sweep of our paddles, we were opposite a cleft in +the vertical rock and saw the shimmering, fleecy waters of Montmorency +leap over the dizzy precipice churning up from their own whirling depths +and bound out to the river like a panther after prey. + +Now the Isle of Orleans was vanishing on our rear and the bold heights +of Point Levis had loomed up to the fore; and now we had poked our prows +to the right and the sluggish, muddy tide of the St. Charles lapped our +canoes, while a forest of masts and yard-arms and flapping sails arose +from the harbor of Quebec City. The great walls of modern Quebec did not +then exist; but the rude fortifications, that sloped down from the lofty +Citadel on Cape Diamond and engirt the whole city on the hillside, +seemed imposing enough to us in those days. + +It was late in the afternoon when we passed. The sunlight struck across +the St. Charles, brightening the dull, gray stone of walls and +cathedrals and convents, turning every window on the west to fire and +transforming a multitude of towers and turrets and minarets to +glittering gold. Small wonder, indeed, that all our rough tripmen +stopped paddling and with eyes on the spire of Notre Dame des Victoires +muttered prayers for a prosperous voyage. For some reason or other, I +found my own hat off. So was Mr. Jack MacKenzie's, so was Eric +Hamilton's. Then the _voyageurs_ fell to work again. The canoes spread +out. We rounded Cape Diamond and the lengthening shadow of the high peak +darkened the river before us. Always the broad St. Lawrence seemed to be +winding from headland to headland among the purple hills, in sunlight a +mirror between shadowy, forest banks, at night, molten silver in the +moon-track. Afternoon slipped into night and night to morning, and each +hour of daylight presented some new panorama of forests and hills and +torrents. Here the river widened into a lake. There the lake narrowed to +rapids; and so we came to Lachine--La Chine, named in ridicule of the +gallant explorer, La Salle, who thought these vast waterways would +surely lead him to China. + +At Lachine, Mr. Jack MacKenzie, with much brusque bluster to conceal his +longings for the life he was too old to follow and many cynical +injunctions about "skinning the skunk" and "knocking the head off +anything that stood in my way" and "always profiting from the follies +of other men"--"mind, have none yourself,"--parted from us. Here, too, +Eric gripped my hand a tense, wordless farewell and left our party for +the Hudson's Bay brigade under Colin Robertson. + +It has always been a mystery to me why our rivals sent that brigade to +Athabasca by way of Lachine instead of Hudson Bay, which would have been +two thousand miles nearer. We Nor'-Westers went all the way to and from +Montreal, solely because that was our only point of access to the sea; +but the Hudson's Bay people had their own Hudson Bay for a starting +place. Why, in their slavish imitation of the methods, which brought us +success, they also adopted our disadvantages, I could never understand. +Birch canoes and good tripmen could, of course, as the Hudson's Bay men +say, be most easily obtained in Quebec; but with a good organizer, the +same could have been gathered up two thousand miles nearer York Factory, +on Hudson Bay. Indeed, I have often thought the sole purpose of that +expedition was to get Nor'-Westers' methods by employing discarded +Nor'-Westers as trappers and _voyageurs_. Colin Robertson, the leader, +had himself been a Nor'-Wester; and all the men with him except Eric +Hamilton were renegades, "turn-coat traders," as we called them. But I +must not be unjust; for neither company could possibly exceed the other +in its zeal to entice away old trappers, who would reveal opponents' +secrets. Acting on my uncle's advice, I made shift to pick up a few +crumbs of valuable information. Had the Hudson's Bay known, I suppose +they would have called me a spy. That was the name I gave any of them +who might try such tricks with me. The General Assembly of the +North-West partners was to meet at Fort William, at the head of Lake +Superior. I learned that Robertson's brigade were anxious to slip past +our headquarters at Fort William before the meeting and would set out +that very day. I also heard they had sent forward a messenger to notify +the Hudson's Bay governor at Fort Douglas of their brigade's coming. + +Almost before I realized it, we were speeding up the Ottawa, past a +second and third and fourth Ste. Anne's; for she is the _voyageurs'_ +patron saint and her name dots Canada's map like ink-blots on a boy's +copybook. Wherever a Ste. Anne's is now found, there has the _voyageur_ +of long ago passed and repassed. In places the surface of the river, +gliding to meet us, became oily, almost glassy, as if the wave-current +ran too fast to ripple out to the banks. Then little eddies began +whirling in the corrugated water and our paddlers with labored breath +bent hard to their task. By such signs I learned to know when we were +stemming the tide of some raging waterfall, or swift rapid. There would +follow quick disembarking, hurried portages over land through a tangle +of forest, or up slippery, damp rocks, a noisy launching far above the +torrent and swifter progress when the birch canoes touched water again. +Such was the tireless pace, which made North-West _voyageurs_ famous. +Such was the work the great _Bourgeois_ exacted of their men. A liberal +supply of rum, when stoppages were made, and of bread and meat for each +meal--better fare than was usually given by the trading companies--did +much to encourage the tripmen. Each man was doing his utmost to +out-distance the bold rivals following by our route. The _Bourgeois_ +were to meet at Fort William early in June. At all hazards we were +determined to notify our company of the enemy's invading flotilla; and +without margin for accidents we had but a month to cross half a +continent. + +At nightfall the fourth day from the shrine, after a tiresome nine-mile +traverse past the Chaudičre Falls of the Ottawa, glittering camp-fires +on the river bank ahead showed where a fresh relay of canoemen awaited +us. They were immediately taken into the different crews and +night-shifts of paddlers put to work. It was quite dark, when the new +hands joined us; but in the moonlight, as the chief steersman told off +the men by name, I watched each tawny figure step quickly to his place +in the canoes, with that gliding Indian motion, which scarcely rocked +the light craft. There came to my crew Little Fellow, a short, thick-set +man, with a grinning, good-natured face, who--despite his size--would +solemnly assure people he was equal in force to the sun. With him was La +Robe Noire, of grave aspect and few words, mighty in stature and +shoulder power. There were five or six others, whose names in the +clangor of voices I did not hear. Of these, one was a tall, lithe, +swift-moving man, whose cunning eyes seemed to gleam with the malice of +a serpent. This canoeman silently twisted into sleeping posture directly +behind me. + +The signal was given, and we were in mid-stream again. Wrapping my +blanket about me, half propped by a bale of stuff and breathing deep of +the clear air with frequent resinous whiffs from the forest I drowsed +off. The swish of waters rushing past and the roar of torrents, which I +had seen and heard during the day, still sounded in my ears. The sigh of +the night-wind through the forest came like the lonely moan of a +far-distant sea, and I was sleepily half conscious that cedars, pines +and cliffs were engaged in a mad race past the sides of the canoe. A bed +in which one may not stretch at random is not comfortable. Certainly my +cramped limbs must have caused bad dreams. A dozen times I could have +sworn the Indian behind me had turned into a snake and was winding round +my chest in tight, smothering coils. Starting up, I would shake the +weight off. Once I suddenly opened my eyes to find blanket thrown aside +and pistol belt unstrapped. Lying back eased, I was dozing again when I +distinctly felt a hand crawl stealthily round the pack on which I was +pillowed and steal towards the dagger handle in the loosened belt. I +struck at it viciously only to bruise my fist on my dagger. Now wide +awake, I turned angrily towards the Indian. Not a muscle of the still +figure had changed from the attitude taken when he came into the canoe. +The man was not asleep, but reclined in stolid oblivion of my existence. +His head was thrown back and the steely, unflinching eyes were fixed on +the stars. + +"It may not have been you, my scowling sachem," said I to myself, "but +snakes have fangs. Henceforth I'll take good care you're not at my +back." + +I slept no more that night. Next day I asked the fellow his name and he +poured out such a jumbled mouthful of quick-spoken, Indian syllables, I +was not a whit the wiser. I told him sharply he was to be Tom Jones on +my boat, at which he gave an evil leer. + +Without stay we still pushed forward. The arrowy pace was merciless to +red men and white; but that was the kind of service the great North-West +Company always demanded. Some ten miles from the outlet of Lake +Nipissangue (Nipissing) foul weather threatened delay. The _Bourgeois_ +were for proceeding at any risk; but as the thunder-clouds grew blacker +and the wind more violent, the head steersman lost his temper and +grounded his canoe on the sands at _Point ŕ la Croix_. Springing ashore +he flung down his pole and refused to go on. + +"Sacredie!" he screamed, first pointing to the gathering storm and then +to the crosses that marked the fate of other foolhardy _voyageurs_, +"Allez si vous voulez! Pour moi je n'irai pas; ne voyez pas le danger!" + +A hurricane of wind, snapping the great oaks as a chopper breaks +kindling wood, enforced his words. Canoes were at once beached and +tarpaulins drawn over the bales of provisions. The men struggled to +hoist a tent; but gusts of wind tossed the canvas above their heads, and +before the pegs were driven a great wall of rain-drift drenched every +one to the skin. By sundown the storm had gone southeast and we +unrighteously consoled ourselves that it would probably disorganize the +Hudson's Bay brigade as much as it had ours. Plainly, we were there for +the night. _Point ŕ la Croix_ is too dangerous a spot for navigation +after dark. With much patience we kindled the soaked underbrush and +finally got a pile of logs roaring in the woods and gathered round the +fire. + +The glare in the sky attracted the lake tribes from their lodges. +Indians, half-breeds and shaggy-haired whites--degenerate traders, who +had lost all taste for civilization and retired with their native wives +after the fashion of the north country--came from the Nipissangue +encampments and joined our motley throng. Presently the natives drew off +to a fire by themselves, where there would be no white-man's restraint. +They had either begged or stolen traders' rum, and after the hard trip +from Ste. Anne, were eager for one of their mad _boissons_--a +drinking-bout interspersed with jigs and fights. + +Stretched before our camp, I watched the grotesque figures leaping and +dancing between the firelight and the dusky woods like forest demons. +With the leaves rustling overhead, the water laving the pebbles on the +shore, and the washed pine air stimulating one's blood like an +intoxicant, I began wondering how many years of solitary life it would +take to wear through civilization's veneer and leave one content in the +lodges of forest wilds. Gradually I became aware of my sulky canoeman's +presence on the other side of the camp-fire. The man had not joined the +revels of the other _voyageurs_ but sat on his feet, oriental style, +gazing as intently at the flames as if spellbound by some fire-spirit. + +"What's wrong with that fellow, anyhow?" I asked a veteran trader, who +was taking last pulls at a smoked-out pipe. + +"Sick--home-sick," was the laconic reply. + +"You'd think he was near enough nature here to feel at home! Where's his +tribe?" + +"It ain't his tribe he wants," explained the trader. + +"What, then?" I inquired. + +"His wife, he's mad after her," and the trader took the pipe from his +teeth. + +"Faugh!" I laughed. "The idea of an Indian sentimental and love-sick for +some fat lump of a squaw! Come! Come! Am I to believe that?" + +"Don't matter whether you do, or not," returned the trader. "It's a +fact. His wife's a Sioux chief's daughter. She went north with a gang of +half-breeds and hunters last month; and he's been fractious crazy ever +since." + +"What's his name?" I called, as my informant vanished behind the tent +flaps. + +Again that mouthful of Indian syllables, unintelligible and unspeakable +for me was tumbled forth. Then I turned to the fantastic figures +carousing around the other camp fire. One form, in particular, I seemed +to distinguish from the others. He was gathering the Indians in line for +some native dance and had an easy, rakish sort of grace, quite different +from the serpentine motions of the redskins. By a sudden turn, his +profile was thrown against the fire and I saw that he wore a pointed +beard. He was no Indian; and like a flash came one of those strange, +reasonless intuitions, which precede, or proceed from, the slow motions +of the mind. Was this the _avant-courier_ of the Hudson's Bay, delayed, +like ourselves, by the storm? I had hardly spelled out my own suspicion, +when to the measured beatings of the tom-tom, gradually becoming faster, +and with a low, weird, tuneless chant, like the voices of the forest, +the Indians began to tread a mazy, winding pace, which my slow eyes +could not follow, but which in a strange way brought up memories of +snaky convolutions about the naked body of some Egyptian +serpent-charmer. The drums beat faster. The suppressed voices were +breaking in shrill, wild, exultant strains, and the measured tread had +quickened from a walk to a run and from a swaying run to a swift, +labyrinthine pace, which has no name in English, and which I can only +liken to the wiggling of a green thing under leafy covert. The coiling +and circling and winding of the dancers became bewildering, and in the +centre, laughing, shouting, tossing up his arms and gesticulating like a +maniac, was the white man with the pointed beard. Then the performers +broke from their places and gave themselves with utter abandon to the +wild impulses of wild natures in a wild world; and there was such a +scene of uncurbed, animal hilarity as I never dreamed possible. Savage, +furious, almost ferocious like the frisking of a pack of wolves, that at +any time may fall upon and destroy a weaker one, the boisterous antics +of these children of the forest fascinated me. Filled with the curiosity +that lures many a trader to his undoing, I rose and went across to the +thronging, shouting, shadowy figures. A man darted out of the woods full +tilt against me. 'Twas he of the pointed beard, my _suspect_ of the +Hudson's Bay Company. Quick as thought I thrust out my foot and tripped +him full length on the ground. The light fell on his upturned face. It +was Louis Laplante, that past-master in the art of diplomatic deception. +He snarled out something angrily and came to himself in sitting posture. +Then he recognized me. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" he muttered beneath his breath, momentarily surprised into +a betrayal of astonishment. "You, Gillespie?" he called out, at once +regaining himself and assuming his usual nonchalance. "Pardon, my +solemncholy! I took you for a tree." + +"Granted, your impudence," said I, ignoring the slight but paying him +back in kind. I was determined to follow my uncle's advice and play the +rascal at his own game. "Help you up?" said I, as pleasantly as I could, +extending my hand to give him a lift; and I felt his palm hot and his +arm tremble. Then, I knew that Louis was drunk and this was the fool's +joint in the knave's armor, on which Mr. Jack MacKenzie bade me use my +weapons. + +"Tra-la!" he answered with mincing insult. "Tra-la, old tombstone! +Good-by, my mausoleum! Au revoir, old death's-head! Adieu, grave skull!" +With an absurdly elaborate bow, he reeled back among the dancers. + +"Get up, comrade," I urged, rushing into the tent, where the old trader +I had questioned about my canoeman was now snoring. "Get up, man," and I +shook him. "There's a Hudson's Bay spy!" + +"Spy," he shouted, throwing aside the moose-skin coverlet. "Spy! Who?" + +"It's Louis Laplante, of Quebec." + +"Louis Laplante!" reiterated the trader. "A Frenchman employed by the +Hudson's Bay! Laplante, a trapper, with them! The scoundrel!" And he +ground out oaths that boded ill for Louis. + +"Hold on!" I exclaimed, jerking him back. He was for dashing on Laplante +with a cudgel. "He's playing the trapper game with the lake tribes." + +"I'll trapper him," vowed the trader. "How do you know he's a spy?" + +"I don't _know_, really know," I began, clumsily conscious that I had no +proof for my suspicions, "but it strikes me we'd better not examine this +sort of suspect at too long range. If we're wrong, we can let him go." + +"Bag him, eh?" queried the trader. + +"That's it," I assented. + +"He's a hard one to bag." + +"But he's drunk." + +"Drunk, Oh! Drunk is he?" laughed the man. "He'll be drunker," and the +trader began rummaging through bales of stuff with a noise of bottles +knocking together. He was humming in a low tone, like a grimalkin +purring after a full meal of mice-- + + "Rum for Indians, when they come, + Rum for the beggars, when they go, + That's the trick my grizzled lads + To catch the cash and snare the foe." + +"What's your plan?" I asked with a vague feeling the trader had some +shady purpose in mind. + +"Squeamish? Eh? You'll get over that, boy. I'll trap your trapper and +spy your spy, and Nor'-Wester your H. B. C.! You come down to the sand +between the forest and the beach in about an hour and I'll have news for +you," and he brushed past me with his arms full of something I could not +see in the half-light. + +Then, as a trader, began my first compromise with conscience, and the +enmity which I thereby aroused afterwards punished me for that night's +work. I knew very well my comrade, with the rough-and-ready methods of +traders, had gone out to do what was not right; and I hung back in the +tent, balancing the end against the means, our deeds against Louis' +perfidy, and Nor'-Westers' interests against those of the Hudson's Bay. +It is not pleasant to recall what was done between the cedars and the +shore. I do not attempt to justify our conduct. Does the physician +justify medical experiments on the criminal, or the sacrificial priest +the driving of the scape-goat into the wilderness? Suffice it to say, +when I went down to the shore, Louis Laplante was sitting in the midst +of empty drinking-flasks, and the wily, old Nor'-Wester was tempting the +silly boy to take more by drinking his health with fresh bottles. But +while Louis Laplante gulped down his rum, becoming drunker and more +communicative, the tempter threw glass after glass over his shoulder and +remained sober. The Nor'-Wester motioned me to keep behind the Frenchman +and I heard his drunken lips mumbling my own name. + +"Rufush--prig--stuck-up prig--serve him tam right! +Hamilton's--sh--sh--prig too--sho's his wife. Serve 'em all tam right!" + +"Ask him where she is," I whispered over his head. + +"Where's the gal?" demanded the trader, shoving more liquor over to +Louis. + +"Shioux squaw--Devil's wife--how you say it in English? Lah Grawnd +Deeahble," and he mouthed over our mispronunciation of his own tongue +"Joke, isn't it?" he went on. "That wax-face prig--slave to Shioux +Squaw. Rufush--a fool. Stuffed him to hish--neck. Made him believe +shmall-pox was Hamilton's wife. I mean, Hamilton's wife was shmall-pox. +Calf bellowed with fright--ran home--came back--'tamme,' I say, 'there +he come again' 'shmall-pox in that grave,' say I. Joke--ain't it?" and +he stopped to drain off another pint of rum. + +"Biggest joke out of jail," said the Nor'-Wester dryly, with meaning +which Louis did not grasp. + +"Ask him where she is," I whispered, "quick! He's going to sleep." For +Louis wiped his beard on his sleeve and lay back hopelessly drunk. + +"Here you, waken up," commanded the Nor'-Wester, kicking him and shaking +him roughly. "Where's the gal?" + +"Shioux--_Pays d'En Haut_," drawled the youth. "Take off your boots! +Don't wear boots. _Pays d'En Haut_--moccasins--softer," and he rolled +over in a sodden sleep, which defied all our efforts to shake him into +consciousness. + +"Is that true?" asked the Nor'-Wester, standing above the drunk man and +speaking across to me. "Is that true about the Indian kidnapping a +woman?" + +"True--too terribly true," I whispered back. + +"I'd like to boot him into the next world," said the trader, looking +down at Louis in a manner that might have alarmed that youth for his +safety. "I've bagged H. B. dispatches anyway," he added with +satisfaction. + +"What'll we do with him?" I asked aimlessly. "If he had anything to do +with the stealing of Hamilton's wife----" + +"He hadn't," interrupted the trader. "'Twas Diable did that, so Laplante +says." + +"Then what shall we do with him?" + +"Do--with--him," slowly repeated the Nor'-Wester in a low, vibrating +voice. "Do--with--him?" and again I felt a vague shudder of apprehension +at this silent, uncompromising man's purpose. + +The camp fires were dead. Not a sound came from the men in the woods and +there was a gray light on the water with a vague stirring of birds +through the foliage overhead. Now I would not have any man judge us by +the canons of civilization. Under the ancient rule of the fur companies +over the wilds of the north, 'twas bullets and blades put the fear of +the Lord in evil hearts. As we stooped to gather up the tell-tale +flasks, the drunken knave, who had lightly allowed an innocent white +woman to go into Indian captivity, lay with bared chest not a hand's +length from a knife he had thrown down. Did the Nor'-Wester and I +hesitate, and look from the man to the dagger, and from the dagger to +the man; or is this an evil dream from a black past? Miriam, the +guiltless, was suffering at his hands; should not he, the guilty, suffer +at ours? Surely Sisera was not more unmistakably delivered into the +power of his enemies by the Lord than this man; and Sisera was +discomfited by Barak and Jael. Heber's wife--says the Book--drove a tent +nail--through the temples--of the sleeping man--and slew him! Day was +when I thought the Old Volume recorded too many deeds of bloodshed in +the wilderness for the instruction of our refined generation; but I, +too, have since lived in the wilderness and learned that soft speech is +not the weapon of strong men overmastering savagery. + +I know the trader and I were thinking the same thoughts and reading each +other's thoughts; for we stood silent above the drunk man, neither +moving, neither uttering a word. + +"Well?" I finally questioned in a whisper. + +"Well," said he, and he knelt down and picked up the knife. "'Twould +serve him right." He was speaking in the low, gentle, purring voice he +had used in the tent. "'Twould serve him jolly right," and he knelt over +Louis hesitating. + +My eyes followed his slow, deliberate motions with horror. Terror seemed +to rob me of the power of speech. I felt my blood freeze with the fear +of some impending crime. There was the faintest perceptible fluttering +of leaves; and we both started up as if we had been assassins, glancing +fearfully into the gloom of the forest. All the woods seemed alive with +horrified eyes and whisperings. + +"Stop!" I gasped, "This is madness, the madness of the murderer. What +would you do?" And I was trying to knock the knife out of his hand, +when among the shadowy green of the foliage, an open space suddenly +resolved itself into a human face and there looked out upon us gleaming +eyes like those of a crouching panther. + +"Squeamish fool!" muttered the Nor'-Wester, raising his arm. + +"Stop!" I implored. "We are watched. See!" and I pointed to the face, +that as suddenly vanished into blackness. + +We both leaped into the thicket, pistol in hand, to wreak punishment on +the interloper. There was only an indistinct sound as of something +receding into the darkness. + +"Don't fire," said I, "'twill alarm the camp." + +At imminent risk to our own lives, we poked sticks through the thicket +and felt for our unseen enemy, but found nothing. + +"Let's go back and peg him out on the sand, where the Hudson's Bay will +see him when they come this way," suggested the Nor'-Wester, referring +to Laplante. + +"Yes, or hand-cuff him and take him along prisoner," I added, thinking +Louis might have more information. + +But when we stepped back to the beach, there was no Louis Laplante. + +"He was too drunk to go himself," said I, aghast at the certainty, which +now came home to me, that we had been watched. + +"I wash my hands of the whole affair," declared the trader, in a state +of high indignation, and he strode off to his tent, I, following, with +uncomfortable reflections trooping into my mind. Compunctions rankled in +self-respect. How near we had been to a brutal murder, to crime which +makes men shun the perpetrators. Civilization's veneer was rubbing off +at an alarming rate. This thought stuck, but for obvious reasons was not +pursued. Also I had learned that the worst and best of outlaws +easily justify their acts at the time they commit them; but +afterwards--afterwards is a different matter, for the thing is past +undoing. + +I heard the trader snorting out inarticulate disgust as he tumbled into +his tent; but I stood above the embers of the camp fire thinking. Again +I felt with a creepiness, that set all my flesh quaking, felt, rather +than saw, those maddening, tiger eyes of the dark foliage watching me. +Looking up, I found my morose canoeman on the other side of the fire, +leaning so close to a tree, he was barely visible in the shadows. +Thinking himself unseen by me, he wore such an insolent, amused, +malicious expression, I knew in an instant, who the interloper had been, +and who had carried Louis off. Before I realized that such an act +entails life-long enmity with an Indian, I had bounded over the fire and +struck him with all my strength full in the face. At that, instead of +knifing me as an Indian ordinarily would, he broke into hyena shrieks of +laughter. He, who has heard that sound, need hear it only once to have +the echo ring forever in his ears; and I have heard it oft and know it +well. + +"Spy! Sneak!" I muttered, rushing upon him. But he sprang back into the +forest and vanished. In dodging me, he let fall his fowling-piece, which +went off with a bang into the fire. + +"Hulloo! What's wrong out there?" bawled the trader's voice from the +tent. + +"Nothing--false alarm!" I called reassuringly. Then there caught my eyes +what startled me out of all presence of mind. There, reflecting the +glare of the firelight was the Indian's fowling-piece, richly mounted in +burnished silver and chased in the rare design of Eric Hamilton's family +crest. The morose canoeman was Le Grand Diable. + + * * * * * + +A few hours later, I was in the thick of a confused re-embarking. Le +Grand Diable took a place in another boat; and a fresh hand was assigned +to my canoe. Of that I was glad; I could sleep sounder and he, safer. +The _Bourgeois_ complained that too much rum had been given out. + +"Keep a stiffer hand on your men, boy, or they'll ride over your head," +one of the chief traders remarked to me. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A GIRDLE OF AGATES RECALLED + + +To unravel a ball of yarn, with which kittens have been making cobwebs, +has always seemed to me a much easier task than to unknot the tangled +skein of confused influences, that trip up our feet at every step in +life's path. Here was I, who but a month ago had a supreme contempt for +guile and a lofty confidence in uprightness and downrightness, +transformed into a crafty trader with all the villainous tricks of the +bargain-maker at my finger-tips. We had befooled Louis into a betrayal +of his associates but how much reliance could be placed on that +betrayal? Had he incriminated Diable to save himself? Then, why had +Diable rescued his betrayer? Where was Louis in hiding? Was the Sioux +wife with her white slave really in the north country, or was she near, +and did that explain my morose Iroquois' all-night vigils? We had +cheated Laplante; but had he in turn cheated us? Would I be justified in +taking Diable prisoner, and would my company consent to the +demoralization of their crews by such a step? Ah, if life were only made +up of simple right and simple wrong, instead of half rights and half +wrongs indistinguishably mingled, we could all be righteous! If the +path to the goal of our chosen desire were only as straight as it is +narrow, instead of being dark, mysterious and tortuous, how easily could +we attain high ends! I was launched on the life for which I had longed, +but strange, shadowy forms like the storm-fiends of sailors' lore, +drunkenness, deceit and crime--on whose presence I had not +counted--flitted about my ship's masthead. And there was not one guiding +star, not one redeeming influence, except the utter freedom to be a man. +I was learning, what I suppose everyone learns, that there are things +which sap success of its sweets. + +Such were my thoughts, as our canoes sped across the northern end of +Lake Huron, heading for the Sault. The Nor'-Westers had a wonderful way +of arousing enthusiastic loyalty among their men. Danger fanned this +fealty to white-heat. In the face of powerful opposition, the great +company frequently accomplished the impossible. With half as large a +staff in the service as its rivals boasted, it invaded the +hunting-ground of the Hudson's Bay Company, and outrunning all +competition, extended fur posts from the heart of the continent to the +foot-hills to the Rockies, and from the international boundary to the +Arctic Circle. I had thought no crews could make quicker progress than +ours from Lachine to _Point ŕ la Croix_; but the short delay during the +storm occasioned faster work. More _voyageurs_ were engaged from the +Nipissangue tribes. As soon as one lot fagged fresh shifts came to the +relief. Paddles shot out at the rate of modern piston rods, and the +waters whirled back like wave-wash in the wake of a clipper. Except for +briefest stoppages, speed was not relaxed across the whole northern end +of those inland seas called the Great Lakes. With ample space on the +lakes, the brigades could spread out and the canoes separated, not +halting long enough to come together again till we reached the Sault. +Here, orders were issued for the maintenance of rigid discipline. We +camped at a distance from the lodges of local tribes. No grog was given +out. Camp-fire conviviality was forbidden, and each man kept with his +own crew. We remained in camp but one night; and though I searched every +tent, I could not find Le Grand Diable. This worried and puzzled me. All +night, I lay awake, stretching conscience with doubtful plans to entrap +the knave. + +Rising with first dawn-streak, I was surprised to find Little Fellow and +La Robe Noire, two of my canoemen, setting off for the woods. They had +laid a snare--so they explained--and were going to examine it. Of late I +had grown distrustful of all natives. I suspected these two might be +planning desertion; so I went with them. The way led through a dense +thicket of ferns half the height of a man. Only dim light penetrated the +maze of foliage; and I might easily have lost myself, or been +decoyed--though these possibilities did not occur to me till we were at +least a mile from the beach. Little Fellow was trotting ahead, La Robe +Noire jogging behind, and both glided through the brake without +disturbing a fern branch, while I--after the manner of my race--crunched +flags underfoot and stamped down stalks enough to be tracked by +keen-eyed Indians for a week afterwards. Twice I saw Little Fellow pull +up abruptly and look warily through the cedars on one side. Once he +stooped down and peered among the fern stems. Then he silently signaled +back to La Robe Noire, pointed through the undergrowth and ran ahead +again without explanation. At first I could see nothing, and regretted +being led so far into the woods. I was about to order both Indians back +to the tent, when Little Fellow, with face pricked forward and foot +raised, as if he feared to set it down--for the fourth time came to a +dead stand. Now, I, too, heard a rustle, and saw a vague sinuous +movement distinctly running abreast of us among the ferns. For a moment, +when we stopped, it ceased, then wiggled forward like beast, or serpent +in the underbrush. Little Fellow placed his forefinger on his lips, and +we stood noiseless till by the ripple of the green it seemed to scurry +away. + +"What is it, Little Fellow, a cat?" I asked; but the Indian shook his +head dubiously and turned to the open where the trap had been set. + +Bending over the snare he uttered an Indian word, that I did not +understand, but have since heard traders use, so conclude it was one of +those exclamations, alien races learn quickest from one another, but +which, nevertheless, are not found in dictionaries. The trap had been +rifled of game and completely smashed. + +"Wolverine!" muttered the Indian, making a sweep of his dagger blade at +an imaginary foe. "No wolverine! Bad Indians!" + +Scarcely had he spoken when La Robe Noire leaped into the air like a +wounded rabbit. An arrow whizzed past my face and glanced within a +hair's-breadth of the Indian's head. Both men were dumb with amazement. +Such treachery would have been surprising among the barbarous tribes of +the Athabasca. The Sault was the dividing line between Canada and the +Wilderness, between the east and the west, and there were no hostiles +within a thousand miles of us. Little Fellow would have dragged me +pell-mell back to the beach, but I needed no persuasion. La Robe Noire +tore ahead with the springs of a hunted lynx. Little Fellow loyally kept +between me and a possible pursuer, and we set off at a hard run. That +creature, I fancied, was again coursing along beneath the undergrowth; +for the foliage bent and rose as we ran. Whether it were man or beast, +we were three against one, and could drive it out of hiding. + +"See here, Little Fellow!" I cried, "Let's hunt that thing out!" and I +wheeled about so sharply the chunky little man crashed forward, knocking +me off my feet and sending me a man's length farther on. + +That fall saved my life. A flat spear point hissed through the air +above my head and stuck fast in the bark of an elm tree. Scrambling up, +I promptly let go two or three shots into the fern brake. We scrutinized +the underbrush, but there was no sign of human being, except the fern +stems broken by my shots. I wrenched the stone spear-head from the tree. +It was curiously ornamented with such a multitude of intricate carvings +I could not decipher any design. Then I discovered that the medley of +colors was produced by inlaying the flint with small bits of a bright +stone; and the bright stones had been carved into a rude likeness of +some birds. + +"What are these birds, Little Fellow?" I asked. + +He fingered them closely, and with bulging eyes muttered back, "L'Aigle! +L'Aigle!" + +"Eagles, are they?" I returned, stupidly missing the possible meaning of +his suppressed excitement. "And the stone?" + +"Agate, _Monsieur_." + +Agate! Agate! What picture did agate call back to my mind? A big squaw, +with malicious eyes and gaping upper lip and girdle of agates, watching +Louis Laplante and myself at the encampment in the gorge. + +"Little Fellow!" I shouted, not suppressing my excitement. "Who is Le +Grand Diable's wife?" + +And the Indian answered in a low voice, with a face that showed me he +had already penetrated my discovery, "The daughter of L'Aigle, chief of +the Sioux." + +Then I knew for whom those missiles had been intended and from whom they +had come. It was a clever piece of rascality. Had the assassin +succeeded, punishment would have fallen on my Indians. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LORDS OF THE NORTH IN COUNCIL + + +Beyond the Sault, the fascinations of the west beckoned like a siren. +Vast waterways, where a dozen European kingdoms could be dropped into +one lake without raising a sand-bar, seemed to sweep on forever and call +with the voice of enchantress to the very ends of the earth. With the +purple recesses of the shore on one side and the ocean-expanse of Lake +Superior on the other, all the charms of clean, fresh freedom were +unveiling themselves to me and my blood began to quicken with that +fevered delight, which old lands are pleased to call western enthusiasm. +Lake Huron, with its greenish-blue, shallow, placid waters and calm, +sloping shores, seemed typical of the even, easy life I had left in the +east. How those choppy, blustering, little waves resembled the +jealousies and bickerings and bargainings of the east; but when one came +to Lake Superior, with its great ocean billows and slumbering, giant +rocks and cold, dark, fathomless depths, there was a new life in a hard, +rugged, roomy, new world. We hugged close to the north coast; and the +numerous rocky islands to our left stood guard like a wall of adamant +between us and the heavy surf that flung against the barrier. We were +rapidly approaching the headquarters of our company. When south-bound +brigades, with prisoners in hand-cuffs, began to meet us, I judged we +were near the habitation of man. + +"Bad men?" I asked Little Fellow, pointing to the prisoners, as our +crews exchanged rousing cheers with the Nor'-Westers now bound for +Montreal. + +"_Non, Monsieur!_ Not all bad men," and the Indian gave his shoulders an +expressive shrug, "_Les traitres anglais_." + +To the French _voyageur_, English meant the Hudson's Bay people. The +answer set me wondering to what pass things had come between the two +great companies that they were shipping each other's traders +gratuitously out of the country. I recalled the talk at the Quebec Club +about Governor McDonell of the Hudson's Bay trying to expel Nor'-Westers +and concluded our people could play their own game against the commander +of Red River. + +We arrived in Fort William at sundown, and a flag was flying above the +courtyard. + +"Is that in our honor?" I asked a clerk of the party. + +"Not much it is," he laughed. "We under-strappers aren't oppressed with +honors! It warns the Indians there's no trade one day out of seven." + +"Is this Sunday?" + +I suddenly recollected as far as we were concerned the past month had +been entirely composed of week-days. + +"Out of your reckoning already?" asked the clerk with surprise. "Wonder +how you'll feel when you've had ten years of it." + +Situated on the river bank, near the site of an old French post, Fort +William was a typical traders' stronghold. Wooden palisades twenty feet +high ran round the whole fort and the inner court enclosed at least two +hundred square yards. Heavily built block-houses with guns poking +through window slits gave a military air to the trading post. The +block-houses were apparently to repel attack from the rear and the face +of the fort commanded the river. Stores, halls, warehouses and living +apartments for an army of clerks, were banked against the walls, and the +main building with its spacious assembly-room stood conspicuous in the +centre of the enclosure. As we entered the courtyard, one of the chief +traders was perched on a mortar in the gate. The little magnate +condescended never a smile of welcome till the _Bourgeois_ came up. Then +he fawned loudly over the chiefs and conducted them with noisy +ostentation to the main hall. Indians and half-breed _voyageurs_ quickly +dispersed among the wigwams outside the pickets, while clerks and +traders hurried to the broad-raftered dining-hall. Fatigued from the +trip, I took little notice of the vociferous interchange of news in +passage-way and over door-steps. I remember, after supper I was +strolling about the courtyard, surveying the buildings, when at the +door of a sort of barracks where residents of the fort lived, I caught +sight of the most grateful object my eye had lighted upon since leaving +Quebec. It was a tin basin with a large bar of soap--actual soap. There +must still have been some vestige of civilization in my nature, for +after a delightful half-hour's intimate acquaintance with that soap, I +came round to the groups of men rehabilitated in self-respect. + +"Athabasca, Rocky Mountain and Saskatchewan brigades here to-morrow," +remarked a boyish looking Nor'-Wester, with a mannish beard on his face. +Involuntarily I put my hand to my chin and found a bristling growth +there. That was a land where young men could become suddenly very old; +and many a trader has discovered other signs of age than a beard on his +face when he first looked at a mirror after life in the _Pays d'En +Haut_. + +"I say," blurted out another young clerk. "There's a man here from Red +River, one of the Selkirk settlers. He's come with word if we'll supply +the boats, lots of the colonists are ready to dig out. General +Assembly's going to consider that to-morrow." + +"Oh! Hang the old Assembly if it ships that man out! He's got a pretty +daughter, perfect beauty, and she's here with him!" exclaimed the lad +with the mannish beard. + +"Go to, thou light-head!" declared the other youth, with the air of an +elder in Israel. "Go to! You paraded beneath her window for an hour +to-day and she never once laid eyes on you." + +All the men laughed. + +"Hang it!" said the first speaker. "We don't display our little +amours----" + +"No," broke in the other, "we just display our little contours and get +snubbed, eh?" + +The bearded youth flushed at the sally of laughter. + +"Hang it!" he answered, pulling fiercely at his moustache. "She is a bit +of statuary, so she is, as cold as marble. But there is no law against +looking at a pretty bit of statuary, when it frames itself in a window +in this wilderness." + +To which, every man of the crowd said a hearty amen; and I walked off to +stretch myself full length on a bench, resolving to have out a mirror +from my packing case and get rid of those bristles that offended my +chin. The men began to disperse to their quarters. The tardy twilight of +the long summer evenings, peculiar to the far north, was gathering in +the courtyard. As the night-wind sighed past, I felt the velvet caress +of warm June air on my face and memory reverted to the innocent boyhood +days of Laval. How far away those days seemed! Yet it was not so long +ago. Surely it is knowledge, not time, that ages one, knowledge, that +takes away the trusting innocence resulting from ignorance and gives in +its place the distrustful innocence resulting from wisdom. I thought of +the temptations that had come to me in the few short weeks I had been +adrift, and how feebly I had resisted them. I asked myself if there were +not in the moral compass of men, who wander by land, some guiding star, +as there is for those who wander over sea. I gazed high above the +sloping roofs for some sign of moon, or star. The sky was darkling and +overcast; but in lowering my eyes from heaven to earth, I saw what I had +missed before--a fair, white face framed in a window above the stoop +directly opposite my bench. The face seemed to have a background of +gold; for a wonderful mass of wavy hair clustered down from the +blue-veined brow to the bit of white throat visible, where a gauzy piece +of neck wear had been loosened. Evidently, this was the statuary +described by the whiskered youth. But the statuary breathed. A bloom of +living apple-blossoms was on the cheeks. The brows were black and +arched. The very pose of the head was arch, and in the lips was a +suggestion of archery, too,--Cupid's archery, though the upper lip was +drawn almost too tight for the bow beneath to discharge the little god's +shaft. Why did I do it? I do not know. Ask the young Nor'-Wester, who +had worn a path beneath the selfsame window that very day, or the hosts +of young men, who are still wearing paths beneath windows to this very +day. I coughed and sat bolt upright on the bench with unnecessarily loud +intimations of my presence. The fringe of black lashes did not even +lift. I rose and with great show of indifference paraded solemnly five +times past that window; but, in spite of my pompous indifference, by a +sort of side-signalling, I learned that the owner of the heavy lashes +was unaware of my existence. Thereupon, I sat down again. It _was_ a bit +of statuary and a very pretty bit of statuary. As the youth said, there +was no law against looking at a bit of statuary in this wilderness, and +as the statuary did not know I was looking at it, I sat back to take my +fill of that vision framed in the open window. The statuary, unknown to +itself, had full meed of revenge; for it presently brought such a flood +of longing to my heart, longings, not for this face, but for what this +face represented--the innocence and love and purity of home, that I +bowed dejectedly forward with moist eyes gazing at the ground. + +"Hullo!" whispered a deep voice in my ear. "Are you mooning after the +Little Statue already?" + +When I looked up, the man had passed, but the head in the window was +leaning out and a pair of swimming, lustrous, gray eyes were gazing +forward in a way that made me dizzy. "Ah," they said in a language that +needed no speaking, "there are two of us, very, very home-sick." + +"The guiding star for my moral compass," said I, under my breath. + +Then the statue in a live fashion suddenly drew back into the dark room. +The window-shutter flung to, with a bang, and my vision was gone. I left +the bench, made a shake-down on one of the store counters, and knew +nothing more till the noise of brigades from the far north aroused the +fort at an early hour Monday morning. The arrival of the Athabasca +traders was the signal for tremendous activity. An army returning from +victory could not have been received with greater acclaim. _Bourgeois_ +and clerks tumbled promiscuously from every nook in the fort and rushing +half-dressed towards the gates shouted welcome to the men, who had come +from the outposts of the known world. They were a shaggy, ragged-looking +rabble, those traders from mountain fastnesses and the Arctic circle. +With long white hair, hatless some of them, with beards like oriental +patriarchs, and dressed entirely in skins of the chase, from fringed +coats to gorgeous moccasins, the unkempt monarchs of northern realms had +the imperious bearing of princes. + +"Is it you, really you, looking as old as your great grandfather? By +Gad! So it is," came from one quondam friend. + +"Powers above!" ejaculated another onlooker, "See that old Father +Abraham! It's Tait! As you live, it's Tait! And he only went to the +Athabasca ten years ago. He was thirty then, and now he's a hundred!" + +"That's Wilson," says another. "Looks thin, doesn't he? Slim fare! He's +the only man from Great Slave Lake that escaped being a meal for the +Crees,--year of the famine; and they hadn't time to pick his bones!" + +A running fire of such comments went along the spectators lining each +side of the path. There was a sad side to the clamorous welcomes and +handshakes and surprised recognitions. Had not these men gone north +young and full of hope, as I was going? Now, news of the feud with the +Hudson's Bay brought them out old before their time and more like the +natives with whom they had traded than the white race they had left. +Here and there, strong men would fall in each other's arms and embrace +like school-girls, covering their emotion with rounded oaths instead of +terms of endearment. + +All day the confusion of unloading boats continued. The dull tread of +moccasined feet as Indians carried pack after pack from river bank to +the fort, was ceaseless. Faster than the clerks could sort the furs +great bundles were heaped on the floor. By noon, warehouses were crammed +from basement to attic. Ermine taken in mid-winter, when the fur was +spotlessly white, but for the jet tail-tip, otter cut so deftly scarcely +a tuft of fur had been wasted along the opened seam, silver fox, which +had made the fortune of some lucky hunter--these and other rare furs, +that were to minister to the luxury of kings, passed from tawny carriers +to sorters. Elsewhere, coarse furs, obtained at greater risk, but owing +to the abundance of big game, less valuable for the hunter, were sorted +and valued. With a reckless underestimate of the beaver-skin, their unit +of currency, Indians hung over counters bartering away the season's +hunt. I frankly acknowledge the Company's clerks on such occasions could +do a rushing business selling tawdry stuff at fabulous prices. + +Meanwhile, in the main hall, the _Bourgeois_, or partners, of the great +North-West Company were holding their annual General Assembly behind +closed doors. Clerks lowered their voices when they passed that room, +and well they might; for the rulers inside held despotic sway over a +domain as large as Europe. And what were they decreeing? Who can tell? +The archives of the great fur companies are as jealously guarded as +diplomatic documents, and more remarkable for what they omit than what +they state. Was the policy, that ended so tragically a year afterwards, +adopted at this meeting? Great corporations have a fashion of keeping +their mouths and their council doors tight shut and of leaving the +public to infer that catastrophes come causeless. However that may be, I +know that Duncan Cameron, a fiery Highlander and one of the keenest men +in the North-West service, suddenly flung out of the Assembly room with +a pleased, determined look on his ruddy face. + +"Are ye Rufus Gillespie?" he asked. + +"That's my name, Sir." + +"Then buckle on y'r armor, lad; for ye'll see the thick of the fight. +You're appointed to my department at Red River." And he left us. + +"Lucky dog! I envy you! There'll be rare sport between Cameron and +McDonell, when the two forts up in Red River begin to talk back to each +other," exclaimed a Fort William man to me. + +"Are you Gillespie?" asked a low, mellow, musical voice by my side. I +turned to face a tall, dark, wiry man, with the swarthy complexion and +intensely black eyes of one having strains of native blood. Among the +_voyageurs_, I had become accustomed to the soft-spoken, melodious +speech that betrays Indian parentage; and I believe if I were to +encounter a descendant of the red race in China, or among the Latin +peoples of Southern Europe, I could recognize Indian blood by that +rhythmic trick of the native tongue. + +"I'm Gillespie," I answered my keen-eyed questioner. "Who are you?" + +"Cuthbert Grant, warden of the plains and leader of the _Bois-Brulés_," +was his terse response. "You're coming to our department at Fort +Gibraltar, and I want you to give Father Holland a place in your canoes +to come north with us. He's on his way to the Missouri." + +At that instant Duncan Cameron came up to Grant and muttered something. +Both men at once went back to the council hall of the General Assembly. +I heard the courtyard gossips vowing that the Hudson's Bay would cease +its aggressions, now that Cameron and Cuthbert Grant were to lead the +Nor'-Westers; but I made no inquiry. Next to keeping his own counsel and +giving credence to no man, the fur trader learns to gain information +only with ears and eyes, and to ask no questions. The scurrying turmoil +in the fort lasted all day. At dusk, natives were expelled from the +stockades and work stopped. + +Grand was the foregathering around the supper table of the great dining +hall that night. _Bourgeois_, clerks and traders from afar, explorers, +from the four corners of the earth--assembled four hundred strong, +buoyant and unrestrained, enthusiastically loyal to the company, and +tingling with hilarious fellowship over this, the first reunion for +twenty years. Though their manner and clothing be uncouth, men who have +passed a lifetime exploring northern wilds have that to say, which is +worth hearing. So the feast was prolonged till candles sputtered low and +pitch-pine fagots flared out. Indeed, before the gathering broke up, +flagons as well as candles had to be renewed. Lanterns swung from the +black rafters of the ceiling. Tallow candles stood in solemn rows down +the centre of each table, showing that men, not women, had prepared the +banquet. Stuck in iron brackets against the walls were pine torches, +that had been dipped in some resinous mixture and now flamed brightly +with a smell not unlike incense. Tables lined the four walls of the hall +and ran in the form of a cross athwart the middle of the room. Backless +benches were on both sides of every table. At the end, chairs were +placed, the seats of honor for famous _Bourgeois_. British flags had +been draped across windows and colored bunting hung from rafter to +rafter. + +"Ah, mon! Is no this fine? This is worth living for! This is the company +to serve!" Duncan Cameron exclaimed as he sank into one of the chairs at +the head of the centre table. The Scotchman's heart softened before +those platters of venison and wild fowl, and he almost broke into +geniality. "Here, Gillespie, to my right," he called, motioning me to +the edge of the bench at his elbow. "Here, Grant, opposite Gillespie! +Aye! an' is that you, Father Holland?" he cried to the stout, jovial +priest, with shining brow and cheeks wrinkling in laughter, who followed +Grant. "There's a place o' honor for men like you, Sir. Here!" and he +gave the priest a chair beside himself. + +The _Bourgeois_ seated, there was a scramble for the benches. Then the +whole company with great zest and much noisy talk fell upon the viands +with a will. + +"Why, Cameron," began a northern winterer a few places below me, "it's +taken me three months fast travelling to come from McKenzie River to +Fort William. By Jove! Sir, 'twas cold enough to freeze your words solid +as you spoke them, when we left Great Slave Lake. I'll bet if you men +were up there now, you'd hear my voice thawing out and yelling get-epp +to my huskies, and my huskies yelping back! Used a dog train, whole of +March. Tied myself up in bag of buffalo robes at night and made the +huskies lie across it to keep me from freezing. Got so hot, every pore +in my body was a spouting fountain, and in the morning that moisture +would freeze my buckskin stiff. Couldn't stand that; so I tried sleeping +with my head out of the bag and froze my nose six nights out of seven." + +The unfortunate nose corroborated his evidence. + +"Ice was sloppy on the Saskatchewan, and I had to use pack-horses and +take the trail. I was trusting to get provisions at Souris. You can +imagine, then, how we felt towards the Hudson's Bays when we found +they'd plundered our fort. We were without a bite for two days. Why, we +took half a dozen Hudson's Bays in our quarters up north last winter, +and saved them from starvation; and here we were, starving, that they +might plunder and rob. I'm with you, Sir! I'm with you to the hilt +against the thieves! There's a time for peace and there's a time for +war, and I say this is a very good time for war!" + +"Here's confusion to the old H. B. C's! Confusion, short life, no +prosperity, and death to the Hudson's Bay!" yelled the young whiskered +Nor'-Wester, springing to his feet on the bench and waving a +drinking-cup round his head. Some of the youthful clerks were disposed +to take their cue from this fire-eater and began strumming the table and +applauding; but the _Bourgeois_ frowned on forward conduct. + +"Check him, Grant!" growled Cameron in disapproval. + +"Sit down, bumptious babe!" said the priest, tugging the lad's coat. + +"Here, you young show-off," whispered Grant, leaning across the priest, +and he knocked the boy's feet from under him bringing him down to the +bench with a thud. + +"He needs more outdoor life, that young one! It goes to his head mighty +fast," remarked Cameron. "What were you saying about your hard luck?" +and he turned to the northern winterer again. + +"Call that hard luck?" broke in a mountaineer, laughing as if he +considered hardships a joke. "We lived a month last winter on two meals +a day; soup, out of snow-shoe thongs, first course; fried skins, second +go; teaspoonful shredded fish, by way of an entrée!" + +The man wore a beaded buckskin suit, and his mellow intonation of words +in the manner of the Indian tongue showed that he had almost lost +English speech along with English customs. His recital caused no +surprise. + +"Been on short, rations myself," returned the northerner. "Don't like +it! Isn't safe! Rips a man's nerves to the raw when Indians glare at him +with hungry eyes eighteen hours out of the twenty-four." + +"What was the matter?" drawled the mountaineer. "Hudson's Bay been +tampering with your Indians? Now if you had a good Indian wife as I +have, you could defy the beggars to turn trade away----" + +"Aye, that's so," agreed the winterer, "I heard of a fellow on the +Athabasca who had to marry a squaw before he could get a pair of +racquets made; but that wasn't my trouble. Game was scarce." + +"Game scarce on MacKenzie River?" A chorus of voices vented their +surprise. To the outside world game is always scarce, reported scarce on +MacKenzie River and everywhere else by the jealous fur traders; but +these deceptions are not kept up among hunters fraternizing at the same +banquet board. + +"Mighty scarce. Some of the tribe died out from starvation. The Hudson's +Bay in our district were in bad plight. We took six of them in--Hadn't +heard of the Souris plunder, you may be sure." + +"More fools they to go into the Athabasca," declared the mountaineer. + +"Bigger fools to send another brigade there this year when they needn't +expect help from us," interjected a third trader. + +"You don't say they're sending another lot of men to the Athabasca!" +exclaimed the winterer. + +"Yes I do--under Colin Robertson," affirmed the third man. + +"Colin Robertson--the Nor'-Wester?" + +"Robertson who used to be a Nor'-Wester! It's Selkirk's work since he +got control of the H. B." + +"Robertson should know better," said the northerner. "He had experience +with us before he resigned. I'll wager he doesn't undertake that sort of +venture! Surely it's a yarn!" + +"You lose your bet," cried the irrepressible Fort William lad. "A runner +came in at six o'clock and reported that the Hudson's Bay brigade from +Lachine would pass here before midnight. They're sooners, they are, are +the H. B. C's.," and the clerk enjoyed the sensation of rolling a big +oath from his boyish lips. + +"Eric Hamilton passing within a stone's throw of the fort!" In +astonishment I leaned forward to catch every word the Fort William lad +might say. + +"To Athabasca by our route--past this fort!" Such temerity amazed the +winterer beyond coherent expression. + +"Good thing for them they're passing in the night," continued the clerk. +"The half-breeds are hot about that Souris affair. There'll be a +collision yet!" The young fellow's importance increased in proportion to +the surprise of the elder men. + +"There'll be a collision anyway when Cameron and Grant reach Red +River--eh, Cuthbert?" and the mountaineer turned to the dark, +sharp-featured warden of the plains. Cuthbert Grant laughed pleasantly. + +"Oh, I hope not--for their sakes!" he said, and went on with the story +of a buffalo hunt. + +The story I missed, for I was deep in my own thoughts. I must see Eric +and let him know what I had learned; but how communicate with the +Hudson's Bay brigade without bringing suspicion of double dealing on +myself? I was turning things over in my mind in a stupid sort of way +like one new at intrigue, when I heard a talker, vowing by all that was +holy that he had seen the rarest of hunter's rarities--a pure white +buffalo. The wonder had appeared in Qu'Appelle Valley. + +"I can cap that story, man," cried the portly Irish priest who was to go +north in my boat. "I saw a white squaw less than two weeks ago!" He +paused for his words to take effect, and I started from my chair as if I +had been struck. + +"What's wrong, young man?" asked the winterer. "We lonely fellows up +north see visions. We leap out of our moccasins at the sound of our own +voices; but you young chaps, with all the world around you"--he waved +towards the crowded hall as though it were the metropolis of the +universe--"shouldn't see ghosts and go jumping mad." + +I sat down abashed. + +"Yes, a white squaw," repeated the jovial priest. "Sure now, white +ladies aren't so many in these regions that I'd be likely to make a +mistake." + +"There's a difference between squaws and white ladies," persisted the +jolly father, all unconscious that he was emphasizing a difference which +many of the traders were spelling out in hard years of experience. + +"I've seen papooses that were white for a day or two after they were +born----" + +"Effect of the christening," interrupted the youth, whose head, between +flattered vanity and the emptied contents of his drinking cup, was very +light indeed. + +"Take that idiot out and put him to bed, somebody," commanded Cameron. + +"For a day or two after they were born," reiterated the priest; "but I +never saw such a white-skinned squaw!" + +"Where did you see her?" I inquired in a voice which was not my own. + +"On Lake Winnipeg. Coming down two weeks ago we camped near a band of +Sioux, and I declare, as I passed a tepee, I saw a woman's face that +looked as white as snow. She was sleeping, and the curtain had blown up. +Her child was in her arms, and I tell you her bare arms were as white as +snow." + +"Must have been the effect of the moonlight," explained some one. + +"Moonlight didn't give the other Indians that complexion," insisted the +priest. + +It was my turn to feel my head suddenly turn giddy, though liquor had +not passed my lips. This information could have only one meaning. I was +close on the track of Miriam, and Eric was near; yet the slightest +blunder on my part might ruin all chance of meeting him and rescuing +her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LITTLE STATUE ANIMATE + + +The men began arguing about the degrees of whiteness in a squaw's skin. +Those, married to native women, averred that differences of complexion +were purely matters of temperament and compared their dusky wives to +Spanish belles. The priest was now talking across the table to Duncan +Cameron, advocating a renewal of North-West trade with the Mandanes on +the Missouri, whither he was bound on his missionary tour. To venture +out of the fort through the Indian encampments, where natives and +outlaws were holding high carnival, and my sleepless foe could have a +free hand, would be to risk all chance of using the information that had +come to me. + +I did not fear death--fear of death was left east of the Sault in those +days. On my preservation depended Miriam's rescue. Besides, if either Le +Grand Diable or myself had to die, I came to the conclusion of other men +similarly situated--that my enemy was the one who should go. + +Violins, flutes and bag-pipes were striking up in different parts of the +hall. Simple ballads, smacking of old delights in an older land, songs, +with which home-sick white men comforted themselves in far-off +lodges--were roared out in strident tones. Feet were beating time to the +rasp of the fiddles. Men rose and danced wild jigs, or deftly executed +some intricate Indian step; and uproarious applause greeted every +performer. The hall throbbed with confused sounds and the din deadened +my thinking faculties. Even now, Eric might be slipping past. In that +deafening tumult I could decide nothing, and when I tried to leave the +table, all the lights swam dizzily. + +"Excuse me, Sir!" I whispered, clutching the priest's elbow. "You're +Father Holland and are to go north in my boats. Come out with me for a +moment." + +Thinking me tipsy, he gave me a droll glance. "'Pon my soul! Strapping +fellows like you shouldn't need last rites----" + +"Please say nothing! Come quickly!" and I gripped his arm. + +"Bless us! It's a touch of the head, or the heart!" and he rose and +followed me from the hall. + +In the fresh air, dizziness left me. Sitting down on the bench, where I +had lain the night before, I told him my perplexing mission. At first, I +am sure he was convinced that I was drunk or raving, but my story had +the directness of truth. He saw at once how easily he could leave the +fort at that late hour without arousing suspicion, and finally offered +to come with me to the river bank, where we might intercept Hamilton. + +"But we must have a boat, a light cockle-shell thing, so we can dart out +whenever the brigade appears," declared the priest, casting about in his +mind for means to forward our object. + +"The canoes are all locked up. Can't you borrow one from the Indians? +Don't you know any of them?" I asked with a sudden sinking of heart. + +"And have the whole pack of them sneaking after us? No--no--that won't +do. Where are your wits, boy! Arrah! Me hearty, but what was that?" + +We both heard the shutter above our heads suddenly thrown open, but +darkness hid anyone who might have been listening. + +"Hm!" said the priest. "Overheard! Fine conspirators we are! Some +eavesdropper!" + +"Hush!" and remembering whose window it was, I held him; for he would +have stalked away. + +"Are you there?" came a clear, gentle voice, that fell from the window +in the breaking ripples of a fountain plash. + +The bit of statuary had become suddenly animate and was not so +marble-cold to mankind as it looked. Thinking we had been taken for an +expected lover, I, too, was moving off, when the voice, that sounded +like the dropping golden notes of a cremona, called out in tones of +vibrating alarm: + +"Don't--don't go! Priest! Priest! Father! It's you I'm speaking to. I've +heard every word!" + +Father Holland and I were too much amazed to do aught but gape from each +other to the dark window. We could now see the outlines of a white face +there. + +"If you'd please put one bench on top of another, and balance a bucket +on that, I think I could get down," pleaded the low, thrilling voice. + +"An' in the name of the seven wonders of creation, what for would you be +getting down?" asked the astonished priest. + +"Oh! Hurry! Are you getting the bench?" coaxed the voice. + +"Faith an' we're not! And we have no thought of doing such a thing!" +began the good man with severity. + +"Then, I'll jump," threatened the voice. + +"And break your pretty neck," answered the ungallant father with +indignation. + +There was a rustling of skirts being gathered across the window sill and +outlines of a white face gave place to the figure of a frail girl +preparing for a leap. + +"Don't!" I cried, genuinely alarmed, with a mental vision of shattered +statuary on the ground. "Don't! I'm getting the benches," and I piled +them up, with a rickety bucket on top. "Wait!" I implored, stepping up +on the bottom bench. "Give me your hand," and as I caught her hands, she +leaped from the window to the bucket, and the bucket to the ground, with +a daintiness, which I thought savored of experience in such escapades. + +"What do you mean, young woman?" demanded Father Holland in anger. "I'll +have none of your frisky nonsense! Do you know, you baggage, that you +are delaying this young man in a matter that is of life-and-death +importance? Tell me this instant, what do you want?" + +"I want to save that woman, Miriam! You're both so slow and stupid! +Come, quick!" and she caught us by the arms. "There's a skiff down among +the rushes in the flats. I can guide you to it. Cross the river in it! +Oh! Quick! Quick! Some of the Hudson's Bay brigades have already +passed!" + +"How do you know?" we both demanded as in one breath. + +"I'm Frances Sutherland. My father is one of the Selkirk settlers and he +had word that they would pass to-night! Oh! Come! Come!" + +This girl, the daughter of a man who was playing double to both +companies! And her service to me would compel me to be loyal to him! +Truly, I was becoming involved in a way that complicated simple duty. +But the girl had darted ahead of us, we following by the flutter of the +white gown, and she led us out of the courtyard by a sally-port to the +rear of a block-house. She paused in the shadow of some shrubbery. + +"Get fagots from the Indians to light us across the flats," she +whispered to Father Holland. "They'll think nothing of your coming. +You're always among them!" + +"Mistress Sutherland!" I began, as the priest hurried forward to the +Indian camp-fires, "I hate to think of you risking yourself in this way +for----" + +"Stop thinking, then," she interrupted abruptly in a voice that somehow +reminded me of my first vision of statuary. + +"I beg your pardon," I blundered on. "Father Holland and I have both +forgotten to apologize for our rudeness about helping you down." + +"Pray don't apologize," answered the marble voice. Then the girl +laughed. "Really you're worse than I thought, when I heard you bungling +over a boat. I didn't mind your rudeness. It was funny." + +"Oh!" said I, abashed. There are situations in which conversation is +impossible. + +"I didn't mind your rudeness," she repeated, "and--and--you mustn't mind +mine. Homesick people aren't--aren't--responsible, you know. Ah! Here +are the torches! Give me one. I thank you--Father Holland--is it not? +Please smother them down till we reach the river, or we'll be followed." + +She was off in a flash, leading us through a high growth of rushes +across the flats. So I was both recognized and remembered from the +previous night. The thought was not displeasing. The wind moaned +dismally through the reeds. I did not know that I had been glancing +nervously behind at every step, with uncomfortable recollections of +arrows and spear-heads, till Father Holland exclaimed: + +"Why, boy! You're timid! What are you scared of?" + +"The devil!" and I spoke truthfully. + +"Faith! There's more than yourself runs from His Majesty; but resist the +devil and he will flee from you." + +"Not the kind of devil that's my enemy," I explained. I told him of the +arrow-shot and spear-head, and all mirth left his manner. + +"I know him, I know him well. There's no greater scoundrel between +Quebec and Athabasca." + +"My devil, or yours?" + +"Yours, lad. Let your laughter be turned to mourning! Beware of him! +I've known more than one murder of his doing. Eh! But he's cunning, so +cunning! We can't trip him up with proofs; and his body's as slippery as +an eel or we might----" + +But a loon flapped up from the rushes, brushing the priest's face with +its wings. + +"Holy Mary save us!" he ejaculated panting to keep up with our guide. +"Faith! I thought 'twas the devil himself!" + +"Do you really mean it? Would it be right to get hold of Le Grand +Diable?" I asked. Frances Sutherland had slackened her pace and we were +all three walking abreast. A dry cane crushed noisily under foot and my +head ducked down as if more arrows had hissed past. + +"Mane it?" he cried, "mane it? If ye knew all the evil he's done ye'd +know whether I mane it." It was his custom when in banter to drop from +English to his native brogue like a merry-andrew. + +"But, Father Holland, I had him in my power. I struck him, but I didn't +kill him, more's the pity!" + +"An' who's talking of killin', ye young cut-throat? I say get howld of +his body and when ye've got howld of his body, I'd further advise +gettin' howld of the butt end of a saplin'----" + +"But, Father, he was my canoeman. I had him in my power." + +Instantly he squared round throwing the torchlight on my face. + +"Had him in your power--knew what he'd done--and--and--didn't?" + +"And didn't," said I. "But you almost make me wish I had. What do you +take traders for?" + +"You're young," said he, "and I take traders for what they are----" + +"But I'm a trader and I didn't----" Though a beginner, I wore the airs +of a veteran. + +"Benedicite!" he cried. "The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall +deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher!" + +"Benedicite!" he repeated. "May ye keep as clean a conscience in this +land as you've brought to it." + +"Amen, Father!" said I. + +"Here we are," exclaimed Frances Sutherland as we emerged from the +reeds to the brink of the river, where a skiff was moored. "Go, be +quick! I'll stay here! 'Twill be better without me. The Hudson's Bay are +keeping close to the far shore!" + +"You can't stay alone," objected Father Holland. + +"I shall stay alone, and I've had my way once already to-night." + +"But we don't wish to lose one woman in finding another," I protested. + +"Go," she commanded with a furious little stamp. "You lose time! +Stupids! Do you think I stay here for nothing? We may have been followed +and I shall stay here and watch! I'll hide in the rushes! Go!" And there +was a second stamp. + +That stamp of a foot no larger than a boy's hand cowed two strong men +and sent us rowing meekly across the river. + +"Did ye ever--did ever ye see such a little termagant, such a +persuasive, commanding little queen of a termagant?" asked the priest +almost breathless with surprise. + +"Queen of courage!" I answered back. + +"Queen of hearts, too, I'm thinking. Arrah! Me hearty, to be young!" + +She must have smothered her torch, for there was no light among the +reeds when I looked back. We crossed the river slowly, listening between +oar-strokes for the paddle-dips of approaching canoes. There was no +sound but the lashing of water against the pebbled shore and we lay in +a little bay ready to dash across the fleet's course, when the boats +should come abreast. + +We had not long to wait. A canoe nose cautiously rounded the headland +coming close to our boat. Instantly I shot our skiff straight across its +path and Father Holland waved the torches overhead. + +"Hist! Hold back there--have a care!" I called. + +"Clear the way!" came an angry order from the dark. "Clear--or we fire!" + +"Fire if you dare, you fools!" I retorted, knowing well they would not +alarm the fort, and we edged nearer the boat. + +"Where's Eric Hamilton?" I demanded. + +"A curse on you! None of your business! Get out of the way! Who are +you?" growled the voice. + +"Answer--quick!" I urged Father Holland, thinking they would respect +holy orders; and I succeeded in bumping my craft against their canoe. + +"Strike him with your paddle, man!" yelled the steersman, who was beyond +reach. + +"Give 'im a bullet!" called another. + +"For shame, ye saucy divils!" shouted the priest, shaking his torch +aloft and displaying his garb. "Shame to ye, threatenin' to shoot a +missionary! Ye'd be much better showin' respect to the Church. Whur's +Eric Hamilton?" he demanded in a fine show of indignation, and he +caught the edge of their craft in his right hand. + +"Let go!" and the steersman threateningly raised a pole that shone +steel-shod. + +"Let go--is ut ye're orderin' me?" thundered the holy man, now in a +towering rage, and he flaunted the torch over the crew. "Howld y'r +imp'dent tongues!" he shouted, shaking the canoe. "Be civil this minute, +or I'll spill ye to the bottom, ye load of cursin' braggarts! Faith an' +ut's a durty meal ye'd make for the fush! Foine answers ye give polite +questions! How d'y' know we're not here to warn ye about the fort? For +shame to ye. Whur's Eric Hamilton, I say?" + +Some of the canoemen recognized the priest. Conciliatory whispers passed +from man to man. + +"Hamilton's far ahead--above the falls now," answered the steersman. + +"Then, as ye hope to save your soul," warned Father Holland not yet +appeased, "deliver this young man's message!" + +"Tell Hamilton," I cried, "that she whom he seeks is held captive by a +band of Sioux on Lake Winnipeg and to make haste. Tell him that and +he'll reward you well!" + +"Vary by one word from the message," added the priest, "and my curses'll +track your soul to the furnace." + +Father Holland relaxed his grasp, the paddles dipped down and the canoe +was lost in the darkness. + +More than once I thought that a shadowy thing like an Indian's boat had +hung on our rear and the craft seemed to be dogging us back to the +flats. Father Holland raised his torch and could see nothing on the +water but the glassy reflection of our own forms. He said it was a +phantom boat I had seen; and, truly, visions of Le Grande Diable had +haunted me so persistently of late, I could scarcely trust my senses. +Frances Sutherland's torch suddenly appeared waving above the flats. I +put muscle to the oar and before we had landed she called out-- + +"An Indian's canoe shot past a moment ago. Did you see it?" + +"No," returned Father Holland. + +"I think we did," said I. + + * * * * * + +"How can I thank you for what you have done?" I was saying to Frances +Sutherland as we entered the fort by the same sally-port. + +"Do you really want to know how?" + +"Do I?" I was prepared to offer dramatic sacrifice. + +"Then never think of it again, nor speak of it again, nor know me any +more than if it hadn't happened----" + +"The conditions are hard." + +"And----" + +"And what?" I asked eagerly. + +"And help me back the way I came down. For if my father--oh! if my +father knew--he would kill me!" + +"Faith! So he ought!" ejaculated the priest. "Risking such precious +treasure among vandals!" + +Again I piled up the benches. From the bench, she stepped to the bucket, +and from the bucket to my shoulder, and as the light weight left my +shoulder for the window sill, unknown to her, I caught the fluffy skirt, +now bedraggled with the night dew, and kissed it gratefully. + +"Oh--ho--and oh-ho and oh-ho," hummed the priest. "Do _I_ scent +matrimony?" + +"Not unless it's in your nose," I returned huffily. "Show me a man of +all the hundreds inside, Father Holland, that wouldn't go on his +marrow-bones to a woman who risks life and reputation, which is dearer +than life, to save another woman!" + +"Bless you, me hearty, if he wouldn't, he'd be a villain," said the +priest. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DECORATING A BIT OF STATUARY + + +I frequently passed that window above the stoop next day. Once I saw a +face looking down on me with such withering scorn, I wondered if the +disgraceful scene with Louis Laplante had become noised about, and I +hastened to take my exercise in another part of the courtyard. +Thereupon, others paid silent homage to the window, but they likewise +soon tired of that parade ground. + +Eastern notions of propriety still clung to me. Of this I had immediate +proof. When our rough crews were preparing to re-embark for the north, I +was shocked beyond measure to see this frail girl come down with her +father to travel in our company. Not counting her father, the priest, +Duncan Cameron, Cuthbert Grant and myself, there were in our party +three-score reckless, uncurbed adventurers, who feared neither God nor +man. I thought it strange of a father to expose his daughter to the bold +gaze, coarse remarks, and perhaps insults of such men. Before the end of +that trip, I was to learn a lesson in western chivalry, which is not +easily explained, or forgotten. As father and daughter were waiting to +take their places in a boat, a shapeless, flat-footed woman, wearing +moccasins--probably the half-breed wife of some trader in the fort--ran +to the water's edge with a parcel of dainties, and kissing the girl on +both cheeks, wished her a fervent God-speed. + +"Oh!" growled the young Nor'-Wester, who had been carried from the +banquet hall, and now wore the sour expression that is the aftermath of +banquets. "Look at that fat lump of a bumblebee distilling honey from +the rose! There are others who would appreciate that sort of thing! This +_is_ the wilderness of lost opportunities!" + +The girl seated herself in a canoe, where the only men were Duncan +Cameron, her father and the native _voyageurs_; and I dare vouch a score +of young traders groaned at the sight of this second lost opportunity. + +"Look, Gillespie! Look!" muttered my comrade of the banquet hall. "The +Little Statue set up at the prow of yon canoe! I'll wager you do +reverence to graven images all the way to Red River!" + +"I'll wager we all do," said I. + +And we did. To change the metaphor--after the style of Mr. Jack +MacKenzie's eloquence--I warrant there was not a young man of the eight +crews, who did not regard that marble-cold face at the prow of the +leading canoe, as his own particular guiding star. And the white face +beneath the broad-brimmed hat, tied down at each side in the fashion of +those days, was as serenely unconscious of us as any star of the +heavenly constellations. If she saw there were objects behind her canoe, +and that the objects were living beings, and the living beings men, she +gave no evidence of it. Nor was the Little Statue--as we had got in the +habit of calling her--heartless. In spite of the fears which she +entertained for her stern father, her filial affection was a thing to +turn the lads of the crews quite mad. Scarcely were we ashore at the +different encampments before father and daughter would stroll off arm in +arm, leaving the whole brigade envious and disconsolate. Was it the +influence of this slip of a girl, I wonder, that a curious change came +over our crews? The men still swore; but they did it under their breath. +Fewer yarns of a quality, which need not be specified, were told; and +certain kinds of jokes were no longer greeted with a loud guffaw. Still +we all thought ourselves mightily ill-used by that diminutive bundle of +independence, and some took to turning the backs of their heads in her +direction when she chanced to come their way. One young spark said +something about the Little Statue being a prig, which we all invited him +to repeat, but he declined. Had she played the coquette under the +innocent mask of sympathy and all other guiles with which gentle slayers +ambush strong hearts, I dare affirm there would have been trouble enough +and to spare. Suicides, fights, insults and worse, I have witnessed when +some fool woman with a fair face came among such men. "Fool" woman, I +say, rather than "false"; for to my mind falsity in a woman may not be +compared to folly for the utter be-deviling of men. + +With our guiding star at the prow of the fore canoe, we continued to +wind among countless islands, through narrow, rocky channels and along +those endless water-ways, that stretch like a tangled, silver chain with +emerald jewels, all the way from the Great Lakes to the plains. +Somewhere along Rainy River, where there is an oasis of rolling, wooded +meadows in a desert of iron rock, we pitched our tents for the night. +The evening air was fragrant with the odor of summer's early flowers. I +could not but marvel at the almost magical growth in these far northern +latitudes. Barely a month had passed since snow enveloped the earth in a +winding sheet, and I have heard old residents say that the winter's +frost penetrated the ground for a depth of four feet. Yet here we were +in a very tropic of growth run riot and the frost, which still lay +beneath the upper soil, was thawing and moistening the succulent roots +of a wilderness of green. The meadow grass, swaying off to the forest +margin in billowy ripples, was already knee-high. The woods were an +impenetrable mass of foliage from the forest of ferns about the broad +trunks to the high tree-tops, nodding and fanning in the night breeze +like coquettish dames in an eastern ball-room. Everywhere--at the river +bank, where our tents stood, above the long grass, and in the +forest--clear, faint and delicate, like the bloom of a fair woman's +cheek, or the pensive theme of some dream fugue, or the sweet notes of +some far-off, floating harmonies, was an odor of hidden flowers. A +trader's nature is, of necessity, rough in the grain, but it is not +corrupt with the fevered joys of the gilded cities. Even we could feel +the call of the wilds to come and seek. It was not surprising, +therefore, that after supper father and daughter should stroll away from +the encampment, arm in arm, as usual. As their figures passed into the +woods, the girl broke away from her father's arm and stooped to the +ground. + +"Pickin' flowers," was the laconic remark of the trader, who had helped +me with Louis Laplante on the beach; and the man lay back full length +against a rising knoll to drink in the delicious freshness of the night. +Every man of us watched the vanishing forms. + +"Smell violets?" asked a heterogeneous combination of sun-brown and +buckskin. + +"This ground's a perfect wheat-field of violets," exclaimed the +whiskered youngster. + +"Lots o' Mayflowers and night-shades in the bush," declared a ragged +man, who was one of the worst gamblers in camp, and was now aimlessly +shuffling a greasy, bethumbed pack of cards. + +"Oh!" came simultaneously from half a dozen. Personally, it struck me +one might pick flowers for a certain purpose in the bush without being +observed. + +"Mayflowers in June!" scoffed the boy. + +"Aye, babe! Mayflowers in June! May is June in these here regions," +asserted the man. "Ladies-and-gentlemen, too, many's you could pick in +the bush!" + +"Ladies-and-gentlemen! Sounds funny in this desert, don't it?" asked the +lad. "What _are_ ladies-and-gentlemen?" + +"Don't you know?" continued the gambler, unfolding a curious lore of +flowers. "Those little potty, white things, split up the middle with a +green head on top--grow under ferns. Come on. Cards are ready! Who's +going to play?" + +"Durn it! Them's Dutchman's breeches!" exclaimed the sun-browned +trapper. "O Goll! If that Little Stature finds any Dutchman's breeches, +she that's so scared of us men! O Goll! Won't she blush? Say, babe, why +don't y'r fill y'r hat with 'em and put 'em in her tent?" and the big +trapper set up a hoarse guffaw which led a general chorus. Then the men +gathered round, to play. + +"Faith, lads!" interrupted the voice of the Irish priest, who had come +upon the group so quietly the gambler scarcely had time to tuck the +tell-tale cards under his buckskin smock, "I'm thinking ye've all +developed a mighty sudden interest in botany. Are there any bleeding +hearts in the bush?" + +"There may be here," suggested the boy. + +"It all comes of the Little Statute!" declared the big trapper. + +"Oh! You and your Stature and Statute! Why can't you say Statue?" asked +the lad with the pompous scorn of youthful knowledge. + +"Because, oh, babe with the chicken-down," answered the man, giving his +corrector a thud with his broad palm and sticking heroically by his slip +of the tongue, "I says the words I means and don't play no prig. She +don't pay more attention to you than if you wuz a stump, that's why +she's a statue, ain't it? And the fellows've got to stretch their necks +to come up to her ideas of what's proper, that's why she's a stature, +ain't it? And not a man of us, if His Reverence'll excuse me for saying +so, dare let out a cuss afore her. That's why she's a statute, ain't +it?" + +And when I walked off to the bush with as great a show of indifference +as I could muster, I heard the priest crying "Bravo!" to the man's +defence. How came it that I was in the woods slushing through damp mold +up to my ankles in black ooze? I no longer had any fear of an ambushed +enemy; for Le Grand Diable, the knave, had forfeited his wages and +deserted at Fort William. He was not seen after the night of the meeting +with the Hudson's Bay canoe off the flats. I drew Father Holland's +attention to this, and the priest was no longer so sceptical about that +phantom boat. But it was not of these things I thought, as I tore a +great strip of bark from the trunk of a birch tree and twisted the piece +into a huge cornucopia. Nor had I the slightest expectation of +encountering father and daughter in the woods. That marble face was too +much in earnest for the vainest of men to suppose its indifference +assumed; and no matter how fair the eyes, no man likes to be looked at, +by eyes that do not see him, or see him only as a blur on the landscape. +Still that marble face stood for much that is dear to the roughest of +hearts and about which men do not talk. So I went on packing damp moss +into the bottom of the bark horn, arranging frail lilies and night +shades about the rim and laying a solid pyramid of violets in the +centre. The mold, through which I was floundering, seemed to merge into +a bog; but the lower reaches were hidden by a thicket of alder bushes +and scrub willows. I mounted a fallen tree and tried to get cautiously +down to some tempting lily-pads. Evidently some one else on the other +side of the brush was after those same bulbs; for I heard the sucking +sound of steps plunging through the mire of water and mud. + +"Why, Gillespie," called a voice, "what in the world are you doing +here?" and the boy emerged through the willows gaping at me in +astonishment. + +"Just what I want to know of you," said I. + +He presented a comical figure. His socks and moccasins had been tied and +slung round his neck. With trousers rolled to his knees, a hatful of +water-lilies in one hand and a sheaf of ferns in the other, he was +wading through the swamp. + +"You see," he began sheepishly. "I thought she couldn't--couldn't +conveniently get these for herself, and it would be kind of nice--kind +of nice--you know--to get some for her----" + +"Don't explain," I blurted out. "I was trying that same racket myself." + +"You know, Gillespie," he continued quite confidentially, "when a man's +been away from his mother and sisters for years and years and years----" + +"Yes, I know, babe; you're an octogenarian," I interrupted. + +"And feels himself going utterly to the bow-wows without any stop-gear +to keep him from bowling clean to the bottom, a person feels like doing +something decent for a girl like the Little Statue," and the youth +plucked half a dozen yellow flowers as well as the coveted white ones. +"Have some for your basket," said he. His face was puckered into +pathetic gravity. "It's so hanged easy to go to the bow-wows out here," +he added. + +"Not so easy as in the towns," I interjected. + +"Ah! but I've been there, gone all through 'em in the towns," he +explained. "That's why the pater packed me off to this wilderness." + +And that, thought I, is why the west gets all the credit for the wild +oats gathered in old lands and sown in the new world. I pulled him up to +the log on which I was balanced, and seating himself he dangled his feet +down and began to souse the mud off his toes. + +"Say!" he exclaimed. "How are you going to get 'em to her?" + +"Take them to the tent." + +"Well, Gillespie, when you take yours up, take mine along, too, will +you? There's a good fellow! Do!" He was drawing on his socks. + +"Not much I will. If there's any proxy, you can take mine," I returned. + +"Say! Do you think Father Holland would take 'em up?" He had tied his +moccasins and was standing. + +"Can't say I think he would." + +"He'd let you hear about it to all eternity, too, wouldn't he?" +reflected the lad. "Come on, then; but you go first." And he followed me +up the log, both of us feeling like shame-faced schoolboys. We stole +into the tent, the one tent of all others that had interest for us that +night, and deposited our burden of flowers on the couch of buffalo +robes. + +"Hurry," whispered my companion. "Stack these ferns round somewhere! +Hurry! She'll be back." And leaving me to do the arranging he bolted for +the tent flaps. "Oh! Open earth and swallow me!" he almost screamed, and +I heard the sound of two persons coming in violent collision at the +entrance. + +"The babe, as I live! The rascally young broth of a babe! Ye rogue, ye!" +burred the deep bass tones of the trader whom I had met over Louis +Laplante. "What are ye doin' here?" + +"Oh, is it only you? Thank fortune!" ejaculated the boy, dodging back. +"What are you doing yourself? Great guns! You scared the wits out of +me! Ho! Here's a lark! Gillespie, my pal, look here!" I turned to see +the sheepish, guilty, smirking faces of the trader, the rough-tongued, +sunburned trapper and the ragged gambler grouped at the entrance, and +each man's arms were full of flowers. + +"Well, I'm durned!" began the rough man. + +"As she's jack-spotted us all," drawled the gentle, liquid tones of the +gambler, "we'd better go ahead and----" + +"And decorate a bit of statuary," shouted the lad with a laugh. + +It was a long tent, like the booth of a fair, with supports at each end, +and we were festooning it from pole to pole with moss and ferns when +somebody rasped at the door. "Mon alive! What's goin' on here?" We +started from our work with the guilty alacrity of burglars. There stood +Frances Sutherland's father, much aghast at the proceedings, and by his +side was a face with cheeks flaming poppy red and lips twitching in +merriment. There was a sudden snow-storm of flowers being tossed down, +and five men brushed past the two spectators and dashed into the hiding +of gathering dusk. At the foot of the knoll I ran against the priest. + +"That," roared Father Holland, shaking with laughter. "That's what I +call good stuff in the rough! Faith, but ye'll give me good stuff in the +rough. I want none o' yer gilded chivalry from the tinsel towns!" + +There was a wreath of night-shades in the Little Statue's hat when the +canoes set out next morning. Mayflowers were at her throat, violets in +her girdle and I know not what in a basket at her feet. The face was +unconscious of us as ever, but about the downcast eyelids played a +tender gentleness which was not there before. Once I caught her glancing +back among us as if she would pick out the culprits; and when her eyes +for a moment rested on me, my heart set up a silly thumping. But she +looked just as pointedly at the others, and I know every man's heart of +them responded; for the boy began such a floundering I thought he would +spill his canoe. A quick trip brought us to the mouth of Red River, +where the Hudson's Bay _voyageurs_ under Colin Robertson were resting. +Here I was surprised to learn that Eric Hamilton had not waited but had +hastened up Red River to Fort Douglas. I could not but connect this +southward move of his with the sudden flight of Le Grand Diable from +Fort William. + +After brief pause at the foot of Lake Winnipeg, our brigade turned +southward and made speed up the Red through the rush-grown sedgy swamps +which over-flood the river bed. Farther south the banks towered high and +smoke curled up from the huts of Lord Selkirk's settlers. Women with +nets in their hands to scare off myriad blackbirds that clouded the air, +and men from the cornfields ran to the river edge and cheered us as we +passed. Here the Sutherlands landed. Some of the traders thought it a +good omen, that Hudson's Bay settlers cheered Nor'-Wester brigades; but +in one bend of the muddy Red, the bastions of Fort Douglas, where +Governor McDonell of the rival company ruled, loomed up and the guns +pointing across the river wore anything but a welcome look. + +We passed Fort Douglas unmolested, followed the Red a mile farther to +its junction with the Assiniboine and here disembarked at Fort +Gibraltar, the headquarters of the Nor'-Westers in Red River. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MORE STUDIES IN STATUARY + + +"So he laughs at our warrant?" exclaimed Duncan Cameron. "Hut-tut! We'll +teach him to respect warrants issued under authority of 43d King George +III.," and the dictator of Fort Gibraltar fussed angrily among the +papers of his desk and beat a threatening tattoo with knuckles and +heels. + +The Assiniboine enters the Red at something like a right angle and in +this angle was the Nor'-Westers' fort, named after an old-world +stronghold, because we imagined our position gave us the same command of +the two waterways by which the _voyageurs_ entered and left the north +country as Gibraltar has of the Mediterranean. Governor McDonell had +thought to outwit us by building the Hudson's Bay fort a mile further +down the current of the Red. It was a sharp trick, for Fort Douglas +could intercept Nor'-West brigades bound from Montreal to Fort +Gibraltar, or from Fort Gibraltar to the Athabasca. Two days after our +arrival, Cuthbert Grant, with a band of _Bois-Brulés_, had gone to Fort +Douglas to arrest Captain Miles McDonell for plundering Nor'-West posts. +The doughty governor took Grant's warrant as a joke and scornfully +turned the whole North-West party out of Fort Douglas. On the stockades +outside were proclamations commanding settlers to take up arms in +defense of the Hudson's Bay traders and forbidding natives to sell furs +to any but our rivals. These things added fuel to the hot anger of the +chafing _Bois-Brulés_. A curious race were these mongrel plain-rangers, +with all the savage instincts of the wild beast and few of the brutal +impulses of the beastly man. The descendants of French fathers and +Indian mothers, they inherited all the quick, fiery daring of the +Frenchman, all the endurance, craft and courage of the Indian, and all +the indolence of both white man and red. One might cut his enemy's +throat and wash his hands in the life blood, or spend years in +accomplishing revenge; but it is a question if there is a single +instance on record of a _Bois-Brulé_ molesting an enemy's family. When +the Frenchman married a native woman, he cast off civilization like an +ill-fitting coat and virtually became an Indian. When the Scotch settler +married a native woman, he educated her up to his own level and if she +did not become entirely civilized, her children did. One was the wild +man, the Ishmaelite of the desert, the other, the tiller of the soil, +the Israelite of the plain. Such were the tameless men, of whom Cuthbert +Grant was the leader, the leader solely from his fitness to lead. + +It was late in the afternoon when the warden returned from Fort Douglas. +I was busy over my desk. Father Holland was still with us awaiting the +departure of traders to the south, and Duncan Cameron was stamping about +the room like a caged lion. There came a quick, angry tramp from the +hall. + +"That's Grant back, and there's no one with him," muttered Cameron with +suppressed anger; and in burst the warden himself, his heavy brows dark +with fury and his eyes flashing like the fire at a pistol point. +Involuntarily I stopped work and the priest glanced across at me with a +look which bespoke expectation of an explosion. Grant did not storm. +That was not his way. He took several turns about the room, mastered +himself, and speaking through his teeth said quietly, "There be some +fools that enjoy playing with gunpowder. I'm not one of them! There be +some idiots that like teasing tigers. 'Tis not sport to my fancy! There +be some pot-valiant braggarts that defy the law. Let them enjoy the +breaking of the law!" + +"What--what--what?" sputtered the Highland governor, springing first on +one side of Grant and then on the other, all the while rumbling out +maledictions on Lord Selkirk, and Governor McDonell and Fort Douglas. +"What do ye say, mon? Do I understand ye clearly, there's no prisoners +with ye?" + +"Laughs at the _Bois-Brulés_. The fool laughs at the _Bois-Brulés_! I've +seen gophers cock their eye at a wolf, before that same wolf made a +breakfast of gophers! The fool laughs at your warrant, Sir! Scouted it, +Sir! Bundled us out of Fort Douglas like cattle!" The warden went on in +a bitter strain to tell of the effect of the posted proclamations on his +followers. + +"So the lordly Captain Miles McDonell of the Queen's Rangers, +generalissimo of all creation, defies us, does he?" demanded Cameron in +great dudgeon, scarcely crediting his ears. + +"Aye!" answered Grant, "but he can ill afford to be so high and mighty. +We went through the settlement and half the people are with us----" + +"That's good! That's good!" responded Cameron with keen relish. + +"They're heartily sick of the country," continued the warden, "and would +leave to-morrow if we'd supply the boats. Last winter they nearly +starved. The company's generous supply was rancid grease and wormy +flour." + +"Fine way o' colonizing a country," stormed Cameron, "bring men out as +settlers and arm them to fight! We'll spike his guns by shipping a score +more away." + +"We've spiked his guns in a better way," said Grant dryly. "Some of the +friendlies are so afraid he'll take their guns away and leave them +defenceless unless they fight us, they've sent their arms here for +safekeeping. We'll keep them safe, I'll warrant." Grant smiled, showing +his white teeth in a way that was not pleasant to see, and somehow +reminded me of a dog's snarl. + +"Good! Good! Excellent, Grant." Such strategy pleased Cameron. "See +here, mon, Cuthbert, we've the law on our side--we've the warrants to +back the law! We'd better give yon dour fool a lesson. He's broken the +peace. We haven't. Come out, an' I'll talk it over with ye!" + +The two went out, Grant saying as they passed the window--"Let him +tamper with the fur trade among the Indians and I'll not answer for it! +That last order not to sell----" The rest of the remark I lost. + +"'Twould serve him well right if they did," returned Cameron, and both +men walked beyond hearing. + +Father Holland and I were left alone. The fort became ominously still. +There was a distant clatter of receding hoofs; but we were on the south +side of the warehouse and could not see which way the horses were +galloping. + +"I'm afraid--I'm afraid both sides will be rash," observed the priest. + +The sun-dial indicated six o'clock. I closed and locked the office +desks. We had supper in the deserted dining-hall. Afterwards we strolled +to the northeast gate, and looking in the direction of Fort Douglas, +wondered what scheme could be afoot. Here my testimony need not be taken +for, or against, either side. All I saw was Duncan Cameron with the +other white men of the fort standing on a knoll some distance from Fort +Gibraltar, evidently gazing towards Fort Douglas. Against the sky, above +the settlement, there were clouds of rising smoke. + +"Burning hay-ricks?" I questioned. + +"Aye, and houses! 'Tis shameless work leaving the people exposed to the +blasts of next winter! Shameless, shameless work! Y'r company'll gain +nothing by it, Rufus!" + +Across the night came faint, short snappings like a fusillade of shots. + +"Looting the neutrals," said the priest. "God grant there be no blood on +the plains this night! These fool traders don't realize what it means to +rouse blood in an Indian! They'll get a lesson yet! Give the red devils +a taste of blood and there won't be a white unscalped to the Rockies! +I've seen y'r fine, clever rascals play the Indian against rivals, and +the game always ends the same way. The Indian is a weapon that's quick +to cut the hand of the user." + +Little did I realize my part in the terrible fulfilment of that +prophecy. + +"Look alive, lad! Where are y'r wits? What's that?" he cried, suddenly +pointing to the river bank. + +Up from the cliff sprang a form as if by magic. It came leaping straight +to the fort gate. + +"Some frightened half-breed wench," surmised the priest. + +I saw it was a woman with a shawl over her head like a native. + +"_Bon soir!_" said I after the manner of traders with Indian women; but +she rushed blindly on to the gate. + +The fort was deserted. Suspicion of treachery flashed on me. How many +more half-breeds were beneath that cliff? + +"Stop, huzzie!" I ordered, springing forward and catching her so tightly +by the wrist that she swung half-way round before she could check +herself. She wrenched vigorously to get free. "Stop! Be still, you +huzzie!" + +"Be still--you what?" asked a low, amazed voice that broke in ripples +and froze my blood. A shawl fluttered to the ground, and there stood +before us the apparition of a marble face. + +"The Little Statue!" I gasped in sheer horror at what I had done. + +"The little--what?" asked the rippling voice, that sounded like cold +water flowing under ice, and a pair of eyes looked angrily down at the +hand with which I was still unconsciously gripping her arm. + +"I'd thank you, Sir," she began, with a mock courtesy to the priest, +"I'd thank you, Sir, to call off your mastiff." + +"Let her go, boy!" roared the priest with a hammering blow across my +forearm that brought me to my senses and convinced me she was no wraith. + +Mastiff! That epithet stung to the quick. I flung her wrist from me as +if it had been hot coals. Now, a woman may tread upon a man--also stamp +upon him if she has a mind to--but she must trip it daintily. Otherwise +even a worm may turn against its tormentor. To have idolized that marble +creature by day and night, to have laid our votive offerings on its +shrine, to have hungered for the sound of a woman's lips for weeks, and +to hear those lips cuttingly call me a dog--were more than I could +stand. + +"Ten thousand pardons, Mistress Sutherland!" I said with a pompous +stiffness which I intended should be mighty crushing. "But when ladies +deck themselves out as squaws and climb in and out of windows,"--that +was brutal of me; she had done it for Miriam and me--"and announce +themselves in unexpected ways, they need not hope to be recognized." + +And did she flare back at me? Not at all. + +"You waste time with your long speeches," she said, turning from me to +Father Holland. + +Thereupon I strode off angrily to the river bank. + +"Oh, Father Holland," I heard her say as I walked away, "I must go to +Pembina! I'm in such trouble! There's a Frenchman----" + +Trouble, thought I; she is in trouble and I have been thinking only of +my own dignity. And I stood above the river, torn between desire to rush +back and wounded pride, that bade me stick it out. Over the plains came +the shout of returning plunderers. I could hear the throb, throb of +galloping hoofs beating nearer and nearer over the turf, and reflected +that I might make the danger from returning _Bois-Brulés_ the occasion +of a reconciliation. + +"Come here, lad!" called Father Holland. I needed no urging. "Ye must +rig up in tam-o'-shanter and tartan, like a Highland settler, and take +Mistress Sutherland back to Fort Douglas. She's going to Pembina to meet +her father, lad, when I go south to the Missouri. And, lad," the priest +hesitated, glancing doubtfully from Miss Sutherland to me, "I'm thinking +there's a service ye might do her." + +The Little Statue was looking straight at me now, and there were +tear-marks about the heavy lashes. Now, I do not pretend to explain the +power, or witchery, a gentle slip of a girl can wield with a pair of +gray eyes; but when I met the furtive glance and saw the white, veined +forehead, the arched brows, the tremulous lips, the rounded chin, and +the whole face glorified by that wonderful mass of hair, I only know, +without weapon or design, she dealt me a wound which I bear to this day. +What a ruffian I had been! I was ashamed, and my eyes fell before hers. +If a libation of blushes could appease an offended goddess, I was livid +evidence of repentance. I felt myself flooded in a sudden heat of shame. +She must have read my confusion, for she turned away her head to hide +mantling forgiveness. + +"There's a crafty Frenchman in the fort has been troubling the lassie. +I'm thinking, if ye worked off some o' your anger on him, it moight be +for the young man's edification. Be quick! I hear the breeds returning!" + +"But I have a message," she said in choking tones. + +"From whom?" I asked aimlessly enough. + +"Eric Hamilton!" she answered. + +"Eric Hamilton!" both the priest and I shouted. + +"Yes--why? What--what--is it? He's wounded, and he wants a Rufus +Gillespie, who's with the Nor'-Westers. The _Bois-Brulés_ fired on the +fort. Where _is_ Rufus Gillespie?" + +"Bless you, lassie! Here--here--here he is!" The holy father thumped my +back at every word. "Here he is, crazy as a March hare for news of +Hamilton!" + +"You--Rufus--Gillespie!" So she did not even know my name. Evidently, if +she troubled my thoughts, I did not trouble hers. + +"He's told me so much about you," she went on, with a little pant of +astonishment. "How brave and good----" + +"Pshaw!" I interrupted roughly. "What's the message?" + +"Mr. Hamilton wishes to see you at once," she answered coldly. + +"Then kill two birds with one stone! Take her home and see Hamilton--and +hurry!" urged the priest. + +The half-breeds were now very near. + +"Put it over your head!" and Father Holland clapped the shawl about +Frances Sutherland after the fashion of the half-breed women. + +She stood demurely behind him while I ran up-stairs in the warehouse to +disguise myself in tartan plaid. When I came out, Duncan Cameron was in +the gateway welcoming Cuthbert Grant and the _Bois-Brulés_, as if +pillaging defenceless settlers were heroic. Victors from war may be +inspiring, but a half-breed rabble, red-handed from deeds of violence, +is not a sight to edify any man. + +"What's this ye have, Father?" bawled one impudent fellow, and he +pointed sneeringly at the figure in the folds of the shawl. + +"Let the wench be!" was the priest's reply, and the half-breed lounged +past with a laugh. + +I was about to offer Frances Sutherland my arm to escort her from the +mob, when I felt Father Holland's hard knuckles dig viciously into my +ribs. + +"Ye fool ye! Ye blundering idiot!" he whispered, "she's a half-breed. +Och! But's time y'r eastern greenness was tannin' a good western russet! +Let her follow with bowed head, or you'll have the whole pack on y'r +heels!" + +With that admonition I strode boldly out, she behind, humble, with +downcast eyes like a half-breed girl. + +We ran down the river path through the willows and jumping into a canoe +swiftly rounded the forks of the Assiniboine and Red. There we left the +canoe and fled along a trail beneath the cliff till the shouting of the +half-breeds could be no longer heard. At once I turned to offer her my +arm. She must have bruised her feet through the thin moccasins, for the +way was very rough. I saw that she was trembling from fatigue. + +"Permit me," I said, offering my arm as formally as if she had been +some grand lady in an eastern drawing-room. + +"Thank you--I'm afraid I must," and she reluctantly placed a light hand +on my sleeve. + +I did not like that condescending compulsion, and now out of danger, I +became strangely embarrassed and angry in her presence. The "mastiff" +epithet stuck like a barb in my boyish chivalry. Was it the wind, or a +low sigh, or a silent weeping, that I heard? I longed to know, but would +not turn my head, and my companion was lagging just a step behind. I +slackened speed, so did she. Then a voice so low and soft and golden it +might have melted a heart of stone--but what is a heart of stone +compared to the wounded pride of a young man?--said, "Do you know, I +think I rather like mastiffs?" + +"Indeed," said I icily, in no mood for raillery. + +"Like _them_ for friends, not enemies, to be protected by _them_, +not--not bitten," the voice continued with a provoking emphasis of the +plural "_them_." + +"Yes," said I, with equal emphasis of the obnoxious plural. "Ladies find +_them_ useful at times." + +That fling silenced her and I felt a shiver run down the arm on my +sleeve. + +"Why, you're shivering," I blundered out. "You must let me put this +round you," and I pulled off the plaid and would have placed it on her +shoulders, but she resisted. + +"I am not in the least cold," she answered frigidly--which is the only +untruth I ever heard her tell--"and you shall not say '_must_' to me," +and she took her hand from my arm. She spoke with a tremor that warned +me not to insist. Then I knew why she had shivered. + +"Please forgive, Miss Sutherland," I begged. "I'm such a maladroit +animal." + +"I quite agree with you, a maladroit mastiff with teeth!" + +Mastiff! That insult again! I did not reproffer my arm. We strode +forward once more, she with her face turned sideways remote from me, I +with my face sideways remote from her, and the plaid trailing from my +hand by way of showing her she could have it if she wished. We must have +paced along in this amiable, post-matrimonial fashion for quite a +quarter of the mile we had to go, and I was awkwardly conscious of +suppressed laughing from her side. It was the rippling voice, that +always seemed to me like fountain splash in the sunshine, which broke +silence again. + +"Really," said the low, thrilling, musical witchery by my side, "really, +it's the most wonderful story I have ever heard!" + +"Story?" I queried, stopping stock still and gaping at her. + +"Perfectly wonderful! So intensely interesting and delightful." + +"Interesting and delightful?" I interrogated in sheer amazement. This +girl utterly dumfounded me, and in the conceit of youth I thought it +strange that any girl could dumfound me. + +"What an interesting life you have had, to be sure!" + +"I have had?" + +"Yes, don't you know you've been talking in torrents for the past ten +minutes? No? Do you forget?" and she laughed tremulously either from +embarrassment, or cold. + +"Well!" said I, befooled into good-humor and laughing back. "If you give +me a day's warning, I'll try to keep up with you." + +"Ah! There! I've put you through the ice at last! It's been such hard +work!" + +"And I come up badly doused!" + +"Stimulated too! You're doing well already!" + +"My thanks to my instructor," and catching the spirit of her mockery, I +swept her a courtly bow. + +"There! There!" she cried, dropping raillery as soon as I took it up. +"You were cross at the window. I was cross on the flats. You nearly +wrenched my hand off----" + +"Can you blame me?" I asked. "And to pay me back you turned my head and +stole my heart----" + +"Hush!" she interrupted. "Let's clean the slate and begin again." + +"With all my heart, if you'll wear this tartan and stop shivering." I +was not ready to consent to an unconditional surrender. + +"I hate your 'ifs' and 'buts' and so-much-given-for-so-much-got," she +exclaimed with an impatient, little stamp, "but--but--" she added +inconsistently, "if--if--you'll keep one end of the plaid for yourself, +I'll take the other." + +"Ho--ho! I like 'ifs' and 'buts.' Have you more of that kind?" I +laughed, whisking the fold about us both. Drawing her hand into mine, I +kept it there. + +"It isn't so cold as--as that, is it?" asked the voice under the plaid. + +"Quite," I returned valiantly, tightening my clasp. She laughed a low, +mellow laugh that set my heart beating to the tune of a trip-hammer. I +felt a great intoxication of strength that might have razed Fort Douglas +to the ground and conquered the whole world, which, I dare say, other +young men have felt when the same kind of weight hung upon their +protection. + +"Oh! Little Statue! Why have you been so hard on us?" I began. + +"_Us?_" she asked. + +"Me--then," and I gulped down my embarrassment. + +"Because----" + +"Because what?" + +"No _what_. Just because!" She was astonished that her decisive reason +did not satisfy. + +"Because! A woman's reason!" I scoffed. + +"Because! It's the best and wisest and most wholesome reason ever +invented. Think what it avoids saying and what wisdom may be behind +it!" + +"Only wisdom?" + +"You be careful! There'll be another cold plunge! Tell me about your +friend's wife, Miriam," she answered, changing the subject. + +And when I related my strange mission and she murmured, "How +noble," I became a very Samson of strength, ready to vanquish +an army of Philistine admirers with the jawbone of my inflated +self-confidence--provided, always, one queen of the combat were looking +on. + +"Are you cold, now?" I asked, though the trembling had ceased. + +No, she was not cold. She was quite comfortable, and the answer came in +vibrant tones which were as wine to a young man's heart. + +"Are you tired, Frances?" and the "No" was accompanied by a little +laugh, which spurred more questioning for no other purpose than to hear +the music of her voice. Now, what was there in those replies to cause +happiness? Why have inane answers to inane, timorous questions +transformed earth into paradise and mortals into angels? + +"Do you find the way very far--Frances?" The flavor of some names tempts +repeated tasting. + +"Very far?" came the response in an amused voice, "find it very far? Yes +I do, quite far--oh! No--I don't. Oh! I don't know!" She broke into a +joyous laugh at her own confusion, gaining more self-possession as I +lost mine; and out she slipped from the plaid. + +"I wish it were a thousand times farther," and I gazed ruefully at the +folds that trailed empty. + +What other absurd things I might have said, I cannot tell; but we were +at the fort and I had to wrap the tartan disguise about myself. +Stooping, I picked a bunch of dog-roses growing by the path, then felt +foolish, for I had not the courage to give them to her, and dropped them +without her knowledge. She gave the password at the gate. I was taken +for a Selkirk Highlander and we easily gained entrance. + +A man brushed past us in the gloom of the courtyard. He looked +impudently down into her face. It was Laplante, and my whole frame +filled with a furious resentment which I had not guessed could be +possible with me. + +"That Frenchman," she whispered, but his figure vanished among the +buildings. She showed me the council hall where Eric could be found. + +"And where do you go?" I asked stupidly. + +She indicated the quarters where the settlers had taken refuge. I led +her to the door. + +"Are you sure you'll be safe?" + +"Oh! Yes, quite, as long as the settlers are here; and you, you will let +me know when the priest sets out for Pembina?" + +I vowed more emphatically than the case required that she should know. + +"Are there no dark halls in there, unsafe for you?" I questioned. + +"None," and she went up the first step of the doorway. + +"Are you sure you're safe?" I also mounted a step. + +"Yes, quite, thank you," and she retreated farther, "and you, have you +forgotten you came to see Mr. Hamilton?" + +"Why--so I did," I stammered out absently. + +She was on the top step, pulling the latch-string of the great door. + +"Stop! Frances--dear!" I cried. + +She stood motionless and I felt that this last rashness of an unruly +tongue--too frank by far--had finished me. + +"What? Can I do anything to repay you for your trouble in bringing me +here?" + +"I've been repaid," I answered, "but indeed, indeed, long live the +Queen! May it please Her Majesty to grant a token to her leal and +devoted knight----" + +"What is thy request?" she asked laughingly. "What token doth the knight +covet?" + +"The token that goes with _good-nights_," and I ventured a pace up the +stairs. + +"There, Sir Knight," she returned, hastily putting out her hand, which +was not what I wanted, but to which I gratefully paid my devoir. "Art +satisfied?" she asked. + +"Till the Queen deigns more," and I paused for a reply. + +She lingered on the threshold as if she meant to come down to me, then +with a quick turn vanished behind the gloomy doors, taking all the +light of my world with her; but I heard a voice, as of some happy bird +in springtime, trilling from the hall where she had gone, and a new song +made music in my own heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A SHUFFLING OF ALLEGIANCE + + +Time was when Fort Douglas rang as loudly with mirth of assembled +traders as ever Fort William's council hall. Often have I heard veterans +of the Hudson's Bay service relate how the master of revels used to fill +an ample jar with corn and quaff a beaker of liquor for every grain in +the drinker's hour-glass. + +"How stands the hour-glass?" the governor of the feast, who was +frequently also the governor of the company, would roar out in +stentorian tones, that made themselves heard above the drunken brawl. + +"High, Your Honor, high," some flunkey of the drinking bout would bawl +back. + +Thereupon, another grain was picked from the jar, another flagon tossed +down and the revel went on. This was a usual occurrence before and after +the conflict with the Nor'-Westers. But the night that I climbed the +stairs of the main warehouse and, mustering up assurance, stepped into +the hall as if I belonged to the fort, or the fort belonged to me, there +was a different scene. A wounded man lay on a litter at the end of the +long, low room; and the traders sitting on the benches against the +walls, or standing aimlessly about, were talking in suppressed tones. +Scotchmen, driven from their farms by the _Bois-Brulés_, hung around in +anxious groups. The lanterns, suspended on iron hooks from mid-rafter, +gave but a dusky light, and I vainly scanned many faces for Eric +Hamilton. That he was wounded, I knew. I was stealing stealthily towards +the stretcher at the far end of the place, when a deep voice burred +rough salutation in my ear. + +"Hoo are ye, gillie?" It was a shaggy-browed, bluff Scotchman, who +evidently took me in my tartan disguise for a Highland lad. Whether he +meant, "How are you," or "Who are you," I was not certain. Afraid my +tongue might betray me, I muttered back an indistinct response. The Scot +was either suspicious, or offended by my churlishness. I slipped off +quickly to a dark corner, but I saw him eying me closely. A youth +brushed past humming a ditty, which seemed strangely out of place in +those surroundings. He stood an elbow's length from me and kicked +moccasined heels against the floor in the way of light-headed lads. Both +the air and figure of the young fellow vaguely recalled somebody, but +his back was towards me. I was measuring my comrade, wondering if I +might inquire where Hamilton could be found, when the lad turned, and I +was face to face with the whiskered babe of Fort William. He gave a +long, low whistle. + +"Gad!" he gasped. "Do my eyes tell lies? As I live, 'tis your very self! +Hang it, now, I thought you were one of those solid bodies wouldn't do +any turn-coating----" + +"Turn-coating!" I repeated in amazement. + +"One of those dray-horse, old reliables, wouldn't kick over the traces, +not if the boss pumped his arms off licking you! Hang it! I'm not that +sort! By gad, I'm not! I've got too many oats! I can't stand being jawed +and gee-hawed by Dunc. Cameron; so when the old Gov. threatened to dock +me for being full, I just kicked up my heels and came. But say! I didn't +think you would, Gillespie!" + +"No?" said I, keeping my own counsel and waiting for the Nor'-West +deserter to proceed. + +"What 'd y' do it for, Gillespie? You're as sober as cold water! Was it +old Cameron?" + +"You're not talking straight, babe," said I. "You know Cameron doesn't +nag his men. What did _you_ do it for?" + +"Eh?" and the lad gave a laugh over my challenge of his veracity. "See +here, old pal, I'll tell you if you tell me." + +"Go ahead with your end of the contract!" + +"Well, then, look here. We're not in this wilderness for glory. I knock +down to the highest bidder----" + +"Hudson's Bay is _not_ the highest bidder." + +"Not unless you happen to have information they want." + +"Oh! That's the way of it, is it?" So the boy was selling Nor'-Westers' +secrets. + +"You can bet your last beaver-skin it is! Do you think I was old +Cam's private secretary for nothin'? Not I! I say--get your wares +as you may and sell 'em to the highest bidder. So here I am, snugly +berthed, with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs, all through +judicious--distribution--of--information." And the boy gurgled with +pleasure over his own cleverness. "And say, Gillespie, I'm in regular +clover! The Little Statue's here, all alone! Dad's gone to Pembina to +the buffalo hunt. I've got ahead of all you fellows. I'm going to +introduce a French-chap, a friend of mine." + +"You'd much better break his bones," was my advice. It needed no great +speculation to guess who the Frenchman was; and in the hands of that +crafty rake this prattling babe would be as putty. + +"Pah! You're jealous, Gillespie! We're right on the inside track!" + +"Lots of confidential talks with her, I suppose?" + +"Talks! Pah! You gross fatty! Why, Gillespie, what do you know of such +things? Laplante can win a girl by just looking at her--French way, you +know--he can pose better than a poem!" + +"Blockhead," I ground out between my teeth, a feeling taking possession +of me, which is designated "indignation" in the first person but +jealousy in the second and third. "You stupid simpleton, that Laplante +is a villain who will turn your addled pate and work you as an old wife +kneads dough." + +"What do you know about Laplante?" he demanded hotly. + +"I know he is an accomplished blackguard," I answered quietly, "and if +you want to spoil your chances with the Little Statue, just prance round +in his company." + +The lad was too much surprised to speak. + +"Where's Hamilton?" I asked. + +"Find him for yourself," said he, going off in a huff. + +I edged cautiously near enough the wounded man to see that he was not +Hamilton. Near the litter was a group of clerks. + +"They're fools," one clerk was informing the others. "Cameron sent word +he'd have McDonell dead or alive. If he doesn't give himself up, this +fort'll go and the whole settlement be massacred." + +"Been altogether too high-handed anyway," answered another. "I'm loyal +to my company; but Lord Selkirk can't set up a military despotism here. +Been altogether better if we'd left the Nor'-Westers alone." + +"It's all the fault of that cocky little martinet," declared a third. + +"I say," exclaimed a man joining the group, "d' y' hear the news? All +the chiefs in there--" jerking his thumb towards a side door--"are +advising Captain McDonell to give himself up and save the fort." + +"Good thing. Who'll miss him? He'll only get a free trip to Montreal," +remarked one of the aggressives in this group. "I tell you, men, both +companies have gone a deal too far in this little slap-back game to be +keen for legal investigation. Why, at Souris, everybody knows----" + +He lowered his voice and I unconsciously moved from my dark corner to +hear the rest. + +"Hoo are ye, gillie?" said the burly Scot in my ear. + +Turning, I found the canny swain had followed me on an investigating +tour. Again I gave him an inarticulate reply and lost myself among other +coteries. Was the man spying on me? I reflected that if "the chiefs"--as +the Hudson's Bay man had called them--were in the side room, Eric +Hamilton would be among these conferring with the governor. As I +approached the door, I noticed my Scotch friend had taken some one into +his confidence and two men were now on my tracks. Lifting the latch, I +gave a gentle, cautious push and the hinges swung so quietly I had +slipped into the room before those inside or out could prevent me. I +found myself in the middle of a long apartment with low, sloping +ceiling, and deep window recesses. It had evidently been partitioned off +from the main hall; for the wall, ceiling and floor made an exact +triangle. At one end of the place was a table. Round this was a group of +men deeply engrossed in some sort of conference. Sitting on the window +sills and lounging round the box stove behind the table were others of +our rival's service. I saw at once it would be difficult to have access +to Hamilton. He was lying on a stretcher within talking range of the +table and had one arm in a sling. Now, I hold it is harder for the +unpractised man to play the spy with everything in his favor, than for +the adept to act that rôle against the impossible. One is without the +art that foils detection. The other can defy detection. So I stood +inside with my hand on the door lest the click of the closing latch +should rouse attention, but had no thought of prying into Hudson's Bay +secrets. + +"Your Honor," began Hamilton in a lifeless manner, which told me his +search had been bootless, and he turned languidly towards a puffy, +crusty, military gentleman, whom, from the respect shown him, I judged +to be Governor McDonell. "Duncan Cameron's warrant for the arrest is +perfectly legal. If Your Honor should surrender yourself, you will save +Fort Douglas for the Hudson's Bay Company. Besides, the whole arrest +will prove a farce. The law in Lower Canada provides no machinery for +the trial of cases occurring----" Here Hamilton came to a blank and +unexpected stop, for his eyes suddenly alighted on me with a look that +forbade recognition, and fled furtively back to the group it the table. +I understood and kept silent. + +"For the trial of cases occurring?" asked the governor sharply. + +"Occurring--here," added Hamilton, shooting out the last word as if his +arm had given him a sudden twinge. "And so I say, Your Honor will lose +nothing by giving yourself up to the Nor'-Westers, and will save Fort +Douglas for the Hudson's Bay." + +"The doctor tells me it's a compound fracture. You'll find it painful, +Mr. Hamilton," said Governor McDonell sympathetically, and he turned to +the papers over which the group were conferring. "I'm no great hand in +winning victories by showing the white flag," began the gallant captain, +"but if a free trip from here to Montreal satisfies those fools, I'll +go." + +"Well said! Bravo! Your Honor," exclaimed a shaggy member of the +council, bringing his fist down on the table with a thud. "I call that +diplomacy, outmanoeuvring the enemy! Your Honor sets an example for +abiding by the law; you obey the warrant. They must follow the example +and leave Fort Douglas alone." + +"Besides, I can let His Lordship know from Montreal just what +reinforcements are needed here," continued Captain McDonell, with a +curious disregard for the law which he professed to be obeying, and a +faithful zeal for Lord Selkirk. + +Hamilton was looking anxiously at me with an expression of warning which +I could not fully read. Then I felt, what every one must have felt at +some time, that a third person was watching us both. Following Eric's +glance to a dark window recess directly opposite the door where I stood, +I was horrified and riveted by the beady, glistening, insolent eyes of +Louis Laplante, gazing out of the dusk with an expression of rakish +amusement, the amusement of a spider when a fly walks into its web. +Taken unawares I have ever been more or less of what Mr. Jack MacKenzie +was wont to call "a stupid loon!" On discovering Laplante I promptly +sustained my reputation by letting the door fly to with a sharp click +that startled the whole room-full. Whereat Louis Laplante gave a low, +soft laugh. + +"What do you want here, man?" demanded Governor McDonell's sharp voice. + +Jerking off my cap, I saluted. + +"My man, Your Honor," interjected Eric quietly. "Come here, Rufus," he +commanded, motioning me to his side with the hauteur of a master towards +a servant. And Louis Laplante rose and tip-toed after me with a tigerish +malice that recalled the surly squaw. + +"Oh, Eric!" I cried out eagerly. "Are you hurt, and at such a time?" +Unconsciously I was playing into Louis' hands, for he stood by the +stove, laughing nonchalantly. + +Thereupon Eric ground out some imprecation at my stupidity. + +"There's been a shuffling of allegiance, I hear," he said with a queer +misleading look straight at Laplante. "We've recruits from Fort +Gibraltar." + +Eric's words, curiously enough, banished triumph from Laplante's face +and the Frenchman's expression was one of puzzled suspicion. From Eric's +impassive features, he could read nothing. What Hamilton was driving at, +I should presently learn; but to find out I would no more take my eyes +from Laplante's than from a tiger about to spring. At once, to get my +attention, Hamilton brought a stick down on my toes with a sharpness +that made me leap. By all the codes of nudges and kicks and such +signaling, it is a principle that a blow at one end of human anatomy +drives through the density of the other extremity. It dawned on me that +Eric was trying to persuade Laplante I had deserted Nor'-Westers for the +Hudson's Bay. The ethics of his attempt I do not defend. It was after +the facile fashion of an intriguing era. A sharper weapon was presently +given us against Louis Laplante; for when I grasped Eric's stick to stay +the raps against my feet, I felt the handle rough with carving. + +"What are these carvings, may I inquire, Sir?" I asked, assuming the +strangeness, which Eric's signals had directed, but never moving my eyes +from Laplante. The villain who had befooled me in the gorge and eluded +me in the forest, and now tormented Frances Sutherland, winced under my +watchfulness. + +"The carvings!" answered Eric, annoyed that I did not return his plain +signals and determined to get my eye. "Pray look for yourself! Where are +your eyes?" + +"I can't see in this poor light, Sir; but I also have a strangely carved +thing--a spear-head. Now if this head has no handle and this handle has +no head--they might fit," I went on watching Laplante, whose saucy +assurance was deserting him. + +"Spear-head!" exclaimed Hamilton, beginning to understand I too had my +design. "Where did you find it?" + +"Trying to bury itself in my head." I returned. At this, Laplante, the +knave, smiled graciously in my very face. + +"But it didn't succeed?" asked Hamilton. + +"No--it mistook me for a tree, missed the mark and went into the tree; +just as another friend of mine mistook me for a tree, hit the mark and +ran into me," and I smiled back at Laplante. His face clouded. That +reference to the scene on the beach, where his Hudson's Bay despatches +were stolen, was too much for his hot blood. "Here it is," I continued, +pulling the spear-head out of my plaid. I had brought it to Hamilton, +hoping to identify our enemy, and we did. "Please see if they fit, Sir? +We might identify our--friends!" and I searched the furtive, guilty eyes +of the Frenchman. + +"Dat frien'," muttered Louis with a threatening look at me, "dat frien' +of Mister Hamilton he spike good English for Scot' youth." + +Now Louis, as I remembered from Laval days, never mixed his English and +French, except when he was in passion furious beyond all control. + +"Fit!" cried Hamilton. "They're a perfect fit, and both carved the same, +too." + +"With what?" + +"Eagles," answered Eric, puzzled at my drift, and Louis Laplante wore +the last look of the tiger before it springs. + +"And eagles," said I, defying the spring, "signify that both the +spear-head and the spear-handle belong to the Sioux chief whose +daughter"--and I lowered my voice to a whisper which only Laplante and +Hamilton could hear--"is married--to Le--Grand--Diable!" + +"What!" came Hamilton's low cry of agony. Forgetting the fractured arm, +he sprang erect. + +And Louis Laplante staggered back in the dark as if we had struck him. + +"Laplante! Laplante! Where's that Frenchman? Bring him up here!" called +Governor McDonell's fussy, angry tones. + +Coming when it did, this demand was to Louis a bolt of judgment; and he +joined the conference with a face as gray as ashes. + +"Now about those stolen despatches! We want to know the truth! Were you +drunk, or were you not? Who has them?" Captain McDonell arraigned the +Frenchman with a fire of questions that would have confused any other +culprit but Louis. + +"Eric," I whispered, taking advantage of the respite offered by Louis' +examination. "We found Laplante at _Pointe a la Croix_. He was drunk. He +confessed Miriam is held by Diable's squaw. Then we discovered someone +was listening to the confession and pursued the eavesdropper into the +bush. When we came back, Laplante had been carried off. I found one of +my canoemen had your lost fowling-piece, and it was he who had listened +and carried off the drunk sot and tried to send that spear-head into me +at the Sault. 'Twas Diable, Eric! Father Holland, a priest in our +company, told me of the white woman on Lake Winnipeg. Did you find +this--" indicating the spear handle--"there?" + +Eric, cold, white and trembling, only whispered an affirmative. + +"Was that all?" + +"All," he answered, a strange, fierce look coming over his face, as the +full import of my news forced home on him. "Was--was--Laplante--in +that?" he asked, gripping my arm in his unwounded hand with foreboding +force. + +"Not that we know of. Only Diable. But Louis is friendly with the Sioux, +and if we only keep him in sight we may track them." + +"I'll--keep--him--in sight," muttered Hamilton in low, slow words. + +"Hush, Eric!" I whispered. "If we harm him, he may mislead us. Let us +watch him and track him!" + +"He's asking leave to go trapping in the Sioux country. Can you go as +trader for your people? To the buffalo hunt first, then, south? I'll +watch here, if he stays; you, there, if he goes, and he shall tell us +all he knows or--" + +"Hush, man," I urged. "Listen!" + +"Where," Governor McDonell was thundering at Laplante, "where are the +parties that stole those despatches?" + +The question brought both Hamilton and myself to the table. We went +forward where we could see Laplante's face without being seen by his +questioners. + +"If I answer, Your Honor," began the Frenchman, taking the captain's +bluster for what it was worth and holding out doggedly for his own +rights, "I'll be given leave to trap with the Sioux?" + +"Certainly, man. Speak out." + +"The parties--that stole--those despatches," Laplante was answering +slowly. At this stage he looked at his interlocutor as if to question +the sincerity of the guarantee and he saw me standing screwing the +spear-head on the tell-tale handle. I patted the spear-head, smiled +blandly back, and with my eyes dared him to go on. He paused, bit his +lip and flushed. + +"No lies, no roguery, or I'll have you at the whipping-post," roared the +governor. "Speak up. Where are the parties?" + +"Near about here," stammered Louis, "and you may ask your new +turn-coat." + +I was betrayed! Betrayed and trapped; but he should not go free! I would +have shouted out, but Hamilton's hand silenced me. + +"Here!" exclaimed the astounded governor. "Go call that young +Nor'-Wester! If _he_ backs up y'r story, _he_ was Cameron's secretary, +you can go to the buffalo hunt." + +That response upset Louis' bearings. He had expected the governor would +refer to me; but the command let him out of an awkward place and he +darted from the room, as Hamilton and I supposed,--simpletons that we +were with that rogue!--to find the young Nor'-Wester. This turn of +affairs gave me my chance. If the young Nor'-Wester and Laplante came +together, my disguise as Highlander and turn-coat would be stripped from +me and I should be trapped indeed. + +"Good-by, old boy!" and I gripped Hamilton's hand. "If he stays, he's +your game. When he goes, he's mine. Good luck to us both! You'll come +south when you're better." + +Then I bolted through the main hall thinking to elude the canny Scots, +but saw both men in the stairway waiting to intercept me. When I ran +down a flight of side stairs, they dashed to trap me at the gate. At the +doorway a man lounged against me. The lantern light fell on a pointed +beard. It was Laplante, leaning against the wall for support and shaking +with laughter. + +"You again, old tombstone! Whither away so fast?" and he made to hold +me. "I'm in a hurry myself! My last night under a roof, ha! ha! Wait +till I make my grand farewell! We both did well, did the grand, ho! ho! +But I must leave a fair demoiselle!" + +"Let go," and I threw him off. + +"Take that, you ramping donkey, you Anglo-Saxon animal," and he aimed a +kick in my direction. Though I could ill spare the time to do it, I +turned. All the pent-up strength, from the walk with Frances Sutherland +rushed into my clenched fist and Louis Laplante went down with a thud +across the doorway. There was the sish-rip of a knife being thrust +through my boot, but the blade broke and I rushed past the prostrate +form. + +Certain of waylaying me, the Scots were dodging about the gate; but by +running in the shadow of the warehouse to the rear of the court, I gave +both the slip. I had no chance to reconnoitre, but dug my hunting-knife +into the stockade, hoisted myself up the wooden wall, got a grip of the +top and threw myself over, escaping with no greater loss than boots +pulled off before climbing the palisade, and the Highland cap which +stuck fast to a picket as I alighted below. At dawn, bootless and +hatless, I came in sight of Fort Gibraltar and Father Holland, who was +scanning the prairie for my return, came running to greet me. + +"The tip-top o' the mornin' to the renegade! I thought ye'd been +scalped--and so ye have been--nearly--only they mistook y'r hat for the +wool o' y'r crown. Boots gone too! Out wid your midnight pranks." + +A succession of welcoming thuds accompanied the tirade. As breath +returned, I gasped out a brief account of the night. + +"And now," he exclaimed triumphantly, "I have news to translate ye to a +sivinth hiven! Och! But it's clane cracked ye'll be when ye hear it. +Now, who's appointed to trade with the buffalo hunters but y'r very +self?" + +It was with difficulty I refrained from embracing the bearer of such +good tidings. + +"Be easy," he commanded. "Ye'll need these demonstrations, I'm +thinkin'--huntin' one lass and losin' y'r heart to another." + +We arranged he should go to Fort Douglas for Frances Sutherland and I +was to set out later. They were to ride along the river-path south of +the forks where I could join them. I, myself, picked out and paid for +two extra horses, one a quiet little cayuse with ambling action, the +other, a muscular broncho. I had the satisfaction of seeing Father +Holland mounted on the latter setting out for Fort Douglas, while the +Indian pony wearing an empty side-saddle trotted along in tow. + +The information I brought back from Fort Douglas delayed any more +hostile demonstrations against the Hudson's Bay. That very morning, +before I had finished breakfast, Governor McDonell rode over to Fort +Gibraltar, and on condition that Fort Douglas be left unmolested gave +himself up to the Nor'-Westers. At noon, when I was riding off to the +buffalo hunt and the Missouri, I saw the captain, smiling and debonair, +embarking--or rather being embarked--with North-West brigades, to be +sent on a free trip two thousand five hundred miles to Montreal. + +"A safe voyage to ye," said Duncan Cameron, commander of Nor'-Westers, +as the ex-governor of Red River settled himself in a canoe. "A safe +voyage to ye, mon!" + +"And a prosperous return," was the ironical answer of the dauntless +ruler over the Hudson's Bay. + +"Sure now, Rufus," said Father Holland to me a year afterwards, "'twas a +prosperous return he had!" + +Fortunately, I had my choice of scouts, and, by dangling the prospects +of a buffalo hunt before La Robe Noire and Little Fellow, tempted them +to come with me. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +HOW A YOUTH BECAME A KING + + +When the prima-donna of some vauntful city trills her bird-song above +the foot-lights, or the cremona moans out the sigh of night-winds +through the forest, artificial townsfolk applaud. Yet a nesting-tree, a +thousand leagues from city discords, gives forth better music with +deeper meaning and higher message--albeit the songster sings only from +love of song. The fretted folk of the great cities cannot understand the +witching fascinations of a wild life in a wild, free, tameless land, +where God's own hand ministers to eye and ear. To fare sumptuously, to +dress with the faultless distinction that marks wealth, to see and above +all to be seen--these are the empty ends for which city men engage in a +mad, feverish pursuit of wealth, trample one another down in a strife +more ruthless than war and gamble away gifts of mind and soul. These are +the things for which they barter all freedom but the name. Where one +succeeds a thousand fail. Those with higher aims count themselves happy, +indeed, to possess a few square feet of canvas, that truly represents +the beauty dear to them, before weeds had undermined and overgrown and +choked the temple of the soul. That any one should exchange gilded +chains for freedom to give manhood shoulder swing, to be and to +do--without infringing on the liberty of others to be and to do--is to +such folk a matter of no small wonderment. For my part, I know I was +counted mad by old associates of Quebec when I chose the wild life of +the north country. + +But each to his taste, say I; and all this is only the opinion of an old +trader, who loved the work of nature more than the work of man. Other +voices may speak to other men and teach them what the waterways and +forests, the plains and mountains, were teaching me. If "ologies" and +"ics," the lore of school and market, comfort their souls--be it so. As +for me, it was only when half a continent away from the jangle of +learning and gain that I began to stir like a living thing and to know +that I existed. The awakening began on the westward journey; but the new +life hardly gained full possession before that cloudless summer day on +the prairie, when I followed the winding river trail south of the forks. +The Indian scouts were far to the fore. Rank grass, high as the +saddle-bow, swished past the horse's sides and rippled away in an +unbroken ocean of green to the encircling horizon. Of course allowance +must be made for a man in love. Other men have discovered a worldful of +beauty, when in love; but I do not see what difference two figures on +horseback against the southern sky-line could possibly make to the +shimmer of purple above the plains, or the fragrance of prairie-roses +lining the trail. It seems to me the lonely call of the meadow-lark high +overhead--a mote in a sea of blue--or the drumming and chirruping of +feathered creatures through the green, could not have sounded less +musical, if I had not been a lover. But that, too, is only an opinion; +for one glimpse of the forms before me brought peace into the whole +world. + +Father Holland evidently saw me, for he turned and waved. The other +rider gave no sign of recognition. A touch of the spur to my horse and I +was abreast of them, Frances Sutherland curveting her cayuse from the +trail to give me middle place. + +"Arrah, me hearty, here ye are at last! Och, but ye're a skulkin' +wight," called the priest as I saluted both. "What d'y' say for y'rself, +ye belated rascal, comin' so tardy when ye're headed for Gretna +Green--Och! 'Twas a _lapsus linguć_! 'Tis Pembina--not Gretna +Green--that I mean." + +Had it been half a century later, when a little place called Gretna +sprang up on this very trail, Frances Sutherland and I need not have +flinched at this reference to an old-world Mecca for run-away lovers. +But there was no Gretna on the Pembina trail in those days and the +Little Statue's cheeks were suddenly tinged deep red, while I completely +lost my tongue. + +"Not a word for y'rself?" continued the priest, giving me full benefit +of the mischievous spirit working in him. "He, who bearded the foe in +his den, now meeker than a lambkin, mild as a turtle-dove, timid as a +pigeon, pensive as a whimpering-robin that's lost his mate----" + +"There ought to be a law against the jokes of the clergy, Sir," I +interrupted tartly. "The jokes aren't funny and one daren't hit back." + +"There ought to be a law against lovers, me hearty," laughed he. +"They're always funny, and they can't stand a crack." + +"Against all men," ventured Frances Sutherland with that instinctive, +womanly tact, which whips recalcitrant talkers into line like a deft +driver reining up kicking colts. "All men should be warranted safe, not +to go off." + +"Unless there's a fair target," and the priest looked us over +significantly and laughed. If he felt a gentle pull on the rein, he +yielded not a jot. Unluckily there are no curb-bits for hard-mouthed +talkers. + +"Rufus, I don't see that ye wear a ticket warranting ye'll not go off," +he added merrily. Red became redder on two faces, and hot, hotter with +at least one temper. + +"And womankind?" I managed to blurt out, trying to second her efforts +against our tormentor. "What guarantee against dangers from them? The +pulpit silenced--though that's a big contract--mankind labeled, what for +women?" + +"Libeled," she retorted. "Men say we don't hit straight enough to be +dangerous." + +"The very reason ye are dangerous," the priest broke in. "Ye aim at a +head and hit a heart! Then away ye go to Gretna Green--och! It's +Pembina, I mean! Marry, my children----" and he paused. + +"Marry!--What?" I shouted. Thereupon Frances Sutherland broke into peals +of laughter, in which I could see no reason, and Father Holland winked. + +"What's wrong with ye?" asked the priest solemnly. "Faith, 'tis no +advice I'm giving; but as I was remarking, marry, my children, I'd +sooner stand before a man not warranted safe than a woman, who might +take to shying pretty charms at my head! Faith, me lambs, ye'll learn +that I speak true." + +As Mr. Jack MacKenzie used to put it in his peppery reproof, I always +did have a knack of tumbling head first the instant an opportunity +offered. This time I had gone in heels and all, and now came up in as +fine a confusion as any bashful bumpkin ever displayed before his lady. +Frances Sutherland had regained her composure and came to my rescue with +another attempt to take the lead from the loquacious churchman. + +"I'm so grateful to you for arranging this trip," and she turned +directly to me. + +"Hm-m," blurted Father Holland with unutterable merriment, before I +could get a word in, "he's grateful to himself for that same thing. +Faith! He's been thankin' the stars, especially Venus, ever since he got +marching orders!" + +"How did you reach Fort Gibraltar?" she persisted. + +"Sans boots and cap," I promptly replied, determined to be ahead of the +interloper. + +"Sans heart, too," and the priest flicked my broncho with his whip and +knocked the ready-made speech, with which I had hoped to silence him, +clean out of my head. Frances Sutherland took to examining remote +objects on the horizon. Hers was a nature not to be beaten. + +"Let us ride faster," she suddenly proposed with a glance that boded +roguery for the priest's portly form. She was off like a shaft from a +bow-string, causing a stampede of our horses. That was effective. A hard +gallop against a stiff prairie wind will stop a stout man's eloquence. + +"Ho youngsters!" exclaimed the priest, coming abreast of us as we reined +up behind the scouts. "If ye set me that gait--whew--I'll not be left +for Gretna Green--Faith--it's Pembina, I mean," and he puffed like a +cargo boat doing itself proud among the great liners. + +He was breathless, therefore safe. Frances Sutherland was not disposed +to break the accumulating silence, and I, for the life of me, could not +think of a single remark appropriate for a party of three. The ordinary +commonplaces, that stop-gap conversation, refused to come forth. I +rehearsed a multitude of impossible speeches; but they stuck behind +sealed lips. + +"Silence is getting heavy, Rufus," he observed, enjoying our +embarrassment. + +Thus we jogged forward for a mile or more. + +"Troth, me pet lambs," he remarked, as breath returned, "ye'll both +bleat better without me!" + +Forthwith, away he rode fifty yards ahead, keeping that distance beyond +us for the rest of the day and only calling over his shoulder +occasionally. + +"Och! But y'r bronchos are slow! Don't be telling me y'r bronchos are +not slow! Arrah, me hearties, be making good use o' the honeymoon,--I +mean afternoon, not honeymoon. Marry, me children, but y'r bronchos are +bog-spavined and spring-halted. Jiggle-joggle faster, with ye, ye +rascals! Faith, I see ye out o' the tail o' my eye. Those bronchos are +nosing a bit too close, I'm thinkin'! I'm going to turn! I warn ye +fair--ready! One--shy-off there! Two--have a care! Three--I'm coming! +Four--prepare!" + +And he would glance back with shouts of droll laughter. "Get epp! We +mustn't disturb them! Get epp!" This to his own horse and off he would +go, humming some ditty to the lazy hobble of his nag. + +"Old angel!" said I, under my breath, and I fell to wondering what +earthly reason any man had for becoming a priest. + +He was right. Talk no longer lagged, whatever our bronchos did; but, +indeed, all we said was better heard by two than three. Why that was, I +cannot tell, for like beads of a rosary our words were strung together +on things commonplace enough; and fond hearts, as well as mystics, have +a key to unlock a world of meaning from meaningless words. Tufts of +poplars, wood islands on the prairie, skulking coyotes, that prowled to +the top of some earth mound and uttered their weird cries, mud-colored +badgers, hulking clumsily away to their treacherous holes, gophers, sly +fellows, propped on midget tails pointing fore-paws at us--these and +other common things stole the hours away. The sun, dipping close to the +sky-line, shone distorted through the warm haze like a huge blood +shield. Far ahead our scouts were pitching tents on ground well back +from the river to avoid the mosquitoes swarming above the water. It was +time to encamp for the night. + +Those long June nights in the far north with fire glowing in the track +of a vanished sun and stillness brooding over infinite space--have a +glory, that is peculiarly their own. Only a sort of half-darkness lies +between the lingering sunset and the early sun-dawn. At nine o'clock the +sun-rim is still above the western prairie. At ten, one may read by +daylight, and, if the sky is clear, forget for another hour that night +has begun. After supper, Father Holland sat at a distance from the tents +with his back carefully turned towards us, a precaution on his part for +which I was not ungrateful. Frances Sutherland was throned on the boxes +of our quondam table, and I was reclining against saddle-blankets at her +feet. + +"Oh! To be so forever," she exclaimed, gazing at the globe of solid gold +against the opal-green sky. "To have the light always clear, just +ahead, nothing between us and the light, peace all about, no care, no +weariness, just quiet and beauty like this forever." + +"Like this forever! I ask nothing better," said I with great heartiness; +but neither her eyes nor her thoughts were for me. Would the eyes +looking so intently at the sinking sun, I wondered, condescend to look +at a spot against the sun. In desperation I meditated standing up. 'Tis +all very well to talk of storming the citadel of a closed heart, but +unless telepathic implements of war are perfected to the same extent as +modern armaments, permitting attack at long range, one must first get +within shooting distance. Apparently I was so far outside the defences, +even my design was unknown. + +"I think," she began in low, hesitating words, so clear and thrilling, +they set my heart beating wildly with a vague expectation, "I think +heaven must be very, very near on nights like this, don't--you--Rufus?" + +I wasn't thinking of heaven at all, at least, not the heaven she had in +mind; but if there is one thing to make a man swear white is black and +black white and to bring him to instantaneous agreement with any +statement whatsoever, it is to hear his Christian name so spoken for the +first time. I sat up in an electrified way that brought the fringe of +lashes down to hide those gray eyes. + +"Very near? Well rather! I've been in heaven all day," I vowed. "I've +been getting glimpses of paradise all the way from Fort William----" + +"Don't," she interrupted with a flash of the imperious nature, which I +knew. "Please don't, Mr. Gillespie." + +"Please don't Mister Gillespie me," said I, piqued by a return to the +formal. "If you picked up Rufus by mistake from the priest, he sets a +good example. Don't drop a good habit!" + +That was my first step inside the outworks. + +"Rufus," she answered so gently I felt she might disarm and slay me if +she would, "Rufus Gillespie"--that was a return of the old spirit, a +compromise between her will and mine--"please don't begin saying that +sort of thing--there's a whole day before us----" + +"And you think I can't keep it up?" + +"You haven't given any sign of failing. You know, Rufus," she added +consolingly, "you really must not say those things, or something will be +hurt! You'll make me hurt it." + +"Something is hurt and needs mending, Miss Sutherland----" + +"Don't Miss Sutherland me," she broke in with a laugh, "call me Frances; +and if something is hurt and needs mending, I'm not a tinker, though my +father and the priest--yes and you, too--sometimes think so. But sisters +do mending, don't they?" and she laughed my earnestness off as one would +puff out a candle. + +"No--no--no--not sisters--not that," I protested. "I have no sisters, +Little Statue. I wouldn't know how to act with a sister, unless she +were somebody else's sister, you know. I can't stand the sisterly +business, Frances----" + +"Have you suffered much from the sisterly?" she asked with a merry +twinkle. + +"No," I hastened to explain, "I don't know how to play the sisterly +touch-and-go at all, but the men tell me it doesn't work--dead failure, +always ends the same. Sister proposes, or is proposed to----" + +"Oh!" cried the Little Statue with the faintest note of alarm, and she +moved back from me on the boxes. "I think we'd better play at being very +matter-of-fact friends for the rest of the trip." + +"No, thank you, Miss Sutherland--Frances, I mean," said I. "I'm not the +fool to pretend that----" + +"Then pretend anything you like," and there was a sudden coldness in her +voice, which showed me she regarded my refusal and the slip in her name +as a rebuff. "Pretend anything you like, only don't say things." + +That was a throwing down of armor which I had not expected. + +"Then pretend that a pilgrim was lost in the dark, lost where men's +souls slip down steep places to hell, and that one as radiant as an +angel from heaven shone through the blackness and guided him back to +safe ground," I cried, taking quick advantage of my fair antagonist's +sudden abandon and casting aside all banter. + +"Children! children!" cried the priest. "Children! Sun's down! Time to +go to your trundles, my babes!" + +"Yes, yes," I shouted. "Wait till I hear the rest of this story." + +At my words she had started up with a little gasp of fright. A look of +awe came into her gray eyes, which I have seen on the faces of those who +find themselves for the first time beside the abyss of a precipice. And +I have climbed many lofty peaks, but never one without passing these +places with the fearful possibilities of destruction. Always the novice +has looked with the same unspeakable fear into the yawning depths, with +the same unspeakable yearning towards the jewel-crowned heights beyond. +This, or something of this, was in the startled attitude of the +trembling figure, whose eyes met mine without flinching or favor. + +"Or pretend that a traveler had lost his compass, and though he was +without merit, God gave him a star." + +"Is it a pretty story, Rufus?" called the priest. + +"Very," I cried out impatiently. "Don't interrupt." + +"Or pretend that a poor fool with no merit but his love of purity and +truth and honor lost his way to paradise, and God gave him an angel for +a guide." + +"Is it a long story, Rufus?" called the priest. + +"It's to be continued," I shouted, leaping to my feet and approaching +her. + +"And pretend that the pilgrim and the traveler and the fool, asked no +other privilege but to give each his heart's love, his life's devotion +to her who had come between him and the darkness----" + +"Rufus!" roared the priest. "I declare I'll take a stick to you. Come +away! D' y' hear? She's tired." + +"Good-night," she answered, in a broken whisper, so cold it stabbed me +like steel; and she put out her hand in the mechanical way of the +well-bred woman in every land. + +"Is that all?" I asked, holding the hand as if it had been a galvanic +battery, though the priest was coming straight towards us. + +"All?" she returned, the lashes falling over the misty, gray eyes. "Ah, +Rufus! Are we playing jest is earnest, or earnest is jest?" and she +turned quickly and went to her tent. + +How long I stood in reverie, I do not know. The priest's broad hand +presently came down on my shoulder with a savage thud. + +"Ye blunder-busticus, ye, what have ye been doing?" he asked. "The +Little Statue was crying when she went to her tent." + +"Crying?" + +"Yes, ye idiot. I'll stay by her to-morrow." + +And he did. Nor could he have contrived severer punishment for the +unfortunate effect of my words. Fool, that I was! I should keep myself +in hand henceforth. How many men have made that vow regarding the woman +they love? Those that have kept it, I trow, could be counted easily +enough. But I had no opportunity to break my vow; for the priest rode +with Frances Sutherland the whole of the second day, and not once did he +let loose his scorpion wit. She had breakfast alone in her tent next +morning, the priest carrying tea and toast to her; and when she came +out, she leaped to her saddle so quickly I lost the expected favor of +placing that imperious foot in the stirrup. We set out three abreast, +and I had no courage to read my fate from the cold, marble face. The +ground became rougher. We were forced to follow long detours round +sloughs, and I gladly fell to the rear where I was unobserved. Clumps of +willows alone broke the endless dip of the plain. Glassy creeks +glittered silver through the green, and ever the trail, like a narrow +ribbon of many loops, fled before us to the dim sky-line. + +When we halted for our nooning, Frances Sutherland had slipped from her +saddle and gone off picking prairie roses before either the priest or I +noticed her absence. + +"If you go off, you nuisance, you," said the priest rubbing his bald +pate, and gazing after her in a puzzled way, when we had the meal ready, +"I think she'll come back and eat." + +I promptly took myself off and had the glum pleasure of hearing her chat +in high spirits over the dinner table of packing boxes; but she was on +her cayuse and off with the scouts long before Father Holland and I had +mounted. + +"Rufus," said the priest with a comical, quizzical look, as we set off +together. "Rufus, I think y'r a fool." + +"I've thought that several hundred thousand times myself, this morning." + +"Have ye as much as got a glint of her eye to-day?" + +"No. I can't compete against the Church with women. Any fool knows that, +even as big a fool as I." + +"Tush, youngster! Don't take to licking your raw tongue up and down the +cynic's saw edge! Put a spur to your broncho there and ride ahead with +her." + +"Having offended a goddess, I don't wish to be struck dead by inviting +her wrath." + +"Pah! I've no patience with y'r ramrod independence! Bend a stiff neck, +or you'll break a sore heart! Ride ahead, I tell you, you young mule!" +and he brought a smart flick across my broncho. + +"Father Holland," I made answer with the dignity of a bishop and my nose +mighty high in the air, "will you permit me to suggest that people know +their own affairs best----" + +"Tush, no! I'll permit you to do nothing of the kind," said he, driving +a fly from his horse's ear. "Don't you know, you young idiot, that +between a man surrendering his love, and a woman surrendering hers, +there's difference enough to account for tears? A man gives his and gets +it back with compound interest in coin that's pure gold compared to his +copper. A woman gives hers and gets back----" the priest stopped. + +"What?" I asked, interest getting the better of wounded pride. + +"Not much that's worth having from idiots like you," said he; by which +the priest proved he could deal honestly by a friend, without any +mincing palliatives. + +His answer set me thinking for the best part of the afternoon; and I +warrant if any man sets out with the priest's premises and thinks hard +for an afternoon he will come to the same conclusion that I did. + +"Let's both poke along a little faster," said I, after long silence. + +"Oho! With all my heart!" And we caught up with Frances Sutherland and +for the first time that day I dared to look at her face. If there were +tear marks about the wondrous eyes, they were the marks of the shower +after a sun-burst, the laughing gladness of life in golden light, the +joyous calm of washed air when a storm has cleared away turbulence. Why +did she evade me and turn altogether to the priest at her right? Had I +been of an analytical turn of mind, I might, perhaps, have made a very +careful study of an emotion commonly called jealousy; but, when one's +heart beats fast, one's thoughts throng too swiftly for introspection. +Was I a part of the new happiness? I did not understand human nature +then as I understand it now, else would I have known that fair eyes +turn away to hide what they dare not reveal. I prided myself that I was +now well in hand. I should take the first opportunity to undo my folly +of the night before. + + * * * * * + +It was after supper. Father Holland had gone to his tent. Frances +Sutherland was arranging a bunch of flowers in her lap; and I took my +place directly behind her lest my face should tell truth while my tongue +uttered lies. + +"Speaking of stars, you know Miss Sutherland," I began, remembering that +I had said something about stars that must be unsaid. + +"Don't call me _Miss_ Sutherland, Rufus," she said, and that gentle +answer knocked my grand resolution clean to the four winds. + +"I beg your pardon, Frances----" Chaos and I were one. Whatever was it I +was to say about stars? + +"Well?" There was a waiting in the voice. + +"Yes--you know--Frances." I tried to call up something coherent; but +somehow the thumping of my heart set up a rattling in my head. + +"No--Rufus. As a matter of fact, I don't know. You were going to tell me +something." + +"Bother my stupidity, Miss--Miss--Frances, but the mastiff's forgotten +what it was going to bow-wow about!" + +"Not the moon this time," she laughed. "Speaking of stars," and she gave +me back my own words. + +"Oh! Yes! Speaking of stars! Do you know I think a lot of the men +coming up from Fort William got to regarding the star above the leading +canoe as their own particular star." + +I thought that speech a masterpiece. It would convince her she was the +star of all the men, not mine particularly. That was true enough to +appease conscience, a half-truth like Louis Laplante's words. So I would +rob my foolish avowal of its personal element. A flush suffused the +snowy white below her hair. + +"Oh! I didn't notice any particular star above the leading canoe. There +were so very, very many splendid stars, I used to watch them half the +night!" + +That answer threw me as far down as her manner had elated me. + +"Well! What of the stars?" asked the silvery voice. + +I was dumb. She flung the flowers aside as though she would leave; but +Father Holland suddenly emerged from the tent fanning himself with his +hat. + +"Babes!" said he. "You're a pair of fools! Oh! To be young and throw our +opportunities helter-skelter like flowers of which we're tired," and he +looked at the upset lapful. "Children! children! _Carpe Diem! Carpe +Diem!_ Pluck the flowers; for the days are swifter than arrows," and he +walked away from us engrossed in his own thoughts, muttering over and +over the advice of the Latin poet, "_Carpe Diem! Carpe Diem!_" + +"What is _Carpe Diem_?" asked Frances Sutherland, gazing after the +priest in sheer wonder. + +"I wasn't strong on classics at Laval and I haven't my crib." + +"Go on!" she commanded. "You're only apologizing for my ignorance. You +know very well." + +"It means just what he says--as if each day were a flower, you know, had +its joys to be plucked, that can never come again." + +"Flowers! Oh! I know! The kind you all picked for me coming up from Fort +William. And do you know, Rufus, I never could thank you all? Were those +_Carpe Diem_ flowers?" + +"No--not exactly the kind Father Holland means we should pick." + +"What then?" and she turned suddenly to find her face not a hand's +length from mine. + +"This kind," I whispered, bending in terrified joy over her shoulder; +and I plucked a blossom straight from her lips and another and yet +another, till there came into the deep, gray eyes what I cannot +transcribe, but what sent me away the king of all men--for had I not +found my Queen? + +And that was the way I carried out my grand resolution and kept myself +in hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE BUFFALO HUNT + + +I question if Norse heroes of the sea could boast more thrilling +adventure than the wild buffalo hunts of American plain-rangers. A +cavalcade of six hundred men mounted on mettlesome horses eager for the +furious dash through a forest of tossing buffalo-horns was quite as +imposing as any clash between warring Vikings. Squaws, children and a +horde of ragged camp-followers straggled in long lines far to the +hunters' rear. Altogether, the host behind the flag numbered not less +than two thousand souls. Like any martial column, our squad had captain, +color-bearer and chaplain. Luckily, all three were known to me, as I +discovered when I reached Pembina. The truce, patched up between +Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers after Governor McDonell's surrender, left +Cuthbert Grant free to join the buffalo hunt. Pursuing big game across +the prairie was more to his taste than leading the half-breeds during +peace. The warden of the plains came hot-foot after us, and was promptly +elected captain of the chase. Father Holland was with us too. Our course +lay directly on his way to the Missouri and a jolly chaplain he made. In +Grant's company came Pierre, the rhymster, bubbling over with jingling +minstrelsy, that was the delight of every half-breed camp on the plains. +Bareheaded, with a red handkerchief banding back his lank hair, and clad +in fringed buckskin from the bright neck-cloth to the beaded moccasins, +he was as wild a figure as any one of the savage rabble. Yet this was +the poet of the plain-rangers, who caught the song of bird, the burr of +cataract through the rocks, the throb of stampeding buffalo, the moan of +the wind across the prairie, and tuned his rude minstrelsy to wild +nature's fugitive music. Viking heroes, I know, chanted their deeds in +songs that have come down to us; but with the exception of the Eskimo, +descendants of North American races have never been credited with a +taste for harmony. Once I asked Pierre how he acquired his art of +verse-making. With a laugh of scorn, he demanded if the wind and the +waterfalls and the birds learned music from beardless boys and +draggle-coated dominies with armfuls of books. However, it may have been +with his Pegasus, his mount for the hunt was no laggard. He rode a +knob-jointed, muscular brute, that carried him like poetic inspiration +wherever it pleased. Though Pierre's right hand was busied upholding the +hunters' flag, and he had but one arm to bow-string the broncho's +arching neck, the half-breed poet kept his seat with the easy grace of +the plainsman born and bred in the saddle. + +"Faith, man, 'tis the fate of genius to ride a fractious steed," said +Father Holland, when the bronchos of priest and poet had come into +violent collision with angry squeals for the third time in ten minutes. + +"And what are the capers of this, my beast, compared to the antics of +fate, Sir Priest?" asked Pierre with grave dignity. + +The wind caught his long hair and blew it about his face till he became +an equestrian personification of the frenzied muse. I had become +acquainted with his trick of setting words to the music of quaint +rhymes; but Father Holland was taken aback. + +"By the saints," he exclaimed, "I've no mind to run amuck of Pegasus! +I'll get out of your way. Faith, 'tis the first time I've seen poetry in +buckskin of this particular binding," and he wheeled his broncho out, +leaving me abreast of the rhymster. + +Pierre's lips began to frame some answer to the churchman. + +"Have a care, Father," I warned. "You've escaped the broncho; but look +out for the poet." + +"Save us! What's coming now?" gasped the priest. + +"Ha! I have it!" and Pierre turned triumphantly to Father Holland. + + "The Lord be praised that poetry's free, + Or you'd bottle it up like a saint's thumb-bone, + That beauty's beauty for eyes that see + Without regard to a priestly gown----" + +"Hold on," interrupted Father Holland. "Hold on, Pierre!" + + "'Your double-quick Peg + Has a limp of one leg!' + +"'Bone' and 'gown' don't fit, Mr. Rhymster." + +"Upon my honor! You turned poet, too, Father Holland!" said I. "We might +be on a pilgrimage to Helicon." + +"To where?" says Grant, whose knowledge of classics was less than my +own, which was precious little indeed. + +"Helicon." + +At that Father Holland burst in such roars of laughter, the rhymster +took personal offense, dug his moccasins against the horse's sides and +rode ahead. His fringed leggings were braced straight out in the +stirrups as if he anticipated his broncho transforming the concave into +the convex,--known in the vernacular as "bucking." + +"Mad as a hatter," said Grant, inferring the joke was on Pierre. "Let +him be! Let him be! He'll get over it! He's working up his rhymes for +the feast after the buffalo hunt." + +And we afterwards got the benefit of those rhymes. + +The tenth day west from Pembina our scouts found some herd's footprints +on soggy ground. At once word was sent back to pitch camp on rolling +land. A cordon of carts with shafts turned outward encircled the camping +ground. At one end the animals were tethered, at the other the hunter's +tents were huddled together. All night mongrel curs, tearing about the +enclosure in packs, kept noisy watch. Twice Grant and I went out to +reconnoitre. We saw only a whitish wolf scurrying through the long +grass. Grant thought this had disturbed the dogs; but I was not so sure. +Indeed, I felt prepared to trace features of Le Grand Diable under every +elk-hide, or wolf-skin in which a cunning Indian could be disguised. I +deemed it wise to have a stronger guard and engaged two runners, Ringing +Thunder and Burnt Earth, giving them horses and ordering them to keep +within call during the thick of the hunt. + +At daybreak all tents were a beehive of activity. The horses, with +almost human intelligence, were wild to be off. Riders could scarcely +gain saddles, and before feet were well in the stirrups, the bronchos +had reared and bolted away, only to be reined sharply in and brought +back to the ranks. The dogs, too, were mad, tearing after make-believe +enemies and worrying one another till there were several curs less for +the hunt. Inside the cart circle, men were shouting last orders to +women, squaws scolding half-naked urchins, that scampered in the way, +and the whole encampment setting up a din that might have scared any +buffalo herd into endless flight. Grant gave the word. Pierre hoisted +the flag, and the camp turmoil was left behind. The _Bois-Brulés_ kept +well within the lines and observed good order; but the Indian rabble +lashed their half-broken horses into a fury of excitement, that +threatened confusion to all discipline. The camp was strongly guarded. +Father Holland remained with the campers, but in spite of his holy +calling, I am sure he longed to be among the hunters. + +Scouts ahead, we followed the course of a half-dried slough where +buffalo tracks were visible. Some two miles from camp, the out-runners +returned with word that the herds were browsing a short distance ahead, +and that the marsh-bed widened to a banked ravine. The buffalo could not +have been found in a better place; for there was a fine slope from the +upper land to our game. We at once ascended the embankment and coursed +cautiously along the cliff's summit. Suddenly we rounded an abrupt +headland and gained full view of the buffalo. The flag was lowered, +stopping the march, and up rose our captain in his stirrups to survey +the herd. A light mist screened us and a deep growth of the leathery +grass, common to marsh lands, half hid a multitude of broad, humped, +furry backs, moving aimlessly in the valley. Coal-black noses poked +through the green stalks sniffing the air suspiciously and the curved +horns tossed broken stems off in savage contempt. + +From the headland beneath us to the rolling prairie at the mouth of the +valley, the earth swayed with giant forms. The great creatures were +restless as caged tigers and already on the rove for the day's march. I +suppose the vast flocks of wild geese, that used to darken the sky and +fill the air with their shrill "hunk, hunk," when I first went to the +north, numbered as many living beings in one mass as that herd; but men +no more attempted to count the creatures in flock or herd, than to +estimate the pebbles of a shore. + +Protruding eyes glared savagely sideways. Great, thick necks hulked +forward in impatient jerks; and those dagger-pointed horns, sharper than +a pruning hook, promised no boy's sport for our company. The buffalo +sees best laterally on the level, and as long as we were quiet we +remained undiscovered. At the prospect, some of the hunters grew +excitedly profane. Others were timorous, fearing a stampede in our +direction. Being above, we could come down on the rear of the buffaloes +and they would be driven to the open. + +Grant scouted the counseled caution. The hunters loaded guns, filled +their mouths with balls to reload on the gallop and awaited the +captain's order. Wheeling his horse to the fore, the warden gave one +quick signal. With a storm-burst of galloping hoofs, we charged down the +slope. At sound of our whirlwind advance, the bulls tossed up their +heads and began pawing the ground angrily. From the hunters there was no +shouting till close on the herd, then a wild halloo with unearthly +screams from the Indians broke from our company. The buffaloes started +up, turned panic-stricken, and with bellowings, that roared down the +valley, tore for the open prairie. The ravine rocked with the plunging +monsters, and reëchoed to the crash of six-hundred guns and a +thunderous tread. Firing was at close range. In a moment there was a +battle royal between dexterous savages, swift as tigers, and these +leviathans of the prairie with their brute strength. + +A quick fearless horse was now invaluable; for the swiftest riders +darted towards the large buffaloes and rode within a few yards before +taking aim. Instantly, the ravine was ablaze with shots. Showers of +arrows from the Indian hunters sung through the air overhead. Men +unhorsed, ponies thrown from their feet, buffaloes wounded--or +dead--were scattered everywhere. One angry bull gored furiously at his +assailant, ripping his horse from shoulder to flank, then, maddened by +the creature's blood, and before a shot from a second hunter brought him +down, caught the rider on its upturned horns and tossed him high. By +keeping deftly to the fore, where the buffalo could not see, and +swerving alternately from side to side as the enraged animals struck +forward, trained horses avoided side thrusts. The saddle-girths of one +hunter, heading a buffalo from the herd, gave way as he was leaning over +to send a final ball into the brute's head. Down he went, shoulders +foremost under its nose, while the horse, with a deft leap cleared the +vicious drive of horns. Strange to say, the buffalo did not see where he +fell and galloped onward. Carcasses were mowed down like felled trees; +but still we plunged on and on, pursuing the racing herd; while the +ground shook in an earthquake under stampeding hoofs. + +I had forgotten time, place, danger--everything in the mad chase and was +hard after a savage old warrior that outraced my horse. Gradually I +rounded him closer to the embankment. My broncho was blowing, almost +wind-spent, but still I dug the spurs into him, and was only a few +lengths behind the buffalo, when the wily beast turned. With head down, +eyes on fire and nostrils blood-red, he bore straight upon me. My +broncho reared, then sprang aside. Leaning over to take sure aim, I +fired, but a side jerk unbalanced me. I lost my stirrup and sprawled in +the dust. When I got to my feet, the buffalo lay dead and my broncho was +trotting back. Hunters were still tearing after the disappearing herd. +Riderless horses, mad with the smell of blood and snorting at every +flash of powder, kept up with the wild race. Little Fellow, La Robe +Noire, Burnt Earth, and Ringing Thunder, had evidently been left in the +rear; for look where I might I could not see one of my four Indians. +Near me two half-breeds were righting their saddles. I also was +tightening the girths, which was not an easy matter with my excited +broncho prancing round in a circle. Suddenly there was the whistle of +something through the air overhead, like a catapult stone, or recoiling +whip-lash. The same instant one of the half-breeds gave an upward toss +of both arms and, with a piercing shriek, fell to the ground. The fellow +caught at his throat and from his bared chest protruded an arrow shaft. + +I heard his terrified comrade shout, "The Sioux! the Sioux!" Then he +fled in a panic of fear, not knowing where he was going and staggering +as he ran; and I saw him pitch forward face downwards. I had barely +realized what had happened and what it all meant, before an exultant +shout broke from the high grass above the embankment. At that my horse +gave a plunge and, wrenching the rein from my grasp, galloped off +leaving me to face the hostiles. Half a score of Indians scrambled down +the cliff and ran to secure the scalps of the dead. Evidently I had not +been seen; but if I ran I should certainly be discovered and a Sioux's +arrow can overtake the swiftest runner. I was looking hopelessly about +for some place of concealment, when like a demon from the earth a +horseman, scarlet in war-paint appeared not a hundred yards away. +Brandishing his battle-axe, he came towards me at furious speed. With +weapons in hand I crouched as his horse approached; and the fool mistook +my action for fear. White teeth glistened and he shrieked with derisive +laughter. I knew that sound. Back came memory of Le Grand Diable +standing among the shadows of a forest camp-fire, laughing as I struck +him. + +The Indian swung his club aloft. I dodged abreast of his horse to avoid +the blow. With a jerk he pulled the animal back on its haunches. Quick, +when it rose, I sent a bullet to its heart. It lurched sideways, reared +straight up and fell backwards with Le Grand Diable under. The fall +knocked battle-axe and club from his grasp; and when his horse rolled +over in a final spasm, two men were instantly locked in a death clutch. +The evil eyes of the Indian glared with a fixed look of uncowed hatred +and the hands of the other tightened on the redman's throat. Diable was +snatching at a knife in his belt, when the cries of my Indians rang out +close at hand. Their coming seemed to renew his strength; for with the +full weight of an antagonist hanging from his neck, the willowy form +squirmed first on his knees, then to his feet. But my men dashed up, +knocked his feet from under him and pinioned him to the ground. La Robe +Noire, with the blood-lust of his race, had a knife unsheathed and would +have finished Diable's career for good and all; but Little Fellow struck +the blade from his hand. That murderous attempt cost poor La Robe Noire +dearly enough in the end. + +Hare-skin thongs of triple ply were wound about Diable's crossed arms +from wrists to elbows. Burnt Earth gagged the knave with his own +moccasin, while Ringing Thunder and Little Fellow quickly roped him neck +and ankles to the fore and hind shanks of the dead buffalo. This time my +wily foe should remain in my power till I had rescued Miriam. + +"_Monsieur! Monsieur!_" gasped Little Fellow as he rose from putting a +last knot to our prisoner's cords. "The Sioux!" and he pointed in alarm +to the cliff. + +True, in my sudden conflict, I had forgotten about the marauding Sioux; +but the fellows had disappeared from the field of the buffalo hunt and +it was to the embankment that my Indians were anxiously looking. Three +thin smoke lines were rising from the prairie. I knew enough of Indian +lore to recognize this tribal signal as a warning to the Sioux band of +some misfortune. Was Miriam within range of those smoke signals? Now was +my opportunity. I could offer Diable in exchange for the Sioux captives. +Meanwhile, we had him secure. He would not be found till the hunt was +over and the carts came for the skins. + +Mounting the broncho, which Little Fellow had caught and brought back, I +ordered the Indians to get their horses and follow; and I rode up to the +level prairie. Against the southern horizon shone the yellow birch of a +wigwam. Vague movements were apparent through the long grass, from which +we conjectured the raiders were hastening back with news of Diable's +capture. We must reach the Sioux camp before these messengers caused +another mysterious disappearing of this fugitive tribe. + +We whipped our horses to a gallop. Again thin smoke lines arose from the +prairie and simultaneously the wigwam began to vanish. I had almost +concluded the tepee was one of those delusive mirages which lead prairie +riders on fools' errands, when I descried figures mounting ponies where +the peaked camp had stood. At this we lashed our horses to faster pace. +The Sioux galloped off and more smoke lines were rising. + +"What do those mean, Little Fellow?" I asked; for there was smoke in a +dozen places ahead. + +"The prairie's on fire, _Monsieur_! The Sioux have put burnt stick in +dry grass! The wind--it blow--it come hard--fast--fast this way!" and +all four Indians reined up their horses as if they would turn. + +"Coward Indians," I cried. "Go on! Who's put off the trail by the fire +of a fool Sioux? Get through the fire before it grows big, or it will +catch you all and burn you to a crisp." + +The gathering smoke was obscuring the fugitives and my Indians still +hung back. Where the Indian refuses to be coerced, he may be won by +reward, or spurred by praise of bravery. + +"Ten horses to the brave who catches a Sioux!" I shouted. "Come on, +Indians! Who follows? Is the Indian less brave than the pale face?" and +we all dashed forward, spurring our hard-ridden horses without mercy. +Each Indian gave his horse the bit. Beating them over the head, they +craned flat over the horses' necks to lessen resistance to the air. A +boisterous wind was fanning the burning grass to a great tide of fire +that rolled forward in forked tongues; but beyond the flames were +figures of receding riders; and we pressed on. Cinders rained on us like +liquid fire, scorching and maddening our horses; but we never paused. +The billowy clouds of smoke that rolled to meet us were blinding, and +the very atmosphere, livid and quivering with heat, seemed to become a +fiery fluid that enveloped and tortured us. Involuntarily, as we drew +nearer and nearer the angry fire-tide, my hand was across my mouth to +shut out the hot burning air; but a man must breathe, and the next +intake of breath blistered one's chest like live coals on raw flesh. +Little wonder our poor beasts uttered that pitiful scream against pain, +which is the horse's one protest of suffering. Presently, they became +wildly unmanageable; and when we dismounted to blindfold them and muffle +their heads in our jackets, they crowded and trembled against us in a +frenzy of terror. Then we tied strips torn from our clothing across our +own mouths and, remounting, beat the frantic creatures forward. I have +often marveled at the courage of those four Indians. For me, there was +incentive enough to dare everything to the death. For them, what motive +but to vindicate their bravery? But even bravery in its perfection has +the limitation of physical endurance; and we had now reached the limit +of what we could endure and live. The fire wave was crackling and +licking up everything within a few paces of us. Live brands fell thick +as a rain of fire. The flames were not crawling in the insidious line of +the prairie fire when there is no wind, but the very heat of the air +seemed to generate a hurricane and the red wave came forward in leaps +and bounds, reaching out cloven fangs that hissed at us like an army of +serpents. I remember wondering in a half delirium whether parts of +Dante's hell could be worse. With the instinctive cry to heaven for +help, of human-kind world over, I looked above; but there was only a +great pitchy dome with glowing clouds rolling and heaving and tossing +and blackening the firmament. Then I knew we must choose one of three +things, a long detour round the fire-wave, one dash through the +flames--or death. I shouted to the men to save themselves; but Burnt +Earth and Ringing Thunder had already gone off to skirt the near end of +the fire-line. Little Fellow and La Robe Noire stuck staunchly by me. We +all three paused, facing death; and the Indians' horses trembled close +to my broncho till I felt the burn of hot stirrups against both ankles. +Our buckskin was smoking in a dozen places. There was a lull of the +wind, and I said to myself, "The calm before the end; the next hurricane +burst and those red demon claws will have us." But in the momentary +lull, a place appeared through the trough of smoke billows, where the +grass was green and the fire-barrier breached. With a shout and heads +down, we dashed towards this and vaulted across the flaming wall, our +horses snorting and screaming with pain as we landed on the smoking turf +of the other side. I gulped a great breath of the fresh air into my +suffocating lungs, tore the buckskin covering from my broncho's head and +we raced on in a swirl of smoke, always following the dust which +revealed the tracks of the retreating Sioux. There was a whiff of singed +hair, as if one of the horses had been burnt, and Little Fellow gave a +shout. Looking back I saw his horse sinking on the blackened patch; but +La Robe Noire and I rode on. The fugitives were ascending rising ground +to the south. They were beating their horses in a rage of cruelty; but +we gained at every pace. I counted twenty riders. A woman seemed to be +strapped to one horse. Was this Miriam? We were on moist grass and I +urged La Robe Noire to ride faster and drove spurs in my own beast, +though I felt him weakening under me. The Sioux had now reached the +crest of the hill. Our horses were nigh done, and to jade the fagged +creatures up rising ground was useless. + +When we finally reached the height, the Sioux were far down in the +valley. It was utterly hopeless to try to overtake them. Ah! It is easy +to face death and to struggle and to fight and to triumph! But the +hardest of all hard things is to surrender, to yield to the inevitable, +to turn back just when the goal looms through obscurity! + +I still had Diable in my power. We headed about and crawled slowly back +by unburnt land towards the buffalo hunters. + +Little Fellow, we overtook limping homeward afoot. Burnt Earth and +Ringing Thunder awaited us near the ravine. The carts were already out +gathering hides, tallow, flesh and tongues. We made what poor speed we +could among the buffalo carcasses to the spot where we had left Le Grand +Diable. It was Little Fellow, who was hobbling ahead, and the Indian +suddenly turned with such a cry of baffled rage, I knew it boded +misfortune. Running forward, I could hardly believe my eyes. Fools that +we were to leave the captive unguarded! The great buffalo lay +unmolested; but there was no Le Grand Diable. A third time had he +vanished as if in league with the powers of the air. Closer examination +explained his disappearance. A wet, tattered moccasin, with the +appearance of having been chewed, lay on the turf. He had evidently +bitten through his gag, raised his arms to his mouth, eaten away the +hare thongs, and so, without the help of the Sioux raiders, freed his +hands, untied himself and escaped. + +Dumfounded and baffled, I returned to the encampment and took counsel +with Father Holland. We arranged to set out for the Mandanes on the +Missouri. Diable's tribe had certainly gone south to Sioux territory. +The Sioux and the Mandanes were friendly enough neighbors this year. +Living with the Mandanes south of the Sioux country, we might keep track +of the enemy without exposing ourselves to Sioux vengeance. + +Forebodings of terrible suffering for Miriam haunted me. I could not +close my eyes without seeing her subjected to Indian torture; and I had +no heart to take part in the jubilation of the hunters over their great +success. The savory smell of roasting meat whiffed into my tent and I +heard the shrill laughter of the squaws preparing the hunters' feast. +With hard-wood axles squeaking loudly under the unusual burden, the +last cart rumbled into the camp enclosure with its load of meat and +skins. The clamor of the people subsided; and I knew every one was +busily gorging to repletion, too intent on the satisfaction of animal +greed to indulge in the Saxon habit of talking over a meal. Well might +they gorge; for this was the one great annual feast. There would follow +a winter of stint and hardship and hunger; and every soul in the camp +was laying up store against famine. Even the dogs were happy, for they +were either roving over the field of the hunt, or lying disabled from +gluttony at their masters' tents. + +Father Holland remained in the tepee with me talking over our plans and +plastering Indian ointment on my numerous burns. By and by, the voices +of the feasters began again and we heard Pierre, the rhymester, chanting +the song of the buffalo hunt: + + Now list to the song of the buffalo hunt, + Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, chant of the brave! + We are _Bois-Brulés_, Freemen of the plains, + We choose our chief! We are no man's slave! + + Up, riders, up, ere the early mist + Ascends to salute the rising sun! + Up, rangers, up, ere the buffalo herds + Sniff morning air for the hunter's gun! + + They lie in their lairs of dank spear-grass, + Down in the gorge, where the prairie dips. + We've followed their tracks through the sucking ooze, + Where our bronchos sank to their steaming hips. + + We've followed their tracks from the rolling plain + Through slime-green sloughs to a sedgy ravine, + Where the cat-tail spikes of the marsh-grown flags + Stand half as high as the billowy green. + + The spear-grass touched our saddle-bows, + The blade-points pricked to the broncho's neck; + But we followed the tracks like hounds on scent + Till our horses reared with a sudden check. + + The scouts dart back with a shout, "They are found!" + Great fur-maned heads are thrust through reeds, + A forest of horns, a crunching of stems, + Reined sheer on their haunches are terrified steeds! + + Get you gone to the squaws at the tents, old men, + The cart-lines safely encircle the camp! + Now, braves of the plain, brace your saddle-girths! + Quick! Load guns, for our horses champ! + + A tossing of horns, a pawing of hoofs, + But the hunters utter never a word, + As the stealthy panther creeps on his prey, + So move we in silence against the herd. + + With arrows ready and triggers cocked, + We round them nearer the valley bank; + They pause in defiance, then start with alarm + At the ominous sound of a gun-barrel's clank. + + A wave from our captain, out bursts a wild shout, + A crash of shots from our breaking ranks, + And the herd stampedes with a thunderous boom + While we drive our spurs into quivering flanks. + + The arrows hiss like a shower of snakes, + The bullets puff in a smoky gust, + Out fly loose reins from the bronchos' bits + And hunters ride on in a whirl of dust. + + The bellowing bulls rush blind with fear + Through river and marsh, while the trampled dead + Soon bridge safe ford for the plunging herd; + Earth rocks like a sea 'neath the mighty tread. + + A rip of the sharp-curved sickle-horns, + A hunter falls to the blood-soaked ground! + He is gored and tossed and trampled down, + On dashes the furious beast with a bound, + + When over sky-line hulks the last great form + And the rumbling thunder of their hoofs' beat, beat, + Dies like an echo in distant hills, + Back ride the hunters chanting their feat. + + Now, old men and squaws, come you out with the carts! + There's meat against hunger and fur against cold! + Gather full store for the pemmican bags, + Garner the booty of warriors bold. + + So list ye the song of the _Bois-Brulés_, + Of their glorious deeds in the days of old, + And this is the tale of the buffalo hunt + Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, have proudly told. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN SLIPPERY PLACES + + +A more desolate existence than the life of a fur-trading winterer in the +far north can scarcely be imagined. Penned in some miserable lodge a +thousand miles from human companionship, only the wild orgies of the +savages varied the monotony of dull days and long nights. The winter I +spent with the Mandanes was my first in the north. I had not yet learned +to take events as the rock takes wave-blows, and was still at that +mawkish age when a man is easily filled with profound pity for himself. +A month after our arrival, Father Holland left the Mandane village. Eric +Hamilton had not yet come; so I felt much like the man whom a gloomy +poet describes as earth's last habitant. I had accompanied the priest +half-way to the river forks. Here, he was to get passage in an Indian +canoe to the tribes of the upper Missouri. After an affectionate +farewell, I stood on a knoll of treeless land and watched the +broad-brimmed hat and black robe receding from me. + +"Good-by, boy! God bless you!" he had said in broken voice. "Don't fall +to brooding when you're alone, or you'll lose your wits. Now mind +yourself! Don't mope!" + +For my part, I could not answer a word, but keeping hold of his hand +walked on with him a pace. + +"Get away with you! Go home, youngster!" he ordered, roughly shaking me +off and flourishing his staff. + +Then he strode swiftly forward without once looking back, while I would +have given all I possessed for one last wave. As he plunged into the +sombre forest, where the early autumn frost of that north land had +already tinged the maple woods with the hectic flush of coming death, so +poignant was this last wresting from human fellowship, I could scarcely +resist the impulse to desert my station and follow him. Poorer than the +poorest of the tribes to whom he ministered, alone and armed only with +his faith, this man was ready to conquer the world for his Master. +"Would that I had half the courage for my quest," I mused, and walked +slowly back to the solitary lodge. + +Black Cat, Chief of the Mandane village, in a noisy harangue, adopted me +as his son and his brother and his father and his mother and I know not +what; but apart from trade with his people, I responded coldly to these +warm overtures. From Father Holland's leave-taking to Hamilton's coming, +was a desolately lonesome interval. Daily I went to the north hill and +strained my eyes for figures against the horizon. Sometimes horsemen +would gradually loom into view, head first, then arms and horse, like +the peak of a ship preceding appearance of full canvas and hull over +sea. Thereupon I would hurriedly saddle my own horse and ride furiously +forward, feeling confident that Hamilton had at last come, only to find +the horsemen some company of Indian riders. What could be keeping him? I +conjectured a thousand possibilities; but in truth there was no need for +any conjectures. 'Twas I, who felt the days drag like years. Hamilton +was not behind his appointed time. He came at last, walking in on me one +night when I least expected him and was sitting moodily before my +untouched supper. He had nothing to tell except that he had wasted many +weeks following false clues, till our buffalo hunters returned with news +of the Sioux attack, Diable's escape and our bootless pursuit. At once +he had left Fort Douglas for the Missouri, pausing often to send scouts +scouring the country for news of Diable's band; but not a trace of the +rascals had been found; and his search seemed on the whole more barren +of results than mine. Laplante, he reported, had never been seen the +night after he left the council hall to find the young Nor'-Wester. In +my own mind, I had no doubt the villain had been in that company we +pursued through the prairie fire. Altogether, I think Hamilton's coming +made matters worse rather than better. That I had failed after so nearly +effecting a rescue seemed to embitter him unspeakably. + +Out of deference to the rival companies employing us, we occupied +different lodges. Indeed, I fear poor Eric did but a sorry business for +the Hudson's Bay that winter. I verily believe he would have forgotten +to eat, let alone barter for furs, had I not been there to lug him +forcibly across to my lodge, where meals were prepared for us both. +Often when I saw the Indian trappers gathering before his door with +piles of peltries, I would go across and help him to value the furs. At +first the Indian rogues were inclined to take advantage of his +abstraction and palm off one miserable beaver skin, where they should +have given five for a new hatchet; and I began to understand why they +crowded to his lodge, though he did nothing to attract them, while they +avoided mine. Then I took a hand in Hudson's Bay trade and equalized +values. First, I would pick over the whole pile, which the Indians had +thrown on the floor, putting spoiled skins to one side, and peltries of +the same kind in classified heaps. + +"Lynx, buffalo, musk-ox, marten, beaver, silver fox, black bear, +raccoon! Want them all, Eric?" I would ask, while the Indians eyed me +with suspicious resentment. + +"Certainly, certainly, take everything," Eric would answer, without +knowing a word of what I had said, and at once throwing away his +opportunity to drive a good bargain. + +Picking over the goods of Hamilton's packet, the Mandanes would choose +what they wanted. Then began a strange, silent haggling over prices. +Unlike Oriental races, the Indian maintains stolid silence, compelling +the white man to do the talking. + +"Eric, Running Deer wants a gun," I would begin. + +"For goodness' sake, give it to him, and don't bother me," Eric would +urge, and the faintest gleam of amused triumph would shoot from the +beady eyes of Running Deer. Running Deer's peltries would be spread out, +and after a half hour of silent consideration on his part and trader's +talk on mine, furs to the value of so many beaver skins would be passed +across for the coveted gun. I remember it was a wretched old squaw with +a toothless, leathery, much-bewrinkled face and a reputation for +knowledge of Indian medicines, who first opened my eyes to the sort of +trade the Indians had been driving with Hamilton. The old creature was +bent almost double over her stout oak staff and came hobbling in with a +bag of roots, which she flung on the floor. After thawing out her frozen +moccasins before the lodge fire and taking off bandages of skins about +her ankles, she turned to us for trade. We were ready to make +concessions that might induce the old body to hurry away; but she +demanded red flannel, tea and tobacco enough to supply a whole family of +grandchildren, and sat down on the bag of roots prepared to out-siege +us. + +"What's this, Eric?" I asked, knowing no more of roots than the old +woman did of values. + +"Seneca for drugs. For goodness' sake, buy it quick and don't haggle." + +"But she wants your whole kit, man," I objected. + +"She'll have the whole kit and the shanty, too, if you don't get her +out," said Hamilton, opening the lodge door; and the old squaw presently +limped off with an armful of flannel, one tea packet and a parcel of +tobacco, already torn open. Such was the character of Hamilton's +bartering up to the time I elected myself his first lieutenant; but as +his abstractions became almost trance-like, I think the superstition of +the Indians was touched. To them, a maniac is a messenger of the Great +Spirit; and Hamilton's strange ways must have impressed them, for they +no longer put exorbitant values on their peltries. + +After the day's trading Eric would come to my hut. Pacing the cramped +place for hours, wild-eyed and silent, he would abruptly dash into the +darkness of the night like one on the verge of madness. Thereupon, the +taciturn, grave-faced La Robe Noire, tapping his forehead significantly, +would look with meaning towards Little Fellow; and I would slip out some +distance behind to see that Hamilton did himself no harm while the +paroxysm lasted. So absorbed was he in his own gloom, for days he would +not utter a syllable. The storm that had gathered would then discharge +its strength in an outburst of incoherent ravings, which usually ended +in Hamilton's illness and my watching over him night and day, keeping +firearms out of reach. I have never seen--and hope I never may--any +other being age so swiftly and perceptibly. I had attributed his worn +appearance in Fort Douglas to the cannon accident and trusted the +natural robustness of his constitution would throw off the apparent +languor; but as autumn wore into winter, there were more gray hairs on +his temple, deeper lines furrowed his face and the erect shoulders began +to bow. + +When days slipped into weeks and weeks into months without the slightest +inkling of Miriam's whereabouts to set at rest the fear that my rash +pursuit had caused her death, I myself grew utterly despondent. Like all +who embark on daring ventures, I had not counted on continuous +frustration. The idea that I might waste a lifetime in the wilderness +without accomplishing anything had never entered my mind. Week after +week, the scouts dispatched in every direction came back without one +word of the fugitives, and I began to imagine my association with +Hamilton had been unfortunate for us both. This added to despair the +bitterness of regret. + +The winter was unusually mild, and less game came to the Missouri from +the mountains and bad lands than in severe seasons. By February, we were +on short rations. Two meals a day, with cat-fish for meat and dried +skins in soup by way of variety, made up our regular fare for +mid-winter. The frequent absence of my two Indians, scouring the region +for the Sioux, left me to do my own fishing; and fishing with bare hands +in frosty weather is not pleasant employment for a youth of soft +up-bringing. Protracted bachelordom was also losing its charms; but +that may have resulted from a new influence, which came into my life and +seemed ever present. + +At Christmas, Hamilton was threatened with violent insanity. As the +Mandanes' provisions dwindled, the Indians grew surlier toward us; and I +was as deep in despondency as a man could sink. Frequently, I wondered +whether Father Holland would find us alive in the spring, and I +sometimes feared ours would be the fate of Athabasca traders whose +bodies satisfied the hunger of famishing Crees. + +How often in those darkest hours did a presence, which defied time and +space, come silently to me, breathing inspiration that may not be +spoken, healing the madness of despair and leaving to me in the midst of +anxiety a peace which was wholly unaccountable! In the lambent flame of +the rough stone fireplace, in the darkness between Hamilton's hut and +mine, through which I often stole, dreading what I might +find--everywhere, I felt and saw, or seemed to see, those gray eyes with +the look of a startled soul opening its virgin beauty and revealing its +inmost secrets. + +A bleak, howling wind, with great piles of storm-scud overhead, raved +all the day before Christmas. It was one of those afternoons when the +sombre atmosphere seems weighted with gloom and weariness. On Christmas +eve Hamilton's brooding brought on acute delirium. He had been more +depressed than usual, and at night when we sat down to a cheerless +supper of hare-skin soup and pemmican, he began to talk very fast and +quite irrationally. + +"See here, old boy," said I, "you'd better bunk here to-night. You're +not well." + +"Bunk!" said he icily, in the grand manner he sometimes assumed at the +Quebec Club for the benefit of a too familiar member. "And pray, Sir, +what might 'bunk' mean?" + +"Go to bed, Eric," I coaxed, getting tight hold of his hands. "You're +not well, old man; come to bed!" + +"Bed!" he exclaimed with indignation. "Bed! You're a madman, Sir! I'm to +meet Miriam on the St. Foye road." (It was here that Miriam lived in +Quebec, before they were married.) "On the St. Foye road! See the lights +glitter, dearest, in Lower Town," and he laughed aloud. Then followed +such an outpouring of wild ravings I wept from very pity and +helplessness. + +"Rufus! Rufus, lad!" he cried, staring at me and clutching at his +forehead as lucid intervals broke the current of his madness. +"Gillespie, man, what's wrong? I don't seem able to think. +Who--are--you? Who--in the world--are you? Gillespie! O Gillespie! I'm +going mad! Am I going mad? Help me, Rufus! Why can't you help me? It's +coming after me! See it! The hideous thing!" Tears started from his +burning eyes and his brow was knotted hard as whipcord. + +"Look! It's there!" he screamed, pointing to the fire, and he darted to +the door, where I caught him. He fought off my grasp with maniacal +strength, and succeeded in flinging open the door. Then I forgot this +man was more than brother to me, and threw myself upon him as against an +enemy, determined to have the mastery. The bleak wind roared through the +open blackness of the doorway, and on the ground outside were shadows of +two struggling, furious men. I saw the terrified faces of Little Fellow +and La Robe Noire peering through the dark, and felt wet beads start +from every pore in my body. Both of us were panting like fagged racers. +One of us was fighting blindly, raining down aimless blows, I know not +which, but I think it must have been Hamilton, for he presently sank in +my arms, limp and helpless as a sick child. + +Somehow I got him between the robes of my floor mattress. Drawing a box +to the bedside I again took his hands between mine and prepared for a +night's watch. + +He raved in a low, indistinct tone, muttering Miriam's name again and +again, and tossing his head restlessly from side to side. Then he fell +into a troubled sleep. The supper lay untouched. Torches had burned +black out. One tallow candle, that I had extravagantly put among some +evergreens--our poor decorations for Christmas Eve--sputtered low and +threw ghostly, branching shadows across the lodge. I slipped from the +sick man's side, heaped more logs on the fire and stretched out between +robes before the hearth. In the play of the flame Hamilton's face seemed +suddenly and strangely calm. Was it the dim light, I wonder. The +furrowed lines of sorrow seemed to fade, leaving the peaceful, +transparent purity of the dead. I could not but associate the branched +shadows on the wall with legends of death keeping guard over the dying. +The shadow by his pillow gradually assumed vague, awesome shape. I sat +up and rubbed my eyes. Was this an illusion, or was I, too, going mad? +The filmy thing distinctly wavered and receded a little into the dark. + +An unspeakable fear chilled my veins. Then I could have laughed defiance +and challenged death. Death! Curse death! What had we to fear from +dying? Had we not more to fear from living? At that came thought of my +love and the tumult against life was quieted. I, too, like other +mortals, had reason, the best of reason, to fear death. What matter if a +lonely one like myself went out alone to the great dark? But when +thought of my love came, a desolating sense of separation--separation +not to be bridged by love or reason--overwhelmed me, and I, too, shrank +back. + +Again I peered forward. The shadow fluttered, moved, and came out of the +gloom, a tender presence with massy, golden hair, white-veined brow, and +gray eyes, speaking unutterable things. + +"My beloved!" I cried. "Oh, my beloved!" and I sprang towards her; but +she had glided back among the spectral branches. + +The candle tumbled to the floor, extinguishing all light, and I was +alone with the sick man breathing heavily in the darkness. A log broke +over the fire. The flames burst up again; but I was still alone. Had I, +too, lost grip of reality; or was she in distress calling for me? +Neither suggestion satisfied; for the mean lodge was suddenly filled +with a great calm, and my whole being was flooded and thrilled with the +trancing ecstasy of an ethereal presence. + +If I remember rightly--and to be perfectly frank, I do--though I was in +as desperate straits as a man could be, I lay before the hearth that +Christmas Eve filled with gratitude to heaven--God knows such a gift +must have come from heaven!--for the love with which I had been dowered. + +How it might have been with other men I know not. For myself, I could +not have come through that dreary winter unscathed without the influence +of her, who would have been the first to disclaim such power. Among the +velvet cushions of the east one may criticise the lapse of white man to +barbarity; but in the wilderness human voice is as grateful to the ear +as rain patter in a drouth. There, men deal with facts, not arguments. +Natives break the loneliness of an isolated life by not unwelcomed +visits. Comes a time when they tarry over long in the white man's lodge. +Other men, who have scouted the possibility of sinking to savagery, have +forsaken the ways of their youth. Who can say that I might not have +departed from the path called rectitude? + +Religion may keep a holy man upright in slippery places; but for common +mortals, devotion to a being, whom, in one period of their worship men +rank with angels, does much to steady wavering feet. Hers was the +influence that aroused loathing for the drunken debauches, the cheating, +the depraved living of the Indian lodges: hers, the influence that kept +the loathing from slipping into indifference, the indifference from +becoming participation. Indeed, I could wish a young man no better +talisman against the world, the flesh and the devil, than love for a +pure woman. + +How we dragged through the hours of that night, of Christmas and the +days that followed, I do not attempt to set down here. Hamilton's +illness lasted a month. What with trading and keeping our scouts on the +search for Miriam and waiting on the sick man, I had enough to busy me +without brooding over my own woes. Hard as my life was, it was fortunate +I had no time for thoughts of self and so escaped the melancholy apathy +that so often benumbs the lonely man's activities. And when Eric became +convalescent, I had enough to do finding diversion for his mind. Keeping +record of our doings on birch-bark sheets, playing quoits with the +Mandanes and polo with a few fearless riders, helped to pass the long +weary days. + +So the dismal winter wore away and spring was drizzling into summer. +Within a few weeks we should be turning our faces northward for the +forks of the Red and Assiniboine. The prospect of movement after long +stagnation cheered Hamilton and fanned what neither of us would +acknowledge--a faint hope that Miriam might yet be alive in the north. I +verily believe Eric would have started northward with restored courage +had not our plans been thwarted by the sinister handiwork of Le Grand +Diable. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GOOD WHITE FATHER + + +For a week Hamilton and I had been busy in our respective lodges getting +peltries and personal belongings into shape for return to Red River. On +Saturday night, at least I counted it Saturday from the notches on my +doorpost, though Eric, grown morose and contradictory, maintained that +it was Sunday--we sat talking before the fire of my lodge. A dreary +raindrip pattered through the leaky roof and the soaked parchment tacked +across the window opening flapped monotonously against the pine logs. + +Unfastening the moon-shaped medallion, which my uncle had given me, I +slowly spelled out the Nor'-Westers' motto--"Fortitude in Distress." + +"For-ti-tude in Dis-tress," I repeated idly. "By Jove, Hamilton, we need +it, don't we?" + +Eric's lips curled in scorn. Without answering, he impatiently kicked a +fallen brand back to the live coals. I know old saws are poor comfort to +people in distress, being chiefly applicable when they are not needed. + +"What in the world can be keeping Father Holland?" I asked, leading off +on another tack. "Here we are almost into the summer, and never a sight +of him." + +"Did you really expect him back alive from the Bloods?" sneered +Hamilton. He had unconsciously acquired a habit of expecting the worst. + +"Certainly," I returned. "He's been among them before." + +"Then all I have to say is, you're a fool!" + +Poor Eric! He had informed me I was a fool so often in his ravings I had +grown quite used to the insult. He glared savagely at the fire, and if I +had not understood this bitterness towards the missionary, the next +remark was of a nature to enlighten me. + +"I don't see why any man in his senses wants to save the soul of an +Indian," he broke out. "Let them go where they belong! Souls! They +haven't any souls, or if they have, it's the soul of a fiend----" + +"By the bye, Eric," I interrupted, for this petulant ill-humor, that saw +naught but evil in everything, was becoming too frequent and always +ended in the same way--a night of semi-delirium, "by the bye, did you +see those fellows turning up soil for corn with a buffalo shoulder-blade +as a hoe?" + +"I wish every damn Red a thousand feet under the soil, deeper than that, +if the temperature increases." + +It was impossible to talk to Hamilton without provoking a quarrel. +Leaning back with hands clasped behind my head, I watched through +half-closed eyes his sad face darkling under stormy moods. + +At last the rain succeeded in soaking through the parchment across the +window and the wind drove through a great split in chilling gusts that +added to the cabin's discomfort. I got up and jammed an old hat into the +hole. At the window I heard the shouting of Indians having a hilarious +night among the lodges and was amazed at the sound of discharging +firearms above the huzzas, for ammunition was scarce among the Mandanes. +The hubbub seemed to be coming towards our hut. I could see nothing +through the window slit, and lighting a pine fagot, shot back the +latch-bolt and threw open the door. A multitude of tawny, joyous, +upturned faces thronged to the steps. The crowd was surging about some +newcomer, and Chief Black Cat was prancing around in an ecstasy of +delight, firing away all his gunpowder in joyous demonstration. I lifted +my torch. The Indians fell back and forth strode Father Holland, his +face shining wet and abeam with pleasure. The Indians had been welcoming +"their good white father." As he dismissed his Mandane children we drew +him in and placed his soaked over-garments before the fire. Then we +proffered him all the delicacies of bachelors' quarters, and filled and +refilled his bowl with soup, and did not stop pouring out our lye-black +tea till he had drained the dregs of it. + +Having satisfied his inner-man, we gave him the best stump-tree seat in +the cabin and sat back to listen. There was the awkward pause of +reunion, when friends have not had time to gather up the loose threads +of a parted past and weave them anew into stronger bands of comradeship. +Hamilton and the priest were strangers; but if the latter were as +overcome by the meeting after half a year's isolation as I was, the +silence was not surprising. To me it seemed the genial face was +unusually grave, and I noticed a long, horizontal scar across his +forehead. + +"What's that, Father?" I asked, indicating the mark on his brow. + +"Tush, youngster! Nothing! Nothing at all! Sampled scalping-knife on me; +thought better of it, kept me out of the martyr's crown." + +"And left you your own!" cried Hamilton astonished at the priest's +careless stoicism. + +"Left me my own," responded Father Holland. + +"Do you mean to say the murderous----" I began. + +"Tush, youngster! Be quiet!" said he. "Haven't many brethren come from +the same tribe more like warped branches than men? What am I, that I +should escape? Never speak of it again," and he continued his silent +study of the flames' play. + +"Where are your Indians?" he asked abruptly. + +"In the lodges. Shall I whistle for them?" + +He did not answer, but leaned forward with elbows on his knees, rubbing +his chin vigorously first with one hand, then the other, still studying +the fire. + +"How strong are the Mandanes?" he asked. + +"Weak, weak," I answered. "Few hundred. It hasn't been worth while for +traders to come here for years." + +"Was it worth while this year?" + +"Not for trade." + +"For anything else?" and he looked at Eric's dejected face. + +"Nothing else," I put in hastily, fearing one of Hamilton's outbreaks. +"We've been completely off the track, might better have stayed in the +north----" + +"No, you mightn't, not by any means," was his sharp retort. "I've been +in the Sioux lodges for three weeks." + +With an inarticulate cry, Hamilton sprang to his feet. He was trembling +from head to foot and caught Father Holland roughly by the shoulder. + +"Speak out, Sir! What of Miriam?" he demanded in dry, hard, rasping +tones. + +"Well, well, safe and inviolate. So's the boy, a big boy now! May ye +have them both in y'r arms soon--soon--soon!" and again he fell to +studying the fire with an unhurried deliberation, that was torture to +Hamilton. + +"Are they with you? Are they with you?" shouted Hamilton, hope bounding +up elastically to the wildest heights after his long depression. "Don't +keep me in suspense! I cannot bear it. Tell me where they are," he +pleaded. "Are they with you?" and his eyes burned into the priest's like +live coals. "Are--they--with--you?" + +"No--Lord--no!" roared Father Holland, alarmed at Hamilton's violent +condition. "But," he added, seeing Eric reel dizzily, "but they're all +right! Now you keep quiet and don't scare the wits out of a body! +They're all right, I tell you, and I've come straight from them for the +ransom price." + +"Get it, Rufus, get it!" shouted Hamilton to me, throwing his hands +distractedly to his head, a habit too common with him of late. "Get it! +Get it!" he kept calling, utterly beside himself. + +"Sit down, will you?" thundered the priest, as if Eric's sitting down +would calm all agitation. "Sit down! Behave! Keep quiet, both of you, or +my tongue'll forget holy orders and give ye some good Irish eloquence! +What d' y' mane, scarin' the breath out of a body and blowing his ideas +to limbo? Keep quiet, now, and listen!" + +"And did they," I cried, in spite of the injunction, "did they do that +to you?" pointing to the scar on his brow. + +"Yes, they did." + +"Because they saw you with me?" + +"No, that's a brand for the faith, you conceited whelp, you--they +stopped their tortures because they saw you with me. Now, swell out, +Rufus, and gloat over your importance! I tell you it was the devil, +himself, snatched my martyr's crown." + +"Le Grand Diable?" + +"Le Grand Diable's own minion. I saw his devilish eyes leering from the +back o' the crowd, when I was tied to a stake. 'Bring that Indian to +me,' sez I, transfixing him with my gaze; for--you understand--I +couldn't point, my hands being tied. Troth! But ye should 'a' seen their +looks of amazement at me boldness! There was I, roped to that tree, like +a pig for the boiling pot, and sez I, 'Bring--that Indian--to me!' just +as though I was managing the execution," and the priest paused to enjoy +the recollection of the effects of his boldness. + +"A squaw up with an old clout," he continued, "and slashed it across my +face, saying, 'Take that, pale face! Take that, man with a woman's +skirts on!' and 'Take that!' howled a young buck, fetching the flat of +his dagger across me forehead, close-cropped hair giving no grip for +scalping, not to mention a pate as bald as mine," and the priest roared +at his own joke, patting his bare crown affectionately. + +"Though the blood was boilin' in me enraged veins and dribblin' down my +face like the rain to-night, by the help o' the Lord, I felt no pain. +Never flinchin' nor takin' heed o' that bold baste of a squaw, I bawled +like a bull of Bashan, 'Bring--that Indian--to me, coward-hearted +Sioux--d' y' fear an Iroquois? Bring him to me and I'll make him enrich +your tribe!' + +"Faith! Their eyes grew big as a harvest moon and they brought Le Grand +Diable to me. Knowing his covetous heart, I told him if he still had the +woman and the child, I'd get him a big ransom. At that they all jangled +a bit, the old squaw clouting me with her filthy rag as if she wanted +to slap me to a peak. At length they let Le Grand Diable unfasten the +bands. With my hands tied behind my back, I was taken to his lodge. +Miriam and the boy were kept in a place behind the Sioux squaw's hut. +Once when the skin tied between blew up, I caught a glimpse of her poor +white face. The boy was playing round her feet. I was in a corner of the +lodge but was so grimed with grease and dirt, if she saw me she thought +I was some Indian captive and turned away her head. I told Le Grand +Diable in _habitant_ French--which the rascal understands--that I could +obtain a good ransom for his prisoners. He left me alone in the lodge +for some hours, I think to spy upon me and learn if I tried to speak to +Miriam; but I lay still as a log and pretended to sleep. When he came +back, he began bartering for the price; but I could make him no promises +as to the amount or time of payment, for I was not sure you were here, +and would not have him know where you are. + +"He kept me hanging on for his answer during the whole week, and many a +time Miriam brushed past so close her skirts touched me; but that +she-male devil of his--may the Lord give them both a warm, front +seat!--was always watching and I could not speak. Miriam's face was +hidden under her shawl and she looked neither to the right, nor to the +left. I don't think she ever saw me. On condition you stay in your camp +and don't go to meet her, but send your two Indians alone for her with +your offer, he let me go. Here I am! Now, Rufus, where are your men? Off +with them bearing more gifts than the Queen of Sheba carried to +Solomon!" + + * * * * * + +From the hour that La Robe Noire and Little Fellow, laden with gaudy +trinkets and hunting outfits, departed for the Sioux lodges, Hamilton +was positively a madman. In the first place, he had been determined to +disguise himself as an Indian and go instead of La Robe Noire, whose +figure he resembled. To this, we would not listen. Le Grand Diable was +not the man to be tricked and there was no sense in ransoming Miriam for +a captive husband. Then, he persisted in riding part of the way with our +messengers, which necessitated my doing likewise. I had to snatch his +horse's bridle, wheel both our horses round and head homeward at a +gallop, before he would listen to reason and come back. + +Round the lodges he was a ramping tiger. Twenty times a day he went from +our hut to the height of land commanding the north country, keeping me +on the run at his heels; and all night he beat around the cramped shack +as if it had been a cage. On the fourth day from the messengers' +departure, chains could not bind him. If all went well, they should be +with us at night. In defiance of Le Grand Diable's conditions, which an +arrow from an unseen marksman might enforce, Eric saddled his mare and +rode out to meet the men. + +Of course Father Holland and I peltered after him; but it was only +because gathering darkness prevented travel that we prevailed on him to +dismount and await the Indians' coming at the edge of the village. + +At last came the clank, clank of shod hoofs in the valley. The natives +used only unshod animals, so we recognized our men. Hamilton darted away +like a hare racing for cover. + +"The Lord have mercy upon us!" groaned Father Holland. "Listen, lad! +There's only one horse!" + +I threw myself to the earth and laying my ear to the turf strained for +every sound. The thud, thud of a single horse, fore and hind feet +striking the beaten trail in quick gallop, came distinctly up from the +valley. + +"It may not be our men," said I, with sickening forebodings tugging at +throat and heart. + +"I mistrusted them! I mistrusted the villains!" repeated the priest. "If +only you had enough Mandanes to ride down on them, but you're too weak. +There are at least two thousand Sioux." + +Hamilton and Little Fellow, talking loudly and gesticulating, rode +crashing through the furze. + +"I knew it! I knew it!" shouted Hamilton fiercely, "One of us should +have gone." + +"What's wrong?" came from Father Holland in a voice so low and +unnaturally calm, I knew he feared the worst. + +"Wrong!" yelled Hamilton, "They hold La Robe Noire as hostage and +demand five hundred pounds of ammunition, twenty guns and ten horses. Of +course, I should have gone----" + +"And would it have mended matters if you'd been held hostage too?" I +demanded, utterly out of patience and at that stage when a little strain +makes a man strike his best friends. "You know very well, the men were +only sent to make an offer. You'd no right to expect everything on one +trip without any bargaining----" + +"Shut up, boy!" exclaimed Father Holland. "Just when ye both need all +y'r wits, y'r scattering them to the four winds. Now, mind yourselves! I +don't like these terms! 'Tis the devil's own doing! Let's talk this +over!" + +With a vast deal of the wordy eloquence that characterizes Indian +diplomacy, the tenor of Le Grand Diable's message was "His shot pouch +was light and his pipe cold; he hung down his head and the pipe of peace +had not been in the council; the Sioux were strangers and the whites +were their enemies; the pale-faces had been in their power and they had +always conveyed them on their journey with glad hearts and something to +eat." Finally, the Master of Life, likewise Earth, Air, Water, and Fire +were called on to witness that if the white men delivered five hundred +rounds of ammunition, twenty guns and ten horses, the white woman and +her child, likewise the two messengers, would be sent safely back to the +Mandane lodge; none but these two messengers would be permitted in the +Sioux camp; also, the Sioux would not answer for the lives of the white +men if they left the Mandane lodges. Let the white men, therefore, send +back the full ransom by the hands of the same messenger. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +LE GRAND DIABLE SENDS BACK OUR MESSENGER + + +Father Holland advised caution and consideration before acting. A policy +of bargaining was his counsel. + +"I don't like those terms, at all," he said, "too much like giving your +weapons to the enemy. I don't like all this." + +He would temporize and rely on Le Grand Diable's covetous disposition +bringing him to our terms; but Hamilton would hear of neither caution +nor delay. + +The ransom price was at once collected. Next morning, Little Fellow, on +a fresh mount with a string of laden horses on each side, went post +haste back to the Sioux. + +In all conscience, Hamilton had been wild enough during the first +parley. His excitement now exceeded all bounds. The first two days, when +there was no possibility of Miriam's coming and Little Fellow could not +yet have reached the Sioux, I tore after Eric so often I lost count of +the races between our lodge and the north hill. The performance began +again on the third day, and I broke out with a piece of my mind, which +surprised him mightily. + +"Look you here, Hamilton!" I exclaimed, rounding him back from the hill, +"Can't you stop this nonsense and sit still for only two days more, or +must I tie you up? You've tried to put me crazy all winter and, by Jove, +if you don't stop this, you'll finish the job----" + +He gazed at me with the dumb look of a wounded animal and was too amazed +for words. Leaving me in mid-road, feeling myself a brute, he went +straight to his own hut. After that incident, he gave us no further +anxiety and kept an iron grip on his impatience. With me, anger had +given place to contrition. He remained much by himself until the night, +when our messengers were expected. Then he came across to my quarters, +where Father Holland and I were keyed up to the highest pitch. Putting +out his hand he said-- + +"Is it all right with us again, Rufus, old man?" + +That speech nigh snapped the strained cords. + +"Of course," said I, gripping the extended hand, and I immediately +coughed hard, to explain away the undue moisture welling into my eyes. + +We all three sat as still and silent as a death-watch, Father Holland +fumbling and pretending to pore over some holy volume, Eric with fingers +tightly interlaced and upper teeth biting through lower lip, and I with +clenched fists dug into jacket pockets and a thousand imaginary sounds +singing wild tunes in my ears. + +How the seconds crawled, and the minutes barely moved, and the hours +seemed to heap up in a blockade and crush us with their leaden weight! +Twice I sought relief for pent emotion by piling wood on the fire, +though the night was mild, and by breaking the glowing embers into a +shower of sparks. The soft, moccasined tread of Mandanes past our door +startled Father Holland so that his book fell to the floor, while I +shook like a leaf. Strange to say, Hamilton would not allow himself the +luxury of a single movement, though the lowered brows tightened and +teeth cut deeper into the under lip. + +Dogs set up a barking at the other end of the village--a common enough +occurrence where half-starved curs roved in packs--but I could not +refrain from lounging with a show of indifference to the doorway, where +I peered through the moon-silvered dusk. As usual, the Indians with +shrill cry flew at the dogs to silence them. The noise seemed to be +annoying my companions and was certainly unnerving me, so I shut the +door and walked back to the fire. + +The howl of dogs and squaws increased. I heard the angry undertone of +men's voices. A hoarse roar broke from the Mandane lodges and rolled +through the village like the sweep of coming hurricane. There was a +fleet rush, a swift pattering of something pursued running round the +rear of our lodge, with a shrieking mob of men and squaws after it. The +dogs were barking furiously and snapping at the heels of the thing, +whatever it was. + +"A hostile!" exclaimed Hamilton, leaping up. + +Hardly knowing what I did, I bounded towards the door and shot forward +the bolt, with a vague fear that blood might be spilled on our +threshold. + +"For shame, man!" cried Father Holland, making to undo the latch. + +But the words had not passed his lips when the parchment flap of the +window lifted. A voice screamed through the opening and in hurtled a +round, nameless, blood-soaked horror, rolling over and over in a red +trail, till it stopped with upturned, dead, glaring eyes and hideous, +gaping mouth, at the very feet of Hamilton. + +It was the scalpless head of La Robe Noire. Our Indian had paid the +price of his own blood-lust and Diable's enmity. + +Before the full enormity of the treachery--messengers murdered and +mutilated, ransom stolen and captives kept--had dawned on me, Father +Holland had broken open the door. He was rushing through the night +screaming for the Mandanes to catch the miscreant Sioux. When I turned +back, not daring to look at that awful object, Hamilton had fallen to +the hut floor in a dead faint. + + * * * * * + +And now may I be spared recalling what occurred on that terrible night! + +Women luxuriate and men traffic in the wealth of the great west, but how +many give one languid thought to the years of bloody deeds by which the +west was won? + + * * * * * + +Before restoring Hamilton, it was necessary to remove that which was +unseemly; also to wash out certain stains on the hearth-stones; and +those things would have tried the courage of more iron-nerved men than +myself. + +I should not have been surprised if Eric had come out of that faint, a +gibbering maniac; but I toiled over him with the courage of blank +hopelessness, pumping his arms up and down, forcing liquor between the +clenched teeth, splashing the cold, clammy face with water, and laving +his forehead. At last he opened his eyes wearily. Like a man ill at ease +with life, moaning, he turned his face to the wall. + +Outside, it was as if the unleashed furies of hell fought to quench +their thirst in human blood. The clamor of those red demons was in my +ears and I was still working over Hamilton, loosening his jacket collar, +under-pillowing his chest, fanning him, and doing everything else I +could think of, to ease his labored breathing, when Father Holland burst +into the lodge, utterly unmanned and sobbing like a child. + +"For the Lord's sake, Rufus," he cried, "for the Lord's sake, come and +help! They're murdering him! They're murdering him! 'Twas I who set them +on him, and I can't stop them! I can't stop them!" + +"Let them murder him!" I returned, unconsciously demonstrating that the +civilized heart differs only in degree from the barbarian. + +"Come, Rufus," he pleaded, "come, for the love of Frances, or your hands +will not be clean. There'll be blood on your hands when you go back to +her. Come, come!" + +Out we rushed through the thronging Mandanes, now riotous with the lust +of blood. A ring of young bucks had been formed round the Sioux to keep +the crowd off. Naked, with arms pinioned, the victim stood motionless +and without fear. + +"Good white father, he no understand," said the Mandanes, jostling the +weeping priest back from the circle of the young men. "Good white +father, he go home!" In spite of protest by word and act they roughly +shoved us to our lodge, the doomed man's death chant ringing in our ears +as they pushed us inside and clashed our door. In vain we had argued +they would incur the vengeance of the Sioux nation. Our voices were +drowned in the shout for blood--for blood! + +The sigh of the wind brought mournful strains of the victim's dirge to +our lodge. I fastened the door, with robes against it to keep the sound +out. Then a smell of burning drifted through the window, and I +stop-gapped that, too, with more robes. + + * * * * * + +That the Sioux would wreak swift vengeance could not be doubted. As soon +as the murderous work was over, guides were with difficulty engaged. +Having fitted up a sort of prop in which I could tie Hamilton to the +saddle, I saw both Father Holland and Eric set out for Red River before +daybreak. + +It was best they should go and I remain. If Miriam were still in the +country, stay I would, till she were safe; but I had no mind to see Eric +go mad or die before the rescue could be accomplished. + +As they were leaving I took a piece of birch bark. On it I wrote with a +charred stick:-- + + "Greetings to my own dear love from her ever loyal and devoted + knight." + +This, Father Holland bore to Frances Sutherland from me. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE PRICE OF BLOOD + + +How many shapeless terrors can spring from the mind of man I never knew +till Eric and the priest left me alone in the Mandane village. Ever, on +closing my eyes, there rolled and rolled past, endlessly, without going +one pace beyond my sight, something too horrible to be contemplated. +When I looked about to assure myself the thing was not there--could not +possibly be there--memory flashed back the whole dreadful scene. Up +started glazed eyes from the hearth, the floor, and every dim nook in +the lodge. Thereupon I would rush into the village road, where the +shamefaced greetings of guilty Indians recalled another horror. + +If I ventured into Le Grand Diable's power a fate worse than La Robe +Noire's awaited me. That there would be a hostile demonstration over the +Sioux messenger's death I was certain. Nothing that I offered could +induce any of the Indians to act as scouts or to reconnoiter the enemy's +encampment. I had, of my own will, chosen to remain, and now I found +myself with tied hands, fuming and gnashing against fate, conjuring up +all sorts of projects for the rescue of Miriam, and butting my head +against the impossible at every turn. Thus three weary days dragged +past. + +Having reflected on the consequences of their outrage, the Mandanes +exhibited repentance of a characteristically human form--resentment +against the cause of their trouble. Unfortunately, I was the cause. From +the black looks of the young men I half suspected, if the Sioux chief +would accept me in lieu of material gifts, I might be presented as a +peace-offering. This would certainly not forward my quest, and prudence, +or cowardice--two things easily confused when one is in peril--counseled +discretion, and discretion seemed to counsel flight. + +"Discretion! Discretion to perdition!" I cried, springing up from a +midnight reverie in my hut. Every selfish argument for my own safety had +passed in review before my mind, and something so akin to judicious +caution, which we trappers in plain language called "cowardice," was +insidiously assailing my better self, I cast logic's sophistries to the +winds, and dared death or torture to drive me from my post. Whence comes +this sublime, reasonless _abandon_ of imperiled human beings, which +casts off fear and caution and prudence and forethought and all that +goes to make success in the common walks of life, and at one blind leap +mounts the Sinai of duty? To me, the impulse upwards is as mysterious as +the impulse downwards, and I do not wonder that pagans ascribe one to +Ormuzd, the other to Ahriman. 'Tis ours to yield or resist, and I +yielded with the vehemence of a passionate nature, vowing in the +darkness of the hut--"Here, before God, I stay!" + +Swift came test of my oath. While the words were yet on my lips, +stealthy steps suddenly glided round the lodge. A shuffling stopped at +the door, while a chilling fear took possession of me lest the mutilated +form of my other Indian should next be hurled through the window. I had +not time to shoot the door-bolt to its catch before a sharp click told +of lifted latch. The hinge creaked, and there, distinct in the +starlight, that smote through the open, stood Little Fellow, himself, +haggard and almost naked. + +"Little Fellow! Good boy!" I shouted, pulling him in. "Where did you +come from? How did you get away? Is it you or your ghost?" + +Down he squatted with a grunt on one of the robes, answering never a +word. The gaunt look of the man declared his needs, so I prepared to +feed him back to speech. This task kept me busy till daybreak, for the +filling capacity of a famishing Indian may not be likened to any other +hungry thing on earth without doing the red man grave injustice. + +"Hoohoo! Hoohoo! But I be sick man to-morrow!" and he rubbed himself +down with a satisfied air of distension, declining to have his plate +reloaded for the tenth time. I noticed the poor wretch's skin was cut to +the bone round wrists and ankles. Chafed bandage marks encircled the +flesh of his neck. + +"What did this, Little Fellow?" and I pointed to the scars. + +A grim look of Indian gratitude for my interest came into the stolid +face. + +"Bad Indians," was the terse response. + +"Did they torture you?" + +He grunted a ferocious negative. + +"You got away too quick for them?" + +An affirmative grunt. + +"Le Grand Diable--did you see him?" + +At that name, his white teeth snapped shut, and from the depths of the +Indian's throat came the vicious snarl of an enraged wolf. + +"Come," I coaxed, "tell me. How long since you left the Sioux?" + +"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one sleep," and rising, he enacted a hobbling +gait across the cabin in unison with the rhythmic utterance of his +words. + +"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one." + +"Traveled at night!" I interrupted. "Two nights! You couldn't do it in +two nights!" + +"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one sleep," he repeated. + +"Three nights!" + +Four times he hobbled across the floor, which meant he had come afoot +the whole distance, traveling only at night. + +Sitting down, he began in a low monotone relating how he had returned to +La Robe Noire with the additional ransom demanded by Le Grand Diable. +The "pig Sioux, more gluttonous than the wolverine, more treacherous +than the mountain cat," had come out to receive them with hootings. The +plunder was taken, "as a dead enemy is picked by carrion buzzards." He, +himself, was dragged from his horse and bound like a slave squaw. La +Robe Noire had been stripped naked, and young men began piercing his +chest with lances, shouting, "Take that, man who would scalp the +Iroquois! Take that, enemy to the Sioux! Take that, dog that's friend to +the white man!" Then had La Robe Noire, whose hands were bound, sprung +upon his torturers and as the trapped badger snaps the hand of the +hunter so had he buried his teeth in the face of a boasting Sioux. + +Here, Little Fellow's teeth clenched shut in savage imitation. Then was +Le Grand Diable's knife unsheathed. More, my messenger could not see; +for a Sioux bandaged his eyes. Another tied a rope round his neck. Thus, +like a dead stag, was he pulled over the ground to a wigwam. Here he lay +for many "sleeps," knowing not when the great sun rose and when he sank. +Once, the lodges became very still, like many waters, when the wind +slumbers and only the little waves lap. Then came one with the soft, +small fingers of a white woman and gently, scarcely touching him, as the +spirits rustle through the forest of a dark night, had these hands cut +the rope around his neck, and unbound him. A whisper in the English +tongue, "Go--run--for your life! Hide by day! Run at night!" + +The skin of the tent wall was lifted by the same hands. He rolled out. +He tore the blind from his eyes. It was dark. The spirits had quenched +their star torches. No souls of dead warriors danced on the fire plain +of the northern sky! The father of winds let loose a blast to drown all +sound and help good Indian against the pig Sioux! He ran like a hare. He +leaped like a deer. He came as the arrows from the bow of the great +hunter. Thus had he escaped from the Sioux! + +Little Fellow ceased speaking, wrapped himself in robes and fell asleep. + +I could not doubt whose were the liberator's hands, and I marveled that +she had not come with him. Had she known of our efforts at all? It +seemed unlikely. Else, with the liberty she had, to come to Little +Fellow, surely she would have tried to escape. On the other hand, her +immunity from torture might depend on never attempting to regain +freedom. + +Now I knew what to expect if I were captured by the Sioux. Yet, given +another stormy night, if Little Fellow and I were near the Sioux with +fleet horses, could not Miriam be rescued in the same way he had +escaped? Until Little Fellow had eaten and slept back to his normal +condition of courage, it would be useless to propose such a hazardous +plan. Indeed, I decided to send him to some point on the northern trail, +where I could join him and go alone to the Sioux camp. This would be +better than sitting still to be given as a hostage to the Sioux. If the +worst happened and I were captured, had I the courage to endure Indian +tortures? A man endures what he must endure, whether he will, or not; +and I certainly had not courage to leave the country without one blow +for Miriam's freedom. + +With these thoughts, I gathered my belongings in preparation for secret +departure from the Mandanes that night. Then I prepared breakfast, saw +Little Fellow lie back in a dead sleep, and strolled out among the +lodges. + +Four days had passed without the coming of the avengers. The villagers +were disposed to forget their guilt and treat me less sulkily. As I +sauntered towards the north hill, pleasant words greeted me from the +lodges. + +"Be not afraid, my son," exhorted Chief Black Cat. "Lend a deaf ear to +bad talk! No harm shall befall the white man! Be not afraid!" + +"Afraid!" I flouted back. "Who's afraid, Black Cat? Only white-livered +cowards fear the Sioux! Surely no Mandane brave fears the Sioux--ugh! +The cowardly Sioux!" + +My vaunting pleased the old chief mightily; for the Indian is nothing if +not a boaster. At once Black Cat would have broken out in loud tirade on +his friendship for me and contempt for the Sioux, but I cut him short +and moved towards the hill, that overlooked the enemy's territory. A +great cloud of dust whirled up from the northern horizon. + +"A tornado the next thing!" I exclaimed with disgust. "The fates are +against me! A fig for my plans!" + +I stooped. With ear to the ground I could hear a rumbling clatter as of +a buffalo stampede. + +"What is it, my son?" asked the voice of the chief, and I saw that Black +Cat had followed me to the hill. + +"Are those buffalo, Black Cat?" and I pointed to the north. + +As he peered forward, distinguishing clearly what my civilized eyes +could not see, his face darkened. + +"The Sioux!" he muttered with a black look at me. Turning, he would have +hurried away without further protests of friendship, but I kept pace +with him. + +"Pooh!" said I, with a lofty contempt, which I was far from feeling. +"Pooh! Black Cat! Who's afraid of the Sioux? Let the women run from the +Sioux!" + +He gave me a sidelong glance to penetrate my sincerity and slackened his +flight to the proud gait of a fearless Indian. All the same, alarm was +spread among the lodges, and every woman and child of the Mandanes were +hidden behind barricaded doors. The men mounted quickly and rode out to +gain the vantage ground of the north hill before the enemy's arrival. + +Another cross current to my purposes! Fool that I was, to have +dilly-dallied three whole days away like a helpless old squaw wringing +her hands, when I should have dared everything and ridden to Miriam's +rescue! Now, if I had been near the Sioux encampment, when all the +warriors were away, how easily could I have liberated Miriam and her +child! + + * * * * * + +Always, it is the course we have not followed, which would have led on +to the success we have failed to grasp in our chosen path. So we salve +wounded mistrust of self and still, in spite of manifest proof to the +contrary, retain a magnificent conceit. + +I cursed my blunders with a vehemence usually reserved for other men's +errors, and at once decided to make the best of the present, letting +past and future each take care of itself, a course which will save a man +gray hairs over to-morrow and give him a well-provisioned to-day. + +Arming myself, I resolved to be among the bargain-makers of the Mandanes +rather than be bargained by the Sioux. Wakening Little Fellow, I told +him my plan and ordered him to slip away north while the two tribes were +parleying and to await me a day's march from the Sioux camp. He told me +of a wooded valley, where he could rest with his horses concealed, and +after seeing him off, I rode straight for the band of assembled Mandanes +and surprised them beyond all measure by taking a place in the forefront +of Black Cat's special guard. The Sioux warriors swept towards us in a +tornado. Ascending the slope at a gallop, whooping and beating their +drums, they charged past us, and down at full speed through the village, +displaying a thousand dexterities of horsemanship and prowess to strike +terror to the Mandanes. Then they dashed back and reined up on the +hillside beneath our forces. The men were naked to the waist and their +faces were blackened. Porcupine quills, beavers' claws, hooked bones, +and bears' claws stained red hung round their necks in ringlets, or +adorned gorgeous belts. Feathered crests and broad-shielded mats of +willow switches, on the left arm, completed their war dress. The leaders +had their buckskin leggings strung from hip to ankle with small bells, +and carried firearms, as well as arrows and stone lances; but the +majority had only Indian weapons. In that respect--though we were not +one third their number--we had the advantage. All the Mandanes carried +firearms; but I do not believe there was enough ammunition to average +five rounds a man. Luckily, this was unknown to the Sioux. I scanned +every face. Diable was not there. + +Scarcely were the ranks in position, when both Sioux and Mandane chiefs +rode forward, and there opened such a harangue as I have never heard +since, and hope I never may. + +"Our young man has been killed," lamented the Sioux. "He was a good +warrior. His friends sorrow. Our hearts are no longer glad. Till now our +hands have been white, and our hearts clean. But the young man has been +slain and we are grieved. Of the scalps of the enemy, he brought many. +We hang our heads. The pipe of peace has not been in our council. The +whites are our enemies. Now, the young man is dead. Tell us if we are +to be friends or enemies. We have no fear. We are many and strong. Our +bows are good. Our arrows are pointed with flint and our lances with +stone. Our shot-pouches are not light. But we love peace. Tell us, what +doth the Mandane offer for the blood of the young man? Is it to be peace +or war? Shall we be friends or enemies? Do you raise the tomahawk, or +pipe of peace? Say, great chief of the Mandanes, what is thy answer?" + +This and more did the Sioux chief vauntingly declaim, brandishing his +war club and addressing the four points of the compass, also the sun, as +he shouted out his defiance. To which Black Cat, in louder voice, made +reply. + +"Say, great chief of the Sioux, our dead was brought into the camp. The +body was yet warm. It was thrown at our feet. Never before did it enter +the heart of a Missouri to seek the blood of a Sioux! Our messengers +went to your camp smoking the sacred calumet of peace. They were sons of +the Mandanes. They were friends of the white men. The white man is like +magic. He comes from afar. He knows much. He has given guns to our +warriors. His shot bags are full and his guns many. But his men, ye +slew. We are for peace, but if ye are for war, we warn you to leave our +camp before the warriors hidden where ye see them not, break forth. We +cannot answer for the white man's magic," and I heard my power over +darkness and light, life and death, magnified in a way to terrify my own +dreams; but Black Cat cunningly wound up his bold declamation by asking +what the Sioux chief would have of the white man for the death of the +messenger. + +A clamor of voices arose from the warriors, each claiming some +relationship and attributing extravagant virtues to the dead Sioux. + +"I am the afflicted father of the youth ye killed," called an old +warrior, putting in prior claim for any forthcoming compensation and +enhancing its value by adding, "and he had many feathers in his cap." + +"He, who was killed, I desired for a nephew," shouted another, "and an +ivory wand he carried in his hand." + +"He who was killed was my brother," cried a third, "and he had a new gun +and much powder." + +"He was braver than the buffalo," declared another. + +"He had three wounds!" "He had scars!" "He wore many scalps!" came the +voices of others. + +"Many bells and beads were on his leggings!" + +"He had garnished moccasins!" + +"He slew a bear with his own hands!" + +"His knife had a handle of ivory!" + +"His arrows had barbs of beavers' claws!" + +If the noisy claimants kept on, they would presently make the dead man a +god. I begged Black Cat to cut the parley short and demand exactly what +gift would compensate the Sioux for the loss of so great a warrior. +After another half-hour's jangling, in which I took an animated part, +beating down their exorbitant request for two hundred guns with beads +and bells enough to outfit the whole Sioux tribe, we came to terms. +Indeed, the grasping rascals well-nigh cleared out all that was left of +my trading stock; but when I saw they had no intention of fighting, I +held back at the last and demanded the surrender of Le Grand Diable, +Miriam and the child in compensation for La Robe Noire. + +Then, they swore by everything, from the sun and the moon to the cow in +the meadow, that they were not responsible for the doings of Le Grand +Diable, who was an Iroquois. Moreover, they vowed he had hurriedly taken +his departure for the north four days before, carrying with him the +Sioux wife, the strange woman and the white child. As I had no object in +arousing their resentment, I heard their words without voicing my own +suspicions and giving over the booty, whiffed pipes with them. But I had +no intention of being tricked by the rascally Sioux, and while they and +the Mandanes celebrated the peace treaty, I saddled my horse and spurred +off for their encampment, glad to see the last of a region where I had +suffered much and gained nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +LAPLANTE AND I RENEW ACQUAINTANCE + + +The warriors had spoken truth to the Mandanes. Le Grand Diable was not +in the Sioux lodges. I had been at the encampment for almost a week, +daily expecting the warriors' return, before I could persuade the people +to grant me the right of search through the wigwams. In the end, I +succeeded only through artifice. Indeed, I was becoming too proficient +in craft for the maintenance of self-respect. A child--I explained to +the surly old men who barred my way--had been confused with the Sioux +slaves. If it were among their lodges, I was willing to pay well for its +redemption. The old squaws, eying me distrustfully, averred I had come +to steal one of their naked brats, who swarmed on my tracks with as +tantalizing persistence as the vicious dogs. The jealous mothers would +not hear of my searching the tents. Then I was compelled to make friends +with the bevies of young squaws, who ogle newcomers to the Indian camps. +Presently, I gained the run of all the lodges. Indeed, I needed not a +little diplomacy to keep from being adopted as son-in-law by one +pertinacious old fellow--a kind of embarrassment not wholly confined to +trappers in the wilds. But not a trace of Diable and his captives did I +find. + +I had hobbled my horses--a string of six--in a valley some distance from +the camp and directly on the trail, where Little Fellow was awaiting me. +Returning from a look at their condition one evening, I heard a band of +hunters had come from the Upper Missouri. I was sitting with a group of +men squatted before my fatherly Indian's lodge, when somebody walked up +behind us and gave a long, low whistle. + +"Mon Dieu! Mine frien', the enemy! Sacredie! 'Tis he! Thou cock-brained +idiot! Ho--ho! Alone among the Sioux!" came the astonished, +half-breathless exclamation of Louis Laplante, mixing his English and +French as he was wont, when off guard. + +Need I say the voice brought me to my feet at one leap? Well I +remembered how I had left him lying with a snarl between his teeth in +the doorway of Fort Douglas! Now was his chance to score off that +grudge! I should not have been surprised if he had paid me with a stab +in the back. + +"What for--come you--here?" he slowly demanded, facing me with a +revengeful gleam in his eyes. His English was still mixed. There was +none of the usual light and airy impudence of his manner. + +"You know very well, Louis," I returned without quailing. "Who should +know better than you? For the sake of the old days, Louis, help to undo +the wrong you allowed? Help me and before Heaven you shall command your +own price. Set her free! Afterwards torture me to the death and take +your full pleasure!" + +"I'll have it, anyway," retorted Louis with a hard, dry, mirthless +laugh. "Know they--what for--you come?" He pointed to the Indians, who +understood not a word of our talk; and we walked a pace off from the +lodges. + +"No! I'm not always a fool, Louis," said I, "though you cheated me in +the gorge!" + +"See those stones?" There was a pile of rock on the edge of the ravine. + +"I do. What of them?" + +"All of your Indian--left after the dogs--it lie there!" His eye +questioned mine; but there was not a vestige of fear in me towards that +boaster. This, I set down not vauntingly, but fully realizing what I owe +to Heaven. + +"Poor fellow," said I. "That was cruel work." + +"Your other man--he fool them----" + +"All the better," I interrupted. + +"They not be cheated once more again! No--no--mine frien'! To come here, +alone! Ha--ha! Stupid Anglo-Saxon ox!" + +"Don't waste your breath, Louis," I quietly remarked. "Your names have +no more terror for me now than at Laval! However big a knave you are, +Louis, you're not a fool. Why don't you make something out of this? I +can reward you. Hold _me_, if you like! Scalp me and skin me and put me +under a stone-pile for revenge! Will it make your revenge any sweeter +to torture a helpless, white woman?" + +Louis winced. 'Twas the first sign of goodness I had seen in the knave, +and I credited it wholly to his French ancestors. + +"I never torture white woman," he vehemently declared, with a sudden +flare-up of his proud temper. "The son of a seigneur----" + +"The son of a seigneur," I broke in, "let an innocent woman go into +captivity by lying to me!" + +"Don't harp on that!" said Louis with a scornful laugh--a laugh that is +ever the refuge of the cornered liar. "You pay me back by stealing +despatches." + +"Don't harp on that, Louis!" and I returned his insolence in full +measure. "I didn't steal your despatches, though I know the thief. And +you paid me back by almost trapping me at Fort Douglas." + +"But I didn't succeed," exclaimed Laplante. "Mon Dieu! If I had only +known you were a spy!" + +"I wasn't. I came to see Hamilton." + +"And you pay me back as if I had succeed," continued Louis, "by kicking +me--me--the son of a seigneur--kicking me in the stomach like a pig, +which is no fit treatment for a gentleman!" + +"And you paid me back by sticking your knife in my boot----" + +"And didn't succeed," broke in Louis regretfully. + +At that, we both laughed in spite of ourselves, laughed as comrades. +And the laugh brought back memories of old Laval days, when we used to +thrash each other in the schoolyard, but always united in defensive +league, when we were disciplined inside the class-room. + +"See here, old crony," I cried, taking quick advantage of his sudden +softening and again playing suppliant to my adversary. "I own up! You +owe me two scores, one for the despatches I saw taken from you, one for +knocking you down in Fort Douglas; for your knife broke and did not cut +me a whit. Pay those scores with compound interest, if you like, the way +you used to pummel me black and blue at Laval; but help me now as we +used to help each other out of scrapes at school! Afterwards, do as you +wish! I give you full leave. As the son of a seigneur, as a gentleman, +Louis, help me to free the woman!" + +"Pah!" cried Louis with mingled contempt and surrender. "I not punish +you here with two thousand against one! Louis Laplante is a +gentleman--even to his enemy!" + +"Bravo, comrade!" I shouted out, full of gratitude, and I thrust forward +my hand. + +"No--no--thanks much," and Laplante drew himself up proudly, "not till I +pay you well, richly,--generous always to mine enemy!" + +"Very good! Pay when and where you will." + +"Pay how I like," snapped Louis. + +With that strange contract, his embarrassment seemed to vanish and his +English came back fluently. + +"You'd better leave before the warriors return," he said. "They come +home to-morrow!" + +"Is Diable among them?" + +"No." + +"Is Diable here?" + +"No." His face clouded as I questioned. + +"Do you know where he is?" + +"No." + +"Will he be back?" + +"Dammie! How do I know? He will if he wants to! I don't tell tales on a +man who saved my life." + +His answer set me to wondering if Diable had seen me hold back the +trader's murderous hand, when Louis lay drunk, and if the Frenchman's +knowledge of that incident explained his strange generosity now. + +"I'll stay here in spite of all the Sioux warriors on earth, till I find +out about that knave of an Indian and his captives," I vowed. + +Louis looked at me queerly and gave another whistle. + +"You always were a pig-head," said he. "I can keep them from harming +you; but remember, I pay you back in your own coin. And look out for the +daughter of L'Aigle, curse her! She is the only thing I ever fear! Keep +you in my tent! If Le Grand Diable see you----" and Louis touched his +knife-handle significantly. + +"Then Diable _is_ here!" + +"I not say so," but he flushed at the slip of his tongue and moved +quickly towards what appeared to be his quarters. + +"He is coming?" I questioned, suspicious of Louis' veracity. + +"Dolt!" said Louis. "Why else do I hide you in my tent? But remember I +pay you back in your own coin afterwards! Ha! There they come!" + +A shout of returning hunters arose from the ravine, at which Louis +bounded for the tent on a run, dashing inside breathlessly, I following +close behind. + +"Stay you here, inside, mind! Mon Dieu! If you but show your face; 'tis +two white men under one stone-pile! Louis Laplante is a fool--dammie--a +fool--to help you, his enemy, or any other man at his own risk." + +With these enigmatical words, the Frenchman hurried out, fastening the +tent flap after him and leaving me to reflect on the wild impulses of +his wayward nature. Was his strange, unwilling generosity the result of +animosity to the big squaw, who seemed to exercise some subtle and +commanding influence over him; or of gratitude to me? Was the noble +blood that coursed in his veins, directing him in spite of his +degenerate tendencies; or had the man's heart been touched by the sight +of a white woman's suffering? If his alarm at the sound of returning +hunters had not been so palpably genuine--for he turned pale to the +lips--I might have suspected treachery. But there was no mistaking the +motive of fear that hurried him to the tent; and with Le Grand Diable +among the hunters, Louis might well fear to be seen in my company. There +was a hubbub of trappers returning to the lodges. I heard horses turned +free and tent-poles clattering to the ground; but Laplante did not come +back till it was late and the Indians had separated for the night. + +"I can take you to her!" he whispered, his voice thrilling with +suppressed emotion. "Le Grand Diable and the squaw have gone to the +valley to set snares! And when I whistle, come out quickly! Mon Dieu! If +you're caught, both our scalps go! Dammie! Louis is a fool. I take you +to her; but I pay you back all the same!" + +"To whom?" The question throbbed with a rush to my lips. + +"Stupid dolt!" snarled Louis. "Follow me! Keep your ears open for my +whistle--one--they return--two--come you out of the tent--three, we are +caught, save yourself!" + +I followed the Frenchman in silence. It was a hazy summer night with +just enough light from the sickle moon for us to pick our way past the +lodges to a large newly-erected wigwam with a small white tent behind. + +"This way," whispered Louis, leading through the first to an opening +hidden by a hanging robe. Raising the skin, he shoved me forward and +hastened out to keep guard. + +The figure of a woman with a child in her arms was silhouetted against +the white tent wall. She was sitting on some robes, crooning in a low +voice to the child, and was unaware of my presence. + +"And was my little Eric at the hunt, and did he shoot an arrow all by +himself?" she asked, fondling the face that snuggled against her +shoulder. + +The boy gurgled back a low, happy laugh and lisped some childish reply, +which only a mother could translate. + +"And he will grow big, big and be a great warrior and fight--fight for +his poor mother," she whispered, lowering her voice and caressing the +child's curls. + +The little fellow sat up of a sudden facing his mother and struck out +squarely with both fists, not uttering a word. + +"My brave, brave little Eric! My only one, all that God has left to me!" +she sobbed hiding her weeping face on the child's neck. "O my God, let +me but keep my little one! Thou hast given him to me and I have +treasured him as a jewel from Thine own crown! O my God, let me but keep +my darling, keep him as Thy gift--and--and--O my God!--Thy--Thy--Thy +will be done!" + +The words broke in a moan and the child began to cry. + +"Hush, dearie! The birds never cry, nor the beavers, nor the great, bold +eagle! My own little warrior must never cry! All the birds and the +beasts and the warriors are asleep! What does Eric say before he goes to +sleep?" + +A pair of chubby arms were flung about her neck and passionate, childish +kisses pressed her forehead and her cheeks and her lips. Then he slipped +to his knees and put his face in her lap. + +"God bless my papa--and keep my mamma--and make little Eric brave and +good--for Jesus' sake----" the child hesitated. + +"Amen," prompted the gentle voice of the mother. + +"And keep little Eric for my mamma so she won't cry," added the child, +"for Jesus' sake--Amen," and he scrambled to his feet. + +A low, piercing whistle cut the night air like the flight of an +arrow-shaft. It was Louis Laplante's signal that Diable and the squaw +were coming back. At the sound, mother and child started up in alarm. +Then they saw me standing in the open way. A gasp of fright came from +the white woman's lips. I could tell from her voice that she was all +a-tremble, and the little one began to whimper in a smothered, +suppressed way. + +I whispered one word--"Miriam!" + +With a faint cry of anguish, she leaped forward. "Is it you, Eric? O +Eric! is it you?" she asked. + +"No--no, Miriam, not Eric, but Eric's friend, Rufus Gillespie." + +She tottered as if I had struck her. I caught her in my arms and helped +her to the couch of robes. + +Then I took up my station facing the tent entrance; for I realized the +significance of Laplante's warning. + +"We have hunted for more than a year for you," I whispered, bending over +her, "but the Sioux murdered our messenger and the other you yourself +let out of the tent!" + +"That--your messenger for me?" she asked in sheer amazement, proving +what I had suspected, that she was kept in ignorance of our efforts. + +"I have been here for a week, searching the lodges. My horses are in the +valley, and we must dare all in one attempt." + +"I have given my word I will not try," she hastily interrupted, +beginning to pluck at her red shawl in the frenzied way of delirious +fever patients. "If we are caught, they will torture us, torture the +child before my eyes. They treat him well now and leave me alone as long +as I do not try to break away. What can you, one man, do against two +thousand Sioux?" and she began to weep, choking back the anguished sobs, +that shook her slender frame, and picking feverishly at the red shawl +fringe. + +To look at that agonized face would have been sacrilege, and in a +helpless, nonplussed way, I kept gazing at the painful workings of the +thin, frail fingers. That plucking of the wasted, trembling hands haunts +me to this day; and never do I see the fingers of a nervous, sensitive +woman working in that delirious, aimless fashion but it sets me +wondering to what painful treatment from a brutalized nature she has +been subjected, that her hands take on the tricks of one in the last +stages of disease. It may be only the fancy of an old trader; but I dare +avow, if any sympathetic observer takes note of this simple trick of +nervous fingers, it will raise the veil on more domestic tragedies and +heart-burnings than any father-confessor hears in a year. + +"Miriam," said I, in answer to her timid protest, "Eric has risked his +life seeking you. Won't you try all for Eric's sake? There'll be little +risk! We'll wait for a dark, boisterous, stormy night, and you will roll +out of your tent the way you thrust my Indian out. I'll have my horses +ready. I'll creep up behind and whisper through the tent." + +"Where _is_ Eric?" she asked, beginning to waver. + +Two shrill, sharp whistles came from Louis Laplante, commanding me to +come out of the tent. + +"That's my signal! I must go. Quick, Miriam, will you try?" + +"I will do what you wish," she answered, so low, I had to kneel to catch +the words. + +"A stormy night our signal, then," I cried. + +Three, sharp, terrified whistles, signifying, "We are caught, save +yourself," came from Laplante, and I flung myself on the ground behind +Miriam. + +"Spread out your arms, Miriam! Quick!" I urged. "Talk to the boy, or +we're trapped." + +With her shawl spread out full and her elbows sticking akimbo, she +caught the lad in her arms and began dandling him to right, and left, +humming some nursery ditty. At the same moment there loomed in the tent +entrance the great, statuesque figure of the Sioux squaw, whom I had +seen in the gorge. I kicked my feet under the canvas wall, while +Miriam's swaying shawl completely concealed me from the Sioux woman and +thus I crawled out backwards. Then I lay outside the tent and listened, +listened with my hand on my pistol, for what might not that monster of +fury attempt with the tender, white woman? + +"There were words in the tepee," declared the angry tones of the Indian +woman. "The pale face was talking! Where is the messenger from the +Mandanes?" + +At that, the little child set up a bitter crying. + +"Cry not, my little warrior! Hush, dearie! 'Twas only a hunter +whistling, or the night hawk, or the raccoon! Hush, little Eric! +Warriors never cry! Hush! Hush! Or the great bear will laugh at you and +tell his cubs he's found a coward!" crooned Miriam, making as though she +neither heard, nor saw the squaw; but Eric opened his mouth and roared +lustily. And the little lad unconsciously foiled the squaw; for she +presently took herself off, evidently thinking the voices had been those +of mother and son. + +I skirted cautiously around the rear of the lodges to avoid encountering +Diable, or his squaw. The form of a man hulked against me in the dark. +'Twas Louis. + +"Mon Dieu, Gillespie, I thought one scalp was gone," he gasped. + +"What are you here for? You don't want to be seen with me," I protested, +grateful and alarmed for his foolhardiness in coming to meet me. + +"Sacredie! The dogs! They make pretty music at your shins without me," +and Louis struck boldly across the open for his tent. "Fool to stay so +long!" he muttered. "I no more ever help you once again! Mon Dieu! No! I +no promise my scalp too! They found your horses in the valley! They--how +you say it?--think for some Mandane is here and fear. They rode back +fast on your horses. 'Twas why I whistle for, twice so quick! They ride +north in the morning. I go too, with the devil and his wife! I be gone +to the devil this many a while! But I must go, or they suspect and knife +me. That vampire! Ha! she would drink my gore! I no more have nothing to +do with you. Before morning, you must do your own do alone! Sacredie! Do +not forget, I pay you back yet!" + +So he rattled on, ever keeping between me and the lodges. By his +confused words, I knew he was in great trepidation. + +"Why, there are my horses!" I exclaimed, seeing all six standing before +Diable's lodge. + +"You do your do before morning! Take one of my saddles!" said Louis. + +Sure enough, all my saddles were piled before the Iroquois' wigwam; and +there stood my enemy and the Sioux squaw, talking loudly, pointing to +the horses and gesticulating with violence. + +"Mon Dieu! Prenez garde! Get you in!" muttered Louis. We were at his +tent door, and I was looking back at my horses. "If they see you, all is +lost," he warned. + +And the warning came just in time. With that animal instinct of +nearness, which is neither sight, nor smell, my favorite broncho put +forward his ears and whinnied sharply. Both Diable and the squaw noted +the act and turned; but Louis had knocked me forward face down into the +tent. + +With an oath, he threw himself on his couch. "Take my saddle," he said. +"I steal another. Do your do before morning. I no more have nothing to +do with you, till I pay you back all the same!" + +And he was presently fast asleep, or pretending to be. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WHEREIN LOUIS INTRIGUES + + +Next morning Le Grand Diable would set out for the north. This night, +then, was my last chance to rescue Miriam. "Do your do before morning!" +How Laplante's words echoed in my ears! I had told Miriam a stormy night +was to be the signal for our attempt; and now the rising moon was +dispelling any vague haziness that might have helped to conceal us. In +an hour, the whole camp would be bright as day in clear, silver light. +Presently, the clatter of the lodges ceased. Only an occasional snarl +from the dogs, or the angry squeals of my bronchos kicking the Indian +ponies, broke the utter stillness. There was not even a wind to drown +foot-treads, and every lodge of the camp was reflected across the ground +in elongated shadows as distinct as a crayon figure on white paper. What +if some watchful Indian should discover our moving shadows? La Robe +Noire's fate flashed back and I shuddered. + +Flinging up impatiently from the robes, I looked from the tent way. Some +dog of the pack gave the short, sharp bark of a fox. Then, but for the +crunching of my horses over the turf some yards away, there was +silence. I could hear the heavy breathing of people in near-by lodges. +Up from the wooded valley came the far-off purr of a stream over stony +bottom and the low washing sound only accentuated the stillness. The +shrill cry of some lonely night-bird stabbed the atmosphere with a throb +of pain. Again the dog snapped out a bark and again there was utter +quiet. + +"One chance in a thousand," said I to myself, "only one in a thousand; +but I'll take it!" And I stepped from the tent. This time the wakeful +dog let out a mouthful of quick barkings. Jerking off my boots--I had +not yet taken to the native custom of moccasins--I dodged across the +roadway into the exaggerated shadow of some Indian camp truckery. Here I +fell flat to the ground so that no reflection should betray my +movements. Then I remembered I had forgotten Louis Laplante's saddle. +Rising, I dived back to the tepee for it and waited for the dogs to +quiet before coming out again. That alert canine had set up a duet with +a neighboring brute of like restless instincts and the two seemed to +promise an endless chorus. As I live, I could have sworn that Louis +Laplante laughed in his sleep at my dilemma; but Louis was of the sort +to laugh in the face of death itself. A man flew from a lodge and +dealing out stout blows quickly silenced the vicious curs; but I had to +let time lapse for the man to go to sleep before I could venture out. + +Once more, chirp of cricket, croak of frog and the rush of waters +through the valley were the only sounds, and I darted across to the camp +shadow. Lying flat, I began to crawl cautiously and laboriously towards +my horses. One gave a startled snort as I approached and this set the +dogs going again. I lay motionless in the grass till all was quiet and +then crept gently round to the far side of my favorite horse and caught +his halter strap lest he should whinny, or start away. I drew erect +directly opposite his shoulders, so that I could not be seen from the +lodges and unhobbling his feet, led him into the concealment of a group +of ponies and had the saddle on in a trice. To get the horse to the rear +of Miriam's tent was no easy matter. I paced my steps so deftly with the +broncho's and let him munch grass so often, the most watchful Indian +could not have detected a man on the far side of the horse, directing +every move. Behind the Sioux lodge, the earth sloped abruptly away, bare +and precipitous; and I left the horse below and clambered up the steep +to the white wall of Miriam's tent. Once the dogs threatened to create a +disturbance, but a man quieted them, and with gratitude I recognized the +voice of Laplante. + +Three times I tapped on the canvas but there was no response. I put my +arm under the tent and rapped on the ground. Why did she not signal? Was +the Sioux squaw from the other lodge listening? I could hear nothing but +the tossings of the child. + +"Miriam," I called, shoving my arm forward and feeling out blindly. + +Thereupon, a woman's hand grasped mine and thrust it out, while a voice +so low it might have been the night breeze, came to my ear--"We are +watched." + +Watched? What did it matter if we were? Had I not dared all? Must not +she do the same? This was the last chance. We must not be foiled. My +horse, I knew, could outrace any cayuse of the Sioux band. + +"Miriam," I whispered back, lifting the canvas, "they will take you away +to-morrow--my horse is here! Come! We must risk all!" + +And I shoved myself bodily in under the tent wall. She was not a hand's +length away, sitting with her face to the entrance of Diable's lodge, +her figure rigid and tense with fear. In the half light I could discern +the great, powerful, angular form of a giantess in the opening. 'Twas +the Sioux squaw. Miriam leaned forward to cover the child with a motion +intended to conceal me, and I drew quickly out. + +I thought I had not been detected; but the situation was perilous +enough, in all conscience, to inspire caution, and I was backing away, +when suddenly the shadows of two men coming from opposite sides appeared +on the white tent, and something sprang upon me with tigerish fury. +There was the swish of an unsheathing blade, and I felt rather than saw +Le Grand Diable and Louis Laplante contesting over me. + +"Never! He's mine, my captive! He stole my saddle! He's mine, I tell +you," ground out the Frenchman, throwing off my assailant. "Keep him for +the warriors and let him be tortured," urged Louis, snatching at the +Indian's arm. + +I sprang up. It was Louis, who tripped my feet from under me, and we two +tumbled to the bottom of the cliff, while the Indian stood above +snarling out something in the Sioux tongue. + +"Idiot! Anglo-Saxon ox!" muttered Louis, grappling with me as we fell. +"Do but act it out, or two scalps go! I no promise mine when I say I +help you, bah----" + +That was the last I recall; for I went down head backwards, and the blow +knocked me senseless. + +When I came to, with an aching neck and a humming in my ears, there was +the gray light of a waning moon, and I found myself lying bound in +Miriam's tent. Her child was whimpering timidly and she was hurriedly +gathering her belongings into a small bundle. + +"Miriam, what has happened?" I asked. Then the whole struggle and +failure came back to me with an overwhelming realization that torture +and death would be our portion. + +"Try no more," she whispered, brushing past me and making as though she +were gathering things where I lay. "Never try, for my sake, never try! +They will torture you. I shall die soon. Only save the child! For +myself, I am past caring. Good-by forever!" and she dashed to the other +side of the tent. + +At that, with a deal of noisy mirth, in burst Laplante and the Sioux +squaw. + +"Ho-ho! My knight-errant has opened his eyes! Great sport for the +braves, say I! Fine mouse-play for the cat, ho-ho!" and Louis looked +down at me with laughing insolence, that sent a chill through my veins. +'Twas to save his own scalp the rascal was acting and would have me act +too; but I had no wish to betray him. Striking at her captives and +rudely ordering them out, the Sioux led the way and left Louis to bring +up the rear. + +"Leave this, lady," said Louis with an air that might have been +impudence or gallantry; and he grabbed the bundle from Miriam's hand and +threw it over his shoulder at me. This was greeted with a roar of +laughter from the Sioux woman and one look of unspeakable reproach from +Miriam. Whistling gaily and turning back to wink at me, the Frenchman +disappeared in Diable's lodge. For my part, I was puzzled. Did Louis act +from the love of acting and trickery and intrigue? Was he befooling the +daughter of L'Aigle, or me? + +They tore down Diable's tepee, stringing the poles on the bronchos +stolen from me and leaving Miriam's white tent with the Sioux. I saw +them mount with my horses to the fore, and they set out at a sharp trot. +From the hoof-beats, I should judge they had not gone many paces, when +one rider seemed to turn back, and Louis ran into the tent where I lay. +I did not utter one word of pleading; but as he stooped for Miriam's +bundle, he whisked out a jack-knife and my heart bounded with a great +hope. I suppose, involuntarily, I must have lifted my arms to have the +bonds severed; for Laplante shook his head. + +"No--mine frien'--not now--I not scalp Louis Laplante for your +sake,--no, never. Use your teeth--so!" said he, laying the blade of the +knife in his own teeth to show me how; and he slipped the thing into +hiding under my armpits. "The warriors--they come back to-day," he +warned. "You wait till we are far, then cut quick, or they do worse to +you than to La Robe Noire! I leave one horse for you in the valley +beyond the beaver-dam. Tra-la, comrade, but not forget you. I pay you +back yet all the same," and with a whistle, he had vanished. + +I hung upon the Frenchman's words as a drowning sailor to a life-line, +and heard the hoof-beats grow fainter and fainter in the distance, +hardly daring to realize the fearful peril in which I lay. By the light +at the tent opening, I knew it was daybreak. Already the Sioux were +stirring in their lodges and naked urchins came to the entrance to hoot +and pelt mud. Somehow, I got into sitting posture, with my head bowed +forward on my arms, so I could use the knife without being seen. At +that, the impertinent brats became bolder and swarming into the tent +began poking sticks. I held my arm closer to my side, and felt the hard +steel's pressure with a pleasure not to be marred by that tantalizing +horde. There seemed to be a gathering hubbub outside. Indians, squaws +and children were rushing in the direction of the trail to the Mandanes. +The children in my tent forgot me and dashed out with the rest. I could +not doubt the cause of the clamor. This was the morning of the warriors' +return; and getting the knife in my teeth, I began filing furiously at +the ropes about my wrists. Man is not a rodent; but under stress of +necessity and with instruments of his own designing, he can do something +to remedy his human helplessness. To the din of clamoring voices outside +were added the shouts of approaching warriors, the galloping of a +multitude of horses and the whining yells of countless dogs. + +While all the Sioux were on the outskirts of the encampment, I might yet +escape unobserved, but the returning braves were very near. Putting all +my strength in my wrists, I burst the half-cut bonds; and the rest was +easy. A slash of the knife and my feet were free and I had rolled down +the cliff and was running with breathless haste over fallen logs, under +leafy coverts, across noisy creeks, through the wooded valley to the +beaver dam. How long, or how far, I ran in this desperate, heedless +fashion, I do not know. The branches, that reached out like the bands of +pursuers, caught and ripped my clothing to shreds. I had been bootless, +when I started; but my feet were now bare and bleeding. A gleam of +water flashed through the green foliage. This must be the river, with +the beaver-dam, and to my eager eyes, the stream already appeared muddy +and sluggish as if obstructed. My heart was beating with a sensation of +painful, bursting blows. There was a roaring in my ears, and at every +step I took, the landscape swam black before me and the trees racing +into the back ground staggered on each side like drunken men. Then I +knew that I had reached the limit of my strength and with the domed +mud-tops of the beaver-dam in sight half a mile to the fore, I sank down +to rest. The river was marshy, weed-grown and brown; but I gulped down a +drink and felt breath returning and the labored pulse easing. Not daring +to pause long, I went forward at a slackened rate, knowing I must +husband my strength to swim or wade across the river. Was it the +apprehension of fear, or the buzzing in my ears, that suggested the +faint, far-away echo of a clamoring multitude? I stopped and listened. +There was no sound but the lapping of water, or rush of wind through the +leaves. I went on again at hastened pace, and distinctly down the valley +came echo of the Sioux war-whoop. + +I was pursued. There was no mistaking that fact, and with a thrill, +which I have no hesitancy in confessing was the most intense fear I have +ever experienced in my life, I broke into a terrified, panic-stricken +run. The river grew dark, sluggish and treacherous-looking. By the +blood flowing from my feet, Indian scouts could track me for leagues. I +looked to the river with the vague hope of running along the water bed +to throw my pursuers off the trail; but the water was deep and I had not +strength to swim. The beaver-dam was huddled close to the clay bank of +the far side and on the side, where I ran, the current spread out in a +flaggy marsh. Hoping to elude the Sioux, I plunged in and floundered +blindly forward. But blood trails marked the pond behind and the soft +ooze snared my feet. + +I was now opposite the beaver-dam and saw with horror there were +branches enough floating in mid-stream to entangle the strongest +swimmer. The shouts of my pursuers sounded nearer. They could not have +known how close they were upon me, else had they ambushed me in silence +after Indian custom, shouting only when they sighted their quarry. The +river was not tempting for a fagged, breathless swimmer, whose dive must +be short and sorry. I had nigh counted my earthly course run, when I +caught sight of a hollow, punky tree-trunk standing high above the bank. +I could hear the swiftest runners behind splashing through the marsh +bed. Now the thick willow-bush screened me, but in a few moments they +would be on my very heels. With the supernatural strength of a last +desperate effort, I bounded to the empty trunk and like some hounded, +treed creature, clambered up inside, digging my wounded feet into the +soft, wet wood-rot and burrowing naked fingers through the punk of the +rounded sides till I was twice the height of a man above the blackened +opening at the base. Then a piece of wood crumbled in my right hand. +Daylight broke through the trunk and I found that I had grasped the edge +of a rotted knot-hole. + +Bracing my feet across beneath me like tie beams of raftered +scaffolding, I craned up till my eye was on a level with the knot-hole +and peered down through my lofty lookout. Either the shouting of the +Sioux warriors had ceased, which indicated they had found my tracks and +knew they were close upon me, or my shelter shut out the sound of +approaching foes. I broke more bark from the hole and gained full view +of the scene below. + +A crested savage ran out from the tangled foliage of the river bank, saw +the turgid settlings of the rippling marsh, where I had been +floundering, and darted past my hiding-place with a shrill yell of +triumph. Instantaneously the woods were ringing, echoing and re-echoing +with the hoarse, wild war-cries of the Sioux. Band after band burst from +the leafy covert of forest and marsh willows, and dashed in full pursuit +after the leading Indian. Some of the braves still wore the buckskin +toggery of their visit to the Mandanes; but the swiftest runners had +cast off all clothing and tore forward unimpeded. The last coppery form +disappeared among the trees of the river bank and the shoutings were +growing fainter, when, suddenly, there was such an ominous calm, I knew +they were foiled. + +Would they return to the last marks of my trail? That thought sent the +blood from my head with a rush that left me dizzy, weak and shivering. I +looked to the river. The floating branches turned lazily over and over +to the lapping of the sluggish current, and the green slime oozing from +the clustered beaver lodges of the far side might hide either a miry +bottom, or a treacherous hole. + +A naked Indian came pattering back through the brush, looking into every +hollow log, under fallen trees, through clumps of shrub growth, where a +man might hide, and into the swampy river bed. It was only a matter of +time when he would reach my hiding-place. Should I wait to be smoked out +of my hole, like a badger, or a raccoon? Again I looked hopelessly to +the river. A choice of deaths seemed my only fate. Torture, burning, or +the cool wash of a black wave gurgling over one's head? + +A broad-girthed log lay in the swamp and stretched out over mid-stream +in a way that would give a quick diver at least a good, clean, clear +leap. A score more savages had emerged from the woods and were eagerly +searching, from the limbs of trees above, where I might be perched, to +the black river-bed below. However much I may vacillate between two +courses, once my decision is taken, I have ever been swift to act; and I +slipped down the tree-trunk with the bound of a bullet through a +gun-barrel, took one last look from the opening, which revealed pursuers +not fifty yards away, plunged through the marsh, dashed to the fallen +log and made a rush to the end. + +A score of brazen throats screeched out their baffled rage. There was a +twanging of bow-strings. The humming of arrow flight sung about my head. +I heard the crash of some savage blazing away with his old flintlock. A +deep-drawn breath, and I was cleaving the air. Then the murky, greenish +waters splashed in my face, opened wide and closed over me. + +A tangle of green was at the soft, muddy bottom. Something living, +slippery, silky and furry, that was neither fish, nor water snake, got +between my feet; but countless arrows, I knew, were aimed and ready for +me, when I came to the surface. So I held down for what seemed an +interminable time, though it was only a few seconds, struck for the far +shore, and presently felt the green slime of the upper water matting in +my hair. + +Every swimmer knows that rich, sweet, full intake of life-giving air +after a long dive. I drew in deep, fresh breaths and tried to blink the +slime from my eyes and get my bearings. There were the howlings of +baffled wolves from what was now the far side of the river bank; but +domed clay mounds, mossy, floating branches and a world of willows +shrubs were about my head. Then I knew what the furry thing among the +tangle at the river bottom was, and realized that I had come up among +the beaver lodges. The dam must have been an old one; for the clay +houses were all overgrown with moss and water-weeds. A perfect network +of willow growth interlaced the different lodges. + +I heard the splash as of a diver from the opposite side. Was it a +beaver, or my Indian pursuers? Then I could distinctly make out the +strokes of some one swimming and splashing about. My foes were +determined to have me, dead, or alive. I ducked under, found shallow, +soft bottom, half paddled, half waded, a pace more shoreward, and came +up with my head in utter darkness. + +Where was I? I drew breath. Yes, assuredly, I was above water; but the +air was fetid with heavy, animal breath and teeth snarled shut in my +very face. Somehow, I had come up through the broken bottom of an old +beaver lodge and was now in the lair of the living creatures. What was +inside, I cannot record; for to my eyes the blackness was positively +thick. I felt blindly out through the palpable darkness and caught tight +hold of a pole, that seemed to reach from side to side. This gave me +leverage and I hoisted myself upon it, bringing my crown a mighty sharp +crack as I mounted the perch; for the beaver lodge sloped down like an +egg shell. + +I must have seemed some water monster to the poor beaver; for there was +a scurrying, scampering and gurgling off into the river. Then my own +breathing and the drip of my clothes were all that disturbed the lodge. + +Time, say certain philosophers, is the measure of a man's ideas +marching along in uniform procession. But I hold they are wrong. Time is +nothing of the sort; else had time stopped as I hung panting over the +pole in the beaver lodge; for one idea and one only, beat and beat and +beat to the pulsing of the blood that throbbed through my brain--"I am +safe--I am safe--I am safe!" + +How can I tell how long I hung there? To me it seemed a century. I do +not even know whether I lost consciousness. I am sure I repeatedly +awakened with a jerk back from some hazy, far-off, oblivious realm, shut +off even in memory from the things of this life. I am sure I tried to +burrow my hand through the clammy moss-wall of the beaver lodge to let +in fresh air; but my spirit would be suddenly rapt away to that other +region. I am sure I felt the waters washing over my head and sweeping me +away from this world to another life. Then I would lose grip of the pole +and come to myself clutching at it with wild terror; and again the +drowse of life's borderland would overpower me. And all the time I was +saying over and over, "I am safe! I am safe!" + +How many of the things called hours slipped past, I do not know. As I +said before, it seemed to me a century. Whether it was mid-day, or +twilight, when I let myself down from the pole and crawled like a +bedraggled water-rat to the shore, I do not know. Whether it was +morning, or night, when I dragged myself under the fern-brake and fell +into a death-like sleep, I do not know. When I awakened, the forest was +a labyrinth of shafted moonlight and sombre shadows. All that had +happened in the past twenty-four hours came back to me with vivid +reality. I remembered Laplante's promise to leave a horse for me in the +valley beyond the beaver dam. With this hope in my heart I crawled +cautiously down through the silent shadows of the night. + +At daybreak I found Louis had made good his promise, and I was speeding +on horseback towards the trail, where Little Fellow awaited me. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS + + +He who would hear that paradox of impossibilities--silence become +vocal--must traverse the vast wastes of the prairie by night. As a +mother quiets a fretful child, so the illimitable calm lulls tumultuous +thoughts. The wind moving through empty solitudes comes with a sigh of +unutterable loneliness. Unconsciously, men listen for some faint +rustling from the gauzy, wavering streamers that fire northern skies. +The dullest ear can almost fancy sounds from the noiseless wheeling of +planets through the overspanning vaulted blue; and human speech seems +sacrilege. + +Though the language of the prairie be not in words, some message is +surely uttered; for the people of the plains wear the far-away look of +communion with the unseen and the unheard. The fine sensibility of the +white woman, perhaps, shows the impress of the vast solitudes most +readily, and the gravely repressed nature of the Indian least; but all +plain-dwellers have learned to catch the voice of the prairie. I, +myself, know the message well, though I may no more put it into words +than the song love sings in one's heart. Love, says the poet, is +infinite. So is the space of the prairie. That, I suppose, is why both +are too boundless for the limitation of speech. + +Night after night, with only a grassy swish and deadened tread over the +turf breaking stillness, we journeyed northward. Occasionally, like the +chirp of cricket in a dry well, life sounded through emptiness. Skulking +coyotes, seeking prey among earth mounds, or night hawks, lilting +solitarily in vaulted mid-heaven, uttered cries that pierced the vast +blue. Owls flapped stupidly up from our horses' feet. Hungry kites +wheeled above lonely Indian graves, or perched on the scaffolding, where +the dead lay swathed in skins. + +Reflecting on my experiences with the Mandanes and the Sioux, I was +disposed to upbraid fate as a senseless thing with no thread of purpose +through life's hopeless jumble. Now, something in the calm of the +plains, or the certainty of our unerring star-guides, quieted my unrest. +Besides, was I not returning to one who was peerless? That hope speedily +eclipsed all interests. That was purpose enough for my life. Forthwith, +I began comparing lustrous gray eyes to the stars, and tracing a woman's +figure in the diaphanous northern lights. One face ever gleamed through +the dusk at my horse's head and beckoned northward. I do not think her +presence left me for an instant on that homeward journey. But, indeed, I +should not set down these extravagances, which each may recall in his +own case, only I would have others judge whether she influenced me, or +I, her. + +Thus we traveled northward, journeying by night as long as we were in +the Sioux territory. Once in the land of the Assiniboines, we rode day +and night to the limit of our horses' endurance. Remembering the +Hudson's Bay outrage at the Souris, and having also heard from Mandane +runners of a raid planned by our rivals against the North-West fort at +Pembina, I steered wide of both places, following the old Missouri trail +midway between the Red and Souris rivers. It may have been because we +traveled at night, but I did not encounter a single person, native or +white, till we came close to the Red and were less than a day's journey +from Fort Gibraltar. On the river trail, we overtook some Hudson's Bay +trappers. The fellows would not answer a single question about events +during the year and scampered away from us as if we carried smallpox, +which had thinned the population a few years before. + +"That's bad!" said I aloud, as the men fled down the river bank, where +we could not follow. Little Fellow looked as solemn as a grave-stone. He +shook his head with ominous wisdom that foresees all evil but refuses to +prophesy. + +"Bother to you, Little Fellow!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean? What's +up?" + +Again the Indian shook his head with dark mutterings, looking mighty +solemn, but he would not share his foreknowledge. We met more Hudson's +Bay men, and their conduct was unmistakably suspicious. On a sudden +seeing us, they reined up their horses, wheeled and galloped off without +a word. + +"I don't like that! I emphatically don't!" I piloted my broncho to a +slight roll of the prairie, where we could reconnoitre. Distinctly there +was the spot where the two rivers met. Intervening shrubbery confused my +bearings. I rose in my stirrups, while Little Fellow stood erect on his +horse's back. + +"Little Fellow!" I cried, exasperated with myself, "Where's Fort +Gibraltar? I see where it ought to be, where the towers ought to be +higher than that brush, but where's the fort?" + +The Indian screened his eyes and gazed forward. Then he came down with a +thud, abruptly re-straddling his horse, and uttered one explosive +word--"Smoke." + +"Smoke? I don't see smoke! Where's the fort?" + +"No fort," said he. + +"You're daft!" I informed him, with the engaging frankness of a master +for a servant. "There--is--a fort, and you know it--we're both +lost--that's more! A fine Indian you are, to get lost!" + +Little Fellow scrambled with alacrity to the ground. Picking up two +small switches, he propped them against each other. + +"Fort!" he said, laconically, pointing to the switches. + +"L'anglais!" he cried, thrusting out his foot, which signified Hudson's +Bay. + +"No fort!" he shouted, kicking the switches into the air. "No fort!" and +he looked with speechless disgust at the vacancy. + +Now I knew what he meant. Fort Gibraltar had been destroyed by Hudson's +Bay men. We had no alternative but to strike west along the Assiniboine, +on the chance of meeting some Nor'-Westers before reaching the company's +quarters at the Portage. That post, too, might be destroyed; but where +were Hamilton and Father Holland? Danger, or no danger, I must learn +more of the doings in Red River. Also, there were reasons why I wished +to visit the settlers of Fort Douglas. We camped on the south side of +the Assiniboine a few miles from the Red, and Little Fellow went to some +neighboring half-breeds for a canoe. + +And a strange story he brought back! A great man, second only to the +king--so the half-breeds said--had come from England to rule over +Assiniboia. He boasted the shock of his power would be felt from +Montreal to Athabasca. He would drive out all Nor'-Westers. This +personage, I afterwards learned, was the amiable Governor Semple, who +succeeded Captain Miles McDonell. Already, as a hunter chases a deer, +had the great governor chased Nor'-Westers from Red River. Did Little +Fellow doubt their word? Where was Fort Gibraltar? Let Little Fellow +look and see for himself if aught but masonry and charred walls stood +where Fort Gibraltar had been! Let him seek the rafters of the +Nor-Westers' fort in the new walls of Fort Douglas! Pembina, too, had +fallen before the Hudson's Bay men. Since the coming of the great +governor, nothing could stand before the English. + +But wait! It was not all over! The war drum was beating in the tents of +all the _Bois-Brulés_! The great governor should be taught that even the +king's arms could not prevail against the _Bois-Brulés_! Was there smoke +of battle? The _Bois-Brulés_ would be there! The _Bois-Brulés_ had +wrongs to avenge. They would not be turned out of their forts for +nothing! Knives would be unsheathed. There were full powder-bags! There +was a grand gathering of _Bois-Brulés_ at the Portage. They, themselves, +were on the way there. Let Little Fellow and the white trader join them! +Let them be wary; for the English were watchful! Great things were to be +done by the _Bois-Brulés_ before another moon--and Little Fellow's eyes +snapped fire as he related their vauntings. + +I was inclined to regard the report as a fairy tale. If the half-breeds +were arming and the English watchful, the distrust of the Hudson's Bay +men was explained. A nomad, himself, the Indian may be willing enough to +share running rights over the land of his fathers; but when the newcomer +not only usurps possession, but imposes the yoke of laws on the native, +the resentment of the dusky race is easily fanned to that point which +civilized men call rebellion. I could readily understand how the +Hudson's Bay proclamations forbidding the sale of furs to rivals, when +these rivals were friends by marriage and treaty with the natives, +roused all the bloodthirsty fury of the Indian nature. Nor'-Westers' +forts were being plundered. Why should the _Bois-Brulés_ not pillage +Hudson's Bay posts? Each company was stealing the cargo of its rival, as +boats passed and repassed the different forts. Why should the half-breed +not have his share of the booty? The most peace-loving dog can be set +a-fighting; and the fight-loving Indian finds it very difficult indeed, +to keep the peace. This, the great fur companies had not yet realized; +and the lesson was to be driven home to them with irresistible force. + +The half-breeds also had news of a priest bringing a delirious man to +Fort Douglas. The description seemed to fit Hamilton and Father Holland. +Whatever truth might be in the rumors of an uprising, I must ascertain +whether or not Frances Sutherland would be safe. Leaving Little Fellow +to guard our horses, at sundown I pushed my canoe into the Assiniboine +just east of the rapids. Paddling swiftly with the current, I kept close +to the south bank, where overhanging willows concealed one side of the +river. + +As I swung out into the Red, true to the _Bois-Brulés'_ report, I saw +only blackened chimneys and ruined walls on the site of Fort Gibraltar. +Heading towards the right bank, I hugged the naked cliff on the side +opposite Fort Douglas, and trusted the rising mist to conceal me. Thus, +I slipped past cannon, pointing threateningly from the Hudson's Bay +post, recrossed to the wooded west bank again, and paddled on till I +caught a glimpse of a little, square, whitewashed house in a grove of +fine old trees. This I knew, from Frances Sutherland's description, was +her father's place. + +Mooring among the shrubbery I had no patience to hunt for beaten path; +but digging my feet into soft clay and catching branches with both +hands, I clambered up the cliff and found myself in a thicket not a +stone's throw from the door. The house was in darkness. My heart sank at +a possibility which hardly framed itself to a thought. Was the +apparition in the Mandane lodge some portent? Had I not read, or heard, +of departed spirits hovering near loved ones? I had no courage to think +more. + +Suddenly the door flung open. Involuntarily, I slipped behind the +bushes, but dusk hid the approaching figure. Whoever it was made no +noise. I felt, rather than heard, her coming, and knew no man could walk +so silently. It must be a woman. Then my chest stifled and I heard my +own heart-beats. Garments fluttered past the branches of my +hiding-place. She of whom I had dreamed by night and thought by day and +hoped whether sleeping, or waking, paused, not an arm's length away. + +Toying with the tip of the branch, which I was gripping for dear life, +she looked languorously through the foliage towards the river. At first +I thought myself the victim of another hallucination, but would not stir +lest the vision should vanish. She sighed audibly, and I knew this was +no spectre. Then I trembled all the more, for my sudden appearance might +alarm her. + +I should wait until she went back to the house--another of my brave vows +to keep myself in hand!--then walk up noisily, giving due warning, and +knock at the door. The keeping of that resolution demanded all my +strength of will; for she was so near I could have clasped her in my +arms without an effort. Indeed, it took a very great effort to refrain +from doing so. + +"Heigh-ho," said a low voice with the ripple of a sunny brook tinkling +over pebbles, "but it's a long day--and a long, long week--and a long, +long, long month--and oh!--a century of years since----" and the voice +broke in a sigh. + +I think--though I would not set this down as a fact--that a certain +small foot, which once stamped two strong men into obedience, now vented +its impatience at a twig on the grass. By the code of eastern +proprieties, I may not say that the dainty toe-tip first kicked the +offensive little branch and then crunched it deep in the turf. + +"I hate this lonely country," said the voice, with the vim of water-fret +against an obstinate stone. "Wonder what it's like in the Mandane land! +I'm sure it's nicer there." + +Now I affirm there is not a youth living who would not at some time give +his right hand to know a woman's exact interpretation of that word +"nicer." For my part, it set me clutching the branch with such ferocity, +off snapped the thing with the sharp splintering of a breaking stick. +The voice gave a gasp and she jumped aside with nervous trepidation. + +"Whatever--was that? I am--not frightened." No one was accusing her. "I +won't go in! I won't let myself be frightened! There! The very idea!" +And three or four sharp stamps followed in quick succession; but she was +shivering. + +"I declare the house is so lonely, a ghost would be live company." And +she looked doubtfully from the dark house to the quivering poplars. "I'd +rather be out here with the tree-toads and owls and bats than in there +alone, even if they do frighten me! Anyway, I'm not frightened! It's +just some stupid hop-and-go-spring thing at the base of our brains that +makes us jump at mice and rats." But the hands interlocking at her back +twitched and clasped and unclasped in a way that showed the automatic +brain-spring was still active. + +"It's getting worse every day. I can't stand it much longer, looking and +looking till I'm half blind and no one but Indian riders all day long. +Why doesn't he come? Oh! I know something is wrong." + +"Afraid of the Metis," thought I, "and expecting her father. A fine +father to leave his daughter alone in the house with the half-breeds +threatening a raid. She needs some one else to take care of her." This, +on after thought, I know was unjust to her father; for pioneers obey +necessity first and chivalry second. + +"If he would only come!" she repeated in a half whisper. + +"Hope he doesn't," thought I. + +"For a week I've been dreaming such fearful things! I see him sinking in +green water, stretching his hands to me and I can't reach out to save +him. On Sunday he seemed to be running along a black, awful precipice. I +caught him in my arms to hold him back, but he dragged me over and I +screamed myself awake. Sometimes, he is in a black cave and I can't find +any door to let him out. Or he lies bound in some dungeon, and when I +stoop to cut the cords, he begins to sink down, down, down through the +dark, where I can't follow. I leap after him and always waken with such +a dizzy start. Oh! I know he has been in trouble. Something is wrong! +His thoughts are reaching out to me and I am so gross and stupid I can't +hear what his spirit says. If I could only get away from things, the +clatter of everyday things that dull one's inner hearing, perhaps I +might know! I feel as if he spoke in a foreign language, but the words +he uses I can't make out. All to-day, he has seemed so near! Why does he +not come home to me?" + +"Mighty fond daughter," thought I, with a jealous pang. She was fumbling +among the intricate draperies, where women conceal pockets, and +presently brought out something in the palm of her hand. + +"I wouldn't have him know how foolish I am," and she laid the thing +gently against her cheek. + +Now I had never given Frances Sutherland a gift of any sort whatever; +and my heart was pierced with anguish that cannot be described. I was, +indeed, falling over a precipice and her arms were not holding me back +but dragging me over. Would that I, like the dreamer, could awaken with +a start. In all conscience, I was dizzy enough; and every pressure of +that hateful object to her face bound me faster in a dungeon of utter +hopelessness. My sweet day-dreams and midnight rhapsodies trooped back +to mock at me. I felt that I must bow broken under anguish or else steel +myself and shout back cynical derision to the whole wan troop of +torturing regrets. And all the time, she was caressing that thing in her +hand and looking down at it with a fondness, which I--poor fool--thought +that I alone could inspire. I suppose if I could have crept away +unobserved, I would have gone from her presence hardened and embittered; +but I must play out the hateful part of eavesdropper to the end. + +She opened the hand to feast her eyes on the treasure, and I craned +forward, playing the sneak without a pang of shame, but the dusk foiled +me. + +Then the low, mellow, vibrant tones, whose very music would have +intoxicated duller fools than I--'tis ever a comfort to know there are +greater fools--broke in melody: "To my own dear love from her ever +loyal and devoted knight," and she held her opened hand high. 'Twas my +birch-bark message which Father Holland had carried north. I suddenly +went insane with a great overcharge of joy, that paralyzed all motion. + +"Dear love--wherever are you?" asked a voice that throbbed with longing. + +Can any man blame me for breaking through the thicket and my resolution +and discretion and all? + +"Here--beloved!" I sprang from the bush. + +She gave a cry of affright and would have fallen, but my arms were about +her and my lips giving silent proof that I was no wraith. + +What next we said I do not remember. With her head on my shoulder and I +doing the only thing a man could do to stem her tears, I completely lost +track of the order of things. I do not believe either of us was calm +enough for words for some time after the meeting. It was she who +regained mental poise first. + +"Rufus!" she exclaimed, breaking away from me, "You're not a sensible +man at all." + +"Never said I was," I returned. + +"If you do _that_," she answered, ignoring my remark and receding +farther, "I'll never stop crying." + +"Then cry on forever!" + +With womanly ingratitude, she promptly called me "a goose" and other +irrelevant names. + +The rest of our talk that evening I do not intend to set down. In the +first place, it was best understood by only two. In the second, it could +not be transcribed; and in the third, it was all a deal too sacred. + +We did, however, become impersonal for short intervals. + +"I feel as if there were some storm in the air," said Frances +Sutherland. "The half-breeds are excited. They are riding past the +settlement in scores every day. O, Rufus, I know something is wrong." + +"So do I," was my rejoinder. I was thinking of the strange gossip of the +Assiniboine encampment. + +"Do you think the _Bois-Brulés_ would plunder your boats?" she asked +innocently, ignorant that the malcontents were Nor'-Westers. + +"No," said I. "What boats?" + +"Why, Nor'-West boats, of course, coming up Red River from Fort William +to go up the Assiniboine for the winter's supplies. They're coming in a +few days. My father told me so." + +"Is Mr. Sutherland an H. B. C. or Nor'-Wester?" I asked in the slang of +the company talk. + +"I don't know," she answered. "I don't think he knows himself. He says +there are numbers of men like that, and they all know there is to be a +raid. Why, Rufus, there are men down the river every day watching for +the Nor'-Westers' Fort William express." "Where do the men come from?" I +questioned, vainly trying to patch some connection between plots for a +raid on North-West boats and plots for a fight by Nor'-West followers. + +"From Fort Douglas, of course." + +"H. B. C.'s, my dear. You must go to Fort Douglas at once. There will be +a fight. You must go to-morrow with your father, or with me to-night," I +urged, thinking I should take myself off and notify my company of the +intended pillaging. + +"With you?" she laughed. "Father will be home in an hour. Are you sure +about a fight!" + +"Quite," said I, trembling for her safety. This certainty of mine has +been quoted to prove premeditation on the Nor'-Westers' part; but I +meant nothing of the sort. I only felt there was unrest on both sides, +and that she must be out of harm's way. + +Truly, I have seldom had a harder duty to perform than to leave Frances +alone in that dark house to go and inform my company of the plot. + +Many times I said good-by before going to the canoe and times unnumbered +ran back from the river to repeat some warning and necessitate another +farewell. + +"Rufus, dear," she said, "this is about the twentieth time. You mustn't +come back again." + +"Then good-by for the twenty-first," said I, and came away feeling like +a young priest anointed for some holy purpose. + + * * * * * + +I declare now, as I declared before the courts of the land, that in +hastening to the Portage with news of the Hudson's Bay's intention to +intercept the Nor'-Westers' express from Fort William, I had no other +thought but the faithful serving of my company. I knew what suffering +the destruction of Souris had entailed in Athabasca, and was determined +our brave fellows should not starve in the coming winter through my +negligence. + +Could I foresee that simple act of mine was to let loose all the +punishment the Hudson's Bay had been heaping up against the day of +judgment? + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +LOUIS PAYS ME BACK + + +What tempted me to moor opposite the ruins of Fort Gibraltar? What +tempts the fly into the spider's web and the fish with a wide ocean for +play-ground into one small net? I know there is a consoling fashion of +ascribing our blunders to the inscrutable wisdom of a long-suffering +Providence; but common-sense forbids I should call evil good, deify my +errors, and give thanks for what befalls me solely through my own fault. + +Bare posts hacked to the ground were all that remained of Fort +Gibraltar's old wall. I had not gone many paces across the former +courtyard, when voices sounded from the gravel-pit that had once done +duty as a cellar. The next thing I noticed was the shaggy face of Louis +Laplante bobbing above the ground. With other vagabond wanderers, the +Frenchman had evidently been rummaging old Nor'-West vaults. + +"Tra-la, comrade," he shouted, leaping out of the cellar as soon as he +saw me. "I, Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, am resurrecting. I was a +Plante! Now I'm a _Louis d'or_, fresh coined from the golden vein of +dazzling wit. Once we were men, but they drowned us in a wine-barrel +like your lucky dog of an English prince. Now we're earth-goblins +re-incarnate! Behold gnomes of the mine! Knaves of the nethermost +depths, tra-la! Vampires that suck the blood of whisky-cellars and float +to the skies with dusky wings and dizzy heads! Laugh with us, old +solemncholy! See the ground spin! Laugh, I say, or be a hitching-post, +and we'll dance the May-pole round you! We're vampires, comrade, and +you're our cousin, for you're a bat," and Louis applauded his joke with +loud, tipsy laughter and staggered up to me drunk as a lord. His heavy +breath and bloodshot eyes testified what he had found under the rubbish +heaps of Fort Gibraltar's cellar. Embracing me with the affection of a +long-lost brother, he rattled on with a befuddled, meaningless jargon. + +"So the knife cut well, did it? And the Sioux did not eat you by inches, +beginning with your thumbs? Ha! Trčs bien! Very good taste! You were not +meant for feasts, my solemncholy? Some men are monuments. That's you, +mine frien'! Some are champagne bottles that uncork, zip, fizz, froth, +stars dancing round your head! That's me! 'Tis I, Louis Laplante, son of +a seigneur, am that champagne bottle!" + +Pausing for breath, he drew himself erect with ridiculous pomposity. Now +there are times when the bravest and wisest thing a brave and wise man +can do is take to his heels. I have heard my Uncle Jack MacKenzie say +that vice and liquor and folly are best frustrated by flight; and all +three seemed to be embodied in Louis Laplante that night. A stupid sort +of curiosity made me dally with the mischief brewing in him, just as the +fly plays with the spider-web, or the fish with a baited hook. + +"There's a fountain-spout in Nor'-West vaults for those who know where +to tap the spigot, eh, Louis?" I asked. + +"I'm a Hudson's Bay man and to the conqueror comes the tribute," +returned Louis, sweeping me a courtly bow. + +"I hope such a generous conqueror draws all the tribute he deserves. Do +you remember how you saved my life twice from the Sioux, Louis?" + +"Generous," shouted the Frenchman, drawing himself up proudly, "generous +to mine enemy, always magnificent, grand, superb, as becomes the son of +a seigneur! Now I pay you back, rich, well, generous." + +"Nonsense, Louis," I expostulated. "'Tis I who am in your debt. I owe +you my life twice over. How shall I pay you?" and I made to go down to +my canoe. + +"Pay me?" demanded Louis, thrusting himself across my path in a menacing +attitude. "Stand and pay me like a man!" + +"I am standing," I laughed. "Now, how shall I pay you?" + +"Strike!" ordered Louis, launching out a blow which I barely missed. +"Strike, I say, for kicking me, the son of a seigneur, like a pig!" + +At that, half a dozen more drunken vagabonds of the Hudson's Bay service +reeled up from the cellar pit; and I began to understand I was in for as +much mischief as a young man could desire. The fellows were about us in +a circle, and now, that it was too late, I was quite prepared like the +fly and the fish to seek safety in flight. + +"Sink his canoe," suggested one; and I saw that borrowed craft swamped. + +"Strike! _Sacredie!_ I pay you back generous," roared Louis. "How can I, +Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, strike a man who won't hit back?" + +"And how can I strike a man who saved my life?" I urged, trying to +mollify him. "See here, Louis, I'm on a message for my company to-night. +I can't wait. Some other day you can pay me all you like--not to-night, +some-other-time----" + +"Some-oder-time! No--never! Some-oder-time--'tis the way I pay my own +debts, always some-oder-time, and I never not pay at all. You no +some-oder-time me, comrade! Louis knows some-oder-time too well! He quit +his cups some-oder-time and he never quit, not at all! He quit wild +Indian some-oder-time, and he never quit, not at all! And he go home and +say his confess to the curé some-oder-time, and he never go, not at all! +And he settle down with a wife and become a grand seigneur +some-oder-time, and he never settle down at all!" + +"Good night, Laplante! I have business for the company. I must go," I +interrupted, trying to brush through the group that surrounded us. + +"So have we business for the company, the Hudson's Bay Company, and you +can't go," chimed in one of the least intoxicated of the rival trappers; +and they closed about me so that I had not striking room. + +"Are you men looking for trouble?" I asked, involuntarily fingering my +pistol belt. + +"No--we're looking for the Nor'-West brigade billed to pass from Fort +William to Athabasca," jeered the boldest of the crowd, a red-faced, +middle-aged man with blear eyes. "We're looking for the Nor'-Westers' +express," and he laughed insolently. + +"You don't expect to find our brigades in Fort Gibraltar's cellar," said +I, backing away from them and piecing this latest information to what I +had already heard of plots and conspiracies. + +Forthwith I felt strong hands gripping both my arms like a vise and the +coils of a rope were about me with the swiftness of a lasso. My first +impulse was to struggle against the outrage; but I was beginning to +learn the service of open ears and a closed mouth was often more +valuable than a fighter's blows. Already I had ascertained from their +own lips that the Hudson's Bay intended to molest our north-bound +brigade. + +"Well," said I, with a laugh, which surprised the rascals mightily, "now +you've captured your elephant, what do you propose to do with him?" + +Without answering, the men shambled down to the landing place of the +fort, jostling me along between the red-faced man and Louis Laplante. + +"I consider this a scurvy trick, Louis," said I. "You've let me into a +pretty scrape with your idiotic heroics about paying back a fancied +grudge. To save a mouse from the tigers, Louis, and then feed him to +your cats! Fie, man! I like your son-of-a-seigneur ideas of honor!" + +"Ingrate! Low-born ingrate," snapped the Frenchman, preparing to strike +one of his dramatic attitudes, "if I were not the son of a seigneur, and +you a man with bound arms, you should swallow those words," and he +squared up to me for a second time. "If you won't fight, you shan't run +away----" + +"Off with your French brag," ordered the soberest of the Hudson's Bay +men, catching Louis by the scruff of his coat and spinning him out of +the way. "There'll be neither fighting nor running away. It is to Fort +Douglas we'll take our fine spy." + +The words stung, but I muffled my indignation. + +"I'll go with pleasure," I returned, thinking that Frances Sutherland +and Hamilton and Father Holland were good enough company to compensate +for any captivity. "With pleasure, and 'tis not the first time I'll have +found friends in the Hudson's Bay fort." + +At that speech, the red-faced man, who seemed to be the ringleader, eyed +me narrowly. We all embarked on a rickety raft, that would, I declare, +have drowned any six sober men who risked their lives on it; but drunk +men and children seem to do what sober, grown folk may not are. + +How Louis Laplante was for fighting a duel _en route_ with the man, who +spoke of "French brag" and was only dissuaded from his purpose by the +raft suddenly teetering at an angle of forty-five degrees with the +water, which threatened to toboggan us all into mid-river; how I was +then stationed in the centre and the other men distributed equally on +each side of the raft to maintain balance; how we swung out into the +Red, rocking with each shifting of the crew and were treated to a volley +of objurgations from the red-faced man--I do not intend to relate. This +sort of melodrama may be seen wherever there are drunken men, a raft and +a river. The men poled only fitfully, and we were driven solely by the +current. It was dark long before we had neared Fort Douglas and the +waters swished past with an inky, glassy sheen that vividly recalled the +murky pool about the beaver-dam. And yet I had no fear, but drifted +along utterly indifferent to the termination of the freakish escapade in +which I had become involved. Nature mercifully sets a limit to human +capacity for suffering; and I felt I had reached that limit. Nothing +worse could happen than had happened, at least, so I told myself, and I +awaited with cynical curiosity what might take place inside the Hudson's +Bay fort. Then a shaft of lantern light pierced the dark, striking +aslant the river, and the men began poling hard for Fort Douglas wharf. +We struck the landing with a bump, disembarked, passed the sentinel at +the gate and were at the entrance to the main building. + +"You kick me here," said Louis. "I pay you back here!" + +"What are you going to do with him?" asked the soberest man of the +red-faced leader. + +"Hand him over to Governor Semple for a spy." + +"The governor's abed. Besides, they don't want him about to hear H. B. +secrets when the Nor'-West brigade's a-coming! You'd better get sobered +up, yez hed! That's my advice to yez, before going to Governor Semple," +and the prudent trapper led the way inside. To the fore was the main +stairway, on the right the closed store, and on the left a small +apartment which the governor had fitted up as a private office. For some +unaccountable reason--the same reason, I suppose, that mischief is +always awaiting the mischief-maker--the door to this office had been +left ajar and a light burned inside. 'Twas Louis, ever alert, when +mischief was abroad, who tip-toed over to the open door, poked his head +in and motioned his drunken companions across the sacred precincts of +Governor Semple's private room. I was loath to be a party to this mad +nonsense, but the fly and the fish should have thought of results before +venturing too near strange coils. The red-faced fellow gave me a push. +The sober man muttered, "Better come, or they'll raise a row," and we +were all within the forbidden place, the door shut and bolted. + +To city folk, used to the luxuries of the east, I dare say that office +would have seemed mean enough. But the men had been so long away from +leather chairs, hair-cloth sofa, wall mirror, wine decanter and other +odds and ends which furnish a gentleman's living apartments that the +very memory of such things had faded, and that small room, with its +old-country air, seemed the vestibule to another world. + +"Sump--too--uss--ain't it?" asked the sober man with bated breath and +obvious distrust of his tongue. + +"Mag--nee--feque! M. Louis Laplante, look you there," cried the +Frenchman, catching sight of his full figure in the mirror and instantly +striking a pose of admiration. Then he twirled fiercely at both ends of +his mustache till it stood out with the wire finish of a Parisian dandy. + +The red-faced fellow had permitted me, with arms still tied, to walk +across the room and sit on the hair-cloth sofa. He was lolling back in +the governor's armchair, playing the lord and puffing one of Mr. +Semple's fine pipes. + +"We are gentlemen adventurers of the ancient and honorable Hudson's Bay +Company, gentlemen adventurers," he roared, bringing his fist down with +a thud on the desk. "We hereby decree that the Fort William brigade be +captured, that the whisky be freely given to every dry-throated lad in +the Hudson's Bay Company, that the Nor'-Westers be sent down the Red on +a raft, that this meeting raftify this dissolution, afterwards +moving--seconding--and unanimously amending----" + +"Adjourning--you mean," interrupted one of the orator's audience. + +"I say," called one, who had been dazed by the splendor, "how do you +tell which is the lookin' glass and which is the window?" And he looked +from the window on one side to its exact reflection, length and width, +directly opposite. + +The puzzle was left unsolved; for just then Louis Laplante found a flask +of liquor and speedily divided its contents among the crowd--which was +not calculated to clear up mysteries of windows and mirrors among those +addle-pates. Dull wit may be sport for drunken men, but it is mighty +flat to an onlooker, and I was out of patience with their carousal. + +"The governor will be back here presently, Louis," said I. + +"Tired of being a tombstone, ha--ha! Better be a champagne bottle!" he +laughed with slightly thickened articulation and increased unsteadiness +in his gait. + +"If you don't hide that bottle in your hand, there'll be a big head and +a sore head for you men to-morrow morning." I rose to try and get them +out of the office; but a sober man with tied arms among a drunken crew +is at a disadvantage. + +"Ha--old--wise--sh--head! To--be--sh--shure! Whur--d'--y'--hide--it?" + +"Throw it out of the window," said I, without the slightest idea of +leading him into mischief. + +"Whish--whish--ish--the window, Rufush?" asked Louis imploringly. + +The last potion had done its work and Louis was passing from the jovial +to the pensive stage. He would presently reach a mood which might be +ugly enough for a companion in bonds. Was it this prospect, I wonder, or +the mischievous spirit pervading the very air from the time I reached +the ruins that suggested a way out of my dilemma? + +"Throw it out of the window," said I, ignoring his question and shoving +him off. + +"Whish--ish--the window--dammie?" he asked, holding the bottle +irresolutely and looking in befuddled distraction from side to side of +the room. + +"Thur--both--windows--fur as I see," said the man, who had been sober, +but was no longer so. + +"Throw it through the back window! Folks comin' in at the door won't see +it." + +The red-faced man got up to investigate, and all faith in my plan died +within me; but the lantern light was dusky and the red-faced man could +no longer navigate a course from window to mirror. + +"There's a winder there," said he, scratching his head and looking at +the window reflected in perfect proportion on the mirrored surface. + +"And there's a winder there," he declared, pointing at the real window. +"They're both winders and they're both lookin'-glasses, for I see us all +in both of them. This place is haunted. Lem-me out!" + +"Take thish, then," cried Louis, shoving the bottle towards him and +floundering across to the door to bar the way. "Take thish, or tell me +whish--ish--the window." + +"Both winders, I tell you, and both lookin'-glasses," vowed the man. The +other four fellows declined to express an opinion for the very good +reason that two were asleep and two befuddled beyond questioning. + +"See here, Louis," I exclaimed, "there's only one way to tell where to +throw that bottle." + +"Yesh, Rufush," and he came to me as if I were his only friend on earth. + +"The bottle will go through the window and it won't go through the +mirror," I began. + +"Dammie--I knew that," he snapped out, ready to weep. + +"Well--you undo these things," nodding to the ropes about my arms, "and +I'll find out which opens, and the one that opens is the window, and you +can throw out the bottle." + +"The very thing, Rufush, wise--sh--head--old--old--ol' solemncholy," and +he ripped the ropes off me. + +Now I offer no excuse for what I did. I could have opened that window +and let myself out some distance ahead of the bottle, without involving +Louis and his gang in greater mischief. What I did was not out of spite +to the governor of a rival company; but mischief, as I said, was in the +very air. Besides, the knaves had delayed me far into midnight, and I +had no scruples about giving each twenty-four hours in the fort +guardroom. I took a precautionary inspection of the window-sash. Yes, I +was sure I could leap through, carrying out sash and all. + +"Hurry--ol' tombshtone--governor--sh-comin'," urged Louis. + +I made towards the window and fumbled at the sash. + +"This doesn't open," said I, which was quite true, for I did not try to +budge it. Then I went across to the mirror. "Neither does this," said I. + +"Wha'--wha'--'ll--we do--Rufush?" + +"I'll tell you. You can jump through a window but not through a glass. +Now you count--one two--three,"--this to the red-faced man--"and when +you say 'three' I'll give a run and jump. If I fall back, you'll know +it's the mirror, and fling the bottle quick through the other. Ready, +count!" + +"One," said the red-faced man. + +Louis raised his arm and I prepared for a dash. + +"Two!" + +Louis brought back his arm to gain stronger sweep. + +"Three!" + +I gave a leap and made as though I had fallen back. There was the +pistol-shot splintering of bottle and mirror crashing down to the floor. +The window frame gave with a burst, and I was outside rushing past the +sleepy sentinel, who poured out a volley of curses after me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A DAY OF RECKONING + + +As well play pussy-wants-a-corner with a tiger as make-believe war with +an Indian. In both cases the fun may become ghastly earnest with no time +for cry-quits. So it was with the great fur-trading companies at the +beginning of this century. Each held the Indian in subjection and +thought to use him with daring impunity against its rival. And each was +caught in the meshes of its own merry game. + +I, as a Nor'-Wester, of course, consider that the lawless acts of the +Hudson's Bay had been for three years educating the natives up to the +tragedy of June 19, 1816. But this is wholly a partisan, opinion. +Certainly both companies have lied outrageously about the results of +their quarrels. The truth is Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers were playing +war with the Indian. Consequences having exceeded all calculation, both +companies would fain free themselves of blame. + +For instance, it has been said the Hudson's Bay people had no intention +of intercepting the North-West brigade bound up the Red and Assiniboine +for the interior--this assertion despite the fact our rivals had +pillaged every North-West fort that could be attacked. Now I +acknowledge the Nor'-Westers disclaim hostile purpose in the rally of +three hundred _Bois-Brulés_ to the Portage; but this sits not well with +the warlike appearance of these armed plain rangers, who sallied forth +to protect the Fort William express. Nor does it agree with the +expectations of the Indian rabble, who flocked on our rear like carrion +birds keen for the spoils of battle. Both companies had--as it +were--leveled and cocked their weapon. To send it off needed but a +spark, and a slight misunderstanding ignited that spark. + +My arrival at the Portage had the instantaneous effect of sending two +strong battalions of _Bois-Brulés_ hot-foot across country to meet the +Fort William express before it could reach Fort Douglas. They were to +convoy it overland to a point on the Assiniboine where it could be +reshipped. To the second of these parties, I attached myself. I was +anxious to attempt a visit to Hamilton. There was some one else whom I +hoped to find at Fort Douglas; so I refused to rest at the Portage, +though I had been in my saddle almost constantly for twenty days. + +When we set out, I confess I did not like the look of things. Those +Indians smeared with paint and decked out with the feathered war-cap +kept increasing to our rear. There were the eagles! Where was the +carcass? The presence of these sinister fellows, hot with the lust of +blood, had ominous significance. Among the half-breeds there was +unconcealed excitement. + +Shortly before we struck off the Assiniboine trail northward for the +Red, in order to meet the expected brigade beyond Fort Douglas, some of +our people slipped back to the Indian rabble. When they reappeared, they +were togged out in native war-gear with too many tomahawks and pistols +for the good of those who might interfere with our mission. There was no +misunderstanding the ugly temper of the men. Here, I wish to testify +that explicit orders were given for the forces to avoid passing near +Fort Douglas, or in any way provoking conflict. There was placed in +charge of our division the most powerful plain-ranger in the service of +the company, the one person of all others, who might control the natives +in case of an outbreak--and that man was Cuthbert Grant. Pierre, the +minstrel, and six clerks were also in the party; but what could a +handful of moderate men do with a horde of Indians and Metis wrought up +to a fury of revenge? + +"Now, deuce take those rascals! What are they doing?" exclaimed Grant +angrily, as we left the river trail and skirted round a slough of Frog +Plains on the side remote from Fort Douglas. Our forces were following +in straggling disorder. The first battalions of the _Bois-Brulés_, which +had already rounded the marsh, were now in the settlement on Red River +bank. It was to them that Grant referred. Commanding a halt and raising +his spy-glass, he took an anxious survey of the foreground. + +"There's something seriously wrong," he said. "Strikes me we're near a +powder mine! Here, Gillespie, you look!" He handed the field-glass to +me. + +A great commotion was visible among the settlers. Ox-carts packed with +people were jolting in hurried confusion towards Fort Douglas. Behind, +tore a motley throng of men, women and children, running like a +frightened flock of sheep. Whatever the cause of alarm, our men were not +molesting them; for I watched the horsemen proceeding leisurely to the +appointed rendezvous, till the last rider disappeared among the woods of +the river path. + +"Scared! Badly scared! That's all, Grant," said I. "You've no idea what +wild stories are going the rounds of the settlement about the +_Bois-Brulés_!" + +"And you've no idea, young man, what wild stories are going the rounds +of the _Bois-Brulés_ about the settlement," was Grant's moody reply. + +My chance acquaintance with the Assiniboine encampment had given me some +idea, but I did not tell Grant so. + +"Perhaps they've taken a few old fellows prisoners to ensure the fort's +good behavior, while we save our bacon," I suggested. + +"If they have, those Highlanders will go to Fort Douglas shining bald as +a red ball," answered the plain-ranger. + +In this, Grant did his people injustice; for of those prisoners taken by +the advance guard, not a hair of their heads was injured. The warden +was nervously apprehensive. This was unusual with him; and I have since +wondered if his dark forebodings arose from better knowledge of the +_Bois-Brulés_ than I possessed, or from some premonition. + +"There'd be some reason for uneasiness, if you weren't here to control +them, Grant," said I, nodding towards the Indians and Metis. + +"One man against a host! What can I do?" he asked gloomily. + +"Good gracious, man! Do! Why, do what you came to do! Whatever's the +matter with you?" + +The swarthy face had turned a ghastly, yellowish tint and he did not +answer. + +"'Pon my honor," I exclaimed. "Are you ill, man?" + +"'Tisn't that! When I went to sleep, last night, there were--corpses all +round me. I thought I was in a charnel house and----" + +"Good gracious, Grant!" I shuddered out. "Don't you go off your head +next! Leave that for us green chaps! Besides, the Indians were raising +stench enough with a dog-stew to fill any brain with fumes. For +goodness' sake, let's go on, meet those fellows with the brigade, secure +that express and get off this 'powder mine'--as you call it." + +"By all means!" Grant responded, giving the order, and we moved forward +but only at snail pace; for I think he wanted to give the settlers +plenty of time to reach the fort. + +By five o'clock in the afternoon we had almost rounded the slough and +were gradually closing towards the wooded ground of the river bank. We +were within ear-shot of the settlers. They were flying past with +terrified cries of "The half-breeds! The half-breeds!" when I heard +Grant groan from sheer alarm and mutter-- + +"Look! Look! The lambs coming to meet the wolves!" + +To this day I cannot account for the madness of the thing. There, some +twenty, or thirty Hudson's Bay men--mere youths most of them--were +coming with all speed to head us off from the river path, at a wooded +point called Seven Oaks. What this pigmy band thought it could do +against our armed men, I do not know. The blunder on their part was so +unexpected and inexcusable, it never dawned on us the panic-stricken +settlers had spread a report of raid, and these poor valiant defenders +had come out to protect the colony. If that be the true explanation of +their rash conduct in tempting conflict, what were they thinking about +to leave the walls of their fort during danger? My own opinion is that +with Lord Selkirk's presumptuous claims to exclusive possession in Red +River and the recent high-handed success of the Hudson's Bay, the men of +Fort Douglas were so flushed with pride they did not realize the risk of +a brush with the _Bois-Brulés_. Much, too, may be attributed to Governor +Semple's inexperience; but it was very evident the purpose of the force +deliberately blocking our path was not peaceable. If the Hudson's Bay +blundered in coming out to challenge us, so did we, I frankly admit; for +we regarded the advance as an audacious trick to hold us back till the +Fort William express could be captured. + +Now that the thing he feared had come, all hesitancy vanished from +Grant's manner. Steeled and cool like the leader he was, he sternly +commanded the surging Metis to keep back. Straggling Indians and +half-breeds dashed to our fore-ranks with the rush of a tempest and +chafed hotly against the warden. At a word from Grant, the men swung +across the enemy's course sickle-shape; but they were furious at this +disciplined restraint. From horn to horn of the crescent, rode the +plain-ranger, lashing horses back to the circle and shaking his fist in +the quailing face of many a bold rebel. + +Both sides advanced within a short distance of each other. We could see +that Governor Semple, himself, was leading the Hudson's Bay men. +Immediately, Boucher, a North-West clerk, was sent forward to parley. +Now, I hold the Nor'-Westers would not have done that if their purpose +had been hostile; but Boucher rode out waving his hand and calling-- + +"What do you want? What do you want?" + +"What do you want, yourself?" came Governor Semple's reply with some +heat and not a little insolence. + +"We want our fort," demanded Boucher, slightly taken aback, but +thoroughly angered. His horse was prancing restively within pistol range +of the governor. + +"Go to your fort, then! Go to your fort!" returned Semple with stinging +contempt in manner and voice. + +He might as well have told us to go to Gehenna; for the fort was +scattered to the four winds. + +"The fool!" muttered Grant. "The fool! Let him answer for the +consequences. Their blood be on their own heads." + +Whether the _Bois-Brulés_, who had lashed their horses into a lather of +foam and were cursing out threats in the ominous undertone that precedes +a storm-burst, now encroached upon the neutral ground in spite of Grant, +or were led gradually forward by the warden as the Hudson's Bay +governor's hostility increased, I did not in the excitement of the +moment observe. One thing is certain, while the quarrel between the +Hudson's Bay governor and the North-West clerk was becoming more +furious, our surging cohorts were closing in on the little band like an +irresistible tidal wave. I could make out several Hudson's Bay faces, +that seemed to remind me of my Fort Douglas visit; but of the rabble of +Nor'-Westers and _Bois-Brulés_ disguised in hideous war-gear, I dare +avow not twenty of us were recognizable. + +"Miserable rogue!" Boucher was shouting, utterly beside himself with +rage and flourishing his gun directly over the governor's head, +"Miserable rogue! Why have you destroyed our fort?" + +"Call him off, Grant! Call him off, or it's all up!" I begged, seeing +the parley go from bad to worse; but Grant was busy with the +_Bois-Brulés_ and did not hear. + +"Wretch!" Governor Semple exclaimed in a loud voice. "Dare you to speak +so to me!" and he caught Boucher's bridle, throwing the horse back on +its haunches. + +Boucher, agile as a cat, slipped to the ground. + +"Arrest him, men!" commanded the governor. "Arrest him at once!" + +But the clerk was around the other side of the horse, with his gun +leveled across its back. + +Whether, when Boucher jumped down, our bloodthirsty knaves thought him +shot and broke from Grant's control to be avenged, or whether Lieutenant +Holt of the Hudson's Bay at that unfortunate juncture discharged his +weapon by accident, will never be known. + +Instantaneously, as if by signal, our men with a yell burst from the +ranks, leaped from their saddles and using horses as breast-work, fired +volley after volley into the governor's party. The neighing and plunging +of the frenzied horses added to the tumult. The Hudson's Bay men were +shouting out incoherent protest; but what they said was drowned in the +shrill war-cry of the Indians. Just for an instant, I thought I +recognized one particular voice in that shrieking babel, which flashed +back memory of loud, derisive laughter over a camp fire and at the +buffalo hunt; but all else was forgotten in the terrible consciousness +that our men's murderous onslaught was deluging the prairie with +innocent blood. + +Throwing himself between the _Bois-Brulés_ and the retreating band, the +warden implored his followers to grant truce. As well plead with wild +beasts. The half-breeds were deaf to commands, and in vain their leader +argued with blows. The shooting had been of a blind sort, and few shots +did more than wound; but the natives were venting the pent-up hate of +three years and would give no quarter. From musketry volleys the fight +had become hand-to-hand butchery. + +I had dismounted and was beating the scoundrels back with the butt end +of my gun, begging, commanding, abjuring them to desist, when a Hudson's +Bay youth swayed forward and fell wounded at my feet. There was the +baffled, anguished scream of some poor wounded fellow driven to bay, and +I saw Laplante across the field, covered with blood, reeling and +staggering back from a dozen red-skin furies, who pressed upon their +fagged victim, snatching at his throat like hounds at the neck of a +beaten stag. With a bound across the prostrate form of the youth, I ran +to the Frenchman's aid. Louis saw me coming and struck out so valiantly, +the wretched cowards darted back just as I have seen a miserable pack of +open-mouthed curs dodge the last desperate sweep of antlered head. That +gave me my chance, and I fell on their rear with all the might I could +put in my muscle, bringing the flat of my gun down with a crash on +crested head-toggery, and striking right and left at Louis' assailants. + +"Ah--_mon Dieu_--comrade," sobbed Louis, falling in my arms from sheer +exhaustion, while the tears trickled down in a white furrow over his +blood-splashed cheeks, "_mon Dieu_--comrade, but you pay me back +generous!" + +"Tutts, man, this is no time for settling old scores and playing the +grand! Run for your life. Run to the woods and swim the river!" With +that, I flung him from me; for I heard the main body of our force +approaching. "Run," I urged, giving the Frenchman a push. + +"The run--ha--ha--my old spark," laughed Louis with a tearful, lack-life +sort of mirth, "the run--it has all run out," and with a pitiful reel +down he fell in a heap. + +I caught him under the armpits, hoisted him to my shoulders, and made +with all speed for the wooded river bank. My pace was a tumble more than +a run down the river cliff, but I left the man at the very water's edge, +where he could presently strike out for the far side and regain Fort +Douglas by swimming across again. Then I hurried to the battle-field in +search of the wounded youth whom I had left. As I bent above him, the +poor lad rolled over, gazing up piteously with the death-look on his +face; and I recognized the young Nor'-Wester who had picked flowers with +me for Frances Sutherland and afterwards deserted to the Hudson's Bay. +The boy moaned and moved his lips as if speaking, but I heard no sound. +Stooping on one knee, I took his head on the other and bent to listen; +but he swooned away. Afraid to leave him--for the savages were wreaking +indescribable barbarities on the fallen--I picked him up. His arms and +head fell back limply as if he were dead, and holding him thus, I again +dashed for the fringe of woods. Rogers of the Hudson's Bay staggered +against me wounded, with both hands thrown up ready to surrender. He was +pleading in broken French for mercy; but two half-breeds, one with +cocked pistol, the other with knife, rushed upon him. I turned away that +I might not see; but the man's unavailing entreaties yet ring in my +ears. Farther on, Governor Semple lay, with lacerated arm and broken +thigh. He was calling to Grant, "I'm not mortally wounded! If you could +get me conveyed to the fort I think I would live!" + +Then I got away from the field and laid my charge in the woods. Poor +lad! The pallor of death was on every feature. Tearing open his coat and +taking letters from an inner pocket to send to relatives, I saw a +knife-stab in his chest, which no mortal could survive. Battle is +pitiless. I hurriedly left the dying boy and went back to the living, +ordering a French half-breed to guard him. + +"See that no one mutilates this body," said I, "and I'll reward you." + +My shout seemed to recall the lad's consciousness. Whether he fully +understood the terrible significance of my words, I could not tell; but +he opened his eyes with a reproachful glazed stare; and that was the +last I saw of him. + +Knowing Grant would have difficulty in obtaining carriers for Governor +Semple, and only too anxious to gain access to Fort Douglas, I ran with +haste towards the recumbent form of the fallen leader. Grant was at some +distance scouring the field for reliable men, and while I was yet twenty +or thirty yards away an Indian glided up. + +"Dog!" he hissed in the prostrate man's face. "You have caused all this! +You shall not live! Dog that you are!" + +Then something caught my feet. I stumbled and fell. There was the flare +of a pistol shot in Governor Semple's face and a slight cry. The next +moment I was by his side. The shot had taken effect in the breast. The +body was yet hot with life; but there was neither breath, nor heart +beat. + +A few of the Hudson's Bay band gained hiding in the shrubbery and +escaped by swimming across to the east bank of the Red, but the remnant +tried to reach the fort across the plain. Calling me, Grant, now utterly +distracted, directed his efforts to this quarter. I with difficulty +captured my horse and galloped off to join the warden. Our riders were +circling round something not far from the fort walls and Grant was +tearing over the prairie, commanding them to retire. It seems, when +Governor Semple discovered the strength of our forces, he sent some of +his men back to Fort Douglas for a field-piece. Poor Semple with his +European ideas of Indian warfare! The _Bois-Brulés_ did not wait for +that field-piece. The messengers had trundled it out only a short +distance from the gateway, when they met the fugitives flying back with +news of the massacre. Under protection of the cannon, the men made a +plucky retreat to the fort, though the _Bois-Brulés_ harassed them to +the very walls. This disappearance--or rather extermination--of the +enemy, as well as the presence of the field-gun, which was a new terror +to the Indians, gave Grant his opportunity. He at once rounded the men +up and led them off to Frog Plains, on the other side of the swamp. Here +we encamped for the night, and were subsequently joined by the first +division of _Bois-Brulés_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE IROQUOIS PLAYS HIS LAST CARD + + +The _Bois-Brulés_ and Indian marauders, who gathered to our camp, were +drunk with the most intoxicating of all stimulants--human blood. This +flush of victory excited the redskins' vanity to a boastful frenzy. +There was wild talk of wiping the pale-face out of existence; and if a +weaker man than Grant had been at the head of the forces, not a white in +the settlement would have escaped massacre. In spite of the bitterness +to which the slaughter at Seven Oaks gave rise, I think all fair-minded +people have acknowledged that the settlers owed their lives to the +warden's efforts. + +That night pandemonium itself could not have presented a more hideous +scene than our encampment. The lust of blood is abhorrent enough in +civilized races, but in Indian tribes, whose unrestrained, hard life +abnormally develops the instincts of the tiger, it is a thing that may +not be portrayed. Let us not, with the depreciatory hypocrisy, +characteristic of our age, befool ourselves into any belief that +barbaric practices were more humane than customs which are the flower of +civilized centuries. Let us be truthful. Scientific cruelty may do its +worst with intricate armaments; but the blood-thirst of the Indian +assumed the ghastly earnest of victors drinking the warm life-blood of +dying enemies and of torturers laving hands in a stream yet hot from +pulsing hearts. + +Decked out in red-stained trophies with scalps dangling from their +waists, the natives darted about like blood-whetted beasts; and the +half-breeds were little better, except that they thirsted more for booty +than life. There was loud vaunting over the triumph, the ignorant rabble +imagining their warriors heroes of a great battle, instead of the +murderous plunderers they were. Pierre, the rhymester, according to his +wont, broke out in jubilant celebration of the half-breeds' feat:[A] + + Ho-ho! List you now to a tale of truth + Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, proudly sing, + Of the _Bois-Brulés_, whose deeds dismay + The hearts of the soldiers serving the king! + + Swift o'er the plain rode our warriors brave + To meet the gay voyageurs come from the sea. + Out came the bold band that had pillaged our land, + And we taught them the plain is the home of the free. + + We were passing along to the landing-place, + Three hostile whites we bound on the trail. + The enemy came with a shout of acclaim, + We flung back their taunts with the shriek of a gale. + + "They have come to attack us," our people cry. + Our cohorts spread out in a crescent horn, + Their path we bar in a steel scimitar, + And their empty threats we flout with scorn. + + They halt in the face of a dauntless foe, + They spit out their venom of baffled rage! + Honor, our breath to the very death! + So we proffer them peace, or a battle-gage. + + The governor shouts to his soldiers, "Draw!" + 'Tis the enemy strikes the first, fateful blow! + Our men break from line, for the battle-wine + Of a fighting race has a fiery glow. + + The governor thought himself mighty in power. + The shock of his strength--Ha-ha!--should be known + From the land of the sea to the prairie free + And all free men should be overthrown![B] + + But naked and dead on the plain lies he, + Where the carrion hawk, and the sly coyote + Greedily feast on the great and the least, + Without respect for a lord of note. + + The governor thought himself mighty in power. + He thought to enslave the _Bois-Brulés_, + "Ha-ha," laughed the hawk. Ho-ho! Let him mock. + "Plain rangers ride forth to slay, to slay." + + Whose cry outpierces the night-bird's note? + Whose voice mourns sadly through sighing trees? + What spirits wail to the prairie gale? + Who tells his woes to the evening breeze? + + Ha-ha! We know, though we tell it not. + We fought with them till none remained. + The coyote knew, and his hungry crew + Licked clean the grass where the turf was stained. + + Ho-ho! List you all to my tale of truth. + 'Tis I, Pierre, the rhymester, this glory tell + Of freedom saved and brave hands laved + In the blood of tyrants who fought and fell! + +The whole scene was repugnant beyond endurance. My ears were so filled +with the death cries heard in the afternoon, I had no relish for +Pierre's crude recital of what seemed to him a glorious conquest. I +could not rid my mind of that dying boy's sad face. Many half-breeds +were preparing to pillage the settlement. Intending to protect the +Sutherland home and seek the dead lad's body, I borrowed a fresh horse +and left the tumult of the camp. + +I made a detour of the battle-field in order to reach the Sutherland +homestead before night. I might have saved myself the trouble; for every +movable object--to the doors and window sashes--had been taken from the +little house, whether by father and daughter before going to the fort, +or by the marauders, I did not know. + +It was unsafe to return by the wooded river trail after dark and I +struck directly to the clearing and followed the path parallel to the +bush. When I reached Seven Oaks, I was first apprised of my whereabouts +by my horse pricking forward his ears and sniffing the air uncannily. I +tightened rein and touched him with the spur, but he snorted and jumped +sideways with a suddenness that almost unseated me, then came to a +stand, shaking as if with chill. Something skulked across the trail and +gained cover in the woods. With a reassuring pat, I urged my horse back +towards the road, for the prairie was pitted with badger and gopher +holes; but the beast reared, baulked and absolutely refused to be either +driven, or coaxed. + +"Wise when men are fools!" said I, dismounting. Bringing the reins over +his head, I tried to pull him forward; but he planted all fours and +jerked back, almost dragging me off my feet. + +"Are you possessed?" I exclaimed, for if ever horror were plainly +expressed by an animal, it was by that horse. Legs rigid, head bent +down, eyes starting forward and nostrils blowing in and out, he was a +picture of terror. + +Something wriggled in the thicket. The horse rose on his hind legs, +wrenched the rein from my hand and scampered across the plain. I sent a +shot into the bush. There was a snarl and a scurrying through the +underbrush. + +"Pretty bold wolf! Never saw a broncho act that way over a coyote +before!" + +I might as well find the body of the English lad before trying to catch +my horse, so I walked on. Suddenly, in the silver-white of a starry sky, +I saw what had terrified the animal. Close to the shrubbery lay the +stark form of a white man, knees drawn upwards and arms spread out like +the bars of a cross. Was that the lad I had known? I rushed towards the +corpse--but as quickly turned away. From downright lack of courage, I +could not look at it; for the body was mutilated beyond semblance to +humanity. Would that I had strength and skill to paint that dead figure +as it was! Then would those, who glory in the shedding of blood, glory +to their shame; and the pageant of war be stripped of all its false +toggery revealing carnage and slaughter in their revolting nakedness. + +I could not look back to know if that were the lad, but ran aimlessly +towards the scene of the Seven Oaks fray. As I approached, there was a +great flapping of wings. Up rose buzzards, scolding in angry discord at +my interruption. A pack of wolves skulked a few feet off and eyed me +impatiently, boldly waiting to return when I left. The impudence of the +brutes enraged me and I let go half a dozen charges, which sent them to +a more respectful distance. Here were more bodies like the first. I +counted eight within a stone's throw, and there were twice as many +between Seven Oaks and the fort. Where they lay, I could tell very well; +for hawks wheeled with harsh cries overhead and there was a vague +movement of wolfish shapes along the ground. + +What possessed me to hover about that dreadful scene, I cannot imagine, +unless the fear of those creatures returning; but I did not carry a +thing with which I could bury the dead. Involuntarily, I sought out +Rogers and Governor Semple; for I had seen the death of each. It was +when seeking these, that I thought I distinguished the faintest motion +of one figure still clothed and lying apart from the others. + +The sight riveted me to the spot. + +Surely it was a mistake! The form could not have moved! It must have +been some error of vision, or trick of the shadowy starlight; but I +could not take my eyes from the prostrate form. Again the body +moved--distinctly moved--beyond possibility of fancy, the chest heaving +up and sinking like a man struggling but unable to rise. With the +ghastly dead and the ravening wolves all about, the movement of that +wounded man was strangely terrifying and my knees knocked with fear, as +I ran to his aid. + +The man was an Indian, but his face I could not see; for one hand +staunched a wound in his head and the other gripped a knife with which +he had been defending himself. My first thought was that he must be a +Nor'-Wester, or his body would not have escaped the common fate; but if +a Nor'-Wester, why had he been left on the field? So I concluded he was +one of the camp-followers, who had joined our forces for plunder and +come to a merited end. Still he was a man; and I stooped to examine him +with a view to getting him on my horse and taking him back to the camp. + +At first he was unconscious of my presence. Gently I tried to remove the +left hand from his forehead, but at the touch, out struck the right +hand in vicious thrusts of the hunting-knife, one blind cut barely +missing my arm. + +"Hold, man!" I cried, "I'm no foe, but a friend!" and I caught the right +arm tightly. + +At the sound of my voice, the left hand swung out revealing a frightful +gash; and the next thing I knew, his left arm had encircled my neck like +the coil of a strangler, five fingers were digging into the flesh of my +throat and Le Grand Diable was making frantic efforts to free his right +hand and plunge that dagger into me. The shock of the discovery threw me +off guard, and for a moment there was a struggle, but only for a moment. +Then the wounded man fell back, writhing in pain, his face contorted +with agony and hate. I do not think he could see me. He must have been +blind from that wound. I stood back, but his knife still cut the air. + +"Le Grand Diable! Fool!" I said, "I will not harm you! I give you the +white man's word, I will not hurt you!" + +The right arm fell limp and still. Had I, by some strange irony, been +led to this spot that I might witness the death of my foe? Was this the +end of that long career of evil? + +"Le Grand Diable!" I cried, going a pace nearer, which seemed to bring +back the ebbing life. "Le Grand Diable! You cannot stay here among the +wolves. Tell me whereto find Miriam and I'll take you back to the camp! +Tell me and no one shall harm you! I will save you!" + +The thin lips moved. He was saying, or trying to say, something. + +"Speak louder!" and I bent over him. "Speak the truth and I take you to +the camp!" + +The lips were still moving, but I could not hear a sound. + +"Speak louder!" I shouted. "Where is Miriam? Where is the white woman?" +I put my ear to his lips, fearful that life might slip away before I +could hear. + +There was a snarl through the glistening set teeth. The prostrate body +gave an upward lurch. With one swift, treacherous thrust, he drove his +knife into my coat-sleeve, grazing my forearm. The effort cost him his +life. He sank down with a groan. The sightless, bloodshot eyes opened. +Le Grand Diable would never more feign death. + +I jerked the knife from my coat, hurled it from me, sprang up and fled +from the field as if it had been infected with a pest, or I pursued by +gends. Never looking back and with superstitious dread of the dead +Indian's evil spirit, I tore on and on till, breath-spent and exhausted, +I threw myself down with the North-West camp-fires in sight. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] It should scarcely be necessary for the author to state that these +are the sentiments of the Indian poet expressing the views of the savage +towards the white man, and not the white man towards the savage. The +poem is as close a translation of the original ballad sung by Pierre in +Metis dialect the night of the massacre, as could be given. The Indian +nature is more in harmony with the hawk and the coyote than with the +white man; hence the references. Other thoughts embodied in this crude +lay are taken directly from the refrains of the trappers chanted at that +time. + +[B] Governor Semple unadvisedly boasted that the shock of his power +would be felt from Montreal to Athabasca. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +FORT DOUGLAS CHANGES MASTERS + + +I suppose there are times in the life of every one, even the +strongest--and I am not that--when a feather's weight added to a burden +may snap power of endurance. I had reached that stage before +encountering Le Grand Diable on the field of massacre at Seven Oaks. +With the events in the Mandane country, the long, hard ride northward +and this latest terrible culmination of strife between Nor'-Westers and +Hudson's Bay, the past month had been altogether too hard packed for my +well-being. The madness of northern traders no longer amazed me. + +An old nurse of my young days, whom I remember chiefly by her ramrod +back and sharp tongue, used to say, "Nerves! nerves! nothing but +nerves!" She thanked God she was born before the doctors had discovered +nerves. Though neurotic theories had not been sufficiently elaborated +for me to ascribe my state to the most refined of modern ills--nervous +prostration--I was aware, as I dragged over the prairie with the horse +at the end of a trailing bridle rein, that something was seriously out +of tune. It was daylight before I caught the frightened broncho and no +knock-kneed coward ever shook more, as I vainly tried to vault into the +saddle, and after a dozen false plunges at the stirrup, gave up the +attempt and footed it back to camp. There was a daze between my eyes, +which the over-weary know well, and in the brain-whirl, I could +distinguish only two thoughts, Where was Miriam--and Father Holland's +prediction--"Benedicite! The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall +deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher." + +Thus, I reached the camp, picketed the horse, threw myself down in the +tent and slept without a break from the morning of the 20th till mid-day +of the 21st. I was awakened by the _Bois-Brulés_ returning from a +demonstration before the gateway of Fort Douglas. Going to the tent +door, I saw that Pritchard, one of the captive Hudson's Bay men, had +been brought back from a conference with the enemy. From his account, +the Hudson's Bay people seemed to be holding out against us; but the +settlers, realizing the danger of Indian warfare, to a man favored +surrender. Had it not been for Grant, there would have been no farther +parley; but on news that settlers were pressing for capitulation, the +warden again despatched Pritchard to the Hudson's Bay post. In the hope +of gaining access to Frances Sutherland and Eric Hamilton I accompanied +him. Such was the terror prevailing within the walls, in spite of +Pritchard's assurance regarding my friendly purpose, admission was +flatly denied me. I contented myself with verbal messages that Hamilton +and Father Holland must remain. I could guarantee their safety. The same +offer I made to Frances, but told her to do what was best for herself +and her father. When Pritchard came out, I knew from his face that Fort +Douglas was ours. Hamilton and Father Holland would stay, he reported; +but Mistress Sutherland bade him say that after Seven Oaks her father +had no friendly feeling for Nor'-Westers, and she could not let him go +forth alone. Terms were stipulated between the two companies with due +advantage to our side from the recent victory and the formal surrender +of Fort Douglas took place the following day. + +"What are you going to do with the settlers, Cuthbert?" I asked of the +warden before the capitulation. + +"Aye! That's a question," was the grim response. + +"Why not leave them in the fort till things quiet down?" + +"With all the Indians of Red River in possession of that fort?" asked +Grant, sarcastically. "Were a few Nor'-Westers so successful in holding +back the Metis at Seven Oaks, you'd like to see that experiment +repeated?" + +"'Twill be worse, Grant, if you let them go back to their farms." + +"They'll not do that, if I'm warden of the plains," he declared with +great determination. "We'll have to send them down the Red to the lake +till that fool of a Scotch nobleman decides what to do with his fine +colonists." + +"But, Grant, you don't mean to send them up north in this cold country. +They may not reach Hudson's Bay in time to catch the company ship to +Scotland! Why, man, it's sheer murder to expose those people to a winter +up there without a thing to shelter them!" + +"To my mind, freezing is not quite so bad as a massacre. If they won't +take our boats to the States, or Canada, what else can Nor'-Westers do?" + +And what else, indeed? I could not answer Grant's question, though I +know every effort we made to induce those people to go south instead of +north has been misrepresented as an infamous attempt to expel Selkirk +settlers from Red River. Truly, I hope I may never see a sadder sight +than the going forth of those colonists to the shelterless plain. It was +disastrous enough for them to be driven from their native heath; but to +be lured away to this far country for the purpose of becoming buffers +between rival fur-traders, who would stop at nothing, and to be +sacrificed as victims for their company's criminal policy--I speak as a +Nor'-Wester--was immeasurably cruel. + +Grant was, of course, on hand for the surrender, and he wisely kept the +plain-rangers at a safe distance. Clerks lined each side of the path to +the gate, and I pressed forward for a glimpse of Frances Sutherland. +There was the jar of a heavy bolt shot back. Confused noises sounded +from the courtyard. The gates swung open, and out marched the sheriff of +Assiniboia, bearing in one hand a pole with a white sheet tacked to the +end for a flag of truce, and in the other the fort keys. Behind, sullen +and dejected, followed a band of Hudson's Bay men. Grant stepped up to +meet the sheriff. The terms of capitulation were again stated, and there +was some signing of paper. Of those things my recollection is +indistinct; for I was straining my eyes towards the groups of settlers +inside the walls. When I looked back to the conferring leaders the +silence was so intense a pinfall could have been heard. The keys of the +fort were being handed to the Nor'-Westers and the Hudson's Bay men had +turned away their faces that they might not see. The vanquished then +passed quickly to the barges at the river. Each of the six drunken +fellows, whom I had last seen in the late Governor Semple's office, the +Highlanders who had spied upon me when I visited Fort Douglas but a year +before, the clerks whom I had heard talking that night in the great +hall, and many others with whom I had but a chance acquaintance, filed +down to the river. Seeing all ready, with a North-West clerk at the prow +of each boat to warn away marauders, the men came back for settlers and +wounded comrades. I would have proffered my assistance to some of the +burdened people on the chance of a word with Frances Sutherland, but the +colonists proudly resented any kind offices from a Nor'-Wester. I saw +Louis Laplante come limping out, leaning on the arm of the red-faced +man, whose eye quailed when it met mine. Poor Louis looked sadly +battered, with his head in a white bandage, one arm in a sling, and a +dejected stoop to his shoulders that was unusual with him. + +"This is too bad, Louis," said I, hurrying forward. "I forgot to send +word about you. You might as well have stayed in the fort till your +wounds healed. Won't you come back?" + +Louis stole a furtive, sheepish glance at me, hung his head and looked +away with a suspicion of moisture about his eyes. + +"You always were a brute to fight at Laval! I might trick you at first, +but you always ended by giving me the throw," he answered +disconsolately. + +"Nonsense, Louis." I was astounded at the note of reproach in his voice. +"We're even now--let by-gones be by-gones! You helped me, I helped you. +You trapped me into the fort, I tricked you into breaking a mirror and +laying up a peck of trouble for yourself. Surely you don't treasure any +grudge yet?" + +He shook his head without looking at me. + +"I don't understand. Let us begin over again. Come, forget old scores, +come back to the fort till you're well." + +"Pah!" said Louis with a sudden, strange impatience which I could not +fathom. "You understand some day and turn upon me and strike and give +me more throw." + +"All right, comrade, treasure your wrath! Only I thought two men, who +had saved each other's lives, might be friends and bury old quarrels." + +"You not know," he blurted out in a broken voice. + +"Not know what?" I asked impatiently. "I tell you I forgive all and I +had thought you might do as much----" + +"Do as much!" he interrupted fiercely. "_O mon Dieu!_" he cried, with a +sob that shook his frame. "Take me away! Take me away!" he begged the +man on whose arm he was leaning; and with those enigmatical words he +passed to the nearest boat. + +While I was yet gazing in mute amazement after Louis Laplante, wondering +whether his strange emotion were revenge, or remorse, the women and +children marched forth with the men protecting each side. The empty +threats of half-breeds to butcher every settler in Red River had +evidently reached the ears of the women. Some trembled so they could +scarcely walk and others stared at us with the reproach of murder in +their eyes, gazing in horror at our guilty hands. At last I caught sight +of Frances Sutherland. She was well to the rear of the sad procession, +leaning on the arm of a tall, sturdy, erect man whom I recognized as her +father. I would have forced my way to her side at once, but a swift +glance forbade me. A gleam of love flashed to the gray eyes for an +instant, then father and daughter had passed. + +"Little did I think," the harsh, rasping voice of the father was saying, +"that daughter of mine would give her heart to a murderer. Which of +these cut-throats may I claim for a son?" + +"Hush, father," she whispered. "Remember he warned us to the fort and +took me to Pembina." She was as pale as death. + +"Aye! Aye! We're under obligations to strange benefactors when times go +awry!" he returned bitterly. + +"O father! Don't! You'll think differently when you know----" but a +hulking lout stumbled between us, and I missed the rest. + +They were at the boats and an old Highlander was causing a blockade by +his inability to lift a great bale into the barge. + +"Let me give you a lift," said I, stepping forward and taking hold of +the thing. + +"Friend, or foe?" asked the Scot, before he would accept my aid. + +"Friend, of course," and I braced myself to give the package a hoist. + +"Hudson's Bay, or Nor'-Wester?" pursued the settler, determined to take +no help from the hated enemy. + +"Nor'-Wester, but what does that matter? A friend all the same! Yo +heave! Up with it!" + +"Neffer!" roared the man in a towering passion, and he gave me a push +that sent me knocking into the crowd on the landing. Involuntarily, I +threw out my arm to save a fall and caught a woman's outstretched hand. +It was Frances Sutherland's and I thrilled with the message she could +not speak. + +"I beg your pardon, Mistress Sutherland," said I, as soon as I could +find speech, and I stepped back tingling with embarrassment and delight. + +"A civil-tongued young man, indeed," remarked the father, sarcastically, +with a severe scrutiny of my retreating person. "A civil-tongued young +man to know your name so readily, Frances! Pray, who is he?" + +"Oh! Some Nor'-Wester," answered Frances, the white cheeks blushing red, +and she stepped quickly forward to the gang-plank. "Some Nor'-Wester, I +suppose!" she repeated unconcernedly, but the flush had suffused her +neck and was not unnoticed by the father's keen eyes. + +Then they seated themselves at the prow beside the Nor'-Wester appointed +to accompany the boat; and I saw that Louis Laplante was sitting +directly opposite Frances Sutherland, with his eyes fixed on her face in +a bold gaze, that instantly quenched any kindness I may have felt +towards him. How I regretted my thoughtlessness in not having +forestalled myself in the Sutherlands' barge. The next best thing was to +go along with Grant, who was preparing to ride on the river bank and +escort the company beyond all danger. + +"You coming too?" asked Grant sharply, as I joined him. + +"If you don't mind." + +"Think two are necessary?" + +"Not when one of the two is Grant," I answered, which pleased him, "but +as my heart goes down the lake with those barges----" + +"Hut-tutt--man," interrupted Grant. "War's bad enough without love; but +come if you like." + +As the boats sheered off from the wharf, Grant and I rode along the +river trail. I saw Frances looking after me with surprise, and I think +she must have known my purpose, though she did not respond when I +signalled to her. + +"Stop that!" commanded Grant peremptorily. "You did that very slyly, +Rufus, but if they see you, there'll be all sorts of suspicion about +collusion." + +The river path ran into the bush, winding in and out of woods, so we +caught only occasional glimpses of the boats; but I fancied her eyes +were ever towards the bank where we rode, and I could distinctly see +that the Frenchman's face was buried in his arms above one of the +squarish packets opposite the Sutherlands. + +"Is it the same lass," asked Grant, after we had been riding for more +than an hour, "is it the same lass that was disguised as an Indian girl +at Fort Gibraltar?" + +His question astonished me. I thought her disguise too complete even for +his sharp penetration; but I was learning that nothing escaped the +warden's notice. Indeed, I have found it not unusual for young people at +a certain stage of their careers to imagine all the rest of the world +blind. + +"The same," I answered, wondering much. + +"You took her back to Fort Douglas. Did you hear anything special in the +fort that night?" + +"Nothing but that McDonell was likely to surrender. How did you know I +was there?" + +"Spies," he answered laconically. "The old _voyageurs_ don't change +masters often for nothing. If you hadn't been stuck off in the Mandane +country, you'd have learned a bit of our methods. Her father used to +favor the Nor'-Westers. What has changed him?" + +"Seven Oaks changed him," I returned tersely. + +"Aye! Aye! That was terrible," and his face darkened. "Terrible! +Terrible! It will change many," and the rest of his talk was full of +gloomy portents and forebodings of blame likely to fall upon him for the +massacre; but I think history has cleared and justified Grant's part in +that awful work. Suddenly he turned to me. + +"There's pleasure in this ride for you. There's none for me. Will ye +follow the boats alone and see that no harm comes to them?" + +"Certainly," said I, and the warden wheeled his horse and galloped back +towards Fort Douglas. + +For an hour after he left, the trail was among the woods, and when I +finally reached a clearing and could see the boats, there was cause +enough for regret that the warden had gone. A great outcry came from +the Sutherlands' boat and Louis Laplante was on his feet gesticulating +excitedly and talking in loud tones to the rowers. + +"Hullo, there!" I shouted, riding to the very water's edge and +flourishing my pistol. "Stop your nonsense, there! What's wrong?" + +"There's a French papist demands to have speech wi' ye," called Mr. +Sutherland. + +"Bring him ashore," I returned. + +The boat headed about and approached the bank. Then the rowers ceased +pulling; for the water was shallow, and we were within speaking +distance. + +"Now, Louis, what do you mean by this nonsense?" I began. + +In answer, the Frenchman leaped out of the boat and waded ashore. + +"Let them go on," he said, scrambling up the cliff in a staggering, +faint fashion. + +"If you meant to stay at the fort, why didn't you decide sooner?" I +demanded roughly. + +"I didn't." This doggedly and with downcast eyes. + +"Then you go down the lake with the rest and no skulking!" + +"Gillespie," answered Louis in a low tone, "there's strength of an ox in +you, but not the wit. Let them go on! Simpleton, I tell you of Miriam." + +His words recalled the real reason of my presence in the north country; +for my quest had indeed been eclipsed by the fearful events of the past +week. I signalled the rowers to go without him, waved a last farewell to +Frances Sutherland, and turned to see Louis Laplante throw himself on +the grass and cry like a schoolboy. Dismounting I knelt beside him. + +"Cheer up, old boy," said I, with the usual vacuity of thought and +stupidity of expression at such times. "Cheer up! Seven Oaks has knocked +you out. I knew you shouldn't make this trip till you were strong again. +Why, man, you have enough cuts to undo the pluck of a giant-killer!" + +Louis was not paying the slightest attention to me. He was mumbling to +himself and I wondered if he were in a fever. + +"The priest, the Irish priest in the fort, he say to me: 'Wicked fellow, +you be tortured forever and ever in the furnace, if you not undo what +you did in the gorge!' What care Louis Laplante for the fire? Pah! What +care Louis for wounds and cuts and threats? Pah! The fire not half so +hot as the hell inside! The cuts not half so sharp as the thinks that +prick and sting and lash from morn'g to night, night to morn'g! Pah! +Something inside say: 'Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, a dog! A cur! +Toad! Reptile!' Then I try stand up straight and give the lie, but it +say: 'Pah! Louis Laplante!' The Irish priest, he say, 'You repent!' What +care Louis for repents? Pah! But her eyes, they look and look and look +like two steel-gray stars! Sometime they caress and he want to pray! +Sometime they stab and he shiver; but they always shine like stars of +heaven and the priest, he say, 'You be shut out of heaven!' If the angel +all have stars, steel glittering stars, for eyes, heaven worth for +trying! The priest, he say, 'You go to abode of torture!' Torture! Pah! +More torture than 'nough here. Angels with stars in their heads, more +better. But the stars stab through--through--through----" + +"Bother the stars," said I to myself. "What of Miriam?" I asked, +interrupting his penitential confidences. + +His references to steel-gray eyes and stars and angels somehow put me in +no good mood, for a reason with which most men, but few women, will +sympathize. + +"Stupid ox!" He spat out the words with unspeakable impatience at my +obtuseness. "What of Miriam! Why the priest and the starry eyes and the +something inside, they all say, 'Go and get Miriam! Where's the white +woman? You lied! You let her go! Get her--get her--get her!' What of +Miriam? Pah!" + +After that angry outburst, the fountains of his sorrow seemed to dry up +and he became more the old, nonchalant Louis whom I knew. + +"Where is Miriam?" I asked. + +He ignored my question and went on reasoning with himself. + +"No more peace--no more quiet--no more sing and rollick till he get +Miriam!" + +Was the fellow really delirious? The boats were disappearing from view. +I could wait no longer. + +"Louis," said I, "if you have anything to say, say it quick! I can't +wait longer." + +"You know I lie to you in the gorge?" and he looked straight at me. + +"Certainly," I answered, "and I punished you pretty well for it twice." + +"You know what that lie mean"--and he hesitated--"mean to her--to +Miriam?" + +"Yes, Louis, I know." + +"And you forgive all? Call all even?" + +"As far as I'm concerned--yes--Louis! God Almighty alone can forgive the +suffering you have caused her." + +Then Louis Laplante leaped up and, catching my hand, looked long and +steadily into my eyes. + +"I go and find her," he muttered in a low, tense voice. "I follow their +trail--I keep her from suffer--I bring them all back--back here in the +bush on this river--I bring her back, or I kill Louis Laplante!" + +"Old comrade--you were always generous," I began; but the words choked +in my throat. + +"I know not where they are, but I find them! I know not how +soon--perhaps a year--but I bring them back! Go on with the boats," and +he dropped my hand. + +"I can't leave you here," I protested. + +"You come back this way," he said. "May be you find me." + +Poor Louis! His tongue tripped in its old evasive ways even at the +moment of his penitence, which goes to prove--I suppose--that we are all +the sum total of the thing called habit, that even spontaneous acts are +evidences of the summed result of past years. I did not expect to find +him when I came back, and I did not. He had vanished into the woods like +the wild creature that he was; but I was placing a strange, reasonless +reliance on his promise to find Miriam. + +When I caught up with the boats, the river was widening so that attack +would be impossible, and I did not ride far. Heading my horse about, I +spurred back to Fort Douglas. Passing Seven Oaks, I saw some of the +Hudson's Bay men, who had remained burying the dead--not removing them. +That was impossible after the wolves and three days of a blistering sun. + +I told Hamilton of neither Le Grand Diable's death, nor Louis Laplante's +promise. He had suffered disappointments enough and could ill stand any +sort of excitement. I found him walking about in the up-stairs hall, but +his own grief had deadened him to the fortunes of the warring companies. + +"Confound you, boy! Tell me the truth!" said Father Holland to me +afterwards in the courtyard. + +Le Grand Diable's death and Louis Laplante's promise seemed to make a +great impression on the priest. + +"I tell you the Lord delivered that evil one into the hands of the +punisher; and of the innocent, the Lord, Himself, is the defender. +Await His purpose! Await His time!" + +"Mighty long time," said I, with the bitter impatience of youth. + +"Quiet, youngster! I tell you she shall be delivered!" + + * * * * * + +At last the Nor-Westers' Fort William brigade with its sixty men and +numerous well-loaded canoes--whose cargoes had been the bone of +contention between Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers at Seven Oaks--arrived +at Fort Douglas. The newcomers were surprised to find us in possession +of the enemy's fort. The last news they had heard was of wanton and +successful aggression on the part of Lord Selkirk's Company; and I think +the extra crews sent north were quite as much for purposes of defence as +swift travel. But the gravity of affairs startled the men from Fort +William; for they, themselves, had astounding news. Lord Selkirk was on +his way north with munitions of war and an army of mercenaries formerly +of the De Meurons' regiment, numbering two hundred, some said three or +four hundred men; but this was an exaggeration. For what was he coming +to Red River in this warlike fashion? His purpose would probably show +itself. Also, if his intent were hostile, would not Seven Oaks massacre +afford him the very pretence he wanted for chastising Nor'-Westers out +of the country? The canoemen had met the ejected settlers bound up the +lake; and with them, whom did they see but the bellicose Captain Miles +McDonell, given free passage but a year before to Montreal and now on +"the prosperous return," which he, himself, had prophesied? + +The settlers' news of Seven Oaks sent the brave captain hurrying +southward to inform Lord Selkirk of the massacre. + +We had had a victory; but how long would it last? Truly the sky was +darkening and few of us felt hopeful about the bursting of the storm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +HIS LORDSHIP TO THE RESCUE + + +Even at the hour of our triumph, we Nor'-Westers knew that we had yet to +reckon with Lord Selkirk; and a speedy reckoning the indomitable +nobleman brought about. The massacre at Seven Oaks afforded our rivals +the very pretext they desired. Clothed with the authority of an officer +of the law, Lord Selkirk hurried northward; and a personage of his +importance could not venture into the wilderness without a strong +body-guard. At least, that was the excuse given for the retinue of two +or three hundred mercenaries decked out in all the regimentals of war, +whom Lord Selkirk brought with him to the north. A more rascally, daring +crew of ragamuffins could not have been found to defend Selkirk's side +of the gentlemen adventurers' feud. The men were the offscourings of +European armies engaged in the Napoleonic wars, and came directly from +the old De Meurons' regiment. The information which the Fort William +brigade brought of Selkirk's approach, also explained why that same +brigade hastened back to the defence of Nor'-West quarters on Lake +Superior; and their help was needed. News of events at Fort William +came to us in the Red River department tardily. First, there was a vague +rumor among the Indian _voyageurs_, who were ever gliding back and +forward on the labyrinthine waters of that north land like the birds of +passage overhead. Then came definite reports from freemen who had been +expelled from Fort William; and we could no longer doubt that Nor'-West +headquarters, with all the wealth of furs and provisions therein had +fallen into the hands of the Hudson's Bay forces. Afterwards came +warning from our _Bourgeois_, driven out of Fort William, for Fort +Douglas to be prepared. Lord Selkirk would only rest long enough at Fort +William to take possession of everything worth possessing, in the name +of the law--for was he not a justice of the peace?--and in the name of +the law would he move with like intent against Fort Douglas. To the +earl's credit, be it said, that his victories were bloodless; but they +were bloodless because the Nor'-Westers had no mind to unleash those +redskin bloodhounds a second time, preferring to suffer loss rather than +resort to violence. Nevertheless, we called in every available hand of +the Nor'-West staff to man Fort Douglas against attack. But summer +dragged into autumn and autumn into winter, and no Lord Selkirk. Then we +began to think ourselves secure; for the streams were frozen to a depth +of four feet like adamant, and unless Selkirk were a madman, he would +not attempt to bring his soldiers north by dog-train during the bitter +cold of mid-winter. But 'tis ever the policy of the astute madman to +discount the enemy's calculations; and Selkirk utterly discounted ours +by sending his hardy, dare-devil De Meurons across country under the +leadership of that prince of braggarts, Captain D'Orsonnens. Indeed, we +had only heard the rumor of their coming, when we awakened one morning +after an obscure, stormy night to find them encamped at St. James, +westward on the Assiniboine River. Day after day the menacing force +remained quiet and inoffensive, and we began to look upon these +notorious ruffians as harmless. For our part, vigilance was not lacking. +Sentinels were posted in the towers day and night. Nor'-West spies +shadowed every movement of the enemy; and it was seriously considered +whether we should not open communication with D'Orsonnens to ascertain +what he wanted; but, truth to say, we knew very well what he wanted, and +had had such a surfeit of blood, we were not anxious to re-open +hostilities. + +As for Hamilton, I can hardly call his life at Fort Douglas anything +more than a mere existence. A blow stuns, but one may recover. Repeated +failure gradually benumbs hope and willpower and effort, like some +ghoulish vampire sucking away a man's life-blood till he faint and die +from very inanition. The blow, poor Eric had suffered, when he lost +Miriam; the repeated failure, when we could not restore her; and I saw +this strong, athletic man slowly succumb as to some insidious, +paralyzing disease. The thought of effort seemed to burden him. He +would silently mope by the hour in some dark corner of Fort Douglas, or +wander aimlessly about the courtyard, muttering and talking to himself. +He was weary and fatigued without a stroke of work; and what little +sleep he snatched from wakeful vigils seemed to give him no rest. His +food, he thrust from him with the petulance of a child; and at every +suggestion I could make, he sneered with a quiet, gentle insistence that +was utterly discomfiting. To be sure, I had Father Holland's boisterous +good cheer as a counter-irritant; for the priest had remained at Fort +Douglas, and was ministering to the tribes of the Red and Assiniboine. +But it was on her, who had been my guiding star and hope and inspiration +from the first, that I mainly depended. As hard, merciless winter closed +in, I could not think of those shelterless colonists driven to the lake, +without shuddering at the distress I knew they must suffer; and I +despatched a runner, urging them to return to Red River, and giving +personal guarantee for their safety. Among those, who came back, were +the Sutherlands; and if my quest had entailed far greater hardship than +it did, that quiet interval with leisure to spend much time at the +Selkirk settlement would have repaid all suffering. After sundown, I was +free from fort duties. Tying on snow-shoes after the manner of the +natives, I would speed over the whitened drifts of billowy snow. The +surface, melted by the sun-glare of mid-day and encrusted with brittle, +glistening ice, never gave under my weight; and, oddly enough, my way +always led to the Sutherland homestead. After the coming of the De +Meurons, Frances used to expostulate against what she called my +foolhardiness in making these evening visits; but their presence made no +difference to me. + +"I don't believe those drones intend doing anything very dreadful, after +all, sir," I remarked one night to Frances Sutherland's father, +referring to the soldiers. + +Following his daughter's directions I had been coming very early, also +very often, with the object of accustoming the dour Scotchman to my +staying late; and he had softened enough towards me to take part in +occasional argument. + +"Don't believe they intend doing a thing, sir," I reiterated. + +Pushing his spectacles up on his forehead, he closed the book of +sermons, which he had been reading, and puckered his brows as if he were +compromising a hard point with conscience, which, indeed, I afterwards +knew, was exactly what he had been doing. + +"Aye," said he, "aye, aye, young man. But I'm thinking ye'll no do y'r +company ony harm by speerin' after the designs o' fightin' men who make +ladders." + +"Oh!" I cried, all alert for information. "Have they been making +ladders?" + +He pulled the spectacles down on his nose and deliberately reopened the +book of sermons. + +"Of that, I canna say," he replied. + +Only once again did he emerge from his readings. I had risen to go. +Frances usually accompanied me to the outer door, where I tied my +snow-shoes and took a farewell unobserved by the father; but when I +opened the door, such a blast of wind and snow drove in, I instantly +clapped it shut again and began tying the racquets on inside. + +"O Rufus!" exclaimed Frances, "you can't go back to Fort Douglas in that +storm!" + +Then we both noticed for the first time that a hurricane of wind was +rocking the little house to its foundations. + +"Did that spring up all of a sudden?" I cried. "I never saw a blizzard +do that before." + +"I'm afraid, Rufus, we were not noticing." + +"No, we were otherwise interested," said I, innocently enough; but she +laughed. + +"You can't go," she declared. + +"The wind will be on my back," I assured her. "I'll be all right," and I +went on lacing the snow-shoe thongs about my ankle. + +The book of sermons shut with a snap and the father turned towards us. + +"Let no one say any man left the Sutherland hearth on such a night! Put +by those senseless things," and he pointed to the snow-shoes. + +"But those ladders," I interposed. "Let no one say when the enemy came +Rufus Gillespie was absent from his citadel!" + +The wind roared round the house corners like a storm at sea; and the +father looked down at me with a strange, quizzical expression. + +"Ye're a headstrong young man, Rufus Gillespie," said the hard-set +mouth. "Ye maun knock a hole in the head, or the wall! Will ye go?" + +"Knock the hole in the wall," I laughed back. "Of course I go." + +"Then, tak' the dogs," said he, with a sparkle of kindliness in the cold +eyes. So it came that I set out in the Sutherlands' dog-sled with a +supply of robes to defy biting frost. + +And I needed them every one. Old settlers, describing winter storms, +have been accused of an imagination as expansive as the prairie; but I +affirm no man could exaggerate the fury of a blizzard on the unbroken +prairie. To one thing only may it be likened--a hurricane at sea. People +in lands boxed off at short compass by mountain ridges forget with what +violence a wind sweeping half a continent can disport itself. In the +boisterous roar of the gale, my shouts to the dogs were a feeble whisper +caught from my lips and lost in the shrieking wind. The fine snowy +particles were a powdered ice that drove through seams of clothing and +cut one's skin like a whip lash. Without the fringe of woods along the +river bank to guide me, it would have been madness to set out by day, +and worse than madness by night; but I kept the dogs close to the woods. +The trees broke the wind and prevented me losing all sense of direction +in the tornado whirl of open prairie. Not enough snow had fallen on the +hard-crusted drifts to impede the dogs. They scarcely sank and with the +wind on their backs dashed ahead till the woods were passed and we were +on the bare plains. No light could be seen through the storm, but I knew +I was within a short distance of the fort gate and wheeled the dogs +toward the river flats of the left. The creatures seemed to scent human +presence. They leaped forward and brought the sleigh against the wall +with a knock that rolled me out. + +"Good fellows;" I cried, springing up, uncertain where I was. + +The huskies crouched around my feet almost tripping me and I felt +through the snowy darkness against the stockades, stake by stake. + +Ah! There was a post! Here were close-fitted boards--here, +iron-lining--this must be the gate; but where was the lantern that hung +behind? A gust of wind might have extinguished the light; so I drubbed +loudly on the gate and shouted to the sentry, who should have been +inside. + +The wind lulled for a moment and up burst wild shouting from the +courtyard intermingled with the jeers of Frenchmen and cries of terror +from our people. Then I knew judgment had come for the deeds at Seven +Oaks. The gale broke again with a hissing of serpents, or red irons, and +the howling wind rose in shrill, angry bursts. Hugging the wall, while +the dogs whined behind, I ran towards the rear. Men jostled through the +snowy dark, and I was among the De Meurons. They were too busy scaling +the stockade on the ladders of which I had heard to notice an intruder. +Taking advantage of the storm, I mounted a ladder, vaulted over the +pickets and alighted in the courtyard. Here all was noise, flight, +pursuit and confusion. I made for the main hall, where valuable papers +were kept, and at the door, cannoned against one of our men, who +shrieked with fright and begged for mercy. + +"Coward!" said I, giving him a cuff. "What has happened?" + +A flare fell on us both, and he recognized me. + +"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!" + +I left him bawling out his fear and rushed inside. + +"What has happened?" I asked, tripping up a clerk who was flying through +the hallway. + +"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!" + +"Stop!" I commanded, grasping the lap of his coat. +"What--_has_--happened?" + +"The De Meurons!" This was fairly screamed. + +I shook him till he sputtered something more. + +"They've captured the fort--our people didn't want to shed blood----" + +"And threw down their guns," I interjected, disgusted beyond word. + +"Threw down their guns," he repeated, as though that were a praiseworthy +action. "The s-s-sentinels--saw the court--full--full--full of +s-soldiers!" + +"Full of soldiers!" I thundered. "There are not a hundred in the gang." + +Thereupon I gave the caitiff a toss that sent him reeling against the +wall, and dashed up-stairs for the papers. All was darkness, and I nigh +broke my neck over a coffin-shaped rough box made for one of the +trappers, who had died in the fort. Why was the thing lying there, +anyway? The man should have been put into it and buried at once without +any drinking bout and dead wake, I reflected with some sharpness, as I +rubbed my bruised shins and shoved the box aside. Shouts rang up from +the courtyard. Heavy feet trampled in the hall below. Hamilton, as a +Hudson's Bay man, and Father Holland, I knew, were perfectly safe. But I +was far from safe. Why were they not there to help me, I wondered, with +the sort of rage we all vent on our friends when we are cornered and +they at ease. I fumbled across the apartment, found the right desk, +pried the drawer open with my knife, and was in the very act of seizing +the documents when I saw my own shadow on the floor. Lantern light burst +with a glare through the gloom of the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +FATHER HOLLAND AND I IN THE TOILS + + +Behind the lantern was a face with terrified eyes and gaping mouth. It +was the priest, his genial countenance a very picture of fear. + +"What's wrong, Father?" I asked. "You needn't be alarmed; you're all +right." + +"But I am alarmed, for you're all wrong! Lord, boy, why didn't ye stay +with that peppery Scotchman? What did Frances mane by lettin' you out +to-night?" and he shaded the light of the lantern with his hand. + +"I wanted these things," I explained. + +"Ye want a broad thumpin', I'm thinkin', ye rattle-pate, to risk y'r +precious noodle here to-night," he whispered, coming forward and fussing +about me with all the maternal anxiety of a hen over her only chicken. + +"Listen," said I. "The whole mob's coming in." + +"Go!" he urged, pushing me from the desk over which I still fumbled. + +"Run for those dogs of mercenaries!" I protested. + +"Ye swash-buckler! Ye stiff-necked braggart!" bawled the priest. "Out +wid y'r nonsense, and what good are y' thinkin' ye'll do--? Stir your +stumps, y' stoopid spalpeen!" + +"Listen," I urged, undisturbed by the tongue-thrashing that stormed +about my ears. In the babel of voices I thought I had heard some one +call my name. + +"Run, Rufus! Run for y'r life, boy!" urged Father Holland, apparently +thinking the ruffians had come solely for me. + +"Run yourself, Father; run yourself, and see how you like it," and I +tucked the documents inside my coat. + +"Divil a bit I'll run," returned the priest. + +"Hark!" + +The De Meurons' leaders were shouting orders to their men. Above the +screams of people fleeing in terror through passage-ways, came a shrill +bugle-call. + +"Go--go--go--Rufus!" begged Father Holland in a paroxysm of fear. "Go!" +he pleaded, pushing me towards the door. + +"I won't!" and I jerked away from him. "There, now." I caught up a club +and loaded pistol. + +The Nor'-Westers had no time to defend themselves. Almost before my +stubborn defiance was uttered, the building was filled with a mob of +intoxicated De Meurons. Rushing everywhere with fixed bayonets and +cursing at the top of their voices, they threatened death to all +Nor'-Westers. There was a loud scuffling of men forcing their way +through the defended hall downstairs. + +"Go, Rufus, go! Think of Frances! Save yourself," urged the priest. + +It was too late. I could not escape by the hall. Noisy feet were already +trampling up the stairs and the clank of armed men filled every passage. + +"Jee-les-pee! Jee-les-pee! Seven Oaks!" bawled a French voice from the +half-way landing, and a multitude of men with torches dashed up the +stairs. I took a stand to defend myself; for I thought I might be +charged with implication in the massacre. + +"Jee-les-pee," roared the voices. "Where is Gillespie?" thundered a +leader. + +"That's you, Rufus, lad! Down with you!" muttered the priest. Before I +knew his purpose, he had tripped my feet from under me and knocked me +flat on the floor. Overturning the empty coffin-box, he clapped it above +my whole length, imprisoning me with the snap and celerity of a +mouse-trap. Then I heard the thud of two hundred avoirdupois seating +itself on top of the case. The man above my person had whisked out a +book of prayers, and with lantern on the desk was conning over +devotions, which, I am sure, must have been read with the manual upside +down; for bits of the _pater noster_, service of the mass, and vesper +psalms were uttered in a disconnected jumble, though I could not but +apply the words to my own case. + +"_Libera nos a malo--ora pro nobis, peccatoribus--ab hoste maligno +defende me--ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me--peccator videbit et +irascetur--desiderium peccatorum peribit_----" came from the priest with +torrent speed. + +"Jee-les-pee! Jee-les-pee!" roared a dozen throats above the half-way +landing. Then came the stamp of many feet to the door. + +"Wait, men!" Hamilton's voice commanded. "I'll see if he's here!" + +"_Simulacra gentium argentum et aurum, opera manuum hominum_," like +hailstones rattled the Latin words down on my prison. + +"One moment, men," came Eric's voice; but he could not hold them back. +In burst the door with a rush, and immediately the room was crowded with +vociferating French soldiers. + +"_Manus habent, et non palpabunt; pedes_----" + +"Is Gillespie here?" interrupted Hamilton, without the slightest +recognition of the priest in his tones. + +"_Pedes habent et non ambulabunt; non clamabunt in gutture suo_," +muttered the priest, finishing his verse; then to the men with a +stiffness which I did not think Father Holland could ever assume-- + +"How often must I be disturbed by men seeking that young scoundrel? Look +at this place, fairly topsy-turvy with their hunt! Faith! The room is +before you. Look and see!" and with a great indifference he went on with +his devotions. + +"_Similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea_----" + +"Some one here before us?" interrupted an Englishman with some +suspicion. + +"Two parties here before ye," answered the priest, icily, as if these +repeated questions rumpled ecclesiastical dignity, and he gabbled on +with the psalm, "_similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea, et omnes_----" + +"If we lifted that box," interrupted the persistent Englishman, "what +might there be?" + +"If ye lift that box," answered Father Holland with massive +solemnity--and I confess every hair on my body bristled as he rose--"If +ye lift that box there might be a powr--dead--body," which was very +true; for I still held the cocked pistol in hand and would have shot the +first man daring to molest me. + +But the priest's indifference was not so great as it appeared. I could +tell from a tremor in his voice that he was greatly disturbed; and he +certainly lost his place altogether in the vesper psalm. + +"_Requiescat in pace_," were his next words, uttered in funereal +gravity. Singularly enough, they seemed to fit the situation. + +Father Holland's prompt offer to have the rough box examined satisfied +the searchers, and there were no further demands. + +"Oh," said the Englishman, taken aback, "I beg your pardon, sir! No +offence meant." + +"No offence," replied the priest, reseating himself. "_Benedicite_----" + +"Sittin' on the coffin!" blurted out the voice of an English youth as +the weight of the priest again came down heavily on my prison; and again +I breathed easily. + +"Come on, men!" shouted Hamilton, apprehensive of more curiosity. "We're +wasting time! He may be escaping by the basement window!" + +"_Jam hiems transiit, imber abiit et recessit; surge, amica mea, et +veni!_" droned the priest, and the whole company clattered downstairs. + +"Quick!--Out with you!" commanded Father Holland. "Speed to y'r heels, +and blessing on the last o' ye!" + +I dashed down the stairs and was bolting through the doorway when some +one shouted, "There he is!" + +"Run, Gillespie!" cried some one else--one of our men, I suppose--and I +had plunged into the storm and raced for the ladders at the rear +stockades with a pack of pursuers at my heels. The snow drifts were in +my favor, for with my moccasins, I leaped lightly forward, while the +booted soldiers floundered deep. I eluded my pursuers and was half-way +up a ladder when a soldier's head suddenly appeared above the wall on +the other side. Then a bayonet prodded me in the chest and I fell +heavily backwards to the ground. + + * * * * * + +I was captured. + +That is all there is to say. No man dilates with pleasure over that part +of his life when he was vanquished. It is not pleasant to have weapons +of defence wrested from one's hands, to feel soldiers standing upon +one's wrists and rifling pockets. + +It is hard to feel every inch the man on the horizontal. + +In truth, when the soldiers picked me up without ceremony, or +gentleness, and bundling me up the stairs of the main hall, flung me +into a miserable pen, with windows iron-barred to mid-sash, I was but a +sorry hero. My tormentors did not shackle me; I was spared that +humiliation. + +"There!" exclaimed a Hudson's Bay man, throwing lantern-light across the +dismal low roof as I fell sprawling into the room. "That'll cool the +young hot-head," and all the French soldiers laughed at my discomfiture. + +They chained and locked the door on the outside. I heard the soldiers' +steps reverberating through the empty passages, and was alone in a sort +of prison-room, used during the régime of the petty tyrant McDonell. It +was cold enough to cool any hot-head, and mine was very hot indeed. I +knew the apartment well. Nor'-Westers had used it as a fur storeroom. +The wind came through the crevices of the board walls and piled +miniature drifts on the floor-cracks, all the while rattling loose +timbers like a saw-mill. The roof was but a few feet high, and I crept +to the window, finding all the small panes coated with two inches of +hoar-frost. Whether the iron bars outside ran across, or up and down, I +could not remember; but the fact would make a difference to a man +trying to escape. Much as I disliked to break the glass letting in more +cold, there was only one way of finding out about those bars. I raised +my foot for an outward kick, but remembering I wore only the moccasins +with which I had been snowshoeing, I struck my fist through instead, and +shattered the whole upper half of the window. I broke away cross-pieces +that might obstruct outward passage, and leaning down put my hand on the +sharp points of upright spikes. So intense was the frost, the skin of my +finger tips stuck to the iron, and I drew my hand in, with the sting of +a fresh burn. + +It was unfortunate about those bars. I could not possibly get past them +down to the ground without making a ladder from my great-coat. I groped +round the room hoping that some of the canvas in which we tied the +peltries, might be lying about. There was nothing of the sort, or I +missed it in the dark. Quickly tearing my coat into strips, I knotted +triple plies together and fastened the upper end to the crosspiece of +the lower window. Feet first, I poked myself out, caught the strands +with both hands, and like a flash struck ground below with badly skinned +palms. That reminded me I had left my mits in the prison room. + +The storm had driven the soldiers inside. I did not encounter a soul in +the courtyard, and had no difficulty in letting myself out by the main +gate. + +I whistled for the dogs. They came huddling from the ladders where I +had left them, the sleigh still trailing at their heels. One poor animal +was so benumbed I cut him from the traces and left him to die. Gathering +up the robes, I shook them free of snow, replaced them in the sleigh and +led the string of dogs down to the river. It would be bitterly cold +facing that sweep of unbroken wind in mid-river; but the trail over ice +would permit greater speed, and with the high banks on each side the +dogs could not go astray. + +To an overruling Providence, and to the instincts of the dogs, I owe my +life. The creatures had not gone ten sleigh-lengths when I felt the loss +of my coat, and giving one final shout to them, I lay back on the sleigh +and covered myself, head and all, under the robes, trusting the huskies +to find their way home. + +I do not like to recall that return to the Sutherlands. The man, who is +frozen to death, knows nothing of the cruelties of northern cold. The +icy hand, that takes his life, does not torture, but deadens the victim +into an everlasting, easy, painless sleep. This I know, for I felt the +deadly frost-slumber, and fought against it. Aching hands and feet +stopped paining and became utterly feelingless; and the deadening thing +began creeping inch by inch up the stiffening limbs the life centres, +till a great drowsiness began to overpower body and mind. Realizing what +this meant, I sprang from the sleigh and stopped the dogs. I tried to +grip the empty traces of the dead one, but my hands were too feeble; so +I twisted the rope round my arm, gave the word, and raced off abreast +the dog train. The creatures went faster with lightened sleigh, but +every step I took was a knife-thrust through half-frozen awakening +limbs. Not the man who is frozen to death, but the man who is +half-frozen and thawed back to life, knows the cruelties of northern +cold. + +In a stupefied way, I was aware the dogs had taken a sudden turn to the +left and were scrambling up the bank. Here my strength failed or I +tripped; for I only remember being dragged through the snow, rolling +over and over, to a doorway, where the huskies stopped and set up a +great whining. Somehow, I floundered to my feet. With a blaze of light +that blinded me, the door flew open and I fell across the threshold +unconscious. + + * * * * * + +Need I say what door opened, what hands drew me in and chafed life into +the benumbed being? + +"What was the matter, Rufus Gillespie?" asked a bluff voice the next +morning. I had awakened from what seemed a long, troubled sleep and +vaguely wondered where I was. + +"What happened to ye, Rufus Gillespie?" and the man's hand took hold of +my wrist to feel my pulse. + +"Don't, father! you'll hurt him!" said a voice that was music to my +ears, and a woman's hand, whose touch was healing, began bathing my +blistered palms. + +At once I knew where I was and forgot pain. In few and confused words I +tried to relate what had happened. + +"The country's yours, Mr. Sutherland," said I, too weak, thick-tongued +and deliriously happy for speech. + +"Much to be thankful for," was the Scotchman's comment. "Seven Oaks is +avenged. It would ill 'a' become a Sutherland to give his daughter's +hand to a conqueror, but I would na' say I'd refuse a wife to a man +beaten as you were, Rufus Gillespie," and he strode off to attend to +outdoor work. + +And what next took place, I refrain from relating; for lovers' eloquence +is only eloquent to lovers. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +UNDER ONE ROOF + + +Nature is not unlike a bank. When drafts exceed deposits comes a +protest, and not infrequently, after the protest, bankruptcy. From the +buffalo hunt to the recapture of Fort Douglas by the Hudson's Bay +soldiers, drafts on that essential part of a human being called stamina +had been very heavy with me. Now came the casting-up of accounts, and my +bill was minus reserve strength, with a balance of debt on the wrong +side. + +The morning after the escape from Fort Douglas, when Mr. Sutherland +strode off, leaving his daughter alone with me, I remember very well +that Frances abruptly began putting my pillow to rights. Instead of +keeping wide awake, as I should by all the codes of romance and common +sense, I--poor fool--at once swooned, with a vague, glimmering +consciousness that I was dying and this, perhaps, was the first blissful +glimpse into paradise. When I came to my senses, Mr. Sutherland was +again standing by the bedside with a half-shamed look of compassion +under his shaggy brows. + +"How far," I began, with a curious inability to use my wits and tongue, +"how far--I mean how long have I been asleep, sir?" + +"Hoots, mon! Dinna claver in that feckless fashion! It's months, lad, +sin' ye opened y'r mouth wi' onything but daft gab." + +"Months!" I gasped out. "Have I been here for months?" + +"Aye, months. The plain was snaw-white when ye began y'r bit nappie. +Noo, d'ye no hear the clack o' the geese through yon open window?" + +I tried to turn to that side of the little room, where a great wave of +fresh, clear air blew from the prairie. For some reason my head refused +to revolve. Stooping, the elder man gently raised the sheet and rolled +me over so that I faced the sweet freshness of an open, sunny view. + +"Did I rive ye sore, lad?" asked the voice with a gruffness in strange +contradiction to the gentleness of the touch. + +Now I hold that however rasping a man's words may be, if he handle the +sick with gentleness, there is much goodness under the rough surface. +Thoughtlessness and stupidity, I know, are patent excuses for half the +unkindness and sorrow of life. But thoughtlessness and stupidity are +also responsible for most of life's brutality and crime. Not +spiteful intentions alone, but the dulled, brutalized, deadened +sensibilities--that go under the names of thoughtlessness and +stupidity--make a man treat something weaker than himself with +roughness, or in an excessive degree, qualify for murder. When the +harsh voice asked, "Do I rive ye sore?" I began to understand how +surface roughness is as often caused by life's asperities as by the +inner dullness akin to the brute. + +Indeed, if my thoughts had not been so intent on the daughter, I could +have found Mr. Sutherland's character a wonderfully interesting study. +The infinite capacity of a canny Scot for keeping his mouth shut I never +realized till I knew Mr. Sutherland. For instance, now that +consciousness had returned, I noticed that the father himself, and not +the daughter, did all the waiting on me even to the carrying of my +meals. + +"How is your daughter, Mr. Sutherland?" I asked, surely a natural enough +question to merit a civil reply. + +"Aye--is it Frances y'r speerin' after?" he answered, meeting my +question with a question; and he deigned not another word. But I lay in +wait for him at the next meal. + +"I haven't seen your daughter yet, Mr. Sutherland," I stuttered out with +a deal of blushing. "I haven't even heard her about the house." + +"No?" he asked with a show of surprise. "Have ye no seen Frances?" And +that was all the satisfaction I got. + +Between the dinner hour and supper time I conjured up various plots to +hoodwink paternal caution. + +"Mr. Sutherland," I began, "I have a message for your daughter." + +"Aye," said he. + +"I wish her to hear it personally." + +"Aye." + +"When may I see her?" + +"Ye maun bide patient, lad!" + +"But the message is urgent." That was true; for had not forty-eight +hours passed since I had regained consciousness and I had heard neither +her footsteps nor her voice? + +"Aye," said the imperturbable father. + +"Very urgent, Mr. Sutherland," I added. + +"Aye." + +"When may I see her, Sir?" + +"All in guid time. Ye maun bide quiet, lad." + +"The message cannot wait," I declared. "It must be given at once." + +"Then deleever it word for word to me, young mon, and I'll trudge off to +Frances." + +"Your daughter is not at home?" + +"What words wu'l ye have me bear to her, lad?" he asked. + +That was too much for a youth in a peevish state of convalescence. What +lover could send his heart's eloquence by word of mouth with a peppery, +prosaic father? + +"Tell Mistress Sutherland I must see her at once," I quickly responded +with a flash of temper that was ever wont to flare up when put to the +test. + +"Aye," he answered, with an amused look in the cold, steel eyes. "I'll +deleever y'r message when--when"--and he hesitated in a way suggestive +of eternity--"I'll deleever y'r message when I see her." + +At that I turned my face to the wall in the bitterness of spirit which +only the invalid, with all the strength of a man in his whims and the +weakness of an infant in his body, knows. I spent a feverish, restless +night, with the hard-faced Scotchman watching from his armchair at my +bedside. Once, when I suddenly awakened from sleep, or delirium, his +eyes were fastened on my face with a gleam of grave kindliness. + +"Mr. Sutherland," I cried, with all the impatience of a child, "please +tell me, where is your daughter?" + +"I sent her to a neighbor, sin' ye came to y'r senses, lad," said he. +"Ye hae kept her about ye night and day sin' ye gaed daft, and losh, +mon, ye hae gabbled wild talk enough to turn the head o' ony lassie +clean daft. An' ye claver sic' nonsense when ye're daft, what would ye +say when ye're sane? Hoots, mon, ye maun learn to haud y'r tongue----" + +"Mr. Sutherland," I interrupted in a great heat, quite forgetful of his +hospitality, "I'm sorry to be the means of driving your daughter from +her home. I beg you to send me back to Fort Douglas----" + +"Haud quiet," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "An' wa'd ye have me +expose the head of a mitherless bairn to a' the clack o' the auld geese +in the settlement? Temper y'r ardor wi' discretion, lad! 'Twas but the +day before yesterday she left and she was sair done wi' nursing you and +losing of sleep! Till ye're fair y'rsel' again and up, and she's weel +and rosy wi' full sleep, bide patient!" + +That speech sent my face to the wall again; but this time not in anger. +And that dogged fashion Mr. Sutherland had of taking his own way did me +many a good turn. Often have I heard those bragging captains of the +Hudson's Bay mercenaries swagger into the little cottage sitting-room, +while I lay in bed on the other side of the thin board partition, and +relate to Mr. Sutherland all the incidents of their day's search for me. + +"So many pounds sterling for the man who captures the rascal," declares +D'Orsonnens. + +"Aye, 'tis a goodly price for one poor rattle-pate," says Mr. +Sutherland. + +Whereupon, D'Orsonnens swears the price is more than my poor empty head +is worth, and proceeds to describe me in terms which Mr. Sutherland will +only tolerate when thundered from an orthodox pulpit. + +"I'd have ye understand, Sir," he would declare with great dignity, +"I'll have no papistical profanity under my roof." + +Forthwith, he would show D'Orsonnens the door, lecturing the astonished +soldier on the errors of Romanism; for whatever Mr. Sutherland deemed +evil, from oaths to theological errors, he attributed directly to the +pope. + +"The ne'er-do-weel can hawk naething frae me," said he when relating the +incident. + +Once I heard a Fort Douglas man observe that, as the search had proved +futile, I must have fallen into one of the air-holes of the ice. + +"Nae doot the headstrong young mon is' gettin' what he deserves. I +warrant he's warm in his present abode," answered Mr. Sutherland. + +On another occasion D'Orsonnens asked who the man was that Mr. +Sutherland's daughter had been nursing all winter. + +"A puir body driven from Fort Douglas by those bloodthirsty villains," +answered Mr. Sutherland, giving his visitor a strong toddy; and he at +once improved the occasion by taking down a volume and reading the +French officer a series of selections against Romanism. After that +D'Orsonnens came no more. + +"I hope I did not tell Nor'-West secrets in a Hudson's Bay house when I +was delirious, Mr. Sutherland," I remarked. + +The Scotchman had lugged me from bed in a gentle, lumbering, well-meant +fashion, and I was sitting up for the first time. + +"Ye're no the mon wi' a leak t' y'r mouth. I dinna say, though, ye're +aye as discreet wi' the thoughts o' y'r heart as y'r head! Ye need na +fash y'r noodle wi' remorse aboot company secrets. I canna say ye'll no +fret aboot some other things ye hae told. A' the winter lang, 'twas +Frances and stars and spooks and speerits and bogies and statues and +graven images--wha' are forbidden by the Holy Scriptures--till the +lassie thought ye gane clean daft! 'Twas a bonnie e'e, like silver +stars; or a bit blush, like the pippin; or laughter, like a wimplin' +brook; or lips, like posies; or hair, like links o' gold; and mair o' +the like till the lassie came rinnin' oot o' y'r room, fair red wi' +shame! Losh, mon, ye maun keep a still tongue in y'r head and not blab +oot y'r thoughts o' a wife till she believes na mon can hae peace wi'out +her. I wad na hae ye abate one jot o' all ye think, for her price is far +above rubies; but hae a care wi' y'r grand talk! After ye gang to the +kirk, lad, na mon can keep that up." + +His warning I laughed to the winds, as youth the world over has ever +laughed sage counsels of chilling age. + +I can compare my recovery only to the swift transition of seasons in +those northern latitudes. Without any lingering spring, the cold +grayness of long, tense winter gives place to a radiant sun-burst of +warm, yellow light. The uplands have long since been blown bare of snow +by the March winds, and through the tangle of matted turf shoot myriad +purple cups of the prairie anemone, while the russet grass takes on +emerald tints. One day the last blizzard may be sweeping a white trail +of stormy majesty across the prairie; the next a fragrance of flowers +rises from the steaming earth and the snow-filled ravines have become +miniature lakes reflecting the dazzle of a sunny sky and fleece clouds. + +My convalescence was similar to the coming of summer. Without any weary +fluctuation from well to ill, and ill to well--which sickens the heart +with a deferred hope--all my old-time strength came back with the glow +of that year's June sun. + +"There's nae accountin' for some wilful folk, lad," was Mr. Sutherland's +remark, one evening after I was able to leave my room. "Ye hae risen +frae y'r bed like the crocus frae snaw. An' Frances were hangin' aboot +y'r pillow, lad, I'm nae sure y'd be up sae dapper and smart." + +"I thought my nurse was to return when I was able to be up," I answered, +strolling to the cottage door. + +"Come back frae the door, lad. Dinna show y'rsel' tae the enemy. There +be more speerin' for ye than hae love for y'r health. Have y'r wits +aboot ye! Dinna be frettin' y'rsel' for Frances! The lassies aye rin +fast enow tae the mon wi' sense to hold his ain!" + +With that advice he motioned me to the only armchair in the room, and +sitting down on the outer step to keep watch, began reading some +theological disputation aloud. + +"Odds, lad, ye should see the papist so'diers rin when I hae Calvin by +me," he remarked. + +"It's a pity you can't lay the theological thunderers on the doorstep to +drive stray De Meurons off. Then you could come in and take this chair +yourself," I answered, sitting back where no visitor could see me. + +But Mr. Sutherland did not hear. He was deep in polemics, rolling out +stout threats, that used Scriptural texts as a cudgel, with a zest that +testified enjoyment. "The wicked bend their bow," began the rasping +voice; but when he cleared his throat, preparatory to the main argument, +my thoughts went wandering far from the reader on the steps. As one +whose dream is jarred by outward sound, I heard his tones quaver. + +"Aye, Frances, 'tis you," he said, and away he went, pounding at the +sophistries of some straw enemy. + +A shadow was on the threshold, and before I had recalled my listless +fancy, in tripped Frances Sutherland, herself, feigning not to see me. +The gray eyes were veiled in the misty fashion of those fluffy things +women wear, which let through all beauty, but bar out intrusion. I do +not mean she wore a veil: veils and frills were not seen among the +colonists in those days. But the heavy lashes hung low in the slumbrous, +dreamy way that sees all and reveals nothing. Instinctively I started +up, with wild thoughts thronging to my lips. At the same moment Mr. +Sutherland did the most chivalrous thing I have seen in homespun or +broadcloth. + +"Hoots wi' y'r giddy claver," said he, before I had spoken a word; and +walking off, he sat down at some distance. + +Thereupon his daughter laughed merrily with a whole quiver of dangerous +archery about her lips. + +"That is the nearest to an untruth I have ever heard him tell," she +said, which mightily relieved my embarrassment. + +"Why did he say that?" I asked, with my usual stupidity. + +"I am sure I cannot say," and looking straight at me, she let go the +barbed shaft, that lies hidden in fair eyes for unwary mortals. + +"Sit down," she commanded, sinking into the chair I had vacated. "Sit +down, Rufus, please!" This with an after-shot of alarm from the heavy +lashes; for if a woman's eyes may speak, so may a man's, and their +language is sometimes bolder. + +"Thanks," and I sat down on the arm of that same chair. + +For once in my life I had sense to keep my tongue still; for, if I had +spoken, I must have let bolt some impetuous thing better left unsaid. + +"Rufus," she began, in the low, thrilling tones that had enthralled me +from the first, "do you know I was your sole nurse all the time you were +delirious?" + +"No wonder I was delirious! Dolt, that I was, to have been delirious!" +thought I to myself; but I choked down the foolish rejoinder and +endeavored to look as wise as if my head had been ballasted with the +weight of a patriarch's wisdom instead of ballooning about like a kite +run wild. + +"I think I know all your secrets." + +"Oh!" A man usually has some secrets he would rather not share; and +though I had not swung the full tether of wild west freedom--thanks +solely to her, not to me--I trembled at recollection of the passes that +come to every man's life when he has been near enough the precipice to +know the sensation of falling without going over. + +"You talked incessantly of Miriam and Mr. Hamilton and Father Holland." + +"And what did I say about Frances?" + +"You said things about Frances that made her tremble." + +"Tremble? What a brute, and you waiting on me day and----" + +"Hush," she broke in. "Tremble because I am just a woman and not an +angel, just a woman and not a star. We women are mortals just as you men +are. Sometimes we're fools as well as mortals, just as you men are; but +I don't think we're knaves quite so often, because we're denied the +opportunity and hedged about and not tempted." + +As she gently stripped away the pretty hypocrisies with which lovers +delude themselves and lay up store for disappointment, I began to +discount that old belief about truth and knowledge rendering a woman +mannish and arrogant and assertive. + +"You men marry women, expecting them to be angels, and very often the +angel's highest ambition is to be considered a doll. Then your hope goes +out and your faith----" + +"But, Frances," I cried, "if any sensible man had his choice of an +angel and a fair, good woman----" + +"Be sure to say fair, or he'd grumble because he hadn't a doll," she +laughed. + +"No levity! If he had choice of angels and stars and a good woman, he'd +choose the woman. The star is mighty far away and cold and steely. The +angel's a deal too perfect to know sympathy with faults and blunders. I +tell you, Little Statue, life is only moil and toil, unless love +transmutes the base metal of hard duty into the pure gold of unalloyed +delight." + +"That's why I tremble. I must do more than angel or star! Oh, Rufus, if +I can only live up to what you think I am--and you can live up to what I +think you are, life will be worth living." + +"That's love's leverage," said I. + +Then there was silence; for the sun had set and the father was no longer +reading. Shadows deepened into twilight, and twilight into gloaming. And +it was the hour when the brooding spirit of the vast prairie solitudes +fills the stillness of night with voiceless eloquence. Why should I +attempt to transcribe the silent music of the prairie at twilight, which +every plain-dweller knows and none but a plain-dweller may understand? +What wonder that the race native to this boundless land hears the +rustling of spirits in the night wind, the sigh of those who have lost +their way to the happy hunting-ground, and the wail of little ones whose +feet are bruised on the shadow trail? What wonder the gauzy northern +lights are bands of marshaling warriors and the stars torches lighting +those who ride the plains of heaven? Indeed, I defy a white man with all +the discipline of science and reason to restrain the wanderings of +mystic fancy during the hours of sunset on the prairie. + +There is, I affirm, no such thing as time for lovers. If they have +watches and clocks, the wretched things run too fast; and if the sun +himself stood still in sympathy, time would not be long. So I confess I +have no record of time that night Frances Sutherland returned to her +home and Mr. Sutherland kept guard at the door. When he had passed the +threshold impatiently twice, I recollected with regret that it was +impossible to read theology in the dark. The third time he thrust his +head in. + +"Mind y'rselves," he called. "I hear men coming frae the river, a pretty +hour, indeed, for visitin'. Frances, go ben and see yon back window's +open!" + +"The soldiers from the fort," cried Frances with a little gasp. + +"Don't move," said I. "They can't see me here. It's dark. I want to hear +what they say and the window is open. Indeed, Frances, I'm an expert at +window-jumping," and I had begun to tell her of my scrape with Louis' +drunken comrades in Fort Douglas, when I heard Mr. Sutherland's grating +tones according the newcomers a curious welcome. "Ye swearin', +blasphemin', rampag'us, carousin' infidel, ye'll no darken my doorway +this night. Y'r French gab may be foul wi' oaths for all I ken; but +ye'll no come into my hoose! An' you, Sir, a blind leader o' the blind, +a disciple o' Beelzebub, wi' y'r Babylonish idolatries, wi' y'r incense +that fair stinks in the nostrils o' decent folk, wi' y'r images and +mummery and crossin' o' y'rsel', wi' y'r pagan, popish practises, wi' +y'r skirts and petticoats, I'll no hae ye on my premises, no, not an' ye +leave y'r religion outside! An' you, Meester Hamilton, a respectable +Protestant, I'm fair surprised to see ye in sic' company." + +"'Tis Eric and Father Holland and Laplante," I shouted, springing to my +feet and rushing to the doorway, but Frances put herself before me. + +"Keep back," she whispered. "The priest and Mr. Hamilton have been here +before; but father would not let them in. The other man may be a De +Meuron. Be careful, Rufus! There's a price on your head." + +"Ho--ho--my _Ursus Major_, prime guardian of _Ursa Major_, first of the +heavenly constellations in the north," insolently laughed Louis Laplante +through the dusk. + +"Let me pass, Frances," I begged, thrusting her gently aside, but her +trembling hands still clung to my arm. + +"Impertinent rascal," rasped the irate Scotchman. "I'd have ye +understand my name's Sutherland, not _Major Ursus_. I'll no bide wi' +y'r impudence! Leave this place----" + +"The Bruin growls," interrupted Louis with a laugh, and I heard Mr. +Sutherland's gasp of amazed rage at the lengths of the Frenchman's +insolence. + +"I must, dearest," I whispered, disengaging the slender hands from my +arm; and I flung out into the dusk. + +In the gloom, my approach was unnoticed; and when I came upon the group, +Father Holland had laid his hand upon Mr. Sutherland's shoulder and in a +low, tense voice was uttering words, which--thank an all-bountiful +Providence!--have no sectarian limits. + +"And the King shall answer and say unto them, 'I was a stranger and ye +took me not in: naked and ye clothed me not: sick and in prison and ye +visited me not. Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to one +of the least of these, ye did it not to me'----" + +"Dinna con Holy Writ to me, Sir," interrupted Mr. Sutherland, throwing +the priest's hand off and jerking back. + +Then Louis Laplante saw me. There was a long, low whistle. + +"Ye daft gommerel," gasped Mr. Sutherland, facing me with unutterable +disgust. "Ye daft gommerel! A' my care and fret, waste--gane clean to +waste. I wash m' hands o' ye----" + +But Louis had knocked the Scotchman aside and tumbled into my arms, half +laughing, half crying and altogether as hysterical as was his wont. + +"I pay you back at las', my comrade! Ha--old solemncholy! You thought +the bird of passage, he come not back at all! But the birds return! So +does Louis! He decoy-duck the whole covey! You generous? No more not +generous than the son of a seigneur, mine enemy! You give life? He give +life! You give liberty! So does Louis! You help one able help himself? +Louis help one not able help himself! Ha! _Trčs bien! Noblesse oblige! +La Gloire!_ She--near! She here! She where I, Louis Laplante, son of a +seigneur, snare that she-devil, trap that fox, trick the tigress! +Ha--ol' tombstone! _Noblesse oblige_--I say! She near--she here," and he +flung up both arms like a frenzied maniac. + +"Man! Are you mad?" I demanded, uncertain whether he were apostrophizing +Diable's squaw, or abstract glory. "Speak out!" I shouted, shaking him +by the shoulder. + +"These--are they all friends?" asked Louis, suddenly cooled and looking +suspiciously at the group. + +"All," said I, still holding him by the shoulder. + +"That--that thing--that bear--that bruin--he a friend?" and Louis +pointed to Mr. Sutherland. + +"Friend to the core," said I, laying both hands upon his shoulders. +"Core with prickles outside," gibed Louis. + +"Louis," I commanded, utterly out of patience, "what of Miriam? Speak +plain, man! Have you brought the tribe as you promised?" + +It must have been mention of Miriam's name, for the white, drawn face of +Eric Hamilton bent over my shoulder and fiery, glowing eyes burned into +the very soul of the Frenchman. Louis staggered back as if red irons had +been thrust in his face. + +"_Sacredie_," said he, backing against Father Holland, "I am no +murderer." + +It was then I observed that Frances Sutherland had followed me. Her +slender white fingers were about the bronzed hand of the French +adventurer. + +"Monsieur Laplante will tell us what he knows," she said softly, and she +waited for his answer. + +"The daughter of _L'Aigle_," he replied slowly and collectedly, all the +while feasting upon that fair face, "comes down the Red with her tribe +and captives, many captive women. They pass here to-night. They camp +south the rapids, this side of the rapids. Last night I leave them. I +run forward, I find Le Petit Garçon--how you call him?--Leetle Fellow? +He take me to the priest. He bring canoe here. He wait now for carry us +down. We must go to the rapids--to the camp! There my contract! My +bargain, it is finished," and he shrugged his shoulders, for Frances had +removed her hand from his. + +Whether Louis Laplante's excitable nature were momentarily unbalanced by +the success of his feat, I leave to psychologists. Whether some +premonition of his impending fate had wrought upon him strangely, let +psychical speculators decide. Or whether Louis, the sly rogue, worked up +the whole situation for the purpose of drawing Frances Sutherland into +the scene--which is what I myself suspect--I refer to private judgment, +and merely set down the incidents as they occurred. That was how Louis +Laplante told us of bringing Diable's squaw and her captives back to Red +River. And that was how Father Holland and Eric and Louis and Mr. +Sutherland and myself came to be embarking with a camping outfit for a +canoe-trip down the river. + +"Have the Indians passed, or are they to come?" I asked Louis as Mr. +Sutherland and Eric settled themselves in a swift, light canoe, leaving +the rest of us to take our places in a larger craft, where Little +Fellow, gurgling pleased recognition of me, acted as steersman. + +"They come later. The fast canoe go forward and camp. We watch behind," +ordered Louis, winking at me significantly. + +I saw Frances step to her father's canoe. + +"You're no coming, Frances," he protested, querulously. + +"Don't say that, father. I never disobeyed you in my life, and I _am_ +coming! Don't tell me not to! Push out, Mr. Hamilton," and she picked up +a paddle and I saw the canoe dart swiftly forward into mid-current, +where the darkness enveloped it; and we followed fast in its wake. + +"Louis," said I, trying to fathom the meaning of his wink, "are those +Indians to come yet?" + +"No. Simpleton--you think Louis a fool?" he asked. + +"Why did you lie to them?" + +"Get them out of the way." + +"Why?" + +"Because, stupid, some ones they be killed to-night! The Englishman, he +have a wife--he not be killed! Mademoiselle--she love a poor fool--or +break her pretty heart! The father--he needed to stick-pin you both--so +you never want for to fight each other," and Louis laughed low like the +purr of water on his paddle-blade. + +"Faith, lad," cried the priest, who had been unnaturally silent, +because, I suppose, he was among aliens to his faith, "faith, lad, 'tis +a good heart ye have, if ye'd but cut loose from the binding past. May +this night put an end to your devil pranks!" + + * * * * * + +And that night did! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE LAST OF LOUIS' ADVENTURES + + +I think, perhaps, the reason good enterprises fail so often where evil +ventures succeed, is that the good man blunders forward, trusting to the +merits of his cause, where the evil manipulator proceeds warily as a cat +over broken glass. And so, altogether apart from his services as guide, +I felt Louis Laplante's presence on the river a distinct advantage. + +"The Lord is with us, lad. She shall be delivered! The Lord is with us; +but don't you bungle His plans!" ejaculated Father Holland for the +twentieth time; and each time the French trapper looked waggishly over +his shoulder at me and winked. + +"Bungle! Pah!" Louis clapped his paddle athwart the canoe and laughed a +low, sly, defiant laugh. "Bungle! Pah! Catch Louis bungle his cards, ha, +ha! Trumps! He play trumps--he hold his hand low--careless--nodings in +it--he keep quiet--nodings worth play in his hand--but his sleeve--ha, +ha!" and Louis laughed softly and winked at the full moon. + +"The daughter of L'Aigle, she cuff Louis, she slap his cheek, she call +him lump--lout--slouch! Ha, ha!--Louis no fool--he pare the claws of +L'Aigle to-night!" + +At that, Little Fellow's stolid face took on a vindictive gleam, and he +snapped out something in Indian tongue which set Louis to laughing. +Suddenly the Indian's paddle was suspended in mid-air, and Little Fellow +bent over the prow, gazing at the moon-tracked water. + +"_Sacredie!_" cried Louis, catching up water that trickled through his +fingers, "'tis dried rabbit thong! They are ahead of us! They have +passed while that Scotch mule was balk! We must catch the Englishman," +and he began hitting out with his paddle at a great rate. + +We had overtaken Mr. Sutherland's canoe within half an hour of Louis' +discovery, and Eric wheeled about with a querulous demand. + +"What's wrong? Are they ahead? I thought you said they were behind," and +he turned suspiciously to Laplante. + +"You thought wrong," said Louis, ever facile with subterfuges. "You +thought wrong, Mister High-and-Mighty! Camp here and watch; they come +before morning!" + +"No lies to me," shouted Eric, becoming uncontrollably excited. "If you +mislead us, your life shall----" + +"Pig-head! I no save your wife for back chin! Camp here, I say," and +Louis' fitful temper began to show signs of sulking. + +"For goodness' sake, Eric, do what you're told! We've made a bad enough +business of it----" + +"Give the Frenchman a chance! Do what you're told, I say, ye blunderers! +Troth, the Lord Himself couldn't bring success to such blundering +idiots," was Father Holland's comment. + +"I'll take na orders frae meddlesome papists," began the Scotchman; but +Little Fellow had forcibly turned the prow of the canoe shoreward. I +gave them a shove with my paddle. Frances took the cue, and while her +father was yet scolding raised her paddle and had them close to the +river bank. + +"Get your tent up here," I called to conciliate them. "Then come to the +bank and watch for the Indians." + +A bit of clean gravel ran out from the clay cliff. + +"That's the ground," said I, as the other canoe bumped over the pebbles; +and I stopped paddling and dangled my hand in the water. + +Something in the dark drifted wet and soft against my fingers. +Ordinarily such an incident would not have alarmed me; but instantly a +shudder of apprehension ran through my frame. I scarce had courage to +look into the river lest the white face of a woman should appear through +the watery depths. Clutching the water-soaked tangle, I jerked it up. +Something gave with a rip, and my hand was full of shawl fringe. + +"What's that, Rufus?" asked Father Holland. "Don't know." I motioned +him to be silent and held it up in the moonlight. Distinctly it was, or +had been, red fringe. + +"Do you think--" he began, then stopped. Our keel had rubbed bottom and +Hamilton was springing out of the other canoe. + +"Yes, I do," I replied, choking with dread. "This is too terrible! He'll +kill himself! Go up the bank with him! Keep him busy at the tent! Little +Fellow and I'll pole for it. The water's shallow there----" + +"What do _you_ think?" said the priest to Laplante. + +"T'ink! I never t'ink! I finds out." But all the same, Louis' assurance +was shaken and he peered searchingly into the river. + +"Aren't you coming? What's your plan?" called Eric. + +"Certainly we are, but get this truck to higher ground, will you?" I +hoisted out the camp trappings. "I want to paddle out for something." + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Something lost out there. I lost it out of my hand." + +Frances Sutherland, I know, suspected trouble from the alarm which I +could not keep out of my speech; for she pressed to the water's edge. + +"Get the tent ready," I urged. + +"What's the meaning of this mystery?" persisted Hamilton sharply. "What +have you lost?" + +"Don't press him too closely. Faith, it may be a love token," +interjected Father Holland, as he stepped ashore; but he whispered in my +ear as he passed, "You're wrong, lad! You're on the wrong track!" + +I leaped back to the canoe, Little Fellow and the Frenchman following, +and we paddled to the shallows where I had caught the fringe. I prodded +the soft mud below and trailed the paddle back and forward over the clay +bottom. Louis did likewise; but in vain. Only soft ooze came up on the +blade. Then Little Fellow stripped and dived. Of course it was dark +under water, as it always is dark under the muddy Red, and the Indian +could not feel a thing from which fringe could have ripped. Had my jerk +disturbed whatever it was and sent it rolling down to mid-current? I +asked Father Holland this when I came back. + +"Tush, faint-heart," he muttered, drawing me aside. "'Tis only a trial +of your faith." + +I said something about trials of faith which I shall not repeat here, +but which the majority of people, who are on the tenter-hooks of such +trials, have said for themselves. + +"Faith! Pah!" exclaimed Louis, joining our whispered conference, while +Eric and Mr. Sutherland were hoisting a tent. "That shawl, it mean +nodings of things heavenly! It only mean rag stuck in the mud and reds +nearabouts here! I have told the Great Bear and his snarl Englishman the +Indians not come till morning. They get tent ready and watch! You follow +Louis, he lead you to camp. The priest--he good for say a little +prayer; the Indian for fight; Louis--for swear; Rufus--to snatch the +Englishwoman, he good at snatching the fair, ha-ha." + +He darted to the shore, calling Little Fellow from the canoe and leaving +Father Holland and me to follow as best we could. + +"We'll be back soon, Eric," I shouted. "We're going to get the lie of +the land. Keep watch here," and I broke into a run to keep up with the +French trapper and the Indian, who were leading into the woods away from +the river. I could hear Father Holland puffing behind like a wind-blown +racer. Abruptly the priest came to a stop. + +"By all the saints," he ordered. "Go back to the tent!" + +I turned. A white form emerged from the foliage and Frances was beside +me. + +"May I not come?" she asked. + +"No--dearest, there will be fighting." + +"No--Lord--no," panted Father Holland coming up to us. "We're not +swapping one woman for another. What would Rufus do without ye?" + +"You are going for Miriam?" she questioned, holding my hand. "God speed +you and bring you back safely!" + +"Say rather--bring Miriam," and I unfastened the clinging hand almost +roughly. + +"Come on, slugs, sloths, laggards," commanded Laplante impatiently, and +we dashed into the thick of the woods, leaving the white figure alone +against the shadowy thicket. She called out something, of which I heard +only two words, "Miriam" and "Rufus"; but I knew those names were +uttered in supplication and they filled my heart with daring hope. +Surely, we must succeed--for the Little Statue's prayers were following +me--and I bounded on with a faith as buoyant as the priest's blind +trust. Thus we ran through the moon-shafted woods pursuing the flitting, +lithe figures of trapper and Indian, who scarce disturbed a fern leaf, +while Father Holland and I floundered through the underbrush like +ramping elephants. Then I found myself panting as hard as the priest and +clinging to his arm for support; for illness had taken all the bravery +out of my muscles, like champagne uncorked and left in the heat. + +"Brace yourself, lad," said the priest. "The Lord is with us, but don't +you bungle." + +A long, low whistle came through the dark, a whistle that was such a +perfect imitation of the night hawk, no spy might detect it for the +signal of a runner. After the whistle, was the soft, ominous hiss of a +serpent in the grass; and we were abreast of Louis Laplante and Little +Fellow standing stock still sniffing forward as hounds might scent a +foe. + +"She may not be there! She may be drown;" whispered Louis, "but we creep +on, quiet like hare, no noise like deer, stiller than mountain cat, +hist--what that?" + +The night breeze set the leaves all atremble--clapping their hands, as +the Indians call it--and a whiff of burning bark tainted the air. +"That's it," said I under my breath. + +The smoke was blowing from wooded flats between us and the river. +Cautiously parting interlaced branches and as carefully replacing each +bough to prevent backward snap, we turned down the sloping bank. I +suppose necessity's training in the wilds must produce the same result +in man and beast; and from that fact, faddists of the various "osophies" +and "ologies" may draw what conclusions they please; but I affirm that +no panther could creep on its prey with more stealth, caution and +cunning than the trapper and Indian on the enemy's camp. I have seen +wild creatures approaching a foe set each foot down with noiseless +tread; but I have never seen such a combination of instincts, brute and +human, as Louis and Little Fellow displayed. The Indian felt the ground +for tracks and pitfalls and sticks, that might crackle. Louis, with his +whole face pricked forward, trusted more to his eyes and ears and that +sense of "feel," which is--contradictory as it may seem--utterly +intangible. Once the Indian picked up a stick freshly broken. This was +examined by both, and the Indian smelt it and tried his tongue on the +broken edge. Then both fell on all fours, creeping under the branches of +the thicket and pausing at every pace. + +"Would that I had taken lessons in forest lore before I went among the +Sioux," I thought to myself. Now I knew what had been incomprehensible +before--why all my well-laid plans had been detected. + +A wind rustled through the foliage. That was in our favor; for in spite +of our care the leaves crushed and crinkled beneath us. At intervals a +glimmer of light shone from the beach. Louis paused and listened so +intently our breathing was distinctly audible. A vague murmur of low +voices--like the "talking of the trees" in Little Fellow's +language--floated up from the river; and in the moonlight I saw Laplante +laugh noiselessly. Trees stood farther apart on the flats and brushwood +gave place to a forest of ferns, that concealed us in their deep +foliage; but the thick growth also hid the enemy, and we knew not at +what moment we might emerge in full view of the camp. So we stretched +out flat, spying through the fern stalks before we parted the stems to +draw ourselves on a single pace. Presently, the murmur separated into +distinct voices, with much low laughing and the bitter jeers that make +up Indian mirth. We could hear the crackling of the fire, and wormed +forward like caterpillars. + +There was a glare of light through the ferns, and Louis stopped. We all +three pulled abreast of him. Lying there as a cat watches a mouse, we +parted first one and then another of the fronds till the Indian +encampment could be clearly seen. + +"Is that the tribe?" I whispered; but Louis gripped my arm in a vice +that forbade speech. + +The camp was not a hundred feet away. Fire blazed in the centre. Poles +were up for wigwams, and already skins had been overlaid, completing +several lodges. Men lay in lazy attitudes about the fire. Squaws were +taking what was left of the evening meal and slave-women were putting +things to rights for the night. Sitting apart, with hands tied, were +other slaves, chiefly young women taken in some recent fray and not yet +trusted unbound. Among these was one better clad than the others. Her +wrists were tied; but her hands managed to conceal her face, which was +bowed low. In her lap was a sleeping child. Was this Miriam? Children +were with the other captives; but to my eyes this woman's torn shawl +appeared reddish in the fire glow. + +"Let's go boldly up and offer to buy the slaves," I suggested; but +Louis' grip tightened forbiddingly and Little Fellow's forefinger +pointed towards a big creature, who was ordering the others about. 'Twas +a woman of giant, bronzed form, with the bold stride of a conquering +warrior and a trophy-decked belt about her waist. The fire shone against +her girdle and the stones in the leather strap glowed back blood-red. +Father Holland breathed only one word in my ear, "Agates;" and the fire +of the red stones flashed like some mystic flame through my being till +brain and heart were hot with vengeance and my hands burned as if every +nerve from palm to finger-tips were a blade point reaching out to +destroy that creature of cruelty. + +"Diable's squaw," I gasped out, beside myself with anger and joy. "Let +me but within arm's length of her----" + +"Hold quiet," the priest hissed low and angry, gripping my shoulder like +a steel winch. "'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord! See that you save +the white woman! Leave the evil-doer to God! The Lord's with us, but I +tell you, don't you bungle!" + +"Bungle!" I could have shouted out defiance to the whole band. "Let go!" +I ordered, trying to struggle up; for the iron hand still held me. "Let +go, or I'll----" + +But Louis Laplante's palm was forcibly slapped across my mouth and his +other hand he laid significantly on his dagger, giving me one +threatening look. By the firelight I saw his lips mechanically counting +the numbers of the enemy and mechanically I audited his count. + +"Twenty men, thirty squaws and the slaves," said he under his breath. + +An Indian left the fire and approached the captives. + +"See! Watch! Is that woman Miriam?" demanded the priest. "She'll take +her hands from her face now." + +"Of course it is!" I was furious at the restraint and hesitancy; but as +I said before, the experienced intriguer proceeds as warily as a cat. + +"You not sure--not for sure--_Mon Dieu_--no," muttered Laplante; and he +was right. With the forest shadows across the captives, it was +impossible to distinguish the color of their faces. Taking a knife from +his belt, the Indian cut the cords of all but the woman with her hands +across her face. A girl brought refuse of food; but this woman took no +notice, never moving her hands. Thereupon the young squaw sneered and +the Indian idlers jeered loud in harsh, strident laughter. This roused +the big squaw. She strode up, Little Fellow all the while with +glistening teeth following her motions as a cat's head turns to a mouse. +With the flat of her hand she struck the silent woman, who leaped up and +ran to a wigwam. In speechless fear, the child had scrambled to its feet +and backed away from the angry group towards the ferns; but the light +was fitful and shadowy, and we could recognize neither woman, nor child. + +"I can't stand this any longer," I declared. "I must know if that's +Miriam. Let's draw closer." + +Father Holland and I crawled stealthily to the very border of fern +growth, Louis and the Indian lying still and muttering over some plan of +action. + +"Hist," said the priest, "we'll try the child." + +Unlike naked Indian children, the little thing had a loose garment +banded about its waist; but its feet were bare and its hair as raven +black as that of any young savage. It stood like some woodland elf in +the maze of heavy sleepiness, at each harsh word from the camp, sidling +shyly closer to our hiding-place. We dragged forward till I could have +touched the child, but feared to startle it. + +Putting his hand out slowly, Father Holland caught the little creature's +arm. It gave a start, jerked back and looked in mute wonderment at our +strange hiding-place. + +"Pretty boy," crooned the priest in low, coaxing tones, gently +tightening his hold. + +"Is it white?" I whispered. + +"I can't see." + +"Good little man," he went on, slowly folding his hands about it. +Drawing quickly back, he lifted the child completely into his arms. + +"Is boy sleepy?" he asked. + +"Call him 'Eric,'" I urged. + +"Is Eric sleepy?" + +The child's head fell wearily against the priest's shoulder. Snuggling +closer, he lisped back in perfect English, "Eric's tired." + +At once Father Holland's free hand caught my arm as if he feared I might +rush out. For a moment neither of us spoke. + +Then he said, "Give me your coat." + +I ripped off my buckskin-smock. Wrapping the sleeping boy about, the +priest laid him gently among the ferns. + +"Where's the mother?" asked Father Holland with a catching intake of +breath. + +I pointed to the wigwam. The big squaw had come out, leaving Miriam +alone and was engaged in noisy dispute with the men. Louis and Little +Fellow had now wriggled abreast of us. + +"Ha, ha, _mon brave_--your time, it come now! You save the white woman! +I pay my devoirs to the lady, ha, ha--I owe her much--I pay you both +back with one stroke, one grand stroke. Little Fellow, he watch for +spring surprise and help us both! Swoop--snitch--snatch--snap her up! +'Tis done--tra-la!" and Louis drew up for all the world like a tiger +about to spring, but the priest drew him down. + +"Listen," commanded the churchman, in the slow, tense way of one who +intended to be obeyed. "I'll go back and come up by the beach. I'll +brow-beat them and tongue-whack them for having slaves. They'll offer +fight; so'll I. They'll all run down; that's your chance. Wait till they +all go. I'll make them, every one. That's your chance. You rush! Try +that! If it fail, in the name of the Lord, have y'r weapons ready--and +the Lord be with us!" + +"They'll kill you," I protested. "Let me go!" + +"You? What about Frances?" + +"Pah!" said Louis. "I go myself--I trick--I trap--I snare 'em----" + +"Hush to ye, ye braggart," interrupted the priest. "Gillespie is as +flabby as dough from an illness. 'Tis here you sit quiet, and help with +Miriam as ye'd save y'r soul! Howld down with y'r bouncing nonsense, +lad, and the saints be with ye; for it's a fight there'll be, and there +is the fightin' stuff of a soldier in ye! Never turn to me--mind ye +never turn to help me, or the curse of the fool be on y'r head--and the +Lord be with us!" + +"Amen." But I spoke to vacancy. While a rising wind set the branches +overhead grating noisily, he had risen and darted away. Louis Laplante, +contrary to the priest's orders, also rose and disappeared in the woods. +Little Fellow still lay by me, but I could not rely on him for +intelligent action, and there came over me that sense of aloneness in +danger, which I knew so well in the Mandane country. The child's +slightest cry might alarm the camp, and I shivered when he breathed +heavily, or turned in his sleep. The Indians might miss the boy and +search the woods. Instinctively my hand was on my pistol. It was well to +be as near Miriam's tent as possible; and I, too, took advantage of the +wind to change my place. I moved back, signalling the Indian to follow, +and skirted round the open till I was directly opposite Miriam's wigwam. +Why had Louis gone off, and why did he not come back? Had he gone to +keep secret guard over the priest, or to decoy the vigilant Sioux woman? +In his intentions I had confidence enough, but not in his judgment. At +that moment my speculations were interrupted by a loud shout from the +beach. Every Indian in camp started up as if hostiles had uttered their +war-cry. + +"Hallo, there! Hallo! Hallo!" called the priest. Indians dashed to the +river, while bedraggled squaws and naked children rushed from wigwams +and stood in clamorous groups between the lodges and the water. The +topmost branches of the trees swayed back and forward in the wind, +alternately throwing shafts of moonlight and shadows across the opening +of Miriam's wigwam. When the light flooded the tent a solitary, +white-faced form appeared in dark, sharp outline. The bare arms were +tied at the wrists, and beat aimlessly through the darkness. And there +was a sound of piteous weeping. + +Should I make the final, desperate dash now? "Don't bungle His plans," +came the priest's warning; and I waited. The squaws were very near; and +the angular figure of Diable's wife hung on the rear of the group. She +was scolding like a termagant in the Sioux tongue, ordering the other +women to the fray; but still she kept back, looking over her shoulder +suspiciously at Miriam's tent, uncertain whether to go or stay. We had +failed in every other attempt to rescue Miriam. If the Lord--as the +priest believed--had planned the sufferer's aid, His instruments had +blundered badly. There must be no more feeble-fingering. + +"Thieves! Thieves! Cut-throats!" bawled Father Holland in a storm of +abuse. "Ye rascals," he thundered, cutting the air with his stick and +purposely backing away from the camp to draw the Indians off. Then his +voice was lost in a chorus of shrill screams. + +The moonlight shone across the wigwam opening. The captive had heard the +English tongue, and was listening. But the Sioux squaw had also heard +and recognized the voice of a former prisoner. She ran forward a pace, +then hesitated, looking back doubtfully. As she turned her head, out +from the gloom of the thicket with the leap of a lynx, lithe and swift, +sprang the crouching form of Louis Laplante. I felt Little Fellow all in +a tremor by my side; the tremor not of fear, but of the couchant +panther; and he uttered the most vicious snarl I have ever heard from +human throat. Louis alighted neatly and noiselessly, directly behind the +Sioux woman. She must have felt his presence, for she turned round and +round expectantly. Louis, silent and elusive as a shadow, circled about +her, tripping from side to side as she turned her head. But the fire +betrayed him. She had wheeled towards the forest as if spying for the +unseen presence among the foliage, and Louis deftly dodged behind. The +move put him between the fire and his antagonist, and the full profile +of his queer, bending figure was shadowed clear past the woman. She +turned like some vengeful, malign goddess, and I thought it all up with +the daring trapper; but he doffed his red toque and swept the advancing +fury the low bow of a French courtier. Then he drew himself erect and +laughed insolently in the woman's face. His careless assurance allayed +her suspicions. + +"Oh, 'tis you!" she growled. + +"'Tis I, fleet-foot, winged messenger, humble slave," laughed Louis, +with another grotesque bow; but the rogue had cleverly put himself +between the squaw and Miriam's tent. + +I should have rushed to Miriam's rescue long since, instead of watching +this by-play between trapper and mountain cat; but as the foray waxed +hotter with the priest, the young braves had run back to their tents for +guns and clubs. + +"Stand off, ye scoundrels," roared the priest, in tones of genuine +anger; for the Indians were closing threateningly about him. "Stand +back, ye knaves, ye sons of Satan," and every soul but Louis Laplante +and the Sioux squaw ran with querulous shouts to the river. + +"Cruel! Cruel! Cruel!" sobbed a voice from the wigwam; and there was a +straining to break the thongs which bound her. "Cruel! Cruel! Hast Thou +no pity? O my God! Hast Thou no pity? Shall not a sparrow fall to the +ground without Thy knowledge? Is this Thy pity? O my God!" The voice +broke in a torrent of heart-piercing cries. + +I could endure it no longer. + +"Have at ye, ye villains! Come out like men! Now, me brave bhoys, show +the stuff that's in ye! A fig for y'r valor if ye fail! The curse o' the +Lord on the coward heart! Back with ye; ye red divils! Out with ye, +Rufus! The Lord shall deliver the captive! What, 'an wuld ye dare strike +a servant o' the Lord? Let the deliverer appear, I say," he shouted, +weaving in commands to us as he dealt stout blows about him and receded +down the river bank. "Take that--and that--and that," I heard him shout, +with a rat-tat-too of sharp thuds from the staff accompanying each +word. Then I knew the quarrel on the beach was at its height; and Louis +Laplante was still foiling the Sioux's approach to Miriam's wigwam like +a deft fencer. + +"Follow me, Little Fellow," I commanded. "Have your knife ready," and I +had not finished speaking when three shrill whistles came from Louis. +'Twas his old-time signal of danger. Above the hubbub at the river the +Sioux squaw was screaming to the braves. + +Bounding from concealment, I tore off the layer roofing of the wigwam, +plunged through the tapering pole frame, shaking the frail lean-to like +a house of cards, and was beside Miriam. Again I heard Louis' whistle +and again the squaw's angry scream; but Little Fellow had followed on my +heels and stood with knife-blade glittering bare at the tent-entrance. + +"Hush," I whispered, slashing my dagger through the thongs around her +hands and cutting the rope that held her to the central stake. "We've +found you at last. Come! Come!" and I caught her up. + +"O my God!" she cried. "At last! At last! Where is the child? They have +taken little Eric!" + +"We have him safe! His father is waiting! Don't hesitate, Miriam!" + +"Run, Little Fellow," I ordered, "Across the camp. Get the child," and I +sprang from the wigwam, which crashed to the ground behind me. I had +thought to save skirting the woods by a run across the camping-ground; +but when my Indian dashed for the child and the Sioux saw me undefended +with the white woman in my arms, she made a desperate lunge at Laplante +and called at the top of her voice for the braves. + +Louis, with weapons in hand, still kept between the fury and Miriam; but +I think his French chivalry must have been restraining him. Though the +Sioux offered him many opportunities and was doing her best to sheathe a +knife in his heart, he seemed to refrain from using either dagger or +pistol. An insolent laugh was on his face. The life-and-death game which +he was playing was to his daring spirit something novel and amusing. + +"The lady is--perturbed," he laughed, dodging a thrust at his neck; "she +fences wide, tra-la," this as the barrel of his pistol parried a drive +of her knife; "she hits afar--ho--ho--not so fast, my fury--not so +furious, my fair--zipp, ha--ha--ha--another miss--another miss--the +lady's a-miss," for the squaw's weapon struck fire against his own. + +"Look out for the braves, have a care," I shouted; for a dozen young +bucks were running up behind to the woman's aid. + +"Ha--ha---_prenez garde_--my tiger-cat has kittens," he laughed; and he +looked over his shoulder. + +That backward look gave the fury her opportunity. In the firelight blue +steel flashed bright. The Frenchman reeled, threw up his arms, and +fell. One sharp, deep, broken draw of breath, and with a laugh on his +lips, Louis Laplante died as he had lived. Then the tiger-cat leaped +over the dead form at Miriam and me. + +What happened next I can no more set down consecutively than I can +distinguish the parts in a confused picture with a red-eyed fury +striking at me, naked Indians brandishing war-clubs, flashes of powder +smoke, a circle of gesticulating, screeching dark faces in the +background, my Indian fighting like a very fiend, and a pale-faced woman +with a little curly-headed boy at her feet standing against the woods. + +"Run, _Monsieur_; I keep bad Indians off," urged Little Fellow. +"Run--save white squaw and papoose--run, _Monsieur_." + +Now, whatever may be said to the contrary, however brave two men may be, +they cannot stand off a horde of armed savages. I let go my whole +pistol-charge, which sent the red demons to a distance and intended +dashing for the woods, when the Sioux woman put her hand in her pocket +and hurled a flint head at Little Fellow. The brave Indian sprang aside +and the thing fell to the ground. With it fell a crumpled sheet of +paper. I heard rather than saw Little Fellow's crouching leap. Two forms +rolled over and over in the camp ashes; and with Miriam on my shoulder +and the child under the other arm, I had dashed into the thicket of the +upper ground. + +Overhead tossed the trees in a swelling wind, and up from the shore +rushed the din of wrangling tongues, screaming and swearing in a clamor +of savage wrath. The wind grew more boisterous as I ran. Behind the +Indian cries died faintly away; but still with a strength not my own, +always keeping the river in view, and often mistaking the pointed +branches, which tore clothing and flesh from head to feet, for the hands +of enemies--I fled as if wolves had been pursuing. + +Again and again sobbed Miriam--"O, my God! At last! At last! Thanks be +to God! At last! At last!" + +We were on a hillock above our camp. Putting Miriam down, I gave her my +hand and carried the child. When I related our long, futile search and +told her that Eric was waiting, agitation overcame her, and I said no +more till we were within a few feet of the tents. + +"Please wait." I left her a short distance from the camp that I might go +and forewarn Eric. + +Frances Sutherland met me in the way and read the news which I could not +speak. + +"Have you--oh--have you?" she asked. "Who is that?" and she pointed to +the child in my arms. + +"Where's Hamilton? Where's your father?" I demanded, trembling from +exhaustion and all undone. + +"Mr. Hamilton is in his tent priming a gun. Father is watching the +river. And oh, Rufus! is it really so?" she cried, catching, sight of +Miriam's stooped, ragged figure. Then she darted past me. Both her arms +encircled Miriam, and the two began weeping on each other's shoulders +after the fashion of women. + +I heard a cough inside Hamilton's tent. Going forward, I lifted the +canvas flap and found Eric sitting gloomily on a pile of robes. + +"Eric," I cried, in as steady a voice as I command, which indeed, was +shaking sadly, and I held the child back that Hamilton might not see, +"Eric, old man, I think at last we've run the knaves down." + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed with a start, not knowing what I had said. "Are +you men back? Did you find out anything?" + +"Why--yes," said I: "we found this," and I signalled Frances to bring +Miriam. + +This was no way to prepare a man for a shock that might unhinge reason; +but my mind had become a vacuum and the warm breath of the child +nestling about my neck brought a mist before my eyes. + +"What did you say you had found?" asked Hamilton, looking up from his +gun to the tent-way; for the morning light already smote through the +dark. + +"This," I said, lifting the canvas a second time and drawing Miriam +forward. + +I could but place the child in her arms. She glided in. The flap fell. +There was the smothered outcry of one soul--rent by pain. + +"Miriam--Miriam--my God--Miriam!" "Come away," whispered a choky voice +by my side, and Frances linked her arm through mine. + +Then the tent was filled and the night air palpitated with sounds of +anguished weeping. And with tears raining from my eyes, I hastened away +from what was too sacred for any ear but a pitying God's. That had come +to my life which taught me the depths of Hamilton's suffering. + +"Dearest," said I, "now we understand both the pain and the joy of +loving," and I kissed her white brow. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE PRIEST JOURNEYS TO A FAR COUNTRY + + +Again the guest-chamber of the Sutherland home was occupied. + +How came it that a Catholic priest lay under a Protestant roof? How +comes it that the new west ever ruthlessly strips reality naked of creed +and prejudice and caste, ever breaks down the barrier relics of a +mouldering past, ever forces recognition of men as individuals with +individual rights, apart from sect and class and unmerited prerogatives? +The Catholic priest was wounded. The Protestant home was near. Manhood +in Protestant garb recognized manhood in Roman cassock. Necessity +commanded. Prejudice obeyed as it ever obeys in that vast land of +untrameled freedom. So Father Holland was cared for in the Protestant +home with a tenderness which Mr. Sutherland would have repudiated. For +my part, I have always thanked God for that leveling influence of the +west. It pulls the fools from high places and awards only one +crown--merit. + +It was Little Fellow who had brought Father Holland, wounded and +insensible, from the Sioux camp. + +"What of Louis Laplante's body, Little Fellow?" I asked, as soon as I +had seen all the others set out for the settlement with Father Holland +lying unconscious in the bottom of the canoe. + +"The white man, I buried in the earth as the white men do--deep in the +clay to the roots of the willow, so I buried the Frenchman," answered +the Indian. "And the squaw, I weighted with stones at her feet; for they +trod on the captives. And with stones I weighted her throat, which was +marked like the deer's when the mountain cat springs. With the stones at +her throat and her feet, the squaw, I rolled into the water." + +"What, Little Fellow," I cried, remembering how I had seen him roll over +and over through the camp-fire, with his hands locked on the Sioux +woman's throat, "did you kill the daughter of L'Aigle?" + +"Non, _Monsieur_; Little Fellow no bad Indian. But the squaw threw a +flint and the flint was poison, and my hands were on her throat, and the +squaw fell into the ashes, and when Little Fellow arose she was dead. +Did she not slay La Robe Noire? Did she not slay the white man before +Monsieur's eyes? Did she not bind the white woman? Did she not drag me +over the ground like a dead stag? So my fingers caught hard in her +throat, and when I arose she lay dead in the ashes. So I fled and hid +till the tribe left. So I shoved her into the water and pushed her +under, and she sank like a heavy rock. Then I found the priest." + +I had no reproaches to offer Little Fellow. He had only obeyed the +savage instincts of a savage race, exacting satisfaction after his own +fashion. + +"The squaw threw a flint. The flint was poison. Also the squaw threw +this at Little Fellow, white man's paper with signs which are magic," +and the Indian handed me the sheet, which had fallen from the woman's +pocket as she hurled her last weapon. + +Without fear of the magic so terrifying to him, I took the dirty, +crumpled missive and unfolded it. The superscription of Quebec citadel +was at the top. With overwhelming revulsion came memory of poor Louis +Laplante lying at the camp-fire in the gorge tossing a crumpled piece of +paper wide of the flames, where the Sioux squaw surreptitiously picked +it up. The paper was foul and tattered almost beyond legibility; but +through the stains I deciphered in delicate penciling these words: + + "In memory of last night's carouse in Lower Town, (one favor + deserves another, you know, and I got you free of that scrape), + spike the gun of my friend the enemy. If R-f-s G--p--e, E. + H--l-t-n, J--k MacK, or any of that prig gang come prying round + your camp for news, put them on the wrong track. I owe the + whole ---- ---- set a score. Pay it for me, and we'll call the + loan square." + +No name was signed; but the scene in the Quebec club three years before, +when Eric had come to blows with Colonel Adderly, explained not only the +authorship but Louis' treachery. 'Tis the misfortune of errant rogues +like poor Louis that to get out of one scrape ever involves them in a +worse. Now I understood the tumult of contradictory emotions that had +wrought upon him when I had saved his life and he had resolved to undo +the wrong to Miriam. + +Little Fellow put the small canoe to rights, and I had soon joined the +others at the Sutherland homestead. But for two days the priest lay as +one dead, neither moaning nor speaking. On the morning of the third, +though he neither opened his eyes nor gave sign of recognition, he asked +for bread. Then my heart gave a great bound of hope--for surely a man +desiring food is recovering!--and I sent Frances Sutherland to him and +went out among the trees above the river. + +That sense of resilient relief which a man feels on discharging an +impossible task, or throwing off too heavy a burden, came over me. +Miriam was rescued, the priest restored, and I dowered with God's best +gift--the love of a noble, fair woman. Hard duty's compulsion no longer +spurred me; but my thoughts still drove in a wild whirl. There was a +glassy reflection of a faded moon on the water, and daybreak came +rustling through the trees which nodded and swayed overhead. A +twittering of winged things arose in the branches, first only the +cadence of a robin's call, an oriole's flute-whistle, the stirring +wren's mellow note. Then, suddenly, out burst from the leafed sprays a +chorus of song that might have rivaled angels' melodies. The robin's +call was a gust of triumph. The oriole's strain lilted exultant and a +thousand throats gushed out golden notes. + +"Now God be praised for love and beauty and goodness--and above all--for +Frances--for Frances," were the words that every bird seemed to be +singing; though, indeed, the interpretation was only my heart's +response. I know not how it was, but I found myself with hat off and +bowed head, feeling a gratitude which words could not frame--for the +splendor of the universe and the glory of God. + +"Rufus," called a voice more musical to my ear than any bird song; and +Frances was at my side with a troubled face. "He's conscious and +talking, but I can't understand what he means. Neither can Miriam and +Eric. I wish you would come in." + +I found the priest pale as the pillows against which he leaned, with +glistening eyes gazing fixedly high above the lintel of the door. +Miriam, with her snow-white hair and sad-lined face, was fanning the air +before him. At the other side stood Eric with the boy in his arms. Mr. +Sutherland and I entered the room abreast. For a moment his wistful gaze +fell on the group about the bed. First he looked at Eric and the child, +then at Miriam, and from Miriam to me, then back to the child. The +meaning of it all dawned, gleamed and broke in full knowledge upon him; +and his face shone as one transfigured. + +"The Lord was with us," he muttered, stroking Miriam's white hair. +"Praise be to God! Now I can die in peace----" + +"No, you can't, Father," I cried impetuously. + +"Ye irriverent ruffian," he murmured with a flash of old mirth and a +gentle pressure of my hand. "Ye irriverent ruffian. Peace! Peace! I die +in peace," and again the wistful eyes gazed above the door. + +"Rufus," he whispered softly, "where are they taking me?" + +"Taking you?" I asked in surprise; but Frances Sutherland's finger was +on her lips, and I stopped myself before saying more. + +"Troth, yes, lad, where are they taking me? The northern tribes have +heard not a word of the love of the Lord; and I must journey to a far, +far country." + +At that the boy set up some meaningless child prattle. The priest heard +him and listened. + +"Father," asked the child in the language of Indians when referring to a +priest, "Father, if the good white father goes to a far, far away, +who'll go to northern tribes?" "And a little child shall lead them," +murmured the priest, thinking he, himself, had been addressed and +feeling out blindly for the boy. Eric placed the child on the bed, and +Father Holland's wasted hands ran through the lad's tangled curls. + +"A little child shall lead them," he whispered. "Lord, now lettest Thou +Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation. A +light to lighten the Gentiles--and a little child shall lead them." + +Then I first noticed the filmy glaze, as of glass, spreading slowly +across the priest's white face. Blue lines were on his temples and his +lips were drawn. A cold chill struck to my heart, like icy steel. Too +well I read the signs and knew the summons; and what can love, or +gratitude, do in the presence of that summons? Miriam's face was hidden +in her hands and she was weeping silently. + +"The northern tribes know not the Lord and I go to a far country; but a +little child shall lead them!" repeated the priest. + +"Indeed, Sir, he shall be dedicated to God," sobbed Miriam. "I shall +train him to serve God among the northern tribes. Do not worry! God will +raise up a servant----" + +But her words were not heeded by the priest. + +"Rufus, lad," he said, gazing afar as before, "Lift me up," and I took +him in my arms. + +"My sight is not so good as it was," he whispered. "There's a dimness +before my face, lad! Can _you_ see anything up there?" he asked, +staring longingly forward. + +"Faith, now, what might they all be doing with stars for diadems? What +for might the angels o' Heaven be doin' going up and down betwane the +blue sky and the green earth? Faith, lad, 'tis daft ye are, a-changin' +of me clothes! Lave the black gown, lad! 'Tis the badge of poverty and +He was poor and knew not where to lay His head of a weary night! Lave +the black gown, I say! What for wu'd a powr Irish priest be doin' +a-wearin' of radiant white? Where are they takin' me, Rufus? Not too +near the light, lad! I ask but to kneel at the Master's feet an' kiss +the hem of His robe!" + +There was silence in the room, but for the subdued sobbing of Miriam. +Frances had caught the priest's wrists in both her hands, and had buried +her face on the white coverlet. With his back to the bed, Mr. Sutherland +stood by the window and I knew by the heaving of his angular shoulders +that flood-gates of grief had opened. There was silence; but for the +hard, sharp, quick, short breathings of the priest. A crested bird +hopped to the window-sill with a chirp, then darted off through the +quivering air with a glint of sunlight from his flashing wings. I heard +the rustle of morning wind and felt the priest's face growing cold +against my cheek. + +"I must work the Master's work," he whispered, in short +broken breaths, "while it is day--for the night cometh--when +no man--can work.--Don't hold me back, lad--for I must go--to a +far, far country--It's cold, cold, Rufus--the way is--rugged--my feet +are slipping--slipping--give a hand--lad!--Praise to God--there's a +resting-place--somewhere!--Farewell--boy--be brave--farewell--I may not +come back soon--but I must--journey--to--a----far----far----" + +There was a little gasp for breath. His head felt forward and Frances +sobbed out, "He is gone! He is gone!" + +And the warmth of pulsing life in the form against my shoulder gave +place to the rigid cold of motionless death. + +"May the Lord God of Israel receive the soul of His righteous servant," +cried Mr. Sutherland in awesome tones. + +With streaming eyes he came forward and helped me to lay the priest +back. + +Then we all passed out from that chamber, made sacred by an invisible +presence. + + * * * * * + +VALEDICTORY. + +'Twas twenty years after Father Holland's death that a keen-eyed, +dark-skinned, young priest came from Montreal on his way to Athabasca. + +This was Miriam's son. + +To-day it is he, the missionary famous in the north land, who passing +back and forward between his lonely mission in the Athabasca and the +headquarters of his order, comes to us and occupies the guest-chamber in +our little, old-fashioned, vine-grown cottage. + +The retaking of Fort Douglas virtually closed the bitter war between +Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers. To both companies the conflict had proved +ruinous. Each was as anxious as the other for the terms of peace by +which the great fur-trading rivals were united a few years after the +massacre of Seven Oaks. + +So ended the despotic rule of gentlemen adventurers in the far north. +The massacre turned the attention of Britain to this unknown land and +the daring heroism of explorers has given place to the patient +nation-building of multitudes who follow the pioneer. Such is the record +of a day that is done. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lords of the North, by A. C. Laut + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORDS OF THE NORTH *** + +***** This file should be named 20418-8.txt or 20418-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/1/20418/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/20418-8.zip b/20418-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..52ee1eb --- /dev/null +++ b/20418-8.zip diff --git a/20418-h.zip b/20418-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef2379a --- /dev/null +++ b/20418-h.zip diff --git a/20418-h/20418-h.htm b/20418-h/20418-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5a6ab75 --- /dev/null +++ b/20418-h/20418-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12287 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lords of the North, by A. C. Laut. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lords of the North, by A. C. Laut + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lords of the North + +Author: A. C. Laut + +Release Date: January 22, 2007 [EBook #20418] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORDS OF THE NORTH *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/image001.jpg" width="450" height="729" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<h1>LORDS</h1> + +<h3>OF THE</h3> + +<h1>NORTH</h1> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>A. C. LAUT</h2> + +<p class="center"> +TORONTO<br /> +WILLIAM BRIGGS<br /> +</p> + + +<p>Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one +thousand nine hundred, by <span class="smcap">William Briggs</span>, at the Department of +Agriculture.</p> + +<p class="center"> +TO THE<br /> +<br /> +Pioneers and their Descendants<br /> +<br /> +WHOSE<br /> +<br /> +HEROISM WON THE LAND,<br /> +<br /> +THIS WORK<br /> +<br /> +IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACKNOWLEDGMENT" id="ACKNOWLEDGMENT"></a>ACKNOWLEDGMENT.</h2> + + +<p>The author desires to express thanks to pioneers and fur traders of the +West for information, details and anecdotes bearing on the old life, +which are herein embodied; and would also acknowledge the assistance of +the history of the North-West Company and manuscripts of the +<i>Bourgeois</i>, compiled by Senator L. R. Masson; and the value of such +early works as those of Dr. George Bryce, Gunn, Hargraves, Ross and +others.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_TRAPPERS_DEFIANCE" id="THE_TRAPPERS_DEFIANCE"></a>THE TRAPPER'S DEFIANCE.</h2> + + +<p>"The adventurous spirits, who haunted the forest and plain, grew fond of +their wild life and affected a great contempt for civilization."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You boxed-up, mewed-up artificials,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pent in your piles of mortar and stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hugging your finely spun judicials,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adorning externals, externals alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vaunting in prideful ostentation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Juggernaut car, called Civilization—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What know ye of freedom and life and God?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Monkeys, that follow a showman's string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know more of freedom and less of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cage birds, that flutter from perch to ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have less of worry and surer fare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cursing the burdens, yourselves have bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a maze of wants, running round and round—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ye free men, or manniken slaves?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Costly patches, adorning your walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all of earth's beauty ye care to know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ye strut about in soul-stifled halls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To play moth-life by a candle-glow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What soul has space for upward fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What manhood room for shoulder-swing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coffined and cramped from the vasts of God?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Spirit of Life, O atrophied soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In trappings of ease is not confined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That touch from Infinite Will 'neath the Whole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Nature's temple, not man's, is shrined!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hovel-shed come out and be strong!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be ye free! Be redeemed from the wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of soul-guilt, I charge you as sons of God!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.</h2> + + +<p>I, Rufus Gillespie, trader and clerk for the North-West Company, which +ruled over an empire broader than Europe in the beginning of this +century, and with Indian allies and its own riotous <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, +carried war into the very heart of the vast territory claimed by its +rivals, the Honorable Hudson's Bay Company, have briefly related a few +stirring events of those boisterous days. Should the account here set +down be questioned, I appeal for confirmation to that missionary among +northern tribes, the famous priest, who is the son of the ill-fated girl +stolen by the wandering Iroquois. Lord Selkirk's narration of lawless +conflict with the Nor'-Westers and the verbal testimony of Red River +settlers, who are still living, will also substantiate what I have +stated; though allowance must be made for the violent partisan leaning +of witnesses, and from that, I—as a Nor'-Wester—do not claim to be +free.</p> + +<p>On the charges and counter-charges of cruelty bandied between white men +and red, I have nothing to say. Remembering how white soldiers from +eastern cities took the skin of a native chief for a trophy of victory, +and recalling the fiendish glee of Mandanes over a victim, I can only +conclude<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> that neither race may blamelessly point the finger of reproach +at the other.</p> + +<p>Any variations in detail from actual occurrences as seen by my own eyes +are solely for the purpose of screening living descendants of those +whose lives are here portrayed from prying curiosity; but, in truth, +many experiences during the thrilling days of the fur companies were far +too harrowing for recital. I would fain have tempered some of the +incidents herein related to suit the sentiments of a milk-and-water age; +but that could be done only at the cost of truth.</p> + +<p>There is no French strain in my blood, so I have not that passionate +devotion to the wild daring of <i>l'ancien régime</i>, in which many of my +rugged companions under <i>Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest</i> +gloried; but he would be very sluggish, indeed, who could not look back +with some degree of enthusiasm to the days of gentlemen adventurers in +no-man's-land, in a word, to the workings of the great fur trading +companies. Theirs were the trappers and runners, the <i>Coureurs des Bois</i> +and <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, who traversed the immense solitudes of the pathless +west; theirs, the brigades of gay <i>voyageurs</i> chanting hilarious +refrains in unison with the rhythmic sweep of paddle blades and +following unknown streams until they had explored from St. Lawrence to +MacKenzie River; and theirs, the merry lads of the north, blazing a +track through the wilderness and leaving from Atlantic to Pacific lonely +stockaded fur posts—footprints for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> pioneers' guidance. The +whitewashed palisades of many little settlements on the rivers and lakes +of the far north are poor relics of the fur companies' ancient grandeur. +That broad domain stretching from Hudson Bay to the Pacific Ocean, +reclaimed from savagery for civilization, is the best monument to the +unheralded forerunners of empire.</p> + +<p> +RUFUS GILLESPIE.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Winnipeg—one time Fort Garry</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Formerly Red River Settlement</span>,</span><br /> +<i>19th June, 18—</i><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>Transcriber's note: Minor typos have been corrected.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER I.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wherein a Lad sees Makers of History</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER II.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Strong Man is Bowed</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER III.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Novice and Expert</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER IV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Launched Into the Unknown</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER V.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Civilization's Veneer Rubs Off</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER VI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Girdle of Agates Recalled</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER VII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Lords of the North in Council</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER VIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Little Statue Animate</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER IX.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Decorating a Bit of Statuary</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER X.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>More Studies in Statuary</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Shuffling of Allegiance</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>How a Youth Became a King</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Buffalo Hunt</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XIV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In Slippery Places</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Good White Father</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XVI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Le Grand Diable Sends Back our Messenger</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XVII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Price of Blood</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XVIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Laplante and I Renew Acquaintance</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XIX.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Wherein Louis Intrigues</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XX.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Plots and Counter-Plots</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_297">297</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Louis Pays Me Back</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A Day of Reckoning</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Iroquois Plays his Last Card</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXIV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fort Douglas Changes Masters</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXV.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>His Lordship to the Rescue</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXVI.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Father Holland and I in the Toils</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_378">378</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXVII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Under One Roof</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_389">389</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXVIII.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Last of Louis' Adventures</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_409">409</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXIX.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Priest Journeys to a Far Country</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_433">433</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><a name="LORDS_OF_THE_NORTH" id="LORDS_OF_THE_NORTH"></a>LORDS OF THE NORTH</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>WHEREIN A LAD SEES MAKERS OF HISTORY</h3> + + +<p>"Has any one seen Eric Hamilton?" I asked.</p> + +<p>For an hour, or more, I had been lounging about the sitting-room of a +club in Quebec City, waiting for my friend, who had promised to join me +at dinner that night. I threw aside a news-sheet, which I had exhausted +down to minutest advertisements, stretched myself and strolled across to +a group of old fur-traders, retired partners of the North-West Company, +who were engaged in heated discussion with some officers from the +Citadel.</p> + +<p>"Has any one seen Eric Hamilton?" I repeated, indifferent to the merits +of their dispute.</p> + +<p>"That's the tenth time you've asked that question," said my Uncle Jack +MacKenzie, looking up sharply, "the tenth time, Sir, by actual count," +and he puckered his brows at the interruption, just as he used to when I +was a little lad on his knee and chanced to break into one of his +hunting stories with a question at the wrong place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hang it," drawled Colonel Adderly, a squatty man with an over-fed look +on his bulging, red cheeks, "hang it, you don't expect Hamilton? The +baby must be teething," and he added more chaff at the expense of my +friend, who had been the subject of good-natured banter among club +members for devotion to his first-born.</p> + +<p>I saw Adderly's object was more to get away from the traders' arguments +than to answer me; and I returned the insolent challenge of his +unconcealed yawn in the faces of the elder men by drawing a chair up to +the company of McTavishes and Frobishers and McGillivrays and MacKenzies +and other retired veterans of the north country.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said I, "what were you saying to Colonel +Adderly?"</p> + +<p>"Talk of your military conquests, Sir," my uncle continued, "Why, Sir, +our men have transformed a wilderness into an empire. They have blazed a +path from Labrador on the Atlantic to that rock on the Pacific, where my +esteemed kinsman, Sir Alexander MacKenzie, left his inscription of +discovery. Mark my words, Sir, the day will come when the names of David +Thompson and Simon Fraser and Sir Alexander MacKenzie will rank higher +in English annals than Braddock's and——"</p> + +<p>"Egad!" laughed the officer, amused at my uncle, who had been a leading +spirit in the North-West Company and whose enthusiasm knew no bounds, +"Egad! You gentlemen adventurers wouldn't need to have accomplished much +to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> eclipse Braddock." And he paused with a questioning supercilious +smile. "Sir Alexander was a first cousin of yours, was he not?"</p> + +<p>My uncle flushed hotly. That slighting reference to gentlemen +adventurers, with just a perceptible emphasis of the <i>adventurers</i>, was +not to his taste.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Sir," said he stiffly, "you forget that by the terms of +their charter, the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company have the +privilege of being known as gentlemen adventurers. And by the Lord, Sir, +'tis a gentleman adventurer and nothing else, that stock-jobbing +scoundrel of a Selkirk has proved himself! And he, sir, was neither +Nor'-Wester, nor Canadian, but an Englishman, like the commander of the +Citadel." My uncle puffed out these last words in the nature of a +defiance to the English officer, whose cheeks took on a deeper purplish +shade; but he returned the charge good-humoredly enough.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, MacKenzie, my good friend," laughed he patronizingly, "if the +Right Honorable, the Earl of Selkirk, were such an adventurer, why the +deuce did the Beaver Club down at Montreal receive him with open mouths +and open arms and——"</p> + +<p>"And open hearts, Sir, you may say," interrupted my Uncle MacKenzie. +"And I'd thank you not to 'good-friend' me," he added tartly.</p> + +<p>Now, the Beaver Club was an organization at Nor'-Westers renowned for +its hospitality.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> Founded in 1785, originally composed of but nineteen +members and afterwards extended only to men who had served in the <i>Pays +d'En Haut</i>, it soon acquired a reputation for entertaining in regal +style. Why the vertebrae of colonial gentlemen should sometimes lose the +independent, upright rigidity of self-respect on contact with old world +nobility, I know not. But instantly, Colonel Adderly's reference to Lord +Selkirk and the Beaver Club called up the picture of a banquet in +Montreal, when I was a lad of seven, or thereabouts. I had been tricked +out in some Highland costume especially pleasing to the Earl—cap, +kilts, dirk and all—and was taken by my Uncle Jack MacKenzie to the +Beaver Club. Here, in a room, that glittered with lights, was a table +steaming with things, which caught and held my boyish eyes; and all +about were crowds of guests, gentlemen, who had been invited in the +quaint language of the club, "To discuss the merits of bear, beaver and +venison." The great Sir Alexander MacKenzie, with his title fresh from +the king, and his feat of exploring the river now known by his name and +pushing through the mountain fastnesses to the Pacific on all men's +lips—was to my Uncle Jack's right. Simon Fraser and David Thompson and +other famous explorers, who were heroes to my imagination, were there +too. In these men and what they said of their wonderful voyages I was +far more interested than in the young, keen-faced man with a tie, that +came up in ruffles to his ears,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> and with an imperial decoration on his +breast, which told me he was Lord Selkirk.</p> + +<p>I remember when the huge salvers and platters were cleared away, I was +placed on the table to execute the sword dance. I must have acquitted +myself with some credit; for the gentlemen set up a prodigious clapping, +though I recall nothing but a snapping of my fingers, a wave of my cap +and a whirl of lights and faces around my dizzy head. Then my uncle took +me between his knees, promising to let me sit up to the end if I were +good, and more wine was passed.</p> + +<p>"That's enough for you, you young cub," says my kinsman, promptly +inverting the wine-glass before me.</p> + +<p>"O Uncle MacKenzie," said I with a wry face, "do you measure your own +wine so?"</p> + +<p>Whereat, the noble Earl shouted, "Bravo! here's for you, Mr. MacKenzie."</p> + +<p>And all the gentlemen set up a laugh and my uncle smiled and called to +the butler, "Here, Johnson, toddy for one, glass of hot water, pure, for +other."</p> + +<p>But when Johnson brought back the glasses, I observed Uncle MacKenzie +kept the toddy. "There, my boy, there's Adam's ale for you," said he, +and into the glass of hot water he popped a peppermint lozenge.</p> + +<p>"Fie!" laughed Sir Alexander to my uncle's right, "Fie to cheat the +little man!"</p> + +<p>"His is the best wine of the cellar," vowed His Lordship; and I drank my +peppermint with as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> much gusto and self-importance as any man of them.</p> + +<p>Then followed toasts, such a list of toasts as only men inured to tests +of strength could take. Ironical toasts to the North-West Passage, whose +myth Sir Alexander had dispelled; toasts to the discoverer of the +MacKenzie River, which brought storms of applause that shook the house; +toasts to "our distinguished guest," whose suave response disarmed all +suspicion; toasts to the "Northern winterers," poor devils, who were +serving the cause by undergoing a life-long term of Arctic exile; toasts +to "the merry lads of the north," who only served in the ranks without +attaining to the honor of partnership; toasts enough, in all conscience, +to drown the memory of every man present. Thanks to my Uncle Jack +MacKenzie, all my toasts were taken in peppermint, and the picture in my +mind of that banquet is as clear to-day as it was when I sat at the +table. What would I not give to be back at the Beaver Club, living it +all over again and hearing Sir Alexander MacKenzie with his flashing +hero-eyes and quick, passionate gestures, recounting that wonderful +voyage of his with a sulky crew into a region of hostiles; telling of +those long interminable winters of Arctic night, when the great explorer +sounded the depths of utter despair in service for the company and knew +not whether he faced madness or starvation; and thrilling the whole +assembly with a description of his first glimpse of the Pacific! Perhaps +it was what I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> heard that night—who can tell—that drew me to the wild +life of after years. But I was too young, then, to recognize fully the +greatness of those men. Indeed, my country was then and is yet too +young; for if their greatness be recognized, it is forgotten and +unhonored.</p> + +<p>I think I must have fallen asleep on my uncle's knee; for I next +remember sleepily looking about and noticing that many of the gentlemen +had slid down in their chairs and with closed eyes were breathing +heavily. Others had slipped to the floor and were sound asleep. This +shocked me and I was at once wide awake. My uncle was sitting very erect +and his arm around my waist had the tight grasp that usually preceded +some sharp rebuke. I looked up and found his face grown suddenly so hard +and stern, I was all affright lest my sleeping had offended him. His +eyes were fastened on Lord Selkirk with a piercing, angry gaze. His +Lordship was not nodding, not a bit of it. How brilliant he seemed to my +childish fancy! He was leaning forward, questioning those Nor'-Westers, +who had received him with open arms, and open hearts. And the wine had +mounted to the head of the good Nor'-Westers and they were now also +receiving the strange nobleman with open mouths, pouring out to him a +full account of their profits, the extent of the vast, unknown game +preserve, and how their methods so far surpassed those of the Hudson's +Bay, their rival's stock had fallen in value from 250 to 50 per cent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>The more information they gave, the more His Lordship plied them with +questions.</p> + +<p>"I must say," whispered Uncle Jack to Sir Alexander MacKenzie, "if any +Hudson's Bay man asked such pointed questions on North-West business, +I'd give myself the pleasure of ejecting him from this room."</p> + +<p>Then, I knew his anger was against Lord Selkirk and not against me for +sleeping.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," retorted Sir Alexander, who had cut active connection with +the Nor'-Westers some years before, "there's no ground for suspicion." +But he seemed uneasy at the turn things had taken.</p> + +<p>"Has your Lordship some colonization scheme that you ask such pointed +questions?" demanded my uncle, addressing the Earl. The nobleman turned +quickly to him and said something about the Highlanders and Prince +Edward's Island, which I did not understand. The rest of that evening +fades from my thoughts; for I was carried home in Mr. Jack MacKenzie's +arms.</p> + +<p>And all these things happened some ten or twelve years before that wordy +sword-play between this same uncle of mine and the English colonel from +the Citadel.</p> + +<p>"We erred, Sir, through too great hospitality," my uncle was saying to +the colonel. "How could we know that Selkirk would purchase controlling +interest in Hudson's Bay stock? How could we know he'd secure a land +grant in the very heart of our domain?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't object to his land, nor to his colonists, nor to his dower of +ponies and muskets and bayonets to every mother's son of them," broke in +another of the retired traders, "but I do object to his drilling those +same colonists, to his importing a field battery and bringing out that +little ram of a McDonell from the Army to egg the settlers on! It's bad +enough to pillage our fort; but this proclamation to expel Nor'-Westers +from what is claimed as Hudson's Bay Territory——"</p> + +<p>"Just listen to this," cries my uncle pulling out a copy of the +obnoxious proclamation and reading aloud an order for the expulsion of +all rivals to the Hudson's Bay Company from the northern territory.</p> + +<p>"Where can Hamilton be?" said I, losing interest in the traders' quarrel +as soon as they went into details.</p> + +<p>"Home with his wifie," half sneered the officer in a nagging way, that +irritated me, though the remark was, doubtless, true. "Home with his +wifie," he repeated in a sing-song, paying no attention to the +elucidation of a subject he had raised. "Good old man, Hamilton, but +since marriage, utterly gone to the bad!"</p> + +<p>"To the what?" I queried, taking him up short. This officer, with the +pudding cheeks and patronizing insolence, had a provoking trick of +always keeping just inside the bounds of what one might resent. "To the +what, did you say Hamilton had gone?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To the domestics," says he laughing, then to the others, as if he had +listened to every word of the explanations, "and if His Little +Excellency, Governor MacDonell, by the grace of Lord Selkirk, ruler over +gentlemen adventurers in no-man's-land, expels the good Nor'-Westers +from nowhere to somewhere else, what do the good Nor'-Westers intend +doing to the Little Tyrant?"</p> + +<p>"Charles the First him," responds a wag of the club.</p> + +<p>"Where's your Cromwell?" laughs the colonel.</p> + +<p>"Our Cromwell's a Cameron, temper of a Lucifer, oaths before action," +answers the wag.</p> + +<p>"Tuts!" exclaims Uncle Jack testily. "We'll settle His Lordship's little +martinet of the plains. Warrant for his arrest! Fetch him out!"</p> + +<p>"Warrant 43rd King George III. will do it," added one of the partners +who had looked the matter up.</p> + +<p>"43rd King George III. doesn't give jurisdiction for trial in Lower +Canada, if offense be committed elsewhere," interjects a lawyer with +show of importance.</p> + +<p>"A Daniel come to judgment," laughs the colonel, winking as my uncle's +wrath rose.</p> + +<p>"Pah!" says Mr. Jack MacKenzie in disgust, stamping on the floor with +both feet. "You lawyers needn't think you'll have your pickings when fur +companies quarrel. We'll ship him out, that's all. Neither of the +companies wants to advertise its profits—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Or its methods—ahem!" interjects the colonel.</p> + +<p>"And its private business," adds my uncle, looking daggers at Adderly, +"by going to court."</p> + +<p>Then they all rose to go to the dining-room; and as I stepped out to +have a look down the street for Hamilton, I heard Colonel Adderly's last +fling—"Pretty rascals, you gentlemen adventurers are, so shy and coy +about law courts."</p> + +<p>It was a dark night, with a few lonely stars in mid-heaven, a sickle +moon cutting the horizon cloud-rim and a noisy March wind that boded +snow from The Labrador, or sleet from the Gulf.</p> + +<p>When Eric Hamilton left the Hudson's Bay Company's service at York +Factory on Hudson Bay and came to live in Quebec, I was but a student at +Laval. It was at my Uncle MacKenzie's that I met the tall, dark, sinewy, +taciturn man, whose influence was to play such a strange part in my +life; and when these two talked of their adventures in the far, lone +land of the north, I could no more conceal my awe-struck admiration than +a girl could on first discovering her own charms in a looking-glass. I +think he must have noticed my boyish reverence, for once he condescended +to ask about the velvet cap and green sash and long blue coat which made +up the Laval costume, and in a moment I was talking to him as volubly as +if he were the boy and I, the great Hudson's Bay trader.</p> + +<p>"It makes me feel quite like a boy again," he had said on resuming +conversation with Mr. MacKenzie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> "By Jove! Sir, I can hardly realize I +went into that country a lad of fifteen, like your nephew, and here I +am, out of it, an old man."</p> + +<p>"Pah, Eric man," says my uncle, "you'll be finding a wife one of these +days and renewing your youth."</p> + +<p>"Uncle," I broke out when the Hudson's Bay man had gone home, "how old +is Mr. Hamilton?"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen years older than you are, boy, and I pray Heaven you may have +half as much of the man in you at thirty as he has," returns my uncle +mentally measuring me with that stern eye of his. At that information, +my heart gave a curious, jubilant thud. Henceforth, I no longer looked +upon Mr. Hamilton with the same awe that a choir boy entertains for a +bishop. Something of comradeship sprang up between us, and before that +year had passed we were as boon companions as man and boy could be. But +Hamilton presently spoiled it all by fulfilling my uncle's prediction +and finding a wife, a beautiful, fair-haired, frail slip of a girl, near +enough the twenties to patronize me and too much of the young lady to +find pleasure in an awkward lad. That meant an end to our rides and +walks and sails down the St. Lawrence and long evening talks; but I took +my revenge by assuming the airs of a man of forty, at which Hamilton +quizzed me not a little and his wife, Miriam, laughed. When I surprised +them all by jumping suddenly from boyhood to manhood—"like a tadpole +into a mosquito," as my Uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> Jack facetiously remarked. Meanwhile, a +son and heir came to my friend's home and I had to be thankful for a +humble third place.</p> + +<p>And so it came that I was waiting for Eric's arrival at the Quebec Club +that night, peering from the porch for sight of him and calculating how +long it would take to ride from the Chateau Bigot above Charlesbourg, +where he was staying. Stepping outside, I was surprised to see the form +of a horse beneath the lantern of the arched gateway; and my surprise +increased on nearer inspection. As I walked up, the creature gave a +whinny and I recognized Hamilton's horse, lathered with sweat, +unblanketed and shivering. The possibility of an accident hardly +suggested itself before I observed the bridle-rein had been slung over +the hitching-post and heard steps hurrying to the side door of the +club-house.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Eric?" I called.</p> + +<p>There was no answer; so I led the horse to the stable boy and hurried +back to see if Hamilton were inside. The sitting room was deserted; but +Eric's well-known, tall figure was entering the dining-room. And a +curious figure he presented to the questioning looks of the club men. In +one hand was his riding whip, in the other, his gloves. He wore the +buckskin coat of a trapper and in the belt were two pistols. One sleeve +was torn from wrist to elbow and his boots were scratched as if they had +been combed by an iron rake. His broad-brimmed hat was still on, +slouched down over his eyes like that of a scout.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Gad! Hamilton," exclaimed Uncle Jack MacKenzie, who was facing Eric as +I came up behind, "have you been in a race or a fight?" and he gave him +the look of suspicion one might give an intoxicated man.</p> + +<p>"Is it a cold night?" asked the colonel punctiliously, gazing hard at +the still-strapped hat.</p> + +<p>Not a word came from Hamilton.</p> + +<p>"How's the cold in your head?" continued Adderly, pompously trying to +stare Hamilton's hat off.</p> + +<p>"Here I am, old man! What's kept you?" and I rushed forward but quickly +checked myself; for Hamilton turned slowly towards me and instead of +erect bearing, clear glance, firm mouth, I saw a head that was bowed, +eyes that burned like fire, and parched, parted, wordless lips.</p> + +<p>If the colonel had not been stuffing himself like the turkey guzzler +that he was, he would have seen something unspeakably terrible written +on Hamilton's silent face.</p> + +<p>"Did the little wifie let him off for a night's play?" sneered Adderly.</p> + +<p>Barely were the words out, when Hamilton's teeth clenched behind the +open lips, giving him an ugly, furious expression, strange to his face. +He took a quick stride towards the officer, raised his whip and brought +it down with the full strength of his shoulder in one cutting blow +across the baggy, purplish cheeks of the insolent speaker.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>A STRONG MAN IS BOWED</h3> + + +<p>The whole thing was so unexpected that for one moment not a man in the +room drew breath. Then the colonel sprang up with the bellow of an +enraged bull, overturning the table in his rush, and a dozen club +members were pulling him back from Eric.</p> + +<p>"Eric Hamilton, are you mad?" I cried. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>But Hamilton stood motionless as if he saw none of us. Except that his +breath was labored, he wore precisely the same strange, distracted air +he had on entering the club.</p> + +<p>"Hold back!" I implored; for Adderly was striking right and left to get +free from the men. "Hold back! There's a mistake! Something's wrong!"</p> + +<p>"Reptile!" roared the colonel. "Cowardly reptile, you shall pay for +this!"</p> + +<p>"There's a mistake," I shouted, above the clamor of exclamations.</p> + +<p>"Glad the mistake landed where it did, all the same," whispered Uncle +Jack MacKenzie in my ear, "but get him out of this. Drunk—or a +scandal," says my uncle, who always expressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> himself in explosives +when excited. "Side room—here—lead him in—drunk—by Jove—drunk!"</p> + +<p>"Never," I returned passionately. I knew both Hamilton and his wife too +well to tolerate either insinuation. But we led him like a dazed being +into a side office, where Mr. Jack MacKenzie promptly turned the key and +took up a posture with his back against the door.</p> + +<p>"Now, Sir," he broke out sternly, "if it's neither drink, nor a +scandal——" There, he stopped; for Hamilton, utterly unconscious of us, +moved, rather than walked, automatically across the room. Throwing his +hat down, he bowed his head over both arms above the mantel-piece.</p> + +<p>My uncle and I looked from the silent man to each other. Raising his +brows in question, Mr. Jack MacKenzie touched his forehead and whispered +across to me—"Mad?"</p> + +<p>At that, though the word was spoken barely above a breath, Eric turned +slowly round and faced us with blood-shot, gleaming eyes. He made as +though he would speak, sank into the armchair before the grate and +pressed both hands against his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Mad," he repeated in a voice low as a moan, framing his words slowly +and with great effort. "By Jove, men, you should know me better than to +mouth such rot under your breath. To-night, I'd sell my soul, sell my +soul to be mad, really mad, to know that all I think has happened, +hadn't happened at all—" and his speech was broken by a sharp intake of +breath.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Out with it, man, for the Lord's sake," shouted my uncle, now convinced +that Eric was not drunk and jumping to conclusions—as he was wont to do +when excited—regarding a possible scandal.</p> + +<p>"Out with it, man! We'll stand by you! Has that blasted red-faced +turkey——"</p> + +<p>"Pray, spare your histrionics, for the present," Eric cut in with the +icy self-possession bred by a lifetime's danger, dispelling my uncle's +second suspicion with a quiet scorn that revealed nothing.</p> + +<p>"What the——" began my kinsman, "what did you strike him for?"</p> + +<p>"Did I strike somebody?" asked Hamilton absently.</p> + +<p>Again my uncle flashed a questioning look at me, but this time his face +showed his conviction so plainly no word was needed.</p> + +<p>"Did I strike somebody? Wish you'd apologize——"</p> + +<p>"Apologize!" thundered my uncle. "I'll do nothing of the kind. Served +him right. 'Twas a pretty way, a pretty way, indeed, to speak of any +man's wife——" But the word "wife" had not been uttered before Eric +threw out his hands in an imploring gesture.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" he cried out sharply in the suffering tone of a man under the +operating knife. "Don't! It all comes back! It is true! It is true! I +can't get away from it! It is no nightmare. My God, men, how can I tell +you? There's no way of saying it! It is impossible—preposterous—some +monstrous joke—it's quite impossible I tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> you—it couldn't have +happened—such things don't happen—couldn't happen—to her—of all +women! But she's gone—she's gone——"</p> + +<p>"See here, Hamilton," cried my uncle, utterly beside himself with +excitement, "are we to understand you are talking of your wife, or—or +some other woman?"</p> + +<p>"See here, Hamilton," I reiterated, quite heedless of the brutality of +our questions and with a thousand wild suspicions flashing into my mind. +"Is it your wife, Miriam, and your boy?"</p> + +<p>But he heard neither of us.</p> + +<p>"They were there—they waved to me from the garden at the edge of the +woods as I entered the forest. Only this morning, both waving to me as I +rode away—and when I returned from the city at noon, they were gone! I +looked to the window as I came back. The curtain moved and I thought my +boy was hiding, but it was only the wind. We've searched every nook from +cellar to attic. His toys were littered about and I fancied I heard his +voice everywhere, but no! No—no—and we've been hunting house and +garden for hours——"</p> + +<p>"And the forest?" questioned Uncle Jack, the trapper instinct of former +days suddenly re-awakening.</p> + +<p>"The forest is waist-deep with snow! Besides we beat through the bush +everywhere, and there wasn't a track, nor broken twig, where they could +have passed." His torn clothes bore evidence to the thoroughness of that +search.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nonsense," my uncle burst out, beginning to bluster. "They've been +driven to town without leaving word!"</p> + +<p>"No sleigh was at Chateau Bigot this morning," returned Hamilton.</p> + +<p>"But the road, Eric?" I questioned, recalling how the old manor-house +stood well back in the center of a cleared plateau in the forest. +"Couldn't they have gone down the road to those Indian encampments?"</p> + +<p>"The road is impassable for sleighs, let alone walking, and their winter +wraps are all in the house. For Heaven's sake, men, suggest something! +Don't madden me with these useless questions!"</p> + +<p>But in spite of Eric's entreaty my excitable kinsman subjected the +frenzied man to such a fire of questions as might have sublimated +pre-natal knowledge. And I stood back listening and pieced the +distracted, broken answers into some sort of coherency till the whole +tragic scene at the Chateau on that spring day of the year 1815, became +ineffaceably stamped on my memory.</p> + +<p>Causeless, with neither warning nor the slightest premonition of danger, +the greatest curse which can befall a man came upon my friend Eric +Hamilton. However fond a husband may be, there are things worse for his +wife than death which he may well dread, and it was one of these +tragedies which almost drove poor Hamilton out of his reason and changed +the whole course of my own life. In broad daylight, his young wife and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +infant son disappeared as suddenly and completely as if blotted out of +existence.</p> + +<p>That morning, Eric light-heartedly kissed wife and child good-by and +waved them a farewell that was to be the last. He rode down the winding +forest path to Quebec and they stood where the Chateau garden merged +into the forest of Charlesbourg Mountain. At noon, when he returned, for +him there existed neither wife nor child. For any trace of them that +could be found, both might have been supernaturally spirited away. The +great house, that had re-echoed to the boy's prattle, was deathly still; +and neither wife, nor child, answered his call. The nurse was summoned. +She was positive <i>Madame</i> was amusing the boy across the hall, and +reassuringly bustled off to find mother and son in the next room, and +the next, and yet the next; to discover each in succession empty.</p> + +<p>Alarm spread to the Chateau servants. The simple <i>habitant</i> maids were +questioned, but their only response was white-faced, blank amazement.</p> + +<p><i>Madame</i> not returned!</p> + +<p><i>Madame</i> not back!</p> + +<p>Mon Dieu! What had happened? And all the superstition of hillside lore +added to the fear on each anxious face. Shortly after Monsieur went to +the city, <i>Madame</i> had taken her little son out as usual for a morning +airing, and had been seen walking up and down the paths tracked through +the garden snow. Had <i>Monsieur</i> examined the clearing between the house +and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> forest? <i>Monsieur</i> could see for himself the snow was too deep +and crusty among the trees for <i>Madame</i> to go twenty paces into the +woods. Besides, foot-marks could be traced from the garden to the bush. +He need not fear wild animals. They were receding into the mountains as +spring advanced. Let him take another look about the open; and Hamilton +tore out-doors, followed by the whole household; but from the Chateau in +the center of the glade to the encircling border of snow-laden +evergreens there was no trace of wife or child.</p> + +<p>Then Eric laughed at his own growing fears. Miriam must be in the house. +So the search of the old hall, that had once resounded to the drunken +tread of gay French grandees, began again. From hidden chamber in the +vaulted cellar to attic rooms above, not a corner of the Chateau was +left unexplored. Had any one come and driven her to the city? But that +was impossible. The roads were drifted the height of a horse and there +were no marks of sleigh runners on either side of the riding path. Could +she possibly have ventured a few yards down the main road to an +encampment of Indians, whose squaws after Indian custom made much of the +white baby? Neither did that suggestion bring relief; for the Indians +had broken camp early in the morning and there was only a dirty patch of +littered snow, where the wigwams had been.</p> + +<p>The alarm now became a panic. Hamilton, half-crazed and unable to +believe his own senses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> began wondering whether he had nightmare. He +thought he might waken up presently and find the dead weight smothering +his chest had been the boy snuggling close. He was vaguely conscious it +was strange of him to continue sleeping with that noise of shouting men +and whining hounds and snapping branches going on in the forest. The +child's lightest cry generally broke the spell of a nightmare; but the +din of terrified searchers rushing through the woods and of echoes +rolling eerily back from the white hills convinced him this was no +dream-land. Then, the distinct crackle of trampled brushwood and the +scratch of spines across his face called him back to an unendurable +reality.</p> + +<p>"The thing is utterly impossible, Hamilton," I cried, when in short +jerky sentences, as if afraid to give thought rein, he had answered my +uncle's questioning. "Impossible! Utterly impossible!"</p> + +<p>"I would to God it were!" he moaned.</p> + +<p>"It was daylight, Eric?" asked Mr. Jack MacKenzie.</p> + +<p>He nodded moodily.</p> + +<p>"And she couldn't be lost in Charlesbourg forest?" I added, taking up +the interrogations where my uncle left off.</p> + +<p>"No trace—not a footprint!"</p> + +<p>"And you're quite sure she isn't in the house?" replied my relative.</p> + +<p>"Quite!" he answered passionately.</p> + +<p>"And there was an Indian encampment a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> yards down the road?" +continued Mr. MacKenzie, undeterred.</p> + +<p>"Oh! What has that to do with it?" he asked petulantly, springing to his +feet. "They'd moved off long before I went back. Besides, Indians don't +run off with white women. Haven't I spent my life among them? I should +know their ways!"</p> + +<p>"But my dear fellow!" responded the elder trader, "so do I know their +ways. If she isn't in the Chateau and isn't in the woods and isn't in +the garden, can't you see, the Indian encampment is the only possible +explanation?"</p> + +<p>The lines on his face deepened. Fire flashed from his gleaming eyes, and +if ever I have seen murder written on the countenance of man, it was on +Hamilton's.</p> + +<p>"What tribe were they, anyway?" I asked, trying to speak indifferently, +for every question was knife-play on a wound.</p> + +<p>"Mongrel curs, neither one thing nor the other, Iroquois canoemen, +French half-breeds intermarried with Sioux squaws! They're all connected +with the North-West Company's crews. The Nor'-Westers leave here for +Fort William when the ice breaks up. This riff-raff will follow in their +own dug-outs!"</p> + +<p>"Know any of them?" persisted my uncle.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think I—Let me see! By Jove! Yes, Gillespie!" he shouted, +"Le Grand Diable was among them!"</p> + +<p>"What about Diable?" I asked, pinning him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> down to the subject, for his +mind was lost in angry memories.</p> + +<p>"What about him? He's my one enemy among the Indians," he answered in +tones thick and ominously low. "I thrashed him within an inch of his +life at Isle à la Crosse. Being a Nor'-Wester, he thought it fine game +to pillage the kit of a Hudson's Bay; so he stole a silver-mounted +fowling-piece which my grandfather had at Culloden. By Jove, Gillespie! +The Nor'-Westers have a deal of blood to answer for, stirring up those +Indians against traders; and if they've brought this on me——"</p> + +<p>"Did you get it back?" I interrupted, referring to the fowling-piece, +neither my uncle, nor I, offering any defense for the Nor'-Westers. I +knew there were two sides to this complaint from a Hudson's Bay man.</p> + +<p>"No! That's why I nearly finished him; but the more I clubbed, the more +he jabbered impertinence, '<i>Cooloo! cooloo! qu' importe!</i> It doesn't +matter!' By Jove! I made it matter!"</p> + +<p>"Is that all about Diable, Eric?" continued my uncle.</p> + +<p>He ran his fingers distractedly back through his long, black hair, rose, +and, coming over to me, laid a trembling hand on each shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Gillespie!" he muttered through hard-set teeth. "It isn't all. I didn't +think at the time, but the morning after the row with that red devil I +found a dagger stuck on the outside of my hut-door. The point was +through a fresh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> sprouted leaflet. A withered twig hung over the blade."</p> + +<p>"Man! Are you mad?" cried Jack MacKenzie. "He must be the very devil +himself. You weren't married then—He couldn't mean——"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was an Indian threat," interjected Hamilton, "that if I +had downed him in the fall, when the branches were bare, he meant to +have his revenge in spring when the leaves were green; but you know I +left the country that fall."</p> + +<p>"You were wrong, Eric!" I blurted out impetuously, the terrible +significance of that threat dawning upon me. "That wasn't the meaning at +all."</p> + +<p>Then I stopped; for Hamilton was like a palsied man, and no one asked +what those tokens of a leaflet pierced by a dagger and an old branch +hanging to the knife might mean.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jack MacKenzie was the first to pull himself together.</p> + +<p>"Come," he shouted. "Gather up your wits! To the camping ground!" and he +threw open the door.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, we three flung through the club-room to the astonishment of +the gossips, who had been waiting outside for developments in the +quarrel with Colonel Adderly. At the outer porch, Hamilton laid a hand +on Mr. MacKenzie's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Don't come," he begged hurriedly. "There's a storm blowing. It's rough +weather, and a rough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> road, full of drifts! Make my peace with the man I +struck."</p> + +<p>Then Eric and I whisked out into the blackness of a boisterous, windy +night. A moment later, our horses were dashing over iced cobble-stones +with the clatter of pistol-shots.</p> + +<p>"It will snow," said I, feeling a few flakes driven through the darkness +against my face; but to this remark Hamilton was heedless.</p> + +<p>"It will snow, Eric," I repeated. "The wind's veered north. We must get +out to the camp before all traces are covered. How far by the Beauport +road?"</p> + +<p>"Five miles," said he, and I knew by the sudden scream and plunge of his +horse that spurs were dug into raw sides. We turned down that steep, +break-neck, tortuous street leading from Upper Town to the valley of the +St. Charles. The wet thaw of mid-day had frozen and the road was +slippery as a toboggan slide. We reined our horses in tightly, to +prevent a perilous stumbling of fore-feet, and by zigzagging from side +to side managed to reach the foot of the hill without a single fall. +Here, we again gave them the bit; and we were presently thundering +across the bridge in a way that brought the keeper out cursing and +yelling for his toll. I tossed a coin over my shoulder and we galloped +up the elm-lined avenue leading to that Charlesbourg retreat, where +French Bacchanalians caroused before the British conquest, passed the +thatch-roofed cots of <i>habitants</i> and, turning suddenly to the right, +followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> a seldom frequented road, where snow was drifted heavily. Here +we had to slacken pace, our beasts sinking to their haunches and +snorting through the white billows like a modern snow-plow.</p> + +<p>Hamilton had spoken not a word.</p> + +<p>Clouds were massing on the north. Overhead a few stars glittered against +the black, and the angry wind had the most mournful wail I have ever +heard. How the weird undertones came like the cries of a tortured child, +and the loud gusts with the shriek of demons!</p> + +<p>"Gillespie," called Eric's voice tremulous with anguish, +"listen—Rufus—listen! Do you hear anything? Do you hear any one +calling for help? Is that a child crying?"</p> + +<p>"No, Eric, old man," said I, shivering in my saddle. "I hear—I hear +nothing at all but the wind."</p> + +<p>But my hesitancy belied the truth of that answer; for we both heard +sounds, which no one can interpret but he whose well beloved is lost in +the storm.</p> + +<p>And the wind burst upon us again, catching my empty denial and tossing +the words to upper air with eldritch laughter. Then there was a lull, +and I felt rather than heard the choking back of stifled moans and knew +that the man by my side, who had held iron grip of himself before other +eyes, was now giving vent to grief in the blackness of night.</p> + +<p>At last a red light gleamed from the window of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> a low cot. That was the +signal for us to turn abruptly to the left, entering the forest by a +narrow bridle-path that twisted among the cedars. As if to look down in +pity, the moon shone for a moment above the ragged edge of a storm +cloud, and all the snow-laden evergreens stood out stately, shadowy and +spectral, like mourners for the dead.</p> + +<p>Again the road took to right-about at a sharp angle and the broad +Chateau, with its noble portico and numerous windows all alight, +suddenly loomed up in the center of a forest-clearing on the mountain +side. Where the path to the garden crossed a frozen stream was a small +open space. Here the Indians had been encamped. We hallooed for servants +and by lantern light examined every square inch of the smoked snow and +rubbish heaps. Bits of tin in profusion, stones for the fire, tent +canvas, ends of ropes and tattered rags lay everywhere over the black +patch. Snow was beginning to fall heavily in great flakes that obscured +earth and air. Not a thing had we found to indicate any trace of the +lost woman and child, until I caught sight of a tiny, blue string +beneath a piece of rusty metal. Kicking the tin aside, I caught the +ribbon up. When I saw on the lower end a child's finely beaded moccasin, +I confess I had rather felt the point of Le Grand Diable's dagger at my +own heart than have shown that simple thing to Hamilton.</p> + +<p>Then the snow-storm broke upon us in white billows blotting out +everything. We spread a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> sheet on the ground to preserve any marks of +the campers, but the drifting wind drove us indoors and we were +compelled to cease searching. All night long Eric and I sat before the +roaring grate fire of the hunting-room, he leaning forward with chin in +his palms and saying few words, I offering futile suggestions and +uttering mad threats, but both utterly at a loss what to do. We knew +enough of Indian character to know what not to do. That was, raise an +outcry, which might hasten the cruelty of Le Grand Diable.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>NOVICE AND EXPERT.</h3> + + +<p>Though many years have passed since that dismal storm in the spring of +1815, when Hamilton and I spent a long disconsolate night of enforced +waiting, I still hear the roaring of the northern gale, driving round +the house-corners as if it would wrench all eaves from the roof. It +shrieked across the garden like malignant furies, rushed with the boom +of a sea through the cedars and pines, and tore up the mountain slope +till all the many voices of the forest were echoing back a thousand +tumultuous discords. Again, I see Hamilton gazing at the leaping flames +of the log fire, as if their frenzied motion reflected something of his +own burning grief. Then, the agony of our utter helplessness, as long as +the storm raged, would prove too great for his self-control. Rising, he +would pace back and forward the full length of the hunting-room till his +eye would be caught by some object with which the boy had played. He +would put this carefully away, as one lays aside the belongings of the +dead. Afterwards, lanterns, which we had placed on the oak center table +on coming in, began to smoke and give out a pungent, burning smell, and +each of us involuntarily walked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> across to a window and drew aside the +curtains to see how daylight was coming on. The white glare of early +morning flooded the room, but the snow-storm had changed to driving +sleet and the panes were iced from corner to corner with frozen +rain-drift. How we dragged through two more days, while the gale raved +with unabated fury, I do not know. Poor Eric was for rushing into the +blinding whirl, that turned earth and air into one white tornado; but he +could not see twice the length of his own arm, and we prevailed on him +to come back. On the third night, the wind fell like a thing that had +fretted out its strength. Morning revealed an ocean of billowy drifts, +crusted over by the frozen sleet and reflecting a white dazzle that made +one's eyes blink. Great icicles hung from the naked branches of the +sheeted pines and snow was wreathed in fantastic forms among the cedars.</p> + +<p>We had laid our plans while we waited. After lifting the canvas from the +camping-ground and seeking in vain for more trace of the fugitives, we +despatched a dozen different search-parties that very morning, Eric +leading those who were to go on the river-side of the Chateau, and I +some well-trained bushrangers picked from the <i>habitants</i> of the +hillside, who could track the forest to every Indian haunt within a +week's march of the city. After putting my men on a trail with +instructions to send back an Indian courier to report each night, I +hunted up an old <i>habitant</i> guide, named Paul Larocque, who had often +helped me to thread the woods of Quebec after big game. Now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> Paul was +habitually as silent as a dumb animal, and sportsmen had nicknamed him +The Mute; but what he lacked in speech he made up like other wild +creatures in a wonderful acuteness of eye and ear. Indeed, it was +commonly believed among trappers that Paul possessed some nameless sense +by which he could actually <i>feel</i> the presence of an enemy before +ordinary men could either see, or hear. For my part, I would be willing +to pit that "feel" of Paul's against the nose of any hound that +dog-fanciers could back.</p> + +<p>"Paul," said I, as the <i>habitant</i> stood before me licking the short stem +of an inverted clay pipe, "there's an Indian, a bad Indian, an Iroquois, +Paul,"—I was particular in describing the Indian as an Iroquois, for +Paul's wife was a Huron from Lorette—"An Iroquois, who stole a white +woman and a little boy from the Chateau three days ago, in the morning."</p> + +<p>There, I paused to let the facts soak in; for The Mute digested +information in small morsels. Grizzled, stunted and chunky, he was not +at all the picturesque figure which fancy has painted of his class. +Instead of the red toque, which artists place on the heads of +<i>habitants</i>, he wore a cloth cap with ear flaps coming down to be tied +under his chin. His jacket was an ill-fitting garment, the cast-off coat +of some well-to-do man, and his trousers slouched in ample folds above +brightly beaded moccasins. When I paused, Paul fixed his eyes on an +invisible spot in the snow and ruminated. Then he hitched the baggy +trousers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> up, pulled the red scarf, that held them to his waist, +tighter, and, taking his eyes off the snow, looked up for me to go on.</p> + +<p>"That Iroquois, who belongs to the North-West trappers——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Pays d'En Haut?</i>" asks Paul, speaking for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered, "and they all disappeared with the woman and the +child the day before the storm."</p> + +<p>The Mute's eyes were back on the snow.</p> + +<p>"Now," said I, "I'll make you a rich man if you take me straight to the +place where he's hiding."</p> + +<p>Paul's eyes looked up with the question of how much.</p> + +<p>"Five pounds a day." This was four more than we paid for the cariboo +hunts.</p> + +<p>Again he stood thinking, then darted off into the forest like a hare; +but I knew his strange, silent ways, and confidently awaited his return. +How he could get two pair of snow-shoes and two poles inside of five +minutes, I do not attempt to explain, unless some of his numerous +half-breed youngsters were at hand in the woods; but he was back again +all equipped for a long tramp, and as soon as I had laced on the +racquets, we were skimming over the drift like a boat on billows. In the +mazy confusion of snow and underbrush, no one but Paul would have found +and kept that tangled, forest path. Where great trunks had fallen across +the way, Paul planted his pole and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> took the barrier at a bound. Then he +raced on at a gait which was neither a run nor a walk, but an easy trot +common to the <i>coureurs-des-bois</i>. The encased branches snapped like +glass when we brushed past, and so heavily were snow and icicles frozen +to the trees we might have been in some grotesque crystal-walled cavern. +The <i>habitant</i> spoke not a word, but on we pressed over the brushwood, +now so packed with snow and crusted ice, our snow-shoes were not once +tripped by loose branches, and we glided from drift to drift. In vain I +tried to discern a trail by the broken thicket on either side, and I +noticed that my guide was keeping his course by following the marks +blazed on trees. At one place we came to a steep, clear slope, where the +earth had fallen sheer away from the hillside and snow had filled the +incline. First prodding forward to feel if the snow-bank were solid, +Paul promptly sat down on the rear end of his snow-shoes, and, quicker +than I can tell it, tobogganed down to the valley. I came leaping +clumsily from point to point with my pole, like a ski-jumping Norwegian, +risking my neck at every bound. Then we coursed along the valley, the +<i>habitant's</i> eyes still on the trees, and once he stopped to emit a +gurgling laugh at a badly hacked trunk, beneath which was a snowed-up +sap trough; but I could not divine whether Paul's mirth were over a +prospect of sugaring-off in the maple-woods, or at some foolish +<i>habitant</i> who had tapped the maple too early. How often had I known my +guide to exhaust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> city athletes in these swift marches of his! But I had +been schooled to his pace from boyhood and kept up with him at every +step, though we were going so fast I lost all track of my bearings.</p> + +<p>"Where to, Paul?" I asked with a vague suspicion that we were heading +for the Huron village at Lorette. "To Lorette, Paul?"</p> + +<p>But Paul condescended only a grunt and whisked suddenly round a headland +up a narrow gorge, which seemed to lead to the very heart of the +mountains and might have sheltered any number of fugitives. In the gorge +we stopped to take a light meal of gingerbread horses—a cake that is +the peculiar glory of the <i>habitant</i>—dried herrings and sea biscuits. +By the sun, I knew it was long past noon and that we had been traveling +northwest. I also vaguely guessed that Paul's object was to intercept +the North-West trappers, if they had planned to slip away from the St. +Lawrence through the bush to the Upper Ottawa, where they could meet +north-bound boats. But not one syllable had my taciturn guide uttered. +Clambering up the steep, snowy banks of the gorge, we found ourselves in +the upper reaches of a mountain, where the trees fell away in scraggy +clumps and the snow stretched up clear and unbroken to the hill-crest. +Paul grunted, licked his pipe-stem significantly and pointed his pole to +the hill-top. The dark peak of a solitary wigwam appeared above the +snow. He pointed again to the fringe of woods below us. A dozen wigwams +were visible among the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> trees and smoke curled up from a central +camp-fire.</p> + +<p>"<i>Voilà, Monsieur?</i>" said the <i>habitant</i>, which made four words for that +day.</p> + +<p>The Mute then fell to my rear and we first approached the general camp. +The campers were evidently thieves as well as hunters; for frozen pork +hung with venison from the branches of several trees. The sap trough +might also have belonged to them, which would explain Paul's laugh, as +the whole paraphernalia of a sugaring-off was on the outskirts of the +encampment.</p> + +<p>"Not the Indians we're after," said I, noting the signs of permanency; +but Paul Larocque shoved me forward with the end of his pole and a +curious, almost intelligent, expression came on the dull, pock-pitted +face. Strangely enough, as I looked over my shoulder to the guide, I +caught sight of an Indian figure climbing up the bank in our very +tracks. The significance of this incident was to reveal itself later.</p> + +<p>As usual, a pack of savage dogs flew out to announce our coming with +furious barking. But I declare the <i>habitant</i> was so much like any +ragged Indian, the creatures recognized him and left off their vicious +snarl. Only the shrill-voiced children, who rushed from the wigwams; +evinced either surprise or interest in our arrival. Men and women were +haunched about the fire, above which simmered several pots with the +savory odor of cooking meat. I do not think a soul of the company as +much as turned a head on our approach.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> Though they saw us plainly, they +sat stolid and imperturbable, after the manner of their race, waiting +for us to announce ourselves. Some of the squaws and half-breed women +were heaping bark on the fire. Indians sat straight-backed round the +circle. White men, vagabond trappers from anywhere and everywhere, lay +in all variety of lazy attitudes on buffalo robes and caribou skins.</p> + +<p>I had known, as every one familiar with Quebec's family histories must +know, that the sons of old seigneurs sometimes inherited the adventurous +spirit, which led their ancestors of three centuries ago to exchange the +gayeties of the French court for the wild life of the new world. +I was aware this spirit frequently transformed seigneurs +into bush-rangers and descendants of the royal blood into +<i>coureurs-des-bois</i>. But it is one thing to know a fact, another to see +that fact in living embodiment; and in this case, the living embodiment +was Louis Laplante, a school-fellow of Laval, whom, to my amazement, I +now saw, with a beard of some months' growth and clad in buckskin, lying +at full length on his back among that villainous band of nondescript +trappers. Something of the surprise I felt must have shown on my face, +for as Louis recognized me he uttered a shout of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, Gillespie!" he called with the saucy nonchalance which made him +both a favorite and a torment at the seminary. "Are you among the +prophets?" and he sat up making room for me on his buffalo robe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll wager, Louis," said I, shaking his hand heartily and accepting the +proffered seat, "I'll wager it's prophets spelt with an 'f' brings you +here." For the young rake had been one of the most notorious borrowers +at the seminary.</p> + +<p>"Good boy!" laughed he, giving my shoulder a clap. "I see your time was +not wasted with me. Now, what the devil," he asked as I surveyed the +motley throng of fat, coarse-faced squaws and hard-looking men who +surrounded him, "now, what the devil's brought you here?"</p> + +<p>"What's the same, to yourself, Louis lad?" said I. He laughed the merry, +heedless laugh that had been the distraction of the class-room.</p> + +<p>"Do you need to ask with such a galaxy of nut-brown maidens?" and Louis +looked with the assurance of privileged impudence straight across the +fire into the hideous, angry face of a big squaw, who was glaring at me. +The creature was one to command attention. She might have been a great, +bronze statue, a type of some ancient goddess, a symbol of fury, or +cruelty. Her eyes fastened themselves on mine and held me, whether I +would or no, while her whole face darkened.</p> + +<p>"The lady evidently objects to having her place usurped, Louis," I +remarked, for he was watching the silent duel between the native woman's +questioning eyes and mine.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman wants to know if the lady objects to having her place +usurped?" called Louis to the squaw.</p> + +<p>At that the woman flinched and looked to Laplante.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> Of course, she did +not understand our words; but I think she was suspicious we were +laughing at her. There was a vindictive flash across her face, then the +usual impenetrable expression of the Indian came over her features. I +noticed that her cheeks and forehead were scarred, and a cut had laid +open her upper lip from nose to teeth.</p> + +<p>"You must know that the lady is the daughter of a chief and a fighter," +whispered Louis in my ear.</p> + +<p>I might have known she was above common rank from the extraordinary +number of trinkets she wore. Pendants hung from her ears like the +pendulum of a clock. She had a double necklace of polished bear's claws +and around her waist was a girdle of agates, which to me proclaimed that +she was of a far-western tribe. In the girdle was an ivory-handled +knife, which had doubtless given as many scars as its owner displayed.</p> + +<p>"What tribe, Louis?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I'll be hanged, now, if I'm not jealous," he began. "You'll stare the +lady out of countenance——" But at this moment the Indian who had come +up the bank behind us came round and interrupted Laplante's merriment by +tossing a piece of bethumbed paper between my comrade's knees.</p> + +<p>"The deuce!" exclaimed Louis, bulging his tongue into one cheek and +glancing at me with a queer, quizzical look as he unfolded and read the +paper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>If he had not spoken I might not have turned; but having turned I could +not but notice two things. Louis jerked back from me, as if I might try +to read the soiled note in his hand, and in raising the paper displayed +on the back the stamp of the commissariat department from Quebec +Citadel.</p> + +<p>Neither Laplante's suppressed surprise, nor my observations of his +movement, escaped the big squaw. She came quickly round the fire to us +both.</p> + +<p>"Give me that," she commanded, holding out her hand to the French youth.</p> + +<p>"The deuce I will," he returned, twisting the paper up in his clenched +fist. Half in jest, half in earnest, just as Louis used to be punished +at the seminary, she gave him a prompt box on the ear. He took it in +perfect good-nature. And the whole encampment laughed. The squaw went +back to the other side of the fire. Laplante leaned forward and threw +the paper towards the flames; but without his knowledge, he overshot the +mark; and when the trader was looking elsewhere the big squaw stooped, +picked up the coveted note and slipped it into her skirt pocket.</p> + +<p>"Now, Louis, nonsense aside," I began.</p> + +<p>"With all my soul, if I have one," said he, lying back languidly with a +perceptible cooling of the cordiality he had first evinced.</p> + +<p>I told him my errand, and that I wished to search every wigwam for trace +of the lost woman and child. He listened with shut eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It isn't," I explained in a low voice, eager to arouse his interest, +"it isn't in the least, Laplante, that we suspect these people; but you +know the kidnappers might have traded the clothing to your people——"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Go ahead!" he interjected impatiently. "Don't beat round the bush! +What do you want of me?"</p> + +<p>"To go through the tents with me and help me. By Jove! Laplante! I +thought at least a spark of the man would suggest that without my +speaking," I broke out hotly.</p> + +<p>He was on his feet with an alacrity that brought old Paul Larocque round +to my side and the squaw to his.</p> + +<p>"Curse you," he cried out roughly, shoving the squaw back. For a moment +I was uncertain whether he were addressing the woman or myself. "You +mind your own business and go to your Indian! Here, Gillespie, I'll do +the tents with you. Get off with you," he muttered at the squaw, +rumbling out a lingo of persuasive expletives; and he led the way to the +first wigwam.</p> + +<p>But the squaw was not to be dismissed; for when I followed the +Frenchman, she closed in behind looking thunder, not at her abuser, but +at me; and The Mute, fearing foul play and pole in hand, loyally brought +up the rear of our strange procession. I shall not retail that search +through robes and skins and blankets and boxes, in foul-smelling, +vermin-infested wigwams. It was fruitless. I only recall the lowering +face of the big<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> squaw looking over my shoulder at every turn, with +heavy brows contracted and gashed lips grinning an evil, malicious +challenge. I thought she kept her hands uncomfortably near the ivory +handle in the agate belt; but Larocque, good fellow, never took his +beady eyes off those same hands and kept a grip of the leaping pole.</p> + +<p>Thus we examined the tents and made a circuit of the people round the +fire, but found nothing to reveal the whereabouts of Miriam and the +child. Laplante and I were on one side of the robe, Larocque and the +squaw on the other.</p> + +<p>"And why is that tent apart from the rest and who is in it?" I asked +Laplante, pointing to the lone tepee on the crest of the hill.</p> + +<p>The fire cracked so loudly I became aware there was ominous silence +among the loungers of the camp. They were listening as well as watching. +Up to this time I had not thought they were paying the slightest +attention to us. Laplante was not answering, and when I faced him +suddenly I found the squaw's eyes fastened on his, holding them whether +he would or no, just as she had mine.</p> + +<p>"Eh! man?" I cried, seizing him fiercely, a nameless suspicion getting +possession of me. "Why don't you answer?"</p> + +<p>The spell was broken. He turned to me nonchalantly, as he used to face +accusers in the school-days of long ago, and spoke almost gently, with +downcast eyes, and a quiet, deprecating smile.</p> + +<p>"You know, Rufus," he answered, using the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> schoolboy name. "We should +have told you before. But remember we didn't invite you here. We didn't +lead you into it."</p> + +<p>"Well?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied in a voice too low for any of the listeners but the +squaw to hear, "there's a very bad case of smallpox up in that tent and +we're keeping the man apart till he gets better. That, in fact, is why +we're all here. You must go. It is not safe."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Laplante," said I. "Good-by." But he did not offer me his hand +when I made to take leave.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said. "I'll go as far as the gorge with you;" and he stood on +the embankment and waved as we passed into the lengthening shadows of +the valley.</p> + +<p>Now, in these days of health officers and vaccination, people can have +no idea of the terrors of a smallpox scourge at the beginning of this +century. The <i>habitant</i> is as indifferent to smallpox as to measles, and +accepts both as dispensations of Providence by exposing his children to +the contagion as early as possible; but I was not so minded, and hurried +down the gorge as fast as my snow-shoes would carry me. Then I +remembered that the Indian population of the north had been reduced to a +skeleton of its former numbers by the pestilence in 1780, and recalled +that my Uncle Jack had said the native's superstitious dread of this +disease knew no bounds. That recollection checked my sudden flight. If +the Indians had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> such fear, why had this band camped within a mile of +the pest tent? It would be more like Indian character to reverse +Samaritan practises and leave the victim to die. This man might, of +course, be a French-Canadian trapper, but I would take no risks of a +trick, so I ordered Paul to lead me back to that tepee.</p> + +<p>The Mute seemed to understand I had no wish to be seen by the campers. +He skirted round the base of the hill till we were on the side remote +from the tribe. Then he motioned me to remain in the gorge while he +scrambled up the cliff to reconnoitre. I knew he received a surprise as +soon as his head was on a level with the top of the bank; for he curled +himself up behind a snow-pile and gave a low whistle for me. I was +beside him with one bound. We were not twenty pole-lengths from the +wigwam. There was no appearance of life. The tent flaps had been laced +up and a solitary watch-dog was tied to a stake before the entrance. +Down the valley the setting sun shone through the naked trees like a +wall of fire, and dyed all the glistening snow-drifts primrose and opal. +At one place in the forest the red light burst through and struck +against the tent on the hill-top, giving the skins a peculiar appearance +of being streaked with blood. The faintest breath of wind, a mere sigh +of moving air-currents peculiar to snow-padded areas, came up from the +woods with far-away echoes of the trappers' voices. Perhaps this was +heard by the watch-dog, or it may have felt the disturbing presence of +my half-wild<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> <i>habitant</i> guide; for it sat back on its haunches and +throwing up its head, let out the most doleful howlings imaginable.</p> + +<p>"Oh! <i>Monsieur</i>," shuddered out the superstitious habitant shivering +like an aspen leaf, "sick man moan,—moan,—moan hard! He die, +<i>Monsieur</i>, he die, he die now when dog cry lak dat," and full of fear +he scrambled down into the gorge, making silent gestures for me to +follow.</p> + +<p>For a time—but not long, I must acknowledge—I lay there alone, +watching and listening. Paul's ears might hear the moans of a sick man, +mine could not: nor would I return to the Chateau without ascertaining +for a certainty what was in that wigwam. Slipping off the snow-shoes, I +rose and tip-toed over the snow with the full intention of silencing the +dog with my pole; but I was suddenly arrested by the distinct sound of +pain-racked groaning. Then the brute of a dog detected my approach and +with a furious leaping that almost hung him with his own rope set up a +vicious barking. Suddenly the black head of an Indian, or trapper, +popped through the tent flaps and a voice shouted in perfect +English—"Go away! Go away! The pest! The pest!"</p> + +<p>"Who has smallpox?" I bawled back.</p> + +<p>"A trader, a Nor'-Wester," said he. "If you have anything for him lay it +on the snow and I'll come for it."</p> + +<p>As honor pledged me to serve Hamilton until he found his wife, I was not +particularly anxious to exchange civilities at close range with a man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +from a smallpox tent; so I quickly retraced my way to the gorge and +hurried homeward with The Mute. My old school-fellow's sudden change +towards me when he received the letter written on Citadel paper, and the +big squaw's suspicion of my every movement, now came back to me with a +significance I had not felt when I was at the camp. Either intuitions +like those of my <i>habitant</i> guide, which instinctively put out feelers +with the caution of an insect's antennæ for the presence of vague, +unknown evil, lay dormant in my own nature and had been aroused by the +incidents at the camp, or else the mind, by the mere fact of holding +information in solution, widens its own knowledge. For now, in addition +to the letter from the Citadel and the squaw's animosity, came the one +missing factor—Adderly. I felt, rather than knew, that Louis Laplante +had deceived me. Had he lied? A lie is the clumsy invention of the +novice. An expert accomplishes his deceit without anything so grossly +and tangibly honest as a lie; and Louis was an expert. Though I had not +a vestige of proof, I could have sworn that Adderly and the squaw and +Louis were leagued against me for some dark purpose. I was indeed +learning the first lessons of the trapper's life: never to open my lips +on my own affairs to another man, and never to believe another man when +he opened his lips to me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>LAUNCHED INTO THE UNKNOWN</h3> + + +<p>"You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head off," ejaculated +Mr. Jack MacKenzie, with ferocious emphasis. I had been relating my +experience with the campers; and was recounting how the man put his head +out of the tent and warned me of smallpox. But my uncle was a gentleman +of the old school and had a fine contempt for quarantine.</p> + +<p>"Knocked his head off, knocked his head off, Sir," he continued, +explosively. "Make it a point to knock the head off anything that stands +in your way, Sir——"</p> + +<p>"But you don't suppose," I expostulated, about to voice my own +suspicions.</p> + +<p>"<i>Suppose!</i>" he roared out. "I make it a point never to <i>suppose</i> +anything. I act on facts, Sir! You wanted to go into that wigwam; didn't +you? Well then, why the deuce didn't you go, and knock the head off +anything that opposed you?"</p> + +<p>Being highly successful in all his own dealings, Mr. Jack MacKenzie +could not tolerate failure in other people. A month of vigilant +searching had yielded not the slightest inkling of Miriam and the child; +and this fact ignited all the gunpowder of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> my uncle's fiery +temperament. We had felt so sure Le Grand Diable's band of vagabonds +would hang about till the brigades of the North-West Company's tripmen +set out for the north, all our efforts were spent in a vain search for +some trace of the rascals in the vicinity of Quebec. His gypsy +nondescripts would hardly dare to keep the things taken from Miriam and +the child. These would be traded to other tribes; so day and night, Mr. +MacKenzie, Eric and I, with hired spies, dogged the footsteps of +trappers, who were awaiting the breaking up of the ice; shadowed +<i>voyageurs</i>, who passed idle days in the dram-shops of Lower Town, and +scrutinized every native who crossed our path, ever on the alert for a +glimpse of Diable, or his associates. Diligently we tracked all Indian +trails through Charlesbourg forest and examined every wigwam within a +week's march of the city. Le Grand Diable was not likely to be among his +ancestral enemies at Lorette, but his half-breed followers might have +traded with the Hurons; and the lodges at Lorette were also searched. +Watches were set along the St. Lawrence, so no one could approach an +opening before the ice broke up, or launch a canoe after the water had +cleared, without our knowledge. But Le Grand Diable and his band had +vanished as mysteriously as Miriam. It was as impossible to learn where +the Iroquois had gone as to follow the wind. His disappearance was +altogether as unaccountable as the lost woman's, and this, of itself, +confirmed our suspicions. Had he sold, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> slain his captives, he would +not have remained in hiding; and the very fruitlessness of the search +redoubled our zeal.</p> + +<p>The conviction that Louis Laplante had, somehow or other, played me +false, stuck in my mind like the depression of a bad dream. Again and +again, I related the circumstances to my uncle; but he "pished," and +"tushed," and "pooh-poohed," the very idea of any kidnappers remaining +so near the city and giving me free run of their wigwams. My reasonless +persistence was beginning to irritate him. Indeed, on one occasion, he +informed me that I had as many vagaries in my head as a "bed-ridden +hag," and with great fervor he "wished to the Lord there was a law in +this land for the ham-stringing of such fool idiots, as that <i>habitant</i> +Mute, who led me such a wild-goose chase."</p> + +<p>In spite of this and many other jeremiades, I once more donned +snow-shoes and with Paul for guide paid a second visit to the campers of +the gorge. And a second time, I was welcomed by Louis and taken through +the wigwams. The smallpox tent was no longer on the crest of the hill; +and when I asked after the patient, Louis without a word pointed +solemnly to a snow-mound, where the man lay buried. But I did not see +the big squaw, nor the face that had emerged from the tent flaps to wave +me off; and when I also inquired after these, Louis' face darkened. He +told me bluntly I was asking too many questions and began to swear in a +mongrel jargon of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> French and English that my conduct was an insult he +would take from no man. But Louis was ever short of temper. I remembered +that of old. Presently his little flare-up died down, and he told me +that the woman and her husband had gone north through the woods to join +some crews on the Upper Ottawa. From the talk of the others, I gathered +that, having disposed of their hunt to the commissariat department at +the Citadel, they intended to follow the same trail within a few days. I +tried without questioning to learn what crews they were to join; but +whether with purpose, or by chance, the conversation drifted from my +lead and I had to return to the city without satisfaction on that point.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Hamilton rested neither night nor day. In the morning with a +few hurried words he would outline the plan for the day. At night he +rode back to the Chateau with such eager questioning in his eyes when +they met mine, I knew he had nothing better to report to me, than I to +him. After a silent meal, he would ride through the dark forest on a +fresh mount. How and where he passed those sleepless nights, I do not +know. Thus had a month slipped away; and we had done everything and +accomplished nothing. Baffled, I had gone to confer with Mr. Jack +MacKenzie and had, as usual, exasperated him with the reiterated +conviction that Adderly and the Citadel writing paper and Louis Laplante +had some connection with the malign influence that was balking our +efforts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Fudge!" exclaims my uncle, stamping about his study and puffing with +indignation. "You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head +off!"</p> + +<p>"You've said that several times already, Mr. MacKenzie," I put in, +having a touch of his own peppery temper from my mother's side. "What +about Adderly's rage?"</p> + +<p>"Adderly's been in Montreal since the night of the row. For the Lord's +sake, boy, do you expect to find the woman by believing in that bloated +bugaboo?"</p> + +<p>"But the Citadel paper?" I persisted.</p> + +<p>"Of course you've never been told, Rufus Gillespie," he began, choking +down his impatience with the magnitude of my stupidity, "that the +commissariat buys supplies from hunters?"</p> + +<p>"That doesn't explain the big squaw's suspicions and Louis' own +conduct."</p> + +<p>"That Louis!" says my uncle. "Pah! That son of an inflated old seigneur! +A fig for the buck! Not enough brains in his pate to fill a peanut!"</p> + +<p>"But there might be enough evil in his heart to wreck a life," and that +was the first argument to pierce my uncle's scepticism. The keen eyes +glanced out at me as if there might be some hope for my intelligence, +and he took several turns about the room.</p> + +<p>"Hm! If you're of that mind, you'd better go out and excavate the +smallpox," was his sententious conclusion. "And if it's a hoax,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> you'd +better——" and he puckered his brows in thought.</p> + +<p>"What?" I asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Join the traders' crews and track the villains west," he answered with +the promptitude of one who decides quickly and without vacillation. "O +Lord! If I were only young! But to think of a man too stout and old to +buckle on his own snow-shoes hankering for that life again!" And my +uncle heaved a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>Now, no one, who has not lived the wild, free life of the northern +trader, can understand the strange fascinations which for the moment +eclipsed in this courteous and chivalrous old gentleman's mind all +thought of the poor woman, with whom my own fate was interwoven. But I, +who have lived in the lonely fastnesses of the splendid freedom, know +full well what surging recollections of danger and daring, of success +and defeat, of action in which one faces and laughs at death, and calm +in which one sounds the unutterable depths of very infinity—thronged +the old trader's soul. Indeed, when he spoke, it was as if the sentence +of my own life had been pronounced; and my whole being rose up to salute +destiny. I take it, there is in every one some secret and cherished +desire for a chosen vocation to which each looks forward with hope up to +the meridian of life, and to which many look back with regret after the +meridian. Of prophetic instincts and intuitions and impressions and +feelings and much more of the same kind going under a different name, I +say nothing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> I only set down as a fact, to be explained how it may, +that all the way out to the gorge, with Paul, The Mute leading for a +third time, I could have sworn there would be no corpse in that +snow-covered grave. For was it not written in my inner consciousness +that destiny had appointed me to the wild, free life of the north? So I +was not surprised when Paul Larocque's spade struck sharply on a box. +Indians sleep their last sleep in the skins of the chase. Nor was I in +the least amazed when that same spade pried up the lid of cached +provisions instead of a coffin. Then I had ocular proof of what I knew +before, that Louis in word and conduct—but chiefly in conduct, which is +the way of the expert had—lied outrageously to me.</p> + +<p>When the ice broke up at the end of April, hunters were off for their +summer retreats and <i>voyageurs</i> set out on the annual trip to the <i>Pays +d'En Haut</i>. This year the Hudson's Bay Company had organized a strong +fleet of canoemen under Mr. Colin Robertson, a former Nor'-Wester, to +proceed to Red River settlement by way of the Ottawa and the Sault +instead of entering the fur preserve by the usual route of Hudson Bay +and York Factory. From Le Grand Diable's former association with the +North-West Company it was probable he would be in Robertson's brigade. +Among the <i>voyageurs</i> of both companies there was not a more expert +canoeman than this treacherous, thievish Iroquois. As steersman, he +could take a crew safely through knife-edge rocks with the swift +certainty of arrow flight. In spite of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> reputation for embodying the +vices of white man and red—which gave him his unsavory title—it seemed +unlikely that the Hudson's Bay Company, now in the thick of an +aggressive campaign against its great rival, and about to despatch an +important flotilla from Montreal to Athabasca by way of the +Nor'-Westers' route, would dispense with the services of this dexterous +<i>voyageur</i>. On the other hand, the Nor'-Westers might bribe the Iroquois +to stay with them.</p> + +<p>Acting on these alternative possibilities, Hamilton and I determined to +track the fugitives north. We could leave hirelings to shadow the +movements of Indian bands about Quebec. Eric could re-engage with the +Hudson's Bay and get passage north with Colin Robertson's brigade, which +was to leave Lachine in a few weeks. My uncle had been a famous +<i>Bourgeois</i> of the great North-West Company in his younger days, and +could secure me an immediate commission in the North-West Company. Thus +we could accompany the <i>voyageurs</i> and runners of both companies.</p> + +<p>Hamilton's arrangements were easily made; and my uncle not only obtained +the commission for me, but, with a hearty clap on my back and a "Bravo, +boy! I knew the fur trader's fever would break out in you yet!" pinned +to the breast of my inner waistcoat the showy gold medallion which the +<i>Bourgeois</i> wore on festive occasions. In very truth I oft had need of +its inspiriting motto: <i>Fortitude in Distress</i>.</p> + +<p>Feudal lords of the middle ages never waged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> more ruthless war on each +other than the two great fur trading companies of the north at the +beginning of the nineteenth century. Pierre de Raddison and Grosselier, +gentlemen adventurers of New France, first followed the waters of the +Outawa (Ottawa) northward, and passed from Lake Superior (the <i>kelche +gamme</i> of Indian lore) to the great unknown fur preserve between Hudson +Bay and the Pacific Ocean; but the fur monopolists of the French court +in Quebec jealously obstructed the explorers' efforts to open up the +vast territory. De Raddison was compelled to carry his project to the +English court, and the English court, with a liberality not unusual in +those days, promptly deeded over the whole domain, the extent, locality +and wealth of which there was utter ignorance, to a fur trading +organization,—the newly formed "Company of Adventurers of England, +trading into Hudson's Bay," incorporated in 1670 with Prince Rupert +named as first governor. If monopolists of New France, through envy, +sacrificed Quebec's first claim to the unknown land, Frontenac made +haste to repair the loss. Father Albanel, a Jesuit, and other +missionaries led the way westward to the <i>Pays d'En Haut</i>. De Raddison +twice changed his allegiance, and when Quebec fell into the hands of the +British nearly a century later, the French traders were as active in the +northern fur preserve as their great rivals, the Ancient and Honorable +Hudson's Bay Company; but the Englishmen kept near the bay and the +Frenchmen with their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> <i>coureurs-des-bois</i> pushed westward along the +chain of water-ays leading from Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg to the +Saskatchewan and Athabasca. Then came the Conquest, with the downfall of +French trade in the north country. But there remained the +<i>coureurs-des-bois</i>, or wood-rangers, the <i>Metis</i>, or French +half-breeds, the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, or plain runners—so called, it is +supposed, from the trapper's custom of blazing his path through the +forest. And on the ruins of French barter grew up a thriving English +trade, organized for the most part by enterprising citizens of Quebec +and Montreal, and absorbing within itself all the cast-off servants of +the old French companies. Such was the origin of the X. Y. and +North-West Companies towards the beginning of the nineteenth century. Of +these the most energetic and powerful—and therefore the most to be +feared by the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company—was the +North-West Company, "<i>Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest</i>," as +the partners designated themselves.</p> + +<p>From the time that the North-Westers gratuitously poured their secrets +into the ears of Lord Selkirk, and Lord Selkirk shrewdly got control of +the Hudson's Bay Company and began to infuse Nor'-Westers' zeal into the +stagnant workings of the older company, there arose such a feud among +these lords of the north as may be likened only to the pillaging of +robber barons in the middle ages. And this feud was at its height when I +cast in my lot with the North-West Fur Company, Nor'-Westers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> had reaped +a harvest of profits by leaving the beaten track of trade and pushing +boldly northward into the remote MacKenzie River region. This year the +Hudson's Bay had determined to enter the same area and employed a former +Nor'-Wester, Mr. Colin Robertson, to conduct a flotilla of canoes from +Lachine, Montreal, by way of the Nor'-Westers' route up the Ottawa to +the Saskatchewan and Athabasca. But while the Hudson's Bay Company could +ship their peltries directly to England from the bay, the Nor'-Westers +labored under the disadvantage of many delays and trans-shipments before +their goods reached seaboard at Montreal. Indeed, I have heard my uncle +tell of orders which he sent from the north to England in October. The +things ordered in October would be sent from London in March to reach +Montreal in mid-summer. There they would be re-packed in small +quantities for portaging and despatched from Montreal with the +Nor'-Western <i>voyageurs</i> the following May, and if destined for the far +north would not reach the end of their long trip until October—two +years from the time of the order. Yet, under such conditions had the +Nor'-Westers increased in prosperity, while the Hudson's Bay, with its +annual ships at York Factory and Churchill, declined.</p> + +<p>When Lord Selkirk took hold of the Hudson's Bay there was a change. Once +a feud has begun, I know very well it is impossible to apportion the +blame each side deserves. Whether Selkirk timed his acts of aggression +during the American war of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> 1812-1814, when the route of the +Nor'-Westers was rendered unsafe—who can say? Whether he brought +colonists into the very heart of the disputed territory for the sake of +the colonists, or to be drilled into an army of defense for The Hudson's +Bay Company—who can say? Whether he induced his company to grant him a +vast area of land at the junction of the Red and Assiniboine +rivers—against which a minority of stockholders protested—for the sake +of these same colonists, or to hold a strategical point past which +North-Westers' cargoes must go—who can say? On these subjects, which +have been so hotly discussed both inside and outside law courts, without +any definite decision that I have ever heard, I refuse to pass judgment. +I can but relate events as I saw them and leave to each the right of a +personal decision.</p> + +<p>In 1815, Nor'-Westers' canoes were to leave Ste. Anne de Beaupré, twenty +miles east of Quebec, instead of Ste. Anne on the Ottawa, the usual +point of departure. We had not our full complement of men. Some of the +Indians and half-breeds had gone northwest overland through the bush to +a point on the Ottawa River north of Chaudière Falls, where they were +awaiting us, and Hamilton, through the courtesy of my uncle, was able to +come with us in our boats as far as Lachine.</p> + +<p>I was never a grasping trader, but I provided myself before setting out +with every worthless gew-gaw and flashy trifle that could tempt the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +native to betray Indian secrets. Lest these should fail, I added to my +stock a dozen as fine new flint-locks as could corrupt the soul of an +Indian, and without consideration for the enemy's scalp also equipped +myself with a box of wicked-looking hunting-knives. These things I +placed in square cases and sat upon them when we were in barges, or +pillowed my head upon them at night, never losing sight of them except +on long portages where Indians conveyed our cargo on their backs.</p> + +<p>A man on a less venturesome quest than mine could hardly have set out +with the brigades of canoemen for the north country and not have been +thrilled like a lad on first escape from school's leading strings. There +we were, twenty craft strong, with clerks, traders, one steersman and +eight willowy, copper-skin paddlers in each long birch canoe. No +oriental prince could be more gorgeously appareled than these gay +<i>voyageurs</i>. Flaunting red handkerchiefs banded their foreheads and held +back the lank, black hair. Buckskin smocks, fringed with leather down +the sleeves and beaded lavishly in bright colors, were drawn tight at +the waist by sashes of flaming crimson, green and blue. In addition to +the fringe of leather down the trouser seams, some in our company had +little bells fastened from knee to ankle. It was a strange sight to see +each of these reckless denizens of forest and plain pause reverently +before the chapel of <i>La Bonne Sainte Anne</i>, cross himself, invoke her +protection on the voyage and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> drop some offering in the treasury box +before hurrying to his place in the canoe. One Indian left the miniature +of a carved boat in the hands of the priest at the porch. It was his +votive gift to the saint and may be seen there to this day.</p> + +<p>As we were embarking I noticed Eric had not come down and the canoes +were already gliding about the wharf awaiting the head steersman's +signal. I had last seen him on the church steps and ran back from the +river to learn the cause of his delay. Now Hamilton is not a Catholic; +neither is he a Protestant; but I would not have good people ascribe his +misfortunes to this lack of creed, for a trader in the far north loses +denominational distinctions and a better man I have never known. What, +then, was my surprise to meet him face to face coming out of the chapel +with tears coursing down his cheeks and floor-dust thick upon his knees? +Women know what to do and say in such a case. A man must be dumb, or +blunder; so I could but link my arm through his and lead him silently +down to my own canoe.</p> + +<p>A single wave of the chief steersman's hand, and out swept the paddles +in a perfect harmony of motion. Then someone struck up a <i>voyageurs'</i> +ballad and the canoemen unconsciously kept time with the beat of the +song. The valley seemed filled with the voices of those deep-chested, +strong singers, and the chimes of Ste. Anne clashed out a last sweet +farewell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cheer up, old man!" said I to Eric, who was sitting with face buried in +his hands. "Cheer up! Do you hear the bells? It's a God-speed for you!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>CIVILIZATION'S VENEER RUBS OFF</h3> + + +<p>My uncle accompanied our flotilla as far as Lachine and occupied a place +in my division of canoes. Many were the admonitions he launched out like +thunderbolts whenever his craft and mine chanced to glide abreast.</p> + +<p>"If you lay hands on that skunk," he had said, the malodorous epithet +being his designation for Louis Laplante, "If you lay hands on that +skunk, don't be a simpleton. Skin him, Sir, by the Lord, skin him! Let +him play the ostrich act! Keep your own counsel and work him for all +you're worth! Let him play his deceitful game! By Jove! Give the villain +rope enough to hang himself! Gain your end! Afterwards forget and +forgive if you like; but, by the Lord, remember and don't ignore the +fact, that repentance can't turn a skunk into an innocent, pussy cat!"</p> + +<p>And so Mr. Jack MacKenzie continued to warn me all the way from Quebec +to Montreal, mixing his metaphors as topers mix drinks. But I had long +since learned not to remonstrate against these outbursts of explosive +eloquence—not though all the canons of Laval literati should be +outraged. "What, Sir?" he had roared out when I, in full conceit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> of new +knowledge, had audaciously ventured to pull him up, once in my student +days. "What, Sir? Don't talk to me of your book-fangled balderdash! Is +language for the use of man, or man for the use of language?" and he +quoted from Hamlet's soliloquy in a way that set me packing my pedant +lore in the unused lumber-room of brain lobes. And so, I say, Mr. Jack +MacKenzie continued to pour instructions into my ear for the venturesome +life on which I had entered. "The lad's a fool, only a fool," he said, +still harping on Louis, "and mind you answer the fool according to his +folly!"</p> + +<p>"Most men are fools first, and then knaves, knaves because they have +been fools," I returned to my uncle, "and I fancy Laplante has graduated +from the fool stage by this time, and is a full diploma knave!"</p> + +<p>"That's all true," he retorted, "but don't you forget there's always +fool enough left in the knave to give you your opportunity, if you're +not a fool. Joint in the armor, lad! Use your cutlass there."</p> + +<p>Apart from the peppery discourses of my kinsman, I remember very little +of the trip up the St. Lawrence from Ste. Anne to Lachine with Eric +sitting dazed and silent opposite me. We, of course, followed the river +channel between the Island of Orleans and the north shore; and whenever +our boats drew near the mainland, came whiffs of crisp, frosty air from +the dank ravines, where snow patches yet lay in the shadow. Then the +fleet would sidle towards the island and there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> would be the fresh, +spring odor of damp, uncovered mold, with a vague suggestiveness of +violets and May-flowers and ferns bursting with a rush through the black +clods. The purple folds of the mountains, with their wavy outlines +fading in the haze of distance, lay on the north as they lie to-day; and +everywhere on the hills were the white cots of <i>habitant</i> hamlets with +chapel spires pointing above tree-tops. At the western end of the +island, where boats sheer out into mid-current, came the dull, heavy +roar of the cataract and above the north shore rose great, billowy +clouds of foam. With a sweep of our paddles, we were opposite a cleft in +the vertical rock and saw the shimmering, fleecy waters of Montmorency +leap over the dizzy precipice churning up from their own whirling depths +and bound out to the river like a panther after prey.</p> + +<p>Now the Isle of Orleans was vanishing on our rear and the bold heights +of Point Levis had loomed up to the fore; and now we had poked our prows +to the right and the sluggish, muddy tide of the St. Charles lapped our +canoes, while a forest of masts and yard-arms and flapping sails arose +from the harbor of Quebec City. The great walls of modern Quebec did not +then exist; but the rude fortifications, that sloped down from the lofty +Citadel on Cape Diamond and engirt the whole city on the hillside, +seemed imposing enough to us in those days.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when we passed. The sunlight struck across +the St. Charles,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> brightening the dull, gray stone of walls and +cathedrals and convents, turning every window on the west to fire and +transforming a multitude of towers and turrets and minarets to +glittering gold. Small wonder, indeed, that all our rough tripmen +stopped paddling and with eyes on the spire of Notre Dame des Victoires +muttered prayers for a prosperous voyage. For some reason or other, I +found my own hat off. So was Mr. Jack MacKenzie's, so was Eric +Hamilton's. Then the <i>voyageurs</i> fell to work again. The canoes spread +out. We rounded Cape Diamond and the lengthening shadow of the high peak +darkened the river before us. Always the broad St. Lawrence seemed to be +winding from headland to headland among the purple hills, in sunlight a +mirror between shadowy, forest banks, at night, molten silver in the +moon-track. Afternoon slipped into night and night to morning, and each +hour of daylight presented some new panorama of forests and hills and +torrents. Here the river widened into a lake. There the lake narrowed to +rapids; and so we came to Lachine—La Chine, named in ridicule of the +gallant explorer, La Salle, who thought these vast waterways would +surely lead him to China.</p> + +<p>At Lachine, Mr. Jack MacKenzie, with much brusque bluster to conceal his +longings for the life he was too old to follow and many cynical +injunctions about "skinning the skunk" and "knocking the head off +anything that stood in my way" and "always profiting from the follies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +of other men"—"mind, have none yourself,"—parted from us. Here, too, +Eric gripped my hand a tense, wordless farewell and left our party for +the Hudson's Bay brigade under Colin Robertson.</p> + +<p>It has always been a mystery to me why our rivals sent that brigade to +Athabasca by way of Lachine instead of Hudson Bay, which would have been +two thousand miles nearer. We Nor'-Westers went all the way to and from +Montreal, solely because that was our only point of access to the sea; +but the Hudson's Bay people had their own Hudson Bay for a starting +place. Why, in their slavish imitation of the methods, which brought us +success, they also adopted our disadvantages, I could never understand. +Birch canoes and good tripmen could, of course, as the Hudson's Bay men +say, be most easily obtained in Quebec; but with a good organizer, the +same could have been gathered up two thousand miles nearer York Factory, +on Hudson Bay. Indeed, I have often thought the sole purpose of that +expedition was to get Nor'-Westers' methods by employing discarded +Nor'-Westers as trappers and <i>voyageurs</i>. Colin Robertson, the leader, +had himself been a Nor'-Wester; and all the men with him except Eric +Hamilton were renegades, "turn-coat traders," as we called them. But I +must not be unjust; for neither company could possibly exceed the other +in its zeal to entice away old trappers, who would reveal opponents' +secrets. Acting on my uncle's advice, I made shift to pick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> up a few +crumbs of valuable information. Had the Hudson's Bay known, I suppose +they would have called me a spy. That was the name I gave any of them +who might try such tricks with me. The General Assembly of the +North-West partners was to meet at Fort William, at the head of Lake +Superior. I learned that Robertson's brigade were anxious to slip past +our headquarters at Fort William before the meeting and would set out +that very day. I also heard they had sent forward a messenger to notify +the Hudson's Bay governor at Fort Douglas of their brigade's coming.</p> + +<p>Almost before I realized it, we were speeding up the Ottawa, past a +second and third and fourth Ste. Anne's; for she is the <i>voyageurs'</i> +patron saint and her name dots Canada's map like ink-blots on a boy's +copybook. Wherever a Ste. Anne's is now found, there has the <i>voyageur</i> +of long ago passed and repassed. In places the surface of the river, +gliding to meet us, became oily, almost glassy, as if the wave-current +ran too fast to ripple out to the banks. Then little eddies began +whirling in the corrugated water and our paddlers with labored breath +bent hard to their task. By such signs I learned to know when we were +stemming the tide of some raging waterfall, or swift rapid. There would +follow quick disembarking, hurried portages over land through a tangle +of forest, or up slippery, damp rocks, a noisy launching far above the +torrent and swifter progress when the birch canoes touched water again. +Such was the tireless pace, which made North-West<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> <i>voyageurs</i> famous. +Such was the work the great <i>Bourgeois</i> exacted of their men. A liberal +supply of rum, when stoppages were made, and of bread and meat for each +meal—better fare than was usually given by the trading companies—did +much to encourage the tripmen. Each man was doing his utmost to +out-distance the bold rivals following by our route. The <i>Bourgeois</i> +were to meet at Fort William early in June. At all hazards we were +determined to notify our company of the enemy's invading flotilla; and +without margin for accidents we had but a month to cross half a +continent.</p> + +<p>At nightfall the fourth day from the shrine, after a tiresome nine-mile +traverse past the Chaudière Falls of the Ottawa, glittering camp-fires +on the river bank ahead showed where a fresh relay of canoemen awaited +us. They were immediately taken into the different crews and +night-shifts of paddlers put to work. It was quite dark, when the new +hands joined us; but in the moonlight, as the chief steersman told off +the men by name, I watched each tawny figure step quickly to his place +in the canoes, with that gliding Indian motion, which scarcely rocked +the light craft. There came to my crew Little Fellow, a short, thick-set +man, with a grinning, good-natured face, who—despite his size—would +solemnly assure people he was equal in force to the sun. With him was La +Robe Noire, of grave aspect and few words, mighty in stature and +shoulder power. There were five or six others, whose names in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +clangor of voices I did not hear. Of these, one was a tall, lithe, +swift-moving man, whose cunning eyes seemed to gleam with the malice of +a serpent. This canoeman silently twisted into sleeping posture directly +behind me.</p> + +<p>The signal was given, and we were in mid-stream again. Wrapping my +blanket about me, half propped by a bale of stuff and breathing deep of +the clear air with frequent resinous whiffs from the forest I drowsed +off. The swish of waters rushing past and the roar of torrents, which I +had seen and heard during the day, still sounded in my ears. The sigh of +the night-wind through the forest came like the lonely moan of a +far-distant sea, and I was sleepily half conscious that cedars, pines +and cliffs were engaged in a mad race past the sides of the canoe. A bed +in which one may not stretch at random is not comfortable. Certainly my +cramped limbs must have caused bad dreams. A dozen times I could have +sworn the Indian behind me had turned into a snake and was winding round +my chest in tight, smothering coils. Starting up, I would shake the +weight off. Once I suddenly opened my eyes to find blanket thrown aside +and pistol belt unstrapped. Lying back eased, I was dozing again when I +distinctly felt a hand crawl stealthily round the pack on which I was +pillowed and steal towards the dagger handle in the loosened belt. I +struck at it viciously only to bruise my fist on my dagger. Now wide +awake, I turned angrily towards the Indian. Not a muscle of the still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +figure had changed from the attitude taken when he came into the canoe. +The man was not asleep, but reclined in stolid oblivion of my existence. +His head was thrown back and the steely, unflinching eyes were fixed on +the stars.</p> + +<p>"It may not have been you, my scowling sachem," said I to myself, "but +snakes have fangs. Henceforth I'll take good care you're not at my +back."</p> + +<p>I slept no more that night. Next day I asked the fellow his name and he +poured out such a jumbled mouthful of quick-spoken, Indian syllables, I +was not a whit the wiser. I told him sharply he was to be Tom Jones on +my boat, at which he gave an evil leer.</p> + +<p>Without stay we still pushed forward. The arrowy pace was merciless to +red men and white; but that was the kind of service the great North-West +Company always demanded. Some ten miles from the outlet of Lake +Nipissangue (Nipissing) foul weather threatened delay. The <i>Bourgeois</i> +were for proceeding at any risk; but as the thunder-clouds grew blacker +and the wind more violent, the head steersman lost his temper and +grounded his canoe on the sands at <i>Point à la Croix</i>. Springing ashore +he flung down his pole and refused to go on.</p> + +<p>"Sacredie!" he screamed, first pointing to the gathering storm and then +to the crosses that marked the fate of other foolhardy <i>voyageurs</i>, +"Allez si vous voulez! Pour moi je n'irai pas; ne voyez pas le danger!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>A hurricane of wind, snapping the great oaks as a chopper breaks +kindling wood, enforced his words. Canoes were at once beached and +tarpaulins drawn over the bales of provisions. The men struggled to +hoist a tent; but gusts of wind tossed the canvas above their heads, and +before the pegs were driven a great wall of rain-drift drenched every +one to the skin. By sundown the storm had gone southeast and we +unrighteously consoled ourselves that it would probably disorganize the +Hudson's Bay brigade as much as it had ours. Plainly, we were there for +the night. <i>Point à la Croix</i> is too dangerous a spot for navigation +after dark. With much patience we kindled the soaked underbrush and +finally got a pile of logs roaring in the woods and gathered round the +fire.</p> + +<p>The glare in the sky attracted the lake tribes from their lodges. +Indians, half-breeds and shaggy-haired whites—degenerate traders, who +had lost all taste for civilization and retired with their native wives +after the fashion of the north country—came from the Nipissangue +encampments and joined our motley throng. Presently the natives drew off +to a fire by themselves, where there would be no white-man's restraint. +They had either begged or stolen traders' rum, and after the hard trip +from Ste. Anne, were eager for one of their mad <i>boissons</i>—a +drinking-bout interspersed with jigs and fights.</p> + +<p>Stretched before our camp, I watched the grotesque figures leaping and +dancing between the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> firelight and the dusky woods like forest demons. +With the leaves rustling overhead, the water laving the pebbles on the +shore, and the washed pine air stimulating one's blood like an +intoxicant, I began wondering how many years of solitary life it would +take to wear through civilization's veneer and leave one content in the +lodges of forest wilds. Gradually I became aware of my sulky canoeman's +presence on the other side of the camp-fire. The man had not joined the +revels of the other <i>voyageurs</i> but sat on his feet, oriental style, +gazing as intently at the flames as if spellbound by some fire-spirit.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with that fellow, anyhow?" I asked a veteran trader, who +was taking last pulls at a smoked-out pipe.</p> + +<p>"Sick—home-sick," was the laconic reply.</p> + +<p>"You'd think he was near enough nature here to feel at home! Where's his +tribe?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't his tribe he wants," explained the trader.</p> + +<p>"What, then?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"His wife, he's mad after her," and the trader took the pipe from his +teeth.</p> + +<p>"Faugh!" I laughed. "The idea of an Indian sentimental and love-sick for +some fat lump of a squaw! Come! Come! Am I to believe that?"</p> + +<p>"Don't matter whether you do, or not," returned the trader. "It's a +fact. His wife's a Sioux chief's daughter. She went north with a gang of +half-breeds and hunters last month; and he's been fractious crazy ever +since."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What's his name?" I called, as my informant vanished behind the tent +flaps.</p> + +<p>Again that mouthful of Indian syllables, unintelligible and unspeakable +for me was tumbled forth. Then I turned to the fantastic figures +carousing around the other camp fire. One form, in particular, I seemed +to distinguish from the others. He was gathering the Indians in line for +some native dance and had an easy, rakish sort of grace, quite different +from the serpentine motions of the redskins. By a sudden turn, his +profile was thrown against the fire and I saw that he wore a pointed +beard. He was no Indian; and like a flash came one of those strange, +reasonless intuitions, which precede, or proceed from, the slow motions +of the mind. Was this the <i>avant-courier</i> of the Hudson's Bay, delayed, +like ourselves, by the storm? I had hardly spelled out my own suspicion, +when to the measured beatings of the tom-tom, gradually becoming faster, +and with a low, weird, tuneless chant, like the voices of the forest, +the Indians began to tread a mazy, winding pace, which my slow eyes +could not follow, but which in a strange way brought up memories of +snaky convolutions about the naked body of some Egyptian +serpent-charmer. The drums beat faster. The suppressed voices were +breaking in shrill, wild, exultant strains, and the measured tread had +quickened from a walk to a run and from a swaying run to a swift, +labyrinthine pace, which has no name in English, and which I can only +liken to the wiggling of a green thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> under leafy covert. The coiling +and circling and winding of the dancers became bewildering, and in the +centre, laughing, shouting, tossing up his arms and gesticulating like a +maniac, was the white man with the pointed beard. Then the performers +broke from their places and gave themselves with utter abandon to the +wild impulses of wild natures in a wild world; and there was such a +scene of uncurbed, animal hilarity as I never dreamed possible. Savage, +furious, almost ferocious like the frisking of a pack of wolves, that at +any time may fall upon and destroy a weaker one, the boisterous antics +of these children of the forest fascinated me. Filled with the curiosity +that lures many a trader to his undoing, I rose and went across to the +thronging, shouting, shadowy figures. A man darted out of the woods full +tilt against me. 'Twas he of the pointed beard, my <i>suspect</i> of the +Hudson's Bay Company. Quick as thought I thrust out my foot and tripped +him full length on the ground. The light fell on his upturned face. It +was Louis Laplante, that past-master in the art of diplomatic deception. +He snarled out something angrily and came to himself in sitting posture. +Then he recognized me.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" he muttered beneath his breath, momentarily surprised into +a betrayal of astonishment. "You, Gillespie?" he called out, at once +regaining himself and assuming his usual nonchalance. "Pardon, my +solemncholy! I took you for a tree."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Granted, your impudence," said I, ignoring the slight but paying him +back in kind. I was determined to follow my uncle's advice and play the +rascal at his own game. "Help you up?" said I, as pleasantly as I could, +extending my hand to give him a lift; and I felt his palm hot and his +arm tremble. Then, I knew that Louis was drunk and this was the fool's +joint in the knave's armor, on which Mr. Jack MacKenzie bade me use my +weapons.</p> + +<p>"Tra-la!" he answered with mincing insult. "Tra-la, old tombstone! +Good-by, my mausoleum! Au revoir, old death's-head! Adieu, grave skull!" +With an absurdly elaborate bow, he reeled back among the dancers.</p> + +<p>"Get up, comrade," I urged, rushing into the tent, where the old trader +I had questioned about my canoeman was now snoring. "Get up, man," and I +shook him. "There's a Hudson's Bay spy!"</p> + +<p>"Spy," he shouted, throwing aside the moose-skin coverlet. "Spy! Who?"</p> + +<p>"It's Louis Laplante, of Quebec."</p> + +<p>"Louis Laplante!" reiterated the trader. "A Frenchman employed by the +Hudson's Bay! Laplante, a trapper, with them! The scoundrel!" And he +ground out oaths that boded ill for Louis.</p> + +<p>"Hold on!" I exclaimed, jerking him back. He was for dashing on Laplante +with a cudgel. "He's playing the trapper game with the lake tribes."</p> + +<p>"I'll trapper him," vowed the trader. "How do you know he's a spy?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't <i>know</i>, really know," I began, clumsily conscious that I had no +proof for my suspicions, "but it strikes me we'd better not examine this +sort of suspect at too long range. If we're wrong, we can let him go."</p> + +<p>"Bag him, eh?" queried the trader.</p> + +<p>"That's it," I assented.</p> + +<p>"He's a hard one to bag."</p> + +<p>"But he's drunk."</p> + +<p>"Drunk, Oh! Drunk is he?" laughed the man. "He'll be drunker," and the +trader began rummaging through bales of stuff with a noise of bottles +knocking together. He was humming in a low tone, like a grimalkin +purring after a full meal of mice—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rum for Indians, when they come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rum for the beggars, when they go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's the trick my grizzled lads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To catch the cash and snare the foe."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"What's your plan?" I asked with a vague feeling the trader had some +shady purpose in mind.</p> + +<p>"Squeamish? Eh? You'll get over that, boy. I'll trap your trapper and +spy your spy, and Nor'-Wester your H. B. C.! You come down to the sand +between the forest and the beach in about an hour and I'll have news for +you," and he brushed past me with his arms full of something I could not +see in the half-light.</p> + +<p>Then, as a trader, began my first compromise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> with conscience, and the +enmity which I thereby aroused afterwards punished me for that night's +work. I knew very well my comrade, with the rough-and-ready methods of +traders, had gone out to do what was not right; and I hung back in the +tent, balancing the end against the means, our deeds against Louis' +perfidy, and Nor'-Westers' interests against those of the Hudson's Bay. +It is not pleasant to recall what was done between the cedars and the +shore. I do not attempt to justify our conduct. Does the physician +justify medical experiments on the criminal, or the sacrificial priest +the driving of the scape-goat into the wilderness? Suffice it to say, +when I went down to the shore, Louis Laplante was sitting in the midst +of empty drinking-flasks, and the wily, old Nor'-Wester was tempting the +silly boy to take more by drinking his health with fresh bottles. But +while Louis Laplante gulped down his rum, becoming drunker and more +communicative, the tempter threw glass after glass over his shoulder and +remained sober. The Nor'-Wester motioned me to keep behind the Frenchman +and I heard his drunken lips mumbling my own name.</p> + +<p>"Rufush—prig—stuck-up prig—serve him tam right! +Hamilton's—sh—sh—prig too—sho's his wife. Serve 'em all tam right!"</p> + +<p>"Ask him where she is," I whispered over his head.</p> + +<p>"Where's the gal?" demanded the trader, shoving more liquor over to +Louis.</p> + +<p>"Shioux squaw—Devil's wife—how you say it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> in English? Lah Grawnd +Deeahble," and he mouthed over our mispronunciation of his own tongue +"Joke, isn't it?" he went on. "That wax-face prig—slave to Shioux +Squaw. Rufush—a fool. Stuffed him to hish—neck. Made him believe +shmall-pox was Hamilton's wife. I mean, Hamilton's wife was shmall-pox. +Calf bellowed with fright—ran home—came back—'tamme,' I say, 'there +he come again' 'shmall-pox in that grave,' say I. Joke—ain't it?" and +he stopped to drain off another pint of rum.</p> + +<p>"Biggest joke out of jail," said the Nor'-Wester dryly, with meaning +which Louis did not grasp.</p> + +<p>"Ask him where she is," I whispered, "quick! He's going to sleep." For +Louis wiped his beard on his sleeve and lay back hopelessly drunk.</p> + +<p>"Here you, waken up," commanded the Nor'-Wester, kicking him and shaking +him roughly. "Where's the gal?"</p> + +<p>"Shioux—<i>Pays d'En Haut</i>," drawled the youth. "Take off your boots! +Don't wear boots. <i>Pays d'En Haut</i>—moccasins—softer," and he rolled +over in a sodden sleep, which defied all our efforts to shake him into +consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Is that true?" asked the Nor'-Wester, standing above the drunk man and +speaking across to me. "Is that true about the Indian kidnapping a +woman?"</p> + +<p>"True—too terribly true," I whispered back.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to boot him into the next world," said the trader, looking +down at Louis in a manner that might have alarmed that youth for his +safety.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> "I've bagged H. B. dispatches anyway," he added with +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"What'll we do with him?" I asked aimlessly. "If he had anything to do +with the stealing of Hamilton's wife——"</p> + +<p>"He hadn't," interrupted the trader. "'Twas Diable did that, so Laplante +says."</p> + +<p>"Then what shall we do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Do—with—him," slowly repeated the Nor'-Wester in a low, vibrating +voice. "Do—with—him?" and again I felt a vague shudder of apprehension +at this silent, uncompromising man's purpose.</p> + +<p>The camp fires were dead. Not a sound came from the men in the woods and +there was a gray light on the water with a vague stirring of birds +through the foliage overhead. Now I would not have any man judge us by +the canons of civilization. Under the ancient rule of the fur companies +over the wilds of the north, 'twas bullets and blades put the fear of +the Lord in evil hearts. As we stooped to gather up the tell-tale +flasks, the drunken knave, who had lightly allowed an innocent white +woman to go into Indian captivity, lay with bared chest not a hand's +length from a knife he had thrown down. Did the Nor'-Wester and I +hesitate, and look from the man to the dagger, and from the dagger to +the man; or is this an evil dream from a black past? Miriam, the +guiltless, was suffering at his hands; should not he, the guilty, suffer +at ours? Surely Sisera was not more unmistakably delivered into the +power<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> of his enemies by the Lord than this man; and Sisera was +discomfited by Barak and Jael. Heber's wife—says the Book—drove a tent +nail—through the temples—of the sleeping man—and slew him! Day was +when I thought the Old Volume recorded too many deeds of bloodshed in +the wilderness for the instruction of our refined generation; but I, +too, have since lived in the wilderness and learned that soft speech is +not the weapon of strong men overmastering savagery.</p> + +<p>I know the trader and I were thinking the same thoughts and reading each +other's thoughts; for we stood silent above the drunk man, neither +moving, neither uttering a word.</p> + +<p>"Well?" I finally questioned in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he, and he knelt down and picked up the knife. "'Twould +serve him right." He was speaking in the low, gentle, purring voice he +had used in the tent. "'Twould serve him jolly right," and he knelt over +Louis hesitating.</p> + +<p>My eyes followed his slow, deliberate motions with horror. Terror seemed +to rob me of the power of speech. I felt my blood freeze with the fear +of some impending crime. There was the faintest perceptible fluttering +of leaves; and we both started up as if we had been assassins, glancing +fearfully into the gloom of the forest. All the woods seemed alive with +horrified eyes and whisperings.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" I gasped, "This is madness, the madness of the murderer. What +would you do?" And I was trying to knock the knife out of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> hand, +when among the shadowy green of the foliage, an open space suddenly +resolved itself into a human face and there looked out upon us gleaming +eyes like those of a crouching panther.</p> + +<p>"Squeamish fool!" muttered the Nor'-Wester, raising his arm.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" I implored. "We are watched. See!" and I pointed to the face, +that as suddenly vanished into blackness.</p> + +<p>We both leaped into the thicket, pistol in hand, to wreak punishment on +the interloper. There was only an indistinct sound as of something +receding into the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Don't fire," said I, "'twill alarm the camp."</p> + +<p>At imminent risk to our own lives, we poked sticks through the thicket +and felt for our unseen enemy, but found nothing.</p> + +<p>"Let's go back and peg him out on the sand, where the Hudson's Bay will +see him when they come this way," suggested the Nor'-Wester, referring +to Laplante.</p> + +<p>"Yes, or hand-cuff him and take him along prisoner," I added, thinking +Louis might have more information.</p> + +<p>But when we stepped back to the beach, there was no Louis Laplante.</p> + +<p>"He was too drunk to go himself," said I, aghast at the certainty, which +now came home to me, that we had been watched.</p> + +<p>"I wash my hands of the whole affair," declared the trader, in a state +of high indignation, and he strode off to his tent, I, following, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +uncomfortable reflections trooping into my mind. Compunctions rankled in +self-respect. How near we had been to a brutal murder, to crime which +makes men shun the perpetrators. Civilization's veneer was rubbing off +at an alarming rate. This thought stuck, but for obvious reasons was not +pursued. Also I had learned that the worst and best of outlaws +easily justify their acts at the time they commit them; but +afterwards—afterwards is a different matter, for the thing is past +undoing.</p> + +<p>I heard the trader snorting out inarticulate disgust as he tumbled into +his tent; but I stood above the embers of the camp fire thinking. Again +I felt with a creepiness, that set all my flesh quaking, felt, rather +than saw, those maddening, tiger eyes of the dark foliage watching me. +Looking up, I found my morose canoeman on the other side of the fire, +leaning so close to a tree, he was barely visible in the shadows. +Thinking himself unseen by me, he wore such an insolent, amused, +malicious expression, I knew in an instant, who the interloper had been, +and who had carried Louis off. Before I realized that such an act +entails life-long enmity with an Indian, I had bounded over the fire and +struck him with all my strength full in the face. At that, instead of +knifing me as an Indian ordinarily would, he broke into hyena shrieks of +laughter. He, who has heard that sound, need hear it only once to have +the echo ring forever in his ears; and I have heard it oft and know it +well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Spy! Sneak!" I muttered, rushing upon him. But he sprang back into the +forest and vanished. In dodging me, he let fall his fowling-piece, which +went off with a bang into the fire.</p> + +<p>"Hulloo! What's wrong out there?" bawled the trader's voice from the +tent.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—false alarm!" I called reassuringly. Then there caught my eyes +what startled me out of all presence of mind. There, reflecting the +glare of the firelight was the Indian's fowling-piece, richly mounted in +burnished silver and chased in the rare design of Eric Hamilton's family +crest. The morose canoeman was Le Grand Diable.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A few hours later, I was in the thick of a confused re-embarking. Le +Grand Diable took a place in another boat; and a fresh hand was assigned +to my canoe. Of that I was glad; I could sleep sounder and he, safer. +The <i>Bourgeois</i> complained that too much rum had been given out.</p> + +<p>"Keep a stiffer hand on your men, boy, or they'll ride over your head," +one of the chief traders remarked to me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>A GIRDLE OF AGATES RECALLED</h3> + + +<p>To unravel a ball of yarn, with which kittens have been making cobwebs, +has always seemed to me a much easier task than to unknot the tangled +skein of confused influences, that trip up our feet at every step in +life's path. Here was I, who but a month ago had a supreme contempt for +guile and a lofty confidence in uprightness and downrightness, +transformed into a crafty trader with all the villainous tricks of the +bargain-maker at my finger-tips. We had befooled Louis into a betrayal +of his associates but how much reliance could be placed on that +betrayal? Had he incriminated Diable to save himself? Then, why had +Diable rescued his betrayer? Where was Louis in hiding? Was the Sioux +wife with her white slave really in the north country, or was she near, +and did that explain my morose Iroquois' all-night vigils? We had +cheated Laplante; but had he in turn cheated us? Would I be justified in +taking Diable prisoner, and would my company consent to the +demoralization of their crews by such a step? Ah, if life were only made +up of simple right and simple wrong, instead of half rights and half +wrongs indistinguishably mingled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> we could all be righteous! If the +path to the goal of our chosen desire were only as straight as it is +narrow, instead of being dark, mysterious and tortuous, how easily could +we attain high ends! I was launched on the life for which I had longed, +but strange, shadowy forms like the storm-fiends of sailors' lore, +drunkenness, deceit and crime—on whose presence I had not +counted—flitted about my ship's masthead. And there was not one guiding +star, not one redeeming influence, except the utter freedom to be a man. +I was learning, what I suppose everyone learns, that there are things +which sap success of its sweets.</p> + +<p>Such were my thoughts, as our canoes sped across the northern end of +Lake Huron, heading for the Sault. The Nor'-Westers had a wonderful way +of arousing enthusiastic loyalty among their men. Danger fanned this +fealty to white-heat. In the face of powerful opposition, the great +company frequently accomplished the impossible. With half as large a +staff in the service as its rivals boasted, it invaded the +hunting-ground of the Hudson's Bay Company, and outrunning all +competition, extended fur posts from the heart of the continent to the +foot-hills to the Rockies, and from the international boundary to the +Arctic Circle. I had thought no crews could make quicker progress than +ours from Lachine to <i>Point à la Croix</i>; but the short delay during the +storm occasioned faster work. More <i>voyageurs</i> were engaged from the +Nipissangue tribes. As soon as one lot fagged fresh shifts came to the +relief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> Paddles shot out at the rate of modern piston rods, and the +waters whirled back like wave-wash in the wake of a clipper. Except for +briefest stoppages, speed was not relaxed across the whole northern end +of those inland seas called the Great Lakes. With ample space on the +lakes, the brigades could spread out and the canoes separated, not +halting long enough to come together again till we reached the Sault. +Here, orders were issued for the maintenance of rigid discipline. We +camped at a distance from the lodges of local tribes. No grog was given +out. Camp-fire conviviality was forbidden, and each man kept with his +own crew. We remained in camp but one night; and though I searched every +tent, I could not find Le Grand Diable. This worried and puzzled me. All +night, I lay awake, stretching conscience with doubtful plans to entrap +the knave.</p> + +<p>Rising with first dawn-streak, I was surprised to find Little Fellow and +La Robe Noire, two of my canoemen, setting off for the woods. They had +laid a snare—so they explained—and were going to examine it. Of late I +had grown distrustful of all natives. I suspected these two might be +planning desertion; so I went with them. The way led through a dense +thicket of ferns half the height of a man. Only dim light penetrated the +maze of foliage; and I might easily have lost myself, or been +decoyed—though these possibilities did not occur to me till we were at +least a mile from the beach. Little Fellow was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> trotting ahead, La Robe +Noire jogging behind, and both glided through the brake without +disturbing a fern branch, while I—after the manner of my race—crunched +flags underfoot and stamped down stalks enough to be tracked by +keen-eyed Indians for a week afterwards. Twice I saw Little Fellow pull +up abruptly and look warily through the cedars on one side. Once he +stooped down and peered among the fern stems. Then he silently signaled +back to La Robe Noire, pointed through the undergrowth and ran ahead +again without explanation. At first I could see nothing, and regretted +being led so far into the woods. I was about to order both Indians back +to the tent, when Little Fellow, with face pricked forward and foot +raised, as if he feared to set it down—for the fourth time came to a +dead stand. Now, I, too, heard a rustle, and saw a vague sinuous +movement distinctly running abreast of us among the ferns. For a moment, +when we stopped, it ceased, then wiggled forward like beast, or serpent +in the underbrush. Little Fellow placed his forefinger on his lips, and +we stood noiseless till by the ripple of the green it seemed to scurry +away.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Little Fellow, a cat?" I asked; but the Indian shook his +head dubiously and turned to the open where the trap had been set.</p> + +<p>Bending over the snare he uttered an Indian word, that I did not +understand, but have since heard traders use, so conclude it was one of +those exclamations, alien races learn quickest from one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> another, but +which, nevertheless, are not found in dictionaries. The trap had been +rifled of game and completely smashed.</p> + +<p>"Wolverine!" muttered the Indian, making a sweep of his dagger blade at +an imaginary foe. "No wolverine! Bad Indians!"</p> + +<p>Scarcely had he spoken when La Robe Noire leaped into the air like a +wounded rabbit. An arrow whizzed past my face and glanced within a +hair's-breadth of the Indian's head. Both men were dumb with amazement. +Such treachery would have been surprising among the barbarous tribes of +the Athabasca. The Sault was the dividing line between Canada and the +Wilderness, between the east and the west, and there were no hostiles +within a thousand miles of us. Little Fellow would have dragged me +pell-mell back to the beach, but I needed no persuasion. La Robe Noire +tore ahead with the springs of a hunted lynx. Little Fellow loyally kept +between me and a possible pursuer, and we set off at a hard run. That +creature, I fancied, was again coursing along beneath the undergrowth; +for the foliage bent and rose as we ran. Whether it were man or beast, +we were three against one, and could drive it out of hiding.</p> + +<p>"See here, Little Fellow!" I cried, "Let's hunt that thing out!" and I +wheeled about so sharply the chunky little man crashed forward, knocking +me off my feet and sending me a man's length farther on.</p> + +<p>That fall saved my life. A flat spear point<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> hissed through the air +above my head and stuck fast in the bark of an elm tree. Scrambling up, +I promptly let go two or three shots into the fern brake. We scrutinized +the underbrush, but there was no sign of human being, except the fern +stems broken by my shots. I wrenched the stone spear-head from the tree. +It was curiously ornamented with such a multitude of intricate carvings +I could not decipher any design. Then I discovered that the medley of +colors was produced by inlaying the flint with small bits of a bright +stone; and the bright stones had been carved into a rude likeness of +some birds.</p> + +<p>"What are these birds, Little Fellow?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He fingered them closely, and with bulging eyes muttered back, "L'Aigle! +L'Aigle!"</p> + +<p>"Eagles, are they?" I returned, stupidly missing the possible meaning of +his suppressed excitement. "And the stone?"</p> + +<p>"Agate, <i>Monsieur</i>."</p> + +<p>Agate! Agate! What picture did agate call back to my mind? A big squaw, +with malicious eyes and gaping upper lip and girdle of agates, watching +Louis Laplante and myself at the encampment in the gorge.</p> + +<p>"Little Fellow!" I shouted, not suppressing my excitement. "Who is Le +Grand Diable's wife?"</p> + +<p>And the Indian answered in a low voice, with a face that showed me he +had already penetrated my discovery, "The daughter of L'Aigle, chief of +the Sioux."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then I knew for whom those missiles had been intended and from whom they +had come. It was a clever piece of rascality. Had the assassin +succeeded, punishment would have fallen on my Indians.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE LORDS OF THE NORTH IN COUNCIL</h3> + + +<p>Beyond the Sault, the fascinations of the west beckoned like a siren. +Vast waterways, where a dozen European kingdoms could be dropped into +one lake without raising a sand-bar, seemed to sweep on forever and call +with the voice of enchantress to the very ends of the earth. With the +purple recesses of the shore on one side and the ocean-expanse of Lake +Superior on the other, all the charms of clean, fresh freedom were +unveiling themselves to me and my blood began to quicken with that +fevered delight, which old lands are pleased to call western enthusiasm. +Lake Huron, with its greenish-blue, shallow, placid waters and calm, +sloping shores, seemed typical of the even, easy life I had left in the +east. How those choppy, blustering, little waves resembled the +jealousies and bickerings and bargainings of the east; but when one came +to Lake Superior, with its great ocean billows and slumbering, giant +rocks and cold, dark, fathomless depths, there was a new life in a hard, +rugged, roomy, new world. We hugged close to the north coast; and the +numerous rocky islands to our left stood guard like a wall of adamant +between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> us and the heavy surf that flung against the barrier. We were +rapidly approaching the headquarters of our company. When south-bound +brigades, with prisoners in hand-cuffs, began to meet us, I judged we +were near the habitation of man.</p> + +<p>"Bad men?" I asked Little Fellow, pointing to the prisoners, as our +crews exchanged rousing cheers with the Nor'-Westers now bound for +Montreal.</p> + +<p>"<i>Non, Monsieur!</i> Not all bad men," and the Indian gave his shoulders an +expressive shrug, "<i>Les traitres anglais</i>."</p> + +<p>To the French <i>voyageur</i>, English meant the Hudson's Bay people. The +answer set me wondering to what pass things had come between the two +great companies that they were shipping each other's traders +gratuitously out of the country. I recalled the talk at the Quebec Club +about Governor McDonell of the Hudson's Bay trying to expel Nor'-Westers +and concluded our people could play their own game against the commander +of Red River.</p> + +<p>We arrived in Fort William at sundown, and a flag was flying above the +courtyard.</p> + +<p>"Is that in our honor?" I asked a clerk of the party.</p> + +<p>"Not much it is," he laughed. "We under-strappers aren't oppressed with +honors! It warns the Indians there's no trade one day out of seven."</p> + +<p>"Is this Sunday?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>I suddenly recollected as far as we were concerned the past month had +been entirely composed of week-days.</p> + +<p>"Out of your reckoning already?" asked the clerk with surprise. "Wonder +how you'll feel when you've had ten years of it."</p> + +<p>Situated on the river bank, near the site of an old French post, Fort +William was a typical traders' stronghold. Wooden palisades twenty feet +high ran round the whole fort and the inner court enclosed at least two +hundred square yards. Heavily built block-houses with guns poking +through window slits gave a military air to the trading post. The +block-houses were apparently to repel attack from the rear and the face +of the fort commanded the river. Stores, halls, warehouses and living +apartments for an army of clerks, were banked against the walls, and the +main building with its spacious assembly-room stood conspicuous in the +centre of the enclosure. As we entered the courtyard, one of the chief +traders was perched on a mortar in the gate. The little magnate +condescended never a smile of welcome till the <i>Bourgeois</i> came up. Then +he fawned loudly over the chiefs and conducted them with noisy +ostentation to the main hall. Indians and half-breed <i>voyageurs</i> quickly +dispersed among the wigwams outside the pickets, while clerks and +traders hurried to the broad-raftered dining-hall. Fatigued from the +trip, I took little notice of the vociferous interchange of news in +passage-way and over door-steps. I remember, after supper I was +strolling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> about the courtyard, surveying the buildings, when at the +door of a sort of barracks where residents of the fort lived, I caught +sight of the most grateful object my eye had lighted upon since leaving +Quebec. It was a tin basin with a large bar of soap—actual soap. There +must still have been some vestige of civilization in my nature, for +after a delightful half-hour's intimate acquaintance with that soap, I +came round to the groups of men rehabilitated in self-respect.</p> + +<p>"Athabasca, Rocky Mountain and Saskatchewan brigades here to-morrow," +remarked a boyish looking Nor'-Wester, with a mannish beard on his face. +Involuntarily I put my hand to my chin and found a bristling growth +there. That was a land where young men could become suddenly very old; +and many a trader has discovered other signs of age than a beard on his +face when he first looked at a mirror after life in the <i>Pays d'En +Haut</i>.</p> + +<p>"I say," blurted out another young clerk. "There's a man here from Red +River, one of the Selkirk settlers. He's come with word if we'll supply +the boats, lots of the colonists are ready to dig out. General +Assembly's going to consider that to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Hang the old Assembly if it ships that man out! He's got a pretty +daughter, perfect beauty, and she's here with him!" exclaimed the lad +with the mannish beard.</p> + +<p>"Go to, thou light-head!" declared the other youth, with the air of an +elder in Israel. "Go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> to! You paraded beneath her window for an hour +to-day and she never once laid eyes on you."</p> + +<p>All the men laughed.</p> + +<p>"Hang it!" said the first speaker. "We don't display our little +amours——"</p> + +<p>"No," broke in the other, "we just display our little contours and get +snubbed, eh?"</p> + +<p>The bearded youth flushed at the sally of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Hang it!" he answered, pulling fiercely at his moustache. "She is a bit +of statuary, so she is, as cold as marble. But there is no law against +looking at a pretty bit of statuary, when it frames itself in a window +in this wilderness."</p> + +<p>To which, every man of the crowd said a hearty amen; and I walked off to +stretch myself full length on a bench, resolving to have out a mirror +from my packing case and get rid of those bristles that offended my +chin. The men began to disperse to their quarters. The tardy twilight of +the long summer evenings, peculiar to the far north, was gathering in +the courtyard. As the night-wind sighed past, I felt the velvet caress +of warm June air on my face and memory reverted to the innocent boyhood +days of Laval. How far away those days seemed! Yet it was not so long +ago. Surely it is knowledge, not time, that ages one, knowledge, that +takes away the trusting innocence resulting from ignorance and gives in +its place the distrustful innocence resulting from wisdom. I thought of +the temptations that had come to me in the few short weeks I had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +adrift, and how feebly I had resisted them. I asked myself if there were +not in the moral compass of men, who wander by land, some guiding star, +as there is for those who wander over sea. I gazed high above the +sloping roofs for some sign of moon, or star. The sky was darkling and +overcast; but in lowering my eyes from heaven to earth, I saw what I had +missed before—a fair, white face framed in a window above the stoop +directly opposite my bench. The face seemed to have a background of +gold; for a wonderful mass of wavy hair clustered down from the +blue-veined brow to the bit of white throat visible, where a gauzy piece +of neck wear had been loosened. Evidently, this was the statuary +described by the whiskered youth. But the statuary breathed. A bloom of +living apple-blossoms was on the cheeks. The brows were black and +arched. The very pose of the head was arch, and in the lips was a +suggestion of archery, too,—Cupid's archery, though the upper lip was +drawn almost too tight for the bow beneath to discharge the little god's +shaft. Why did I do it? I do not know. Ask the young Nor'-Wester, who +had worn a path beneath the selfsame window that very day, or the hosts +of young men, who are still wearing paths beneath windows to this very +day. I coughed and sat bolt upright on the bench with unnecessarily loud +intimations of my presence. The fringe of black lashes did not even +lift. I rose and with great show of indifference paraded solemnly five +times past that window; but, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> spite of my pompous indifference, by a +sort of side-signalling, I learned that the owner of the heavy lashes +was unaware of my existence. Thereupon, I sat down again. It <i>was</i> a bit +of statuary and a very pretty bit of statuary. As the youth said, there +was no law against looking at a bit of statuary in this wilderness, and +as the statuary did not know I was looking at it, I sat back to take my +fill of that vision framed in the open window. The statuary, unknown to +itself, had full meed of revenge; for it presently brought such a flood +of longing to my heart, longings, not for this face, but for what this +face represented—the innocence and love and purity of home, that I +bowed dejectedly forward with moist eyes gazing at the ground.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" whispered a deep voice in my ear. "Are you mooning after the +Little Statue already?"</p> + +<p>When I looked up, the man had passed, but the head in the window was +leaning out and a pair of swimming, lustrous, gray eyes were gazing +forward in a way that made me dizzy. "Ah," they said in a language that +needed no speaking, "there are two of us, very, very home-sick."</p> + +<p>"The guiding star for my moral compass," said I, under my breath.</p> + +<p>Then the statue in a live fashion suddenly drew back into the dark room. +The window-shutter flung to, with a bang, and my vision was gone. I left +the bench, made a shake-down on one of the store counters, and knew +nothing more till the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> noise of brigades from the far north aroused the +fort at an early hour Monday morning. The arrival of the Athabasca +traders was the signal for tremendous activity. An army returning from +victory could not have been received with greater acclaim. <i>Bourgeois</i> +and clerks tumbled promiscuously from every nook in the fort and rushing +half-dressed towards the gates shouted welcome to the men, who had come +from the outposts of the known world. They were a shaggy, ragged-looking +rabble, those traders from mountain fastnesses and the Arctic circle. +With long white hair, hatless some of them, with beards like oriental +patriarchs, and dressed entirely in skins of the chase, from fringed +coats to gorgeous moccasins, the unkempt monarchs of northern realms had +the imperious bearing of princes.</p> + +<p>"Is it you, really you, looking as old as your great grandfather? By +Gad! So it is," came from one quondam friend.</p> + +<p>"Powers above!" ejaculated another onlooker, "See that old Father +Abraham! It's Tait! As you live, it's Tait! And he only went to the +Athabasca ten years ago. He was thirty then, and now he's a hundred!"</p> + +<p>"That's Wilson," says another. "Looks thin, doesn't he? Slim fare! He's +the only man from Great Slave Lake that escaped being a meal for the +Crees,—year of the famine; and they hadn't time to pick his bones!"</p> + +<p>A running fire of such comments went along the spectators lining each +side of the path. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> was a sad side to the clamorous welcomes and +handshakes and surprised recognitions. Had not these men gone north +young and full of hope, as I was going? Now, news of the feud with the +Hudson's Bay brought them out old before their time and more like the +natives with whom they had traded than the white race they had left. +Here and there, strong men would fall in each other's arms and embrace +like school-girls, covering their emotion with rounded oaths instead of +terms of endearment.</p> + +<p>All day the confusion of unloading boats continued. The dull tread of +moccasined feet as Indians carried pack after pack from river bank to +the fort, was ceaseless. Faster than the clerks could sort the furs +great bundles were heaped on the floor. By noon, warehouses were crammed +from basement to attic. Ermine taken in mid-winter, when the fur was +spotlessly white, but for the jet tail-tip, otter cut so deftly scarcely +a tuft of fur had been wasted along the opened seam, silver fox, which +had made the fortune of some lucky hunter—these and other rare furs, +that were to minister to the luxury of kings, passed from tawny carriers +to sorters. Elsewhere, coarse furs, obtained at greater risk, but owing +to the abundance of big game, less valuable for the hunter, were sorted +and valued. With a reckless underestimate of the beaver-skin, their unit +of currency, Indians hung over counters bartering away the season's +hunt. I frankly acknowledge the Company's clerks on such occasions could +do a rushing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> business selling tawdry stuff at fabulous prices.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in the main hall, the <i>Bourgeois</i>, or partners, of the great +North-West Company were holding their annual General Assembly behind +closed doors. Clerks lowered their voices when they passed that room, +and well they might; for the rulers inside held despotic sway over a +domain as large as Europe. And what were they decreeing? Who can tell? +The archives of the great fur companies are as jealously guarded as +diplomatic documents, and more remarkable for what they omit than what +they state. Was the policy, that ended so tragically a year afterwards, +adopted at this meeting? Great corporations have a fashion of keeping +their mouths and their council doors tight shut and of leaving the +public to infer that catastrophes come causeless. However that may be, I +know that Duncan Cameron, a fiery Highlander and one of the keenest men +in the North-West service, suddenly flung out of the Assembly room with +a pleased, determined look on his ruddy face.</p> + +<p>"Are ye Rufus Gillespie?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"That's my name, Sir."</p> + +<p>"Then buckle on y'r armor, lad; for ye'll see the thick of the fight. +You're appointed to my department at Red River." And he left us.</p> + +<p>"Lucky dog! I envy you! There'll be rare sport between Cameron and +McDonell, when the two forts up in Red River begin to talk back to each +other," exclaimed a Fort William man to me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you Gillespie?" asked a low, mellow, musical voice by my side. I +turned to face a tall, dark, wiry man, with the swarthy complexion and +intensely black eyes of one having strains of native blood. Among the +<i>voyageurs</i>, I had become accustomed to the soft-spoken, melodious +speech that betrays Indian parentage; and I believe if I were to +encounter a descendant of the red race in China, or among the Latin +peoples of Southern Europe, I could recognize Indian blood by that +rhythmic trick of the native tongue.</p> + +<p>"I'm Gillespie," I answered my keen-eyed questioner. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Cuthbert Grant, warden of the plains and leader of the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>," +was his terse response. "You're coming to our department at Fort +Gibraltar, and I want you to give Father Holland a place in your canoes +to come north with us. He's on his way to the Missouri."</p> + +<p>At that instant Duncan Cameron came up to Grant and muttered something. +Both men at once went back to the council hall of the General Assembly. +I heard the courtyard gossips vowing that the Hudson's Bay would cease +its aggressions, now that Cameron and Cuthbert Grant were to lead the +Nor'-Westers; but I made no inquiry. Next to keeping his own counsel and +giving credence to no man, the fur trader learns to gain information +only with ears and eyes, and to ask no questions. The scurrying turmoil +in the fort lasted all day. At dusk, natives were expelled from the +stockades and work stopped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Grand was the foregathering around the supper table of the great dining +hall that night. <i>Bourgeois</i>, clerks and traders from afar, explorers, +from the four corners of the earth—assembled four hundred strong, +buoyant and unrestrained, enthusiastically loyal to the company, and +tingling with hilarious fellowship over this, the first reunion for +twenty years. Though their manner and clothing be uncouth, men who have +passed a lifetime exploring northern wilds have that to say, which is +worth hearing. So the feast was prolonged till candles sputtered low and +pitch-pine fagots flared out. Indeed, before the gathering broke up, +flagons as well as candles had to be renewed. Lanterns swung from the +black rafters of the ceiling. Tallow candles stood in solemn rows down +the centre of each table, showing that men, not women, had prepared the +banquet. Stuck in iron brackets against the walls were pine torches, +that had been dipped in some resinous mixture and now flamed brightly +with a smell not unlike incense. Tables lined the four walls of the hall +and ran in the form of a cross athwart the middle of the room. Backless +benches were on both sides of every table. At the end, chairs were +placed, the seats of honor for famous <i>Bourgeois</i>. British flags had +been draped across windows and colored bunting hung from rafter to +rafter.</p> + +<p>"Ah, mon! Is no this fine? This is worth living for! This is the company +to serve!" Duncan Cameron exclaimed as he sank into one of the chairs at +the head of the centre table. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> Scotchman's heart softened before +those platters of venison and wild fowl, and he almost broke into +geniality. "Here, Gillespie, to my right," he called, motioning me to +the edge of the bench at his elbow. "Here, Grant, opposite Gillespie! +Aye! an' is that you, Father Holland?" he cried to the stout, jovial +priest, with shining brow and cheeks wrinkling in laughter, who followed +Grant. "There's a place o' honor for men like you, Sir. Here!" and he +gave the priest a chair beside himself.</p> + +<p>The <i>Bourgeois</i> seated, there was a scramble for the benches. Then the +whole company with great zest and much noisy talk fell upon the viands +with a will.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cameron," began a northern winterer a few places below me, "it's +taken me three months fast travelling to come from McKenzie River to +Fort William. By Jove! Sir, 'twas cold enough to freeze your words solid +as you spoke them, when we left Great Slave Lake. I'll bet if you men +were up there now, you'd hear my voice thawing out and yelling get-epp +to my huskies, and my huskies yelping back! Used a dog train, whole of +March. Tied myself up in bag of buffalo robes at night and made the +huskies lie across it to keep me from freezing. Got so hot, every pore +in my body was a spouting fountain, and in the morning that moisture +would freeze my buckskin stiff. Couldn't stand that; so I tried sleeping +with my head out of the bag and froze my nose six nights out of seven."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>The unfortunate nose corroborated his evidence.</p> + +<p>"Ice was sloppy on the Saskatchewan, and I had to use pack-horses and +take the trail. I was trusting to get provisions at Souris. You can +imagine, then, how we felt towards the Hudson's Bays when we found +they'd plundered our fort. We were without a bite for two days. Why, we +took half a dozen Hudson's Bays in our quarters up north last winter, +and saved them from starvation; and here we were, starving, that they +might plunder and rob. I'm with you, Sir! I'm with you to the hilt +against the thieves! There's a time for peace and there's a time for +war, and I say this is a very good time for war!"</p> + +<p>"Here's confusion to the old H. B. C's! Confusion, short life, no +prosperity, and death to the Hudson's Bay!" yelled the young whiskered +Nor'-Wester, springing to his feet on the bench and waving a +drinking-cup round his head. Some of the youthful clerks were disposed +to take their cue from this fire-eater and began strumming the table and +applauding; but the <i>Bourgeois</i> frowned on forward conduct.</p> + +<p>"Check him, Grant!" growled Cameron in disapproval.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, bumptious babe!" said the priest, tugging the lad's coat.</p> + +<p>"Here, you young show-off," whispered Grant, leaning across the priest, +and he knocked the boy's feet from under him bringing him down to the +bench with a thud.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He needs more outdoor life, that young one! It goes to his head mighty +fast," remarked Cameron. "What were you saying about your hard luck?" +and he turned to the northern winterer again.</p> + +<p>"Call that hard luck?" broke in a mountaineer, laughing as if he +considered hardships a joke. "We lived a month last winter on two meals +a day; soup, out of snow-shoe thongs, first course; fried skins, second +go; teaspoonful shredded fish, by way of an entrée!"</p> + +<p>The man wore a beaded buckskin suit, and his mellow intonation of words +in the manner of the Indian tongue showed that he had almost lost +English speech along with English customs. His recital caused no +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Been on short, rations myself," returned the northerner. "Don't like +it! Isn't safe! Rips a man's nerves to the raw when Indians glare at him +with hungry eyes eighteen hours out of the twenty-four."</p> + +<p>"What was the matter?" drawled the mountaineer. "Hudson's Bay been +tampering with your Indians? Now if you had a good Indian wife as I +have, you could defy the beggars to turn trade away——"</p> + +<p>"Aye, that's so," agreed the winterer, "I heard of a fellow on the +Athabasca who had to marry a squaw before he could get a pair of +racquets made; but that wasn't my trouble. Game was scarce."</p> + +<p>"Game scarce on MacKenzie River?" A chorus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> of voices vented their +surprise. To the outside world game is always scarce, reported scarce on +MacKenzie River and everywhere else by the jealous fur traders; but +these deceptions are not kept up among hunters fraternizing at the same +banquet board.</p> + +<p>"Mighty scarce. Some of the tribe died out from starvation. The Hudson's +Bay in our district were in bad plight. We took six of them in—Hadn't +heard of the Souris plunder, you may be sure."</p> + +<p>"More fools they to go into the Athabasca," declared the mountaineer.</p> + +<p>"Bigger fools to send another brigade there this year when they needn't +expect help from us," interjected a third trader.</p> + +<p>"You don't say they're sending another lot of men to the Athabasca!" +exclaimed the winterer.</p> + +<p>"Yes I do—under Colin Robertson," affirmed the third man.</p> + +<p>"Colin Robertson—the Nor'-Wester?"</p> + +<p>"Robertson who used to be a Nor'-Wester! It's Selkirk's work since he +got control of the H. B."</p> + +<p>"Robertson should know better," said the northerner. "He had experience +with us before he resigned. I'll wager he doesn't undertake that sort of +venture! Surely it's a yarn!"</p> + +<p>"You lose your bet," cried the irrepressible Fort William lad. "A runner +came in at six o'clock and reported that the Hudson's Bay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> brigade from +Lachine would pass here before midnight. They're sooners, they are, are +the H. B. C's.," and the clerk enjoyed the sensation of rolling a big +oath from his boyish lips.</p> + +<p>"Eric Hamilton passing within a stone's throw of the fort!" In +astonishment I leaned forward to catch every word the Fort William lad +might say.</p> + +<p>"To Athabasca by our route—past this fort!" Such temerity amazed the +winterer beyond coherent expression.</p> + +<p>"Good thing for them they're passing in the night," continued the clerk. +"The half-breeds are hot about that Souris affair. There'll be a +collision yet!" The young fellow's importance increased in proportion to +the surprise of the elder men.</p> + +<p>"There'll be a collision anyway when Cameron and Grant reach Red +River—eh, Cuthbert?" and the mountaineer turned to the dark, +sharp-featured warden of the plains. Cuthbert Grant laughed pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not—for their sakes!" he said, and went on with the story +of a buffalo hunt.</p> + +<p>The story I missed, for I was deep in my own thoughts. I must see Eric +and let him know what I had learned; but how communicate with the +Hudson's Bay brigade without bringing suspicion of double dealing on +myself? I was turning things over in my mind in a stupid sort of way +like one new at intrigue, when I heard a talker, vowing by all that was +holy that he had seen the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> rarest of hunter's rarities—a pure white +buffalo. The wonder had appeared in Qu'Appelle Valley.</p> + +<p>"I can cap that story, man," cried the portly Irish priest who was to go +north in my boat. "I saw a white squaw less than two weeks ago!" He +paused for his words to take effect, and I started from my chair as if I +had been struck.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, young man?" asked the winterer. "We lonely fellows up +north see visions. We leap out of our moccasins at the sound of our own +voices; but you young chaps, with all the world around you"—he waved +towards the crowded hall as though it were the metropolis of the +universe—"shouldn't see ghosts and go jumping mad."</p> + +<p>I sat down abashed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a white squaw," repeated the jovial priest. "Sure now, white +ladies aren't so many in these regions that I'd be likely to make a +mistake."</p> + +<p>"There's a difference between squaws and white ladies," persisted the +jolly father, all unconscious that he was emphasizing a difference which +many of the traders were spelling out in hard years of experience.</p> + +<p>"I've seen papooses that were white for a day or two after they were +born——"</p> + +<p>"Effect of the christening," interrupted the youth, whose head, between +flattered vanity and the emptied contents of his drinking cup, was very +light indeed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take that idiot out and put him to bed, somebody," commanded Cameron.</p> + +<p>"For a day or two after they were born," reiterated the priest; "but I +never saw such a white-skinned squaw!"</p> + +<p>"Where did you see her?" I inquired in a voice which was not my own.</p> + +<p>"On Lake Winnipeg. Coming down two weeks ago we camped near a band of +Sioux, and I declare, as I passed a tepee, I saw a woman's face that +looked as white as snow. She was sleeping, and the curtain had blown up. +Her child was in her arms, and I tell you her bare arms were as white as +snow."</p> + +<p>"Must have been the effect of the moonlight," explained some one.</p> + +<p>"Moonlight didn't give the other Indians that complexion," insisted the +priest.</p> + +<p>It was my turn to feel my head suddenly turn giddy, though liquor had +not passed my lips. This information could have only one meaning. I was +close on the track of Miriam, and Eric was near; yet the slightest +blunder on my part might ruin all chance of meeting him and rescuing +her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>THE LITTLE STATUE ANIMATE</h3> + + +<p>The men began arguing about the degrees of whiteness in a squaw's skin. +Those, married to native women, averred that differences of complexion +were purely matters of temperament and compared their dusky wives to +Spanish belles. The priest was now talking across the table to Duncan +Cameron, advocating a renewal of North-West trade with the Mandanes on +the Missouri, whither he was bound on his missionary tour. To venture +out of the fort through the Indian encampments, where natives and +outlaws were holding high carnival, and my sleepless foe could have a +free hand, would be to risk all chance of using the information that had +come to me.</p> + +<p>I did not fear death—fear of death was left east of the Sault in those +days. On my preservation depended Miriam's rescue. Besides, if either Le +Grand Diable or myself had to die, I came to the conclusion of other men +similarly situated—that my enemy was the one who should go.</p> + +<p>Violins, flutes and bag-pipes were striking up in different parts of the +hall. Simple ballads, smacking of old delights in an older land, songs, +with which home-sick white men comforted themselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> in far-off +lodges—were roared out in strident tones. Feet were beating time to the +rasp of the fiddles. Men rose and danced wild jigs, or deftly executed +some intricate Indian step; and uproarious applause greeted every +performer. The hall throbbed with confused sounds and the din deadened +my thinking faculties. Even now, Eric might be slipping past. In that +deafening tumult I could decide nothing, and when I tried to leave the +table, all the lights swam dizzily.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Sir!" I whispered, clutching the priest's elbow. "You're +Father Holland and are to go north in my boats. Come out with me for a +moment."</p> + +<p>Thinking me tipsy, he gave me a droll glance. "'Pon my soul! Strapping +fellows like you shouldn't need last rites——"</p> + +<p>"Please say nothing! Come quickly!" and I gripped his arm.</p> + +<p>"Bless us! It's a touch of the head, or the heart!" and he rose and +followed me from the hall.</p> + +<p>In the fresh air, dizziness left me. Sitting down on the bench, where I +had lain the night before, I told him my perplexing mission. At first, I +am sure he was convinced that I was drunk or raving, but my story had +the directness of truth. He saw at once how easily he could leave the +fort at that late hour without arousing suspicion, and finally offered +to come with me to the river bank, where we might intercept Hamilton.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But we must have a boat, a light cockle-shell thing, so we can dart out +whenever the brigade appears," declared the priest, casting about in his +mind for means to forward our object.</p> + +<p>"The canoes are all locked up. Can't you borrow one from the Indians? +Don't you know any of them?" I asked with a sudden sinking of heart.</p> + +<p>"And have the whole pack of them sneaking after us? No—no—that won't +do. Where are your wits, boy! Arrah! Me hearty, but what was that?"</p> + +<p>We both heard the shutter above our heads suddenly thrown open, but +darkness hid anyone who might have been listening.</p> + +<p>"Hm!" said the priest. "Overheard! Fine conspirators we are! Some +eavesdropper!"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" and remembering whose window it was, I held him; for he would +have stalked away.</p> + +<p>"Are you there?" came a clear, gentle voice, that fell from the window +in the breaking ripples of a fountain plash.</p> + +<p>The bit of statuary had become suddenly animate and was not so +marble-cold to mankind as it looked. Thinking we had been taken for an +expected lover, I, too, was moving off, when the voice, that sounded +like the dropping golden notes of a cremona, called out in tones of +vibrating alarm:</p> + +<p>"Don't—don't go! Priest! Priest! Father! It's you I'm speaking to. I've +heard every word!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>Father Holland and I were too much amazed to do aught but gape from each +other to the dark window. We could now see the outlines of a white face +there.</p> + +<p>"If you'd please put one bench on top of another, and balance a bucket +on that, I think I could get down," pleaded the low, thrilling voice.</p> + +<p>"An' in the name of the seven wonders of creation, what for would you be +getting down?" asked the astonished priest.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Hurry! Are you getting the bench?" coaxed the voice.</p> + +<p>"Faith an' we're not! And we have no thought of doing such a thing!" +began the good man with severity.</p> + +<p>"Then, I'll jump," threatened the voice.</p> + +<p>"And break your pretty neck," answered the ungallant father with +indignation.</p> + +<p>There was a rustling of skirts being gathered across the window sill and +outlines of a white face gave place to the figure of a frail girl +preparing for a leap.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" I cried, genuinely alarmed, with a mental vision of shattered +statuary on the ground. "Don't! I'm getting the benches," and I piled +them up, with a rickety bucket on top. "Wait!" I implored, stepping up +on the bottom bench. "Give me your hand," and as I caught her hands, she +leaped from the window to the bucket, and the bucket to the ground, with +a daintiness, which I thought savored of experience in such escapades.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you mean, young woman?" demanded Father Holland in anger. "I'll +have none of your frisky nonsense! Do you know, you baggage, that you +are delaying this young man in a matter that is of life-and-death +importance? Tell me this instant, what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want to save that woman, Miriam! You're both so slow and stupid! +Come, quick!" and she caught us by the arms. "There's a skiff down among +the rushes in the flats. I can guide you to it. Cross the river in it! +Oh! Quick! Quick! Some of the Hudson's Bay brigades have already +passed!"</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" we both demanded as in one breath.</p> + +<p>"I'm Frances Sutherland. My father is one of the Selkirk settlers and he +had word that they would pass to-night! Oh! Come! Come!"</p> + +<p>This girl, the daughter of a man who was playing double to both +companies! And her service to me would compel me to be loyal to him! +Truly, I was becoming involved in a way that complicated simple duty. +But the girl had darted ahead of us, we following by the flutter of the +white gown, and she led us out of the courtyard by a sally-port to the +rear of a block-house. She paused in the shadow of some shrubbery.</p> + +<p>"Get fagots from the Indians to light us across the flats," she +whispered to Father Holland. "They'll think nothing of your coming. +You're always among them!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mistress Sutherland!" I began, as the priest hurried forward to the +Indian camp-fires, "I hate to think of you risking yourself in this way +for——"</p> + +<p>"Stop thinking, then," she interrupted abruptly in a voice that somehow +reminded me of my first vision of statuary.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," I blundered on. "Father Holland and I have both +forgotten to apologize for our rudeness about helping you down."</p> + +<p>"Pray don't apologize," answered the marble voice. Then the girl +laughed. "Really you're worse than I thought, when I heard you bungling +over a boat. I didn't mind your rudeness. It was funny."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said I, abashed. There are situations in which conversation is +impossible.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mind your rudeness," she repeated, "and—and—you mustn't mind +mine. Homesick people aren't—aren't—responsible, you know. Ah! Here +are the torches! Give me one. I thank you—Father Holland—is it not? +Please smother them down till we reach the river, or we'll be followed."</p> + +<p>She was off in a flash, leading us through a high growth of rushes +across the flats. So I was both recognized and remembered from the +previous night. The thought was not displeasing. The wind moaned +dismally through the reeds. I did not know that I had been glancing +nervously behind at every step, with uncomfortable recollections<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> of +arrows and spear-heads, till Father Holland exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Why, boy! You're timid! What are you scared of?"</p> + +<p>"The devil!" and I spoke truthfully.</p> + +<p>"Faith! There's more than yourself runs from His Majesty; but resist the +devil and he will flee from you."</p> + +<p>"Not the kind of devil that's my enemy," I explained. I told him of the +arrow-shot and spear-head, and all mirth left his manner.</p> + +<p>"I know him, I know him well. There's no greater scoundrel between +Quebec and Athabasca."</p> + +<p>"My devil, or yours?"</p> + +<p>"Yours, lad. Let your laughter be turned to mourning! Beware of him! +I've known more than one murder of his doing. Eh! But he's cunning, so +cunning! We can't trip him up with proofs; and his body's as slippery as +an eel or we might——"</p> + +<p>But a loon flapped up from the rushes, brushing the priest's face with +its wings.</p> + +<p>"Holy Mary save us!" he ejaculated panting to keep up with our guide. +"Faith! I thought 'twas the devil himself!"</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean it? Would it be right to get hold of Le Grand +Diable?" I asked. Frances Sutherland had slackened her pace and we were +all three walking abreast. A dry cane crushed noisily under foot and my +head ducked down as if more arrows had hissed past.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mane it?" he cried, "mane it? If ye knew all the evil he's done ye'd +know whether I mane it." It was his custom when in banter to drop from +English to his native brogue like a merry-andrew.</p> + +<p>"But, Father Holland, I had him in my power. I struck him, but I didn't +kill him, more's the pity!"</p> + +<p>"An' who's talking of killin', ye young cut-throat? I say get howld of +his body and when ye've got howld of his body, I'd further advise +gettin' howld of the butt end of a saplin'——"</p> + +<p>"But, Father, he was my canoeman. I had him in my power."</p> + +<p>Instantly he squared round throwing the torchlight on my face.</p> + +<p>"Had him in your power—knew what he'd done—and—and—didn't?"</p> + +<p>"And didn't," said I. "But you almost make me wish I had. What do you +take traders for?"</p> + +<p>"You're young," said he, "and I take traders for what they are——"</p> + +<p>"But I'm a trader and I didn't——" Though a beginner, I wore the airs +of a veteran.</p> + +<p>"Benedicite!" he cried. "The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall +deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher!"</p> + +<p>"Benedicite!" he repeated. "May ye keep as clean a conscience in this +land as you've brought to it."</p> + +<p>"Amen, Father!" said I.</p> + +<p>"Here we are," exclaimed Frances Sutherland<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> as we emerged from the +reeds to the brink of the river, where a skiff was moored. "Go, be +quick! I'll stay here! 'Twill be better without me. The Hudson's Bay are +keeping close to the far shore!"</p> + +<p>"You can't stay alone," objected Father Holland.</p> + +<p>"I shall stay alone, and I've had my way once already to-night."</p> + +<p>"But we don't wish to lose one woman in finding another," I protested.</p> + +<p>"Go," she commanded with a furious little stamp. "You lose time! +Stupids! Do you think I stay here for nothing? We may have been followed +and I shall stay here and watch! I'll hide in the rushes! Go!" And there +was a second stamp.</p> + +<p>That stamp of a foot no larger than a boy's hand cowed two strong men +and sent us rowing meekly across the river.</p> + +<p>"Did ye ever—did ever ye see such a little termagant, such a +persuasive, commanding little queen of a termagant?" asked the priest +almost breathless with surprise.</p> + +<p>"Queen of courage!" I answered back.</p> + +<p>"Queen of hearts, too, I'm thinking. Arrah! Me hearty, to be young!"</p> + +<p>She must have smothered her torch, for there was no light among the +reeds when I looked back. We crossed the river slowly, listening between +oar-strokes for the paddle-dips of approaching canoes. There was no +sound but the lashing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> of water against the pebbled shore and we lay in +a little bay ready to dash across the fleet's course, when the boats +should come abreast.</p> + +<p>We had not long to wait. A canoe nose cautiously rounded the headland +coming close to our boat. Instantly I shot our skiff straight across its +path and Father Holland waved the torches overhead.</p> + +<p>"Hist! Hold back there—have a care!" I called.</p> + +<p>"Clear the way!" came an angry order from the dark. "Clear—or we fire!"</p> + +<p>"Fire if you dare, you fools!" I retorted, knowing well they would not +alarm the fort, and we edged nearer the boat.</p> + +<p>"Where's Eric Hamilton?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"A curse on you! None of your business! Get out of the way! Who are +you?" growled the voice.</p> + +<p>"Answer—quick!" I urged Father Holland, thinking they would respect +holy orders; and I succeeded in bumping my craft against their canoe.</p> + +<p>"Strike him with your paddle, man!" yelled the steersman, who was beyond +reach.</p> + +<p>"Give 'im a bullet!" called another.</p> + +<p>"For shame, ye saucy divils!" shouted the priest, shaking his torch +aloft and displaying his garb. "Shame to ye, threatenin' to shoot a +missionary! Ye'd be much better showin' respect to the Church. Whur's +Eric Hamilton?" he demanded in a fine show of indignation, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> he +caught the edge of their craft in his right hand.</p> + +<p>"Let go!" and the steersman threateningly raised a pole that shone +steel-shod.</p> + +<p>"Let go—is ut ye're orderin' me?" thundered the holy man, now in a +towering rage, and he flaunted the torch over the crew. "Howld y'r +imp'dent tongues!" he shouted, shaking the canoe. "Be civil this minute, +or I'll spill ye to the bottom, ye load of cursin' braggarts! Faith an' +ut's a durty meal ye'd make for the fush! Foine answers ye give polite +questions! How d'y' know we're not here to warn ye about the fort? For +shame to ye. Whur's Eric Hamilton, I say?"</p> + +<p>Some of the canoemen recognized the priest. Conciliatory whispers passed +from man to man.</p> + +<p>"Hamilton's far ahead—above the falls now," answered the steersman.</p> + +<p>"Then, as ye hope to save your soul," warned Father Holland not yet +appeased, "deliver this young man's message!"</p> + +<p>"Tell Hamilton," I cried, "that she whom he seeks is held captive by a +band of Sioux on Lake Winnipeg and to make haste. Tell him that and +he'll reward you well!"</p> + +<p>"Vary by one word from the message," added the priest, "and my curses'll +track your soul to the furnace."</p> + +<p>Father Holland relaxed his grasp, the paddles dipped down and the canoe +was lost in the darkness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>More than once I thought that a shadowy thing like an Indian's boat had +hung on our rear and the craft seemed to be dogging us back to the +flats. Father Holland raised his torch and could see nothing on the +water but the glassy reflection of our own forms. He said it was a +phantom boat I had seen; and, truly, visions of Le Grande Diable had +haunted me so persistently of late, I could scarcely trust my senses. +Frances Sutherland's torch suddenly appeared waving above the flats. I +put muscle to the oar and before we had landed she called out—</p> + +<p>"An Indian's canoe shot past a moment ago. Did you see it?"</p> + +<p>"No," returned Father Holland.</p> + +<p>"I think we did," said I.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"How can I thank you for what you have done?" I was saying to Frances +Sutherland as we entered the fort by the same sally-port.</p> + +<p>"Do you really want to know how?"</p> + +<p>"Do I?" I was prepared to offer dramatic sacrifice.</p> + +<p>"Then never think of it again, nor speak of it again, nor know me any +more than if it hadn't happened——"</p> + +<p>"The conditions are hard."</p> + +<p>"And——"</p> + +<p>"And what?" I asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"And help me back the way I came down. For if my father—oh! if my +father knew—he would kill me!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Faith! So he ought!" ejaculated the priest. "Risking such precious +treasure among vandals!"</p> + +<p>Again I piled up the benches. From the bench, she stepped to the bucket, +and from the bucket to my shoulder, and as the light weight left my +shoulder for the window sill, unknown to her, I caught the fluffy skirt, +now bedraggled with the night dew, and kissed it gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Oh—ho—and oh-ho and oh-ho," hummed the priest. "Do <i>I</i> scent +matrimony?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless it's in your nose," I returned huffily. "Show me a man of +all the hundreds inside, Father Holland, that wouldn't go on his +marrow-bones to a woman who risks life and reputation, which is dearer +than life, to save another woman!"</p> + +<p>"Bless you, me hearty, if he wouldn't, he'd be a villain," said the +priest.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>DECORATING A BIT OF STATUARY</h3> + + +<p>I frequently passed that window above the stoop next day. Once I saw a +face looking down on me with such withering scorn, I wondered if the +disgraceful scene with Louis Laplante had become noised about, and I +hastened to take my exercise in another part of the courtyard. +Thereupon, others paid silent homage to the window, but they likewise +soon tired of that parade ground.</p> + +<p>Eastern notions of propriety still clung to me. Of this I had immediate +proof. When our rough crews were preparing to re-embark for the north, I +was shocked beyond measure to see this frail girl come down with her +father to travel in our company. Not counting her father, the priest, +Duncan Cameron, Cuthbert Grant and myself, there were in our party +three-score reckless, uncurbed adventurers, who feared neither God nor +man. I thought it strange of a father to expose his daughter to the bold +gaze, coarse remarks, and perhaps insults of such men. Before the end of +that trip, I was to learn a lesson in western chivalry, which is not +easily explained, or forgotten. As father and daughter were waiting to +take their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> places in a boat, a shapeless, flat-footed woman, wearing +moccasins—probably the half-breed wife of some trader in the fort—ran +to the water's edge with a parcel of dainties, and kissing the girl on +both cheeks, wished her a fervent God-speed.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" growled the young Nor'-Wester, who had been carried from the +banquet hall, and now wore the sour expression that is the aftermath of +banquets. "Look at that fat lump of a bumblebee distilling honey from +the rose! There are others who would appreciate that sort of thing! This +<i>is</i> the wilderness of lost opportunities!"</p> + +<p>The girl seated herself in a canoe, where the only men were Duncan +Cameron, her father and the native <i>voyageurs</i>; and I dare vouch a score +of young traders groaned at the sight of this second lost opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Look, Gillespie! Look!" muttered my comrade of the banquet hall. "The +Little Statue set up at the prow of yon canoe! I'll wager you do +reverence to graven images all the way to Red River!"</p> + +<p>"I'll wager we all do," said I.</p> + +<p>And we did. To change the metaphor—after the style of Mr. Jack +MacKenzie's eloquence—I warrant there was not a young man of the eight +crews, who did not regard that marble-cold face at the prow of the +leading canoe, as his own particular guiding star. And the white face +beneath the broad-brimmed hat, tied down at each side in the fashion of +those days, was as serenely unconscious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> of us as any star of the +heavenly constellations. If she saw there were objects behind her canoe, +and that the objects were living beings, and the living beings men, she +gave no evidence of it. Nor was the Little Statue—as we had got in the +habit of calling her—heartless. In spite of the fears which she +entertained for her stern father, her filial affection was a thing to +turn the lads of the crews quite mad. Scarcely were we ashore at the +different encampments before father and daughter would stroll off arm in +arm, leaving the whole brigade envious and disconsolate. Was it the +influence of this slip of a girl, I wonder, that a curious change came +over our crews? The men still swore; but they did it under their breath. +Fewer yarns of a quality, which need not be specified, were told; and +certain kinds of jokes were no longer greeted with a loud guffaw. Still +we all thought ourselves mightily ill-used by that diminutive bundle of +independence, and some took to turning the backs of their heads in her +direction when she chanced to come their way. One young spark said +something about the Little Statue being a prig, which we all invited him +to repeat, but he declined. Had she played the coquette under the +innocent mask of sympathy and all other guiles with which gentle slayers +ambush strong hearts, I dare affirm there would have been trouble enough +and to spare. Suicides, fights, insults and worse, I have witnessed when +some fool woman with a fair face came among such men. "Fool" woman, I +say, rather than "false";<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> for to my mind falsity in a woman may not be +compared to folly for the utter be-deviling of men.</p> + +<p>With our guiding star at the prow of the fore canoe, we continued to +wind among countless islands, through narrow, rocky channels and along +those endless water-ways, that stretch like a tangled, silver chain with +emerald jewels, all the way from the Great Lakes to the plains. +Somewhere along Rainy River, where there is an oasis of rolling, wooded +meadows in a desert of iron rock, we pitched our tents for the night. +The evening air was fragrant with the odor of summer's early flowers. I +could not but marvel at the almost magical growth in these far northern +latitudes. Barely a month had passed since snow enveloped the earth in a +winding sheet, and I have heard old residents say that the winter's +frost penetrated the ground for a depth of four feet. Yet here we were +in a very tropic of growth run riot and the frost, which still lay +beneath the upper soil, was thawing and moistening the succulent roots +of a wilderness of green. The meadow grass, swaying off to the forest +margin in billowy ripples, was already knee-high. The woods were an +impenetrable mass of foliage from the forest of ferns about the broad +trunks to the high tree-tops, nodding and fanning in the night breeze +like coquettish dames in an eastern ball-room. Everywhere—at the river +bank, where our tents stood, above the long grass, and in the +forest—clear, faint and delicate, like the bloom of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> a fair woman's +cheek, or the pensive theme of some dream fugue, or the sweet notes of +some far-off, floating harmonies, was an odor of hidden flowers. A +trader's nature is, of necessity, rough in the grain, but it is not +corrupt with the fevered joys of the gilded cities. Even we could feel +the call of the wilds to come and seek. It was not surprising, +therefore, that after supper father and daughter should stroll away from +the encampment, arm in arm, as usual. As their figures passed into the +woods, the girl broke away from her father's arm and stooped to the +ground.</p> + +<p>"Pickin' flowers," was the laconic remark of the trader, who had helped +me with Louis Laplante on the beach; and the man lay back full length +against a rising knoll to drink in the delicious freshness of the night. +Every man of us watched the vanishing forms.</p> + +<p>"Smell violets?" asked a heterogeneous combination of sun-brown and +buckskin.</p> + +<p>"This ground's a perfect wheat-field of violets," exclaimed the +whiskered youngster.</p> + +<p>"Lots o' Mayflowers and night-shades in the bush," declared a ragged +man, who was one of the worst gamblers in camp, and was now aimlessly +shuffling a greasy, bethumbed pack of cards.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" came simultaneously from half a dozen. Personally, it struck me +one might pick flowers for a certain purpose in the bush without being +observed.</p> + +<p>"Mayflowers in June!" scoffed the boy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aye, babe! Mayflowers in June! May is June in these here regions," +asserted the man. "Ladies-and-gentlemen, too, many's you could pick in +the bush!"</p> + +<p>"Ladies-and-gentlemen! Sounds funny in this desert, don't it?" asked the +lad. "What <i>are</i> ladies-and-gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?" continued the gambler, unfolding a curious lore of +flowers. "Those little potty, white things, split up the middle with a +green head on top—grow under ferns. Come on. Cards are ready! Who's +going to play?"</p> + +<p>"Durn it! Them's Dutchman's breeches!" exclaimed the sun-browned +trapper. "O Goll! If that Little Stature finds any Dutchman's breeches, +she that's so scared of us men! O Goll! Won't she blush? Say, babe, why +don't y'r fill y'r hat with 'em and put 'em in her tent?" and the big +trapper set up a hoarse guffaw which led a general chorus. Then the men +gathered round, to play.</p> + +<p>"Faith, lads!" interrupted the voice of the Irish priest, who had come +upon the group so quietly the gambler scarcely had time to tuck the +tell-tale cards under his buckskin smock, "I'm thinking ye've all +developed a mighty sudden interest in botany. Are there any bleeding +hearts in the bush?"</p> + +<p>"There may be here," suggested the boy.</p> + +<p>"It all comes of the Little Statute!" declared the big trapper.</p> + +<p>"Oh! You and your Stature and Statute!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> Why can't you say Statue?" asked +the lad with the pompous scorn of youthful knowledge.</p> + +<p>"Because, oh, babe with the chicken-down," answered the man, giving his +corrector a thud with his broad palm and sticking heroically by his slip +of the tongue, "I says the words I means and don't play no prig. She +don't pay more attention to you than if you wuz a stump, that's why +she's a statue, ain't it? And the fellows've got to stretch their necks +to come up to her ideas of what's proper, that's why she's a stature, +ain't it? And not a man of us, if His Reverence'll excuse me for saying +so, dare let out a cuss afore her. That's why she's a statute, ain't +it?"</p> + +<p>And when I walked off to the bush with as great a show of indifference +as I could muster, I heard the priest crying "Bravo!" to the man's +defence. How came it that I was in the woods slushing through damp mold +up to my ankles in black ooze? I no longer had any fear of an ambushed +enemy; for Le Grand Diable, the knave, had forfeited his wages and +deserted at Fort William. He was not seen after the night of the meeting +with the Hudson's Bay canoe off the flats. I drew Father Holland's +attention to this, and the priest was no longer so sceptical about that +phantom boat. But it was not of these things I thought, as I tore a +great strip of bark from the trunk of a birch tree and twisted the piece +into a huge cornucopia. Nor had I the slightest expectation of +encountering father and daughter in the woods. That marble face was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> too +much in earnest for the vainest of men to suppose its indifference +assumed; and no matter how fair the eyes, no man likes to be looked at, +by eyes that do not see him, or see him only as a blur on the landscape. +Still that marble face stood for much that is dear to the roughest of +hearts and about which men do not talk. So I went on packing damp moss +into the bottom of the bark horn, arranging frail lilies and night +shades about the rim and laying a solid pyramid of violets in the +centre. The mold, through which I was floundering, seemed to merge into +a bog; but the lower reaches were hidden by a thicket of alder bushes +and scrub willows. I mounted a fallen tree and tried to get cautiously +down to some tempting lily-pads. Evidently some one else on the other +side of the brush was after those same bulbs; for I heard the sucking +sound of steps plunging through the mire of water and mud.</p> + +<p>"Why, Gillespie," called a voice, "what in the world are you doing +here?" and the boy emerged through the willows gaping at me in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Just what I want to know of you," said I.</p> + +<p>He presented a comical figure. His socks and moccasins had been tied and +slung round his neck. With trousers rolled to his knees, a hatful of +water-lilies in one hand and a sheaf of ferns in the other, he was +wading through the swamp.</p> + +<p>"You see," he began sheepishly. "I thought she couldn't—couldn't +conveniently get these for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> herself, and it would be kind of nice—kind +of nice—you know—to get some for her——"</p> + +<p>"Don't explain," I blurted out. "I was trying that same racket myself."</p> + +<p>"You know, Gillespie," he continued quite confidentially, "when a man's +been away from his mother and sisters for years and years and years——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, babe; you're an octogenarian," I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"And feels himself going utterly to the bow-wows without any stop-gear +to keep him from bowling clean to the bottom, a person feels like doing +something decent for a girl like the Little Statue," and the youth +plucked half a dozen yellow flowers as well as the coveted white ones. +"Have some for your basket," said he. His face was puckered into +pathetic gravity. "It's so hanged easy to go to the bow-wows out here," +he added.</p> + +<p>"Not so easy as in the towns," I interjected.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but I've been there, gone all through 'em in the towns," he +explained. "That's why the pater packed me off to this wilderness."</p> + +<p>And that, thought I, is why the west gets all the credit for the wild +oats gathered in old lands and sown in the new world. I pulled him up to +the log on which I was balanced, and seating himself he dangled his feet +down and began to souse the mud off his toes.</p> + +<p>"Say!" he exclaimed. "How are you going to get 'em to her?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take them to the tent."</p> + +<p>"Well, Gillespie, when you take yours up, take mine along, too, will +you? There's a good fellow! Do!" He was drawing on his socks.</p> + +<p>"Not much I will. If there's any proxy, you can take mine," I returned.</p> + +<p>"Say! Do you think Father Holland would take 'em up?" He had tied his +moccasins and was standing.</p> + +<p>"Can't say I think he would."</p> + +<p>"He'd let you hear about it to all eternity, too, wouldn't he?" +reflected the lad. "Come on, then; but you go first." And he followed me +up the log, both of us feeling like shame-faced schoolboys. We stole +into the tent, the one tent of all others that had interest for us that +night, and deposited our burden of flowers on the couch of buffalo +robes.</p> + +<p>"Hurry," whispered my companion. "Stack these ferns round somewhere! +Hurry! She'll be back." And leaving me to do the arranging he bolted for +the tent flaps. "Oh! Open earth and swallow me!" he almost screamed, and +I heard the sound of two persons coming in violent collision at the +entrance.</p> + +<p>"The babe, as I live! The rascally young broth of a babe! Ye rogue, ye!" +burred the deep bass tones of the trader whom I had met over Louis +Laplante. "What are ye doin' here?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it only you? Thank fortune!" ejaculated the boy, dodging back. +"What are you doing yourself? Great guns! You scared the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> wits out of +me! Ho! Here's a lark! Gillespie, my pal, look here!" I turned to see +the sheepish, guilty, smirking faces of the trader, the rough-tongued, +sunburned trapper and the ragged gambler grouped at the entrance, and +each man's arms were full of flowers.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm durned!" began the rough man.</p> + +<p>"As she's jack-spotted us all," drawled the gentle, liquid tones of the +gambler, "we'd better go ahead and——"</p> + +<p>"And decorate a bit of statuary," shouted the lad with a laugh.</p> + +<p>It was a long tent, like the booth of a fair, with supports at each end, +and we were festooning it from pole to pole with moss and ferns when +somebody rasped at the door. "Mon alive! What's goin' on here?" We +started from our work with the guilty alacrity of burglars. There stood +Frances Sutherland's father, much aghast at the proceedings, and by his +side was a face with cheeks flaming poppy red and lips twitching in +merriment. There was a sudden snow-storm of flowers being tossed down, +and five men brushed past the two spectators and dashed into the hiding +of gathering dusk. At the foot of the knoll I ran against the priest.</p> + +<p>"That," roared Father Holland, shaking with laughter. "That's what I +call good stuff in the rough! Faith, but ye'll give me good stuff in the +rough. I want none o' yer gilded chivalry from the tinsel towns!"</p> + +<p>There was a wreath of night-shades in the Little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> Statue's hat when the +canoes set out next morning. Mayflowers were at her throat, violets in +her girdle and I know not what in a basket at her feet. The face was +unconscious of us as ever, but about the downcast eyelids played a +tender gentleness which was not there before. Once I caught her glancing +back among us as if she would pick out the culprits; and when her eyes +for a moment rested on me, my heart set up a silly thumping. But she +looked just as pointedly at the others, and I know every man's heart of +them responded; for the boy began such a floundering I thought he would +spill his canoe. A quick trip brought us to the mouth of Red River, +where the Hudson's Bay <i>voyageurs</i> under Colin Robertson were resting. +Here I was surprised to learn that Eric Hamilton had not waited but had +hastened up Red River to Fort Douglas. I could not but connect this +southward move of his with the sudden flight of Le Grand Diable from +Fort William.</p> + +<p>After brief pause at the foot of Lake Winnipeg, our brigade turned +southward and made speed up the Red through the rush-grown sedgy swamps +which over-flood the river bed. Farther south the banks towered high and +smoke curled up from the huts of Lord Selkirk's settlers. Women with +nets in their hands to scare off myriad blackbirds that clouded the air, +and men from the cornfields ran to the river edge and cheered us as we +passed. Here the Sutherlands landed. Some of the traders thought it a +good omen, that Hudson's Bay settlers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> cheered Nor'-Wester brigades; but +in one bend of the muddy Red, the bastions of Fort Douglas, where +Governor McDonell of the rival company ruled, loomed up and the guns +pointing across the river wore anything but a welcome look.</p> + +<p>We passed Fort Douglas unmolested, followed the Red a mile farther to +its junction with the Assiniboine and here disembarked at Fort +Gibraltar, the headquarters of the Nor'-Westers in Red River.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>MORE STUDIES IN STATUARY</h3> + + +<p>"So he laughs at our warrant?" exclaimed Duncan Cameron. "Hut-tut! We'll +teach him to respect warrants issued under authority of 43^d King George +III.," and the dictator of Fort Gibraltar fussed angrily among the +papers of his desk and beat a threatening tattoo with knuckles and +heels.</p> + +<p>The Assiniboine enters the Red at something like a right angle and in +this angle was the Nor'-Westers' fort, named after an old-world +stronghold, because we imagined our position gave us the same command of +the two waterways by which the <i>voyageurs</i> entered and left the north +country as Gibraltar has of the Mediterranean. Governor McDonell had +thought to outwit us by building the Hudson's Bay fort a mile further +down the current of the Red. It was a sharp trick, for Fort Douglas +could intercept Nor'-West brigades bound from Montreal to Fort +Gibraltar, or from Fort Gibraltar to the Athabasca. Two days after our +arrival, Cuthbert Grant, with a band of <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, had gone to Fort +Douglas to arrest Captain Miles McDonell for plundering Nor'-West posts. +The doughty governor took<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> Grant's warrant as a joke and scornfully +turned the whole North-West party out of Fort Douglas. On the stockades +outside were proclamations commanding settlers to take up arms in +defense of the Hudson's Bay traders and forbidding natives to sell furs +to any but our rivals. These things added fuel to the hot anger of the +chafing <i>Bois-Brulés</i>. A curious race were these mongrel plain-rangers, +with all the savage instincts of the wild beast and few of the brutal +impulses of the beastly man. The descendants of French fathers and +Indian mothers, they inherited all the quick, fiery daring of the +Frenchman, all the endurance, craft and courage of the Indian, and all +the indolence of both white man and red. One might cut his enemy's +throat and wash his hands in the life blood, or spend years in +accomplishing revenge; but it is a question if there is a single +instance on record of a <i>Bois-Brulé</i> molesting an enemy's family. When +the Frenchman married a native woman, he cast off civilization like an +ill-fitting coat and virtually became an Indian. When the Scotch settler +married a native woman, he educated her up to his own level and if she +did not become entirely civilized, her children did. One was the wild +man, the Ishmaelite of the desert, the other, the tiller of the soil, +the Israelite of the plain. Such were the tameless men, of whom Cuthbert +Grant was the leader, the leader solely from his fitness to lead.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when the warden returned from Fort Douglas. +I was busy over my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> desk. Father Holland was still with us awaiting the +departure of traders to the south, and Duncan Cameron was stamping about +the room like a caged lion. There came a quick, angry tramp from the +hall.</p> + +<p>"That's Grant back, and there's no one with him," muttered Cameron with +suppressed anger; and in burst the warden himself, his heavy brows dark +with fury and his eyes flashing like the fire at a pistol point. +Involuntarily I stopped work and the priest glanced across at me with a +look which bespoke expectation of an explosion. Grant did not storm. +That was not his way. He took several turns about the room, mastered +himself, and speaking through his teeth said quietly, "There be some +fools that enjoy playing with gunpowder. I'm not one of them! There be +some idiots that like teasing tigers. 'Tis not sport to my fancy! There +be some pot-valiant braggarts that defy the law. Let them enjoy the +breaking of the law!"</p> + +<p>"What—what—what?" sputtered the Highland governor, springing first on +one side of Grant and then on the other, all the while rumbling out +maledictions on Lord Selkirk, and Governor McDonell and Fort Douglas. +"What do ye say, mon? Do I understand ye clearly, there's no prisoners +with ye?"</p> + +<p>"Laughs at the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>. The fool laughs at the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>! I've +seen gophers cock their eye at a wolf, before that same wolf made a +breakfast of gophers! The fool laughs at your warrant,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> Sir! Scouted it, +Sir! Bundled us out of Fort Douglas like cattle!" The warden went on in +a bitter strain to tell of the effect of the posted proclamations on his +followers.</p> + +<p>"So the lordly Captain Miles McDonell of the Queen's Rangers, +generalissimo of all creation, defies us, does he?" demanded Cameron in +great dudgeon, scarcely crediting his ears.</p> + +<p>"Aye!" answered Grant, "but he can ill afford to be so high and mighty. +We went through the settlement and half the people are with us——"</p> + +<p>"That's good! That's good!" responded Cameron with keen relish.</p> + +<p>"They're heartily sick of the country," continued the warden, "and would +leave to-morrow if we'd supply the boats. Last winter they nearly +starved. The company's generous supply was rancid grease and wormy +flour."</p> + +<p>"Fine way o' colonizing a country," stormed Cameron, "bring men out as +settlers and arm them to fight! We'll spike his guns by shipping a score +more away."</p> + +<p>"We've spiked his guns in a better way," said Grant dryly. "Some of the +friendlies are so afraid he'll take their guns away and leave them +defenceless unless they fight us, they've sent their arms here for +safekeeping. We'll keep them safe, I'll warrant." Grant smiled, showing +his white teeth in a way that was not pleasant to see, and somehow +reminded me of a dog's snarl.</p> + +<p>"Good! Good! Excellent, Grant." Such strategy pleased Cameron. "See +here, mon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> Cuthbert, we've the law on our side—we've the warrants to +back the law! We'd better give yon dour fool a lesson. He's broken the +peace. We haven't. Come out, an' I'll talk it over with ye!"</p> + +<p>The two went out, Grant saying as they passed the window—"Let him +tamper with the fur trade among the Indians and I'll not answer for it! +That last order not to sell——" The rest of the remark I lost.</p> + +<p>"'Twould serve him well right if they did," returned Cameron, and both +men walked beyond hearing.</p> + +<p>Father Holland and I were left alone. The fort became ominously still. +There was a distant clatter of receding hoofs; but we were on the south +side of the warehouse and could not see which way the horses were +galloping.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid—I'm afraid both sides will be rash," observed the priest.</p> + +<p>The sun-dial indicated six o'clock. I closed and locked the office +desks. We had supper in the deserted dining-hall. Afterwards we strolled +to the northeast gate, and looking in the direction of Fort Douglas, +wondered what scheme could be afoot. Here my testimony need not be taken +for, or against, either side. All I saw was Duncan Cameron with the +other white men of the fort standing on a knoll some distance from Fort +Gibraltar, evidently gazing towards Fort Douglas. Against the sky, above +the settlement, there were clouds of rising smoke.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Burning hay-ricks?" I questioned.</p> + +<p>"Aye, and houses! 'Tis shameless work leaving the people exposed to the +blasts of next winter! Shameless, shameless work! Y'r company'll gain +nothing by it, Rufus!"</p> + +<p>Across the night came faint, short snappings like a fusillade of shots.</p> + +<p>"Looting the neutrals," said the priest. "God grant there be no blood on +the plains this night! These fool traders don't realize what it means to +rouse blood in an Indian! They'll get a lesson yet! Give the red devils +a taste of blood and there won't be a white unscalped to the Rockies! +I've seen y'r fine, clever rascals play the Indian against rivals, and +the game always ends the same way. The Indian is a weapon that's quick +to cut the hand of the user."</p> + +<p>Little did I realize my part in the terrible fulfilment of that +prophecy.</p> + +<p>"Look alive, lad! Where are y'r wits? What's that?" he cried, suddenly +pointing to the river bank.</p> + +<p>Up from the cliff sprang a form as if by magic. It came leaping straight +to the fort gate.</p> + +<p>"Some frightened half-breed wench," surmised the priest.</p> + +<p>I saw it was a woman with a shawl over her head like a native.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bon soir!</i>" said I after the manner of traders with Indian women; but +she rushed blindly on to the gate.</p> + +<p>The fort was deserted. Suspicion of treachery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> flashed on me. How many +more half-breeds were beneath that cliff?</p> + +<p>"Stop, huzzie!" I ordered, springing forward and catching her so tightly +by the wrist that she swung half-way round before she could check +herself. She wrenched vigorously to get free. "Stop! Be still, you +huzzie!"</p> + +<p>"Be still—you what?" asked a low, amazed voice that broke in ripples +and froze my blood. A shawl fluttered to the ground, and there stood +before us the apparition of a marble face.</p> + +<p>"The Little Statue!" I gasped in sheer horror at what I had done.</p> + +<p>"The little—what?" asked the rippling voice, that sounded like cold +water flowing under ice, and a pair of eyes looked angrily down at the +hand with which I was still unconsciously gripping her arm.</p> + +<p>"I'd thank you, Sir," she began, with a mock courtesy to the priest, +"I'd thank you, Sir, to call off your mastiff."</p> + +<p>"Let her go, boy!" roared the priest with a hammering blow across my +forearm that brought me to my senses and convinced me she was no wraith.</p> + +<p>Mastiff! That epithet stung to the quick. I flung her wrist from me as +if it had been hot coals. Now, a woman may tread upon a man—also stamp +upon him if she has a mind to—but she must trip it daintily. Otherwise +even a worm may turn against its tormentor. To have idolized that marble +creature by day and night, to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> laid our votive offerings on its +shrine, to have hungered for the sound of a woman's lips for weeks, and +to hear those lips cuttingly call me a dog—were more than I could +stand.</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand pardons, Mistress Sutherland!" I said with a pompous +stiffness which I intended should be mighty crushing. "But when ladies +deck themselves out as squaws and climb in and out of windows,"—that +was brutal of me; she had done it for Miriam and me—"and announce +themselves in unexpected ways, they need not hope to be recognized."</p> + +<p>And did she flare back at me? Not at all.</p> + +<p>"You waste time with your long speeches," she said, turning from me to +Father Holland.</p> + +<p>Thereupon I strode off angrily to the river bank.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Father Holland," I heard her say as I walked away, "I must go to +Pembina! I'm in such trouble! There's a Frenchman——"</p> + +<p>Trouble, thought I; she is in trouble and I have been thinking only of +my own dignity. And I stood above the river, torn between desire to rush +back and wounded pride, that bade me stick it out. Over the plains came +the shout of returning plunderers. I could hear the throb, throb of +galloping hoofs beating nearer and nearer over the turf, and reflected +that I might make the danger from returning <i>Bois-Brulés</i> the occasion +of a reconciliation.</p> + +<p>"Come here, lad!" called Father Holland. I needed no urging. "Ye must +rig up in tam-o'-shanter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> and tartan, like a Highland settler, and take +Mistress Sutherland back to Fort Douglas. She's going to Pembina to meet +her father, lad, when I go south to the Missouri. And, lad," the priest +hesitated, glancing doubtfully from Miss Sutherland to me, "I'm thinking +there's a service ye might do her."</p> + +<p>The Little Statue was looking straight at me now, and there were +tear-marks about the heavy lashes. Now, I do not pretend to explain the +power, or witchery, a gentle slip of a girl can wield with a pair of +gray eyes; but when I met the furtive glance and saw the white, veined +forehead, the arched brows, the tremulous lips, the rounded chin, and +the whole face glorified by that wonderful mass of hair, I only know, +without weapon or design, she dealt me a wound which I bear to this day. +What a ruffian I had been! I was ashamed, and my eyes fell before hers. +If a libation of blushes could appease an offended goddess, I was livid +evidence of repentance. I felt myself flooded in a sudden heat of shame. +She must have read my confusion, for she turned away her head to hide +mantling forgiveness.</p> + +<p>"There's a crafty Frenchman in the fort has been troubling the lassie. +I'm thinking, if ye worked off some o' your anger on him, it moight be +for the young man's edification. Be quick! I hear the breeds returning!"</p> + +<p>"But I have a message," she said in choking tones.</p> + +<p>"From whom?" I asked aimlessly enough.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Eric Hamilton!" she answered.</p> + +<p>"Eric Hamilton!" both the priest and I shouted.</p> + +<p>"Yes—why? What—what—is it? He's wounded, and he wants a Rufus +Gillespie, who's with the Nor'-Westers. The <i>Bois-Brulés</i> fired on the +fort. Where <i>is</i> Rufus Gillespie?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you, lassie! Here—here—here he is!" The holy father thumped my +back at every word. "Here he is, crazy as a March hare for news of +Hamilton!"</p> + +<p>"You—Rufus—Gillespie!" So she did not even know my name. Evidently, if +she troubled my thoughts, I did not trouble hers.</p> + +<p>"He's told me so much about you," she went on, with a little pant of +astonishment. "How brave and good——"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" I interrupted roughly. "What's the message?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hamilton wishes to see you at once," she answered coldly.</p> + +<p>"Then kill two birds with one stone! Take her home and see Hamilton—and +hurry!" urged the priest.</p> + +<p>The half-breeds were now very near.</p> + +<p>"Put it over your head!" and Father Holland clapped the shawl about +Frances Sutherland after the fashion of the half-breed women.</p> + +<p>She stood demurely behind him while I ran up-stairs in the warehouse to +disguise myself in tartan plaid. When I came out, Duncan Cameron was in +the gateway welcoming Cuthbert Grant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> and the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, as if +pillaging defenceless settlers were heroic. Victors from war may be +inspiring, but a half-breed rabble, red-handed from deeds of violence, +is not a sight to edify any man.</p> + +<p>"What's this ye have, Father?" bawled one impudent fellow, and he +pointed sneeringly at the figure in the folds of the shawl.</p> + +<p>"Let the wench be!" was the priest's reply, and the half-breed lounged +past with a laugh.</p> + +<p>I was about to offer Frances Sutherland my arm to escort her from the +mob, when I felt Father Holland's hard knuckles dig viciously into my +ribs.</p> + +<p>"Ye fool ye! Ye blundering idiot!" he whispered, "she's a half-breed. +Och! But's time y'r eastern greenness was tannin' a good western russet! +Let her follow with bowed head, or you'll have the whole pack on y'r +heels!"</p> + +<p>With that admonition I strode boldly out, she behind, humble, with +downcast eyes like a half-breed girl.</p> + +<p>We ran down the river path through the willows and jumping into a canoe +swiftly rounded the forks of the Assiniboine and Red. There we left the +canoe and fled along a trail beneath the cliff till the shouting of the +half-breeds could be no longer heard. At once I turned to offer her my +arm. She must have bruised her feet through the thin moccasins, for the +way was very rough. I saw that she was trembling from fatigue.</p> + +<p>"Permit me," I said, offering my arm as formally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> as if she had been +some grand lady in an eastern drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Thank you—I'm afraid I must," and she reluctantly placed a light hand +on my sleeve.</p> + +<p>I did not like that condescending compulsion, and now out of danger, I +became strangely embarrassed and angry in her presence. The "mastiff" +epithet stuck like a barb in my boyish chivalry. Was it the wind, or a +low sigh, or a silent weeping, that I heard? I longed to know, but would +not turn my head, and my companion was lagging just a step behind. I +slackened speed, so did she. Then a voice so low and soft and golden it +might have melted a heart of stone—but what is a heart of stone +compared to the wounded pride of a young man?—said, "Do you know, I +think I rather like mastiffs?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said I icily, in no mood for raillery.</p> + +<p>"Like <i>them</i> for friends, not enemies, to be protected by <i>them</i>, +not—not bitten," the voice continued with a provoking emphasis of the +plural "<i>them</i>."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said I, with equal emphasis of the obnoxious plural. "Ladies find +<i>them</i> useful at times."</p> + +<p>That fling silenced her and I felt a shiver run down the arm on my +sleeve.</p> + +<p>"Why, you're shivering," I blundered out. "You must let me put this +round you," and I pulled off the plaid and would have placed it on her +shoulders, but she resisted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am not in the least cold," she answered frigidly—which is the only +untruth I ever heard her tell—"and you shall not say '<i>must</i>' to me," +and she took her hand from my arm. She spoke with a tremor that warned +me not to insist. Then I knew why she had shivered.</p> + +<p>"Please forgive, Miss Sutherland," I begged. "I'm such a maladroit +animal."</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you, a maladroit mastiff with teeth!"</p> + +<p>Mastiff! That insult again! I did not reproffer my arm. We strode +forward once more, she with her face turned sideways remote from me, I +with my face sideways remote from her, and the plaid trailing from my +hand by way of showing her she could have it if she wished. We must have +paced along in this amiable, post-matrimonial fashion for quite a +quarter of the mile we had to go, and I was awkwardly conscious of +suppressed laughing from her side. It was the rippling voice, that +always seemed to me like fountain splash in the sunshine, which broke +silence again.</p> + +<p>"Really," said the low, thrilling, musical witchery by my side, "really, +it's the most wonderful story I have ever heard!"</p> + +<p>"Story?" I queried, stopping stock still and gaping at her.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly wonderful! So intensely interesting and delightful."</p> + +<p>"Interesting and delightful?" I interrogated in sheer amazement. This +girl utterly dumfounded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> me, and in the conceit of youth I thought it +strange that any girl could dumfound me.</p> + +<p>"What an interesting life you have had, to be sure!"</p> + +<p>"I have had?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, don't you know you've been talking in torrents for the past ten +minutes? No? Do you forget?" and she laughed tremulously either from +embarrassment, or cold.</p> + +<p>"Well!" said I, befooled into good-humor and laughing back. "If you give +me a day's warning, I'll try to keep up with you."</p> + +<p>"Ah! There! I've put you through the ice at last! It's been such hard +work!"</p> + +<p>"And I come up badly doused!"</p> + +<p>"Stimulated too! You're doing well already!"</p> + +<p>"My thanks to my instructor," and catching the spirit of her mockery, I +swept her a courtly bow.</p> + +<p>"There! There!" she cried, dropping raillery as soon as I took it up. +"You were cross at the window. I was cross on the flats. You nearly +wrenched my hand off——"</p> + +<p>"Can you blame me?" I asked. "And to pay me back you turned my head and +stole my heart——"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she interrupted. "Let's clean the slate and begin again."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart, if you'll wear this tartan and stop shivering." I +was not ready to consent to an unconditional surrender.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hate your 'ifs' and 'buts' and so-much-given-for-so-much-got," she +exclaimed with an impatient, little stamp, "but—but—" she added +inconsistently, "if—if—you'll keep one end of the plaid for yourself, +I'll take the other."</p> + +<p>"Ho—ho! I like 'ifs' and 'buts.' Have you more of that kind?" I +laughed, whisking the fold about us both. Drawing her hand into mine, I +kept it there.</p> + +<p>"It isn't so cold as—as that, is it?" asked the voice under the plaid.</p> + +<p>"Quite," I returned valiantly, tightening my clasp. She laughed a low, +mellow laugh that set my heart beating to the tune of a trip-hammer. I +felt a great intoxication of strength that might have razed Fort Douglas +to the ground and conquered the whole world, which, I dare say, other +young men have felt when the same kind of weight hung upon their +protection.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Little Statue! Why have you been so hard on us?" I began.</p> + +<p>"<i>Us?</i>" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Me—then," and I gulped down my embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Because——"</p> + +<p>"Because what?"</p> + +<p>"No <i>what</i>. Just because!" She was astonished that her decisive reason +did not satisfy.</p> + +<p>"Because! A woman's reason!" I scoffed.</p> + +<p>"Because! It's the best and wisest and most wholesome reason ever +invented. Think what it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> avoids saying and what wisdom may be behind +it!"</p> + +<p>"Only wisdom?"</p> + +<p>"You be careful! There'll be another cold plunge! Tell me about your +friend's wife, Miriam," she answered, changing the subject.</p> + +<p>And when I related my strange mission and she murmured, "How +noble," I became a very Samson of strength, ready to vanquish +an army of Philistine admirers with the jawbone of my inflated +self-confidence—provided, always, one queen of the combat were looking +on.</p> + +<p>"Are you cold, now?" I asked, though the trembling had ceased.</p> + +<p>No, she was not cold. She was quite comfortable, and the answer came in +vibrant tones which were as wine to a young man's heart.</p> + +<p>"Are you tired, Frances?" and the "No" was accompanied by a little +laugh, which spurred more questioning for no other purpose than to hear +the music of her voice. Now, what was there in those replies to cause +happiness? Why have inane answers to inane, timorous questions +transformed earth into paradise and mortals into angels?</p> + +<p>"Do you find the way very far—Frances?" The flavor of some names tempts +repeated tasting.</p> + +<p>"Very far?" came the response in an amused voice, "find it very far? Yes +I do, quite far—oh! No—I don't. Oh! I don't know!" She broke into a +joyous laugh at her own confusion,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> gaining more self-possession as I +lost mine; and out she slipped from the plaid.</p> + +<p>"I wish it were a thousand times farther," and I gazed ruefully at the +folds that trailed empty.</p> + +<p>What other absurd things I might have said, I cannot tell; but we were +at the fort and I had to wrap the tartan disguise about myself. +Stooping, I picked a bunch of dog-roses growing by the path, then felt +foolish, for I had not the courage to give them to her, and dropped them +without her knowledge. She gave the password at the gate. I was taken +for a Selkirk Highlander and we easily gained entrance.</p> + +<p>A man brushed past us in the gloom of the courtyard. He looked +impudently down into her face. It was Laplante, and my whole frame +filled with a furious resentment which I had not guessed could be +possible with me.</p> + +<p>"That Frenchman," she whispered, but his figure vanished among the +buildings. She showed me the council hall where Eric could be found.</p> + +<p>"And where do you go?" I asked stupidly.</p> + +<p>She indicated the quarters where the settlers had taken refuge. I led +her to the door.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you'll be safe?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Yes, quite, as long as the settlers are here; and you, you will let +me know when the priest sets out for Pembina?"</p> + +<p>I vowed more emphatically than the case required that she should know.</p> + +<p>"Are there no dark halls in there, unsafe for you?" I questioned.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>"None," and she went up the first step of the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you're safe?" I also mounted a step.</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite, thank you," and she retreated farther, "and you, have you +forgotten you came to see Mr. Hamilton?"</p> + +<p>"Why—so I did," I stammered out absently.</p> + +<p>She was on the top step, pulling the latch-string of the great door.</p> + +<p>"Stop! Frances—dear!" I cried.</p> + +<p>She stood motionless and I felt that this last rashness of an unruly +tongue—too frank by far—had finished me.</p> + +<p>"What? Can I do anything to repay you for your trouble in bringing me +here?"</p> + +<p>"I've been repaid," I answered, "but indeed, indeed, long live the +Queen! May it please Her Majesty to grant a token to her leal and +devoted knight——"</p> + +<p>"What is thy request?" she asked laughingly. "What token doth the knight +covet?"</p> + +<p>"The token that goes with <i>good-nights</i>," and I ventured a pace up the +stairs.</p> + +<p>"There, Sir Knight," she returned, hastily putting out her hand, which +was not what I wanted, but to which I gratefully paid my devoir. "Art +satisfied?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Till the Queen deigns more," and I paused for a reply.</p> + +<p>She lingered on the threshold as if she meant to come down to me, then +with a quick turn vanished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> behind the gloomy doors, taking all the +light of my world with her; but I heard a voice, as of some happy bird +in springtime, trilling from the hall where she had gone, and a new song +made music in my own heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>A SHUFFLING OF ALLEGIANCE</h3> + + +<p>Time was when Fort Douglas rang as loudly with mirth of assembled +traders as ever Fort William's council hall. Often have I heard veterans +of the Hudson's Bay service relate how the master of revels used to fill +an ample jar with corn and quaff a beaker of liquor for every grain in +the drinker's hour-glass.</p> + +<p>"How stands the hour-glass?" the governor of the feast, who was +frequently also the governor of the company, would roar out in +stentorian tones, that made themselves heard above the drunken brawl.</p> + +<p>"High, Your Honor, high," some flunkey of the drinking bout would bawl +back.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, another grain was picked from the jar, another flagon tossed +down and the revel went on. This was a usual occurrence before and after +the conflict with the Nor'-Westers. But the night that I climbed the +stairs of the main warehouse and, mustering up assurance, stepped into +the hall as if I belonged to the fort, or the fort belonged to me, there +was a different scene. A wounded man lay on a litter at the end of the +long, low room; and the traders sitting on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> benches against the +walls, or standing aimlessly about, were talking in suppressed tones. +Scotchmen, driven from their farms by the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, hung around in +anxious groups. The lanterns, suspended on iron hooks from mid-rafter, +gave but a dusky light, and I vainly scanned many faces for Eric +Hamilton. That he was wounded, I knew. I was stealing stealthily towards +the stretcher at the far end of the place, when a deep voice burred +rough salutation in my ear.</p> + +<p>"Hoo are ye, gillie?" It was a shaggy-browed, bluff Scotchman, who +evidently took me in my tartan disguise for a Highland lad. Whether he +meant, "How are you," or "Who are you," I was not certain. Afraid my +tongue might betray me, I muttered back an indistinct response. The Scot +was either suspicious, or offended by my churlishness. I slipped off +quickly to a dark corner, but I saw him eying me closely. A youth +brushed past humming a ditty, which seemed strangely out of place in +those surroundings. He stood an elbow's length from me and kicked +moccasined heels against the floor in the way of light-headed lads. Both +the air and figure of the young fellow vaguely recalled somebody, but +his back was towards me. I was measuring my comrade, wondering if I +might inquire where Hamilton could be found, when the lad turned, and I +was face to face with the whiskered babe of Fort William. He gave a +long, low whistle.</p> + +<p>"Gad!" he gasped. "Do my eyes tell lies? As I live, 'tis your very self! +Hang it, now, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> thought you were one of those solid bodies wouldn't do +any turn-coating——"</p> + +<p>"Turn-coating!" I repeated in amazement.</p> + +<p>"One of those dray-horse, old reliables, wouldn't kick over the traces, +not if the boss pumped his arms off licking you! Hang it! I'm not that +sort! By gad, I'm not! I've got too many oats! I can't stand being jawed +and gee-hawed by Dunc. Cameron; so when the old Gov. threatened to dock +me for being full, I just kicked up my heels and came. But say! I didn't +think you would, Gillespie!"</p> + +<p>"No?" said I, keeping my own counsel and waiting for the Nor'-West +deserter to proceed.</p> + +<p>"What 'd y' do it for, Gillespie? You're as sober as cold water! Was it +old Cameron?"</p> + +<p>"You're not talking straight, babe," said I. "You know Cameron doesn't +nag his men. What did <i>you</i> do it for?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" and the lad gave a laugh over my challenge of his veracity. "See +here, old pal, I'll tell you if you tell me."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead with your end of the contract!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, look here. We're not in this wilderness for glory. I knock +down to the highest bidder——"</p> + +<p>"Hudson's Bay is <i>not</i> the highest bidder."</p> + +<p>"Not unless you happen to have information they want."</p> + +<p>"Oh! That's the way of it, is it?" So the boy was selling Nor'-Westers' +secrets.</p> + +<p>"You can bet your last beaver-skin it is! Do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> you think I was old +Cam's private secretary for nothin'? Not I! I say—get your wares +as you may and sell 'em to the highest bidder. So here I am, snugly +berthed, with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs, all through +judicious—distribution—of—information." And the boy gurgled with +pleasure over his own cleverness. "And say, Gillespie, I'm in regular +clover! The Little Statue's here, all alone! Dad's gone to Pembina to +the buffalo hunt. I've got ahead of all you fellows. I'm going to +introduce a French-chap, a friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"You'd much better break his bones," was my advice. It needed no great +speculation to guess who the Frenchman was; and in the hands of that +crafty rake this prattling babe would be as putty.</p> + +<p>"Pah! You're jealous, Gillespie! We're right on the inside track!"</p> + +<p>"Lots of confidential talks with her, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Talks! Pah! You gross fatty! Why, Gillespie, what do you know of such +things? Laplante can win a girl by just looking at her—French way, you +know—he can pose better than a poem!"</p> + +<p>"Blockhead," I ground out between my teeth, a feeling taking possession +of me, which is designated "indignation" in the first person but +jealousy in the second and third. "You stupid simpleton, that Laplante +is a villain who will turn your addled pate and work you as an old wife +kneads dough."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you know about Laplante?" he demanded hotly.</p> + +<p>"I know he is an accomplished blackguard," I answered quietly, "and if +you want to spoil your chances with the Little Statue, just prance round +in his company."</p> + +<p>The lad was too much surprised to speak.</p> + +<p>"Where's Hamilton?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Find him for yourself," said he, going off in a huff.</p> + +<p>I edged cautiously near enough the wounded man to see that he was not +Hamilton. Near the litter was a group of clerks.</p> + +<p>"They're fools," one clerk was informing the others. "Cameron sent word +he'd have McDonell dead or alive. If he doesn't give himself up, this +fort'll go and the whole settlement be massacred."</p> + +<p>"Been altogether too high-handed anyway," answered another. "I'm loyal +to my company; but Lord Selkirk can't set up a military despotism here. +Been altogether better if we'd left the Nor'-Westers alone."</p> + +<p>"It's all the fault of that cocky little martinet," declared a third.</p> + +<p>"I say," exclaimed a man joining the group, "d' y' hear the news? All +the chiefs in there—" jerking his thumb towards a side door—"are +advising Captain McDonell to give himself up and save the fort."</p> + +<p>"Good thing. Who'll miss him? He'll only get a free trip to Montreal," +remarked one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> aggressives in this group. "I tell you, men, both +companies have gone a deal too far in this little slap-back game to be +keen for legal investigation. Why, at Souris, everybody knows——"</p> + +<p>He lowered his voice and I unconsciously moved from my dark corner to +hear the rest.</p> + +<p>"Hoo are ye, gillie?" said the burly Scot in my ear.</p> + +<p>Turning, I found the canny swain had followed me on an investigating +tour. Again I gave him an inarticulate reply and lost myself among other +coteries. Was the man spying on me? I reflected that if "the chiefs"—as +the Hudson's Bay man had called them—were in the side room, Eric +Hamilton would be among these conferring with the governor. As I +approached the door, I noticed my Scotch friend had taken some one into +his confidence and two men were now on my tracks. Lifting the latch, I +gave a gentle, cautious push and the hinges swung so quietly I had +slipped into the room before those inside or out could prevent me. I +found myself in the middle of a long apartment with low, sloping +ceiling, and deep window recesses. It had evidently been partitioned off +from the main hall; for the wall, ceiling and floor made an exact +triangle. At one end of the place was a table. Round this was a group of +men deeply engrossed in some sort of conference. Sitting on the window +sills and lounging round the box stove behind the table were others of +our rival's service. I saw at once it would be difficult to have access<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +to Hamilton. He was lying on a stretcher within talking range of the +table and had one arm in a sling. Now, I hold it is harder for the +unpractised man to play the spy with everything in his favor, than for +the adept to act that rôle against the impossible. One is without the +art that foils detection. The other can defy detection. So I stood +inside with my hand on the door lest the click of the closing latch +should rouse attention, but had no thought of prying into Hudson's Bay +secrets.</p> + +<p>"Your Honor," began Hamilton in a lifeless manner, which told me his +search had been bootless, and he turned languidly towards a puffy, +crusty, military gentleman, whom, from the respect shown him, I judged +to be Governor McDonell. "Duncan Cameron's warrant for the arrest is +perfectly legal. If Your Honor should surrender yourself, you will save +Fort Douglas for the Hudson's Bay Company. Besides, the whole arrest +will prove a farce. The law in Lower Canada provides no machinery for +the trial of cases occurring——" Here Hamilton came to a blank and +unexpected stop, for his eyes suddenly alighted on me with a look that +forbade recognition, and fled furtively back to the group it the table. +I understood and kept silent.</p> + +<p>"For the trial of cases occurring?" asked the governor sharply.</p> + +<p>"Occurring—here," added Hamilton, shooting out the last word as if his +arm had given him a sudden twinge. "And so I say, Your Honor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> will lose +nothing by giving yourself up to the Nor'-Westers, and will save Fort +Douglas for the Hudson's Bay."</p> + +<p>"The doctor tells me it's a compound fracture. You'll find it painful, +Mr. Hamilton," said Governor McDonell sympathetically, and he turned to +the papers over which the group were conferring. "I'm no great hand in +winning victories by showing the white flag," began the gallant captain, +"but if a free trip from here to Montreal satisfies those fools, I'll +go."</p> + +<p>"Well said! Bravo! Your Honor," exclaimed a shaggy member of the +council, bringing his fist down on the table with a thud. "I call that +diplomacy, outmanœuvring the enemy! Your Honor sets an example for +abiding by the law; you obey the warrant. They must follow the example +and leave Fort Douglas alone."</p> + +<p>"Besides, I can let His Lordship know from Montreal just what +reinforcements are needed here," continued Captain McDonell, with a +curious disregard for the law which he professed to be obeying, and a +faithful zeal for Lord Selkirk.</p> + +<p>Hamilton was looking anxiously at me with an expression of warning which +I could not fully read. Then I felt, what every one must have felt at +some time, that a third person was watching us both. Following Eric's +glance to a dark window recess directly opposite the door where I stood, +I was horrified and riveted by the beady, glistening, insolent eyes of +Louis Laplante,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> gazing out of the dusk with an expression of rakish +amusement, the amusement of a spider when a fly walks into its web. +Taken unawares I have ever been more or less of what Mr. Jack MacKenzie +was wont to call "a stupid loon!" On discovering Laplante I promptly +sustained my reputation by letting the door fly to with a sharp click +that startled the whole room-full. Whereat Louis Laplante gave a low, +soft laugh.</p> + +<p>"What do you want here, man?" demanded Governor McDonell's sharp voice.</p> + +<p>Jerking off my cap, I saluted.</p> + +<p>"My man, Your Honor," interjected Eric quietly. "Come here, Rufus," he +commanded, motioning me to his side with the hauteur of a master towards +a servant. And Louis Laplante rose and tip-toed after me with a tigerish +malice that recalled the surly squaw.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Eric!" I cried out eagerly. "Are you hurt, and at such a time?" +Unconsciously I was playing into Louis' hands, for he stood by the +stove, laughing nonchalantly.</p> + +<p>Thereupon Eric ground out some imprecation at my stupidity.</p> + +<p>"There's been a shuffling of allegiance, I hear," he said with a queer +misleading look straight at Laplante. "We've recruits from Fort +Gibraltar."</p> + +<p>Eric's words, curiously enough, banished triumph from Laplante's face +and the Frenchman's expression was one of puzzled suspicion. From Eric's +impassive features, he could read nothing. What Hamilton was driving at, +I should presently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> learn; but to find out I would no more take my eyes +from Laplante's than from a tiger about to spring. At once, to get my +attention, Hamilton brought a stick down on my toes with a sharpness +that made me leap. By all the codes of nudges and kicks and such +signaling, it is a principle that a blow at one end of human anatomy +drives through the density of the other extremity. It dawned on me that +Eric was trying to persuade Laplante I had deserted Nor'-Westers for the +Hudson's Bay. The ethics of his attempt I do not defend. It was after +the facile fashion of an intriguing era. A sharper weapon was presently +given us against Louis Laplante; for when I grasped Eric's stick to stay +the raps against my feet, I felt the handle rough with carving.</p> + +<p>"What are these carvings, may I inquire, Sir?" I asked, assuming the +strangeness, which Eric's signals had directed, but never moving my eyes +from Laplante. The villain who had befooled me in the gorge and eluded +me in the forest, and now tormented Frances Sutherland, winced under my +watchfulness.</p> + +<p>"The carvings!" answered Eric, annoyed that I did not return his plain +signals and determined to get my eye. "Pray look for yourself! Where are +your eyes?"</p> + +<p>"I can't see in this poor light, Sir; but I also have a strangely carved +thing—a spear-head. Now if this head has no handle and this handle has +no head—they might fit," I went on watching<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> Laplante, whose saucy +assurance was deserting him.</p> + +<p>"Spear-head!" exclaimed Hamilton, beginning to understand I too had my +design. "Where did you find it?"</p> + +<p>"Trying to bury itself in my head." I returned. At this, Laplante, the +knave, smiled graciously in my very face.</p> + +<p>"But it didn't succeed?" asked Hamilton.</p> + +<p>"No—it mistook me for a tree, missed the mark and went into the tree; +just as another friend of mine mistook me for a tree, hit the mark and +ran into me," and I smiled back at Laplante. His face clouded. That +reference to the scene on the beach, where his Hudson's Bay despatches +were stolen, was too much for his hot blood. "Here it is," I continued, +pulling the spear-head out of my plaid. I had brought it to Hamilton, +hoping to identify our enemy, and we did. "Please see if they fit, Sir? +We might identify our—friends!" and I searched the furtive, guilty eyes +of the Frenchman.</p> + +<p>"Dat frien'," muttered Louis with a threatening look at me, "dat frien' +of Mister Hamilton he spike good English for Scot' youth."</p> + +<p>Now Louis, as I remembered from Laval days, never mixed his English and +French, except when he was in passion furious beyond all control.</p> + +<p>"Fit!" cried Hamilton. "They're a perfect fit, and both carved the same, +too."</p> + +<p>"With what?"</p> + +<p>"Eagles," answered Eric, puzzled at my drift,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> and Louis Laplante wore +the last look of the tiger before it springs.</p> + +<p>"And eagles," said I, defying the spring, "signify that both the +spear-head and the spear-handle belong to the Sioux chief whose +daughter"—and I lowered my voice to a whisper which only Laplante and +Hamilton could hear—"is married—to Le—Grand—Diable!"</p> + +<p>"What!" came Hamilton's low cry of agony. Forgetting the fractured arm, +he sprang erect.</p> + +<p>And Louis Laplante staggered back in the dark as if we had struck him.</p> + +<p>"Laplante! Laplante! Where's that Frenchman? Bring him up here!" called +Governor McDonell's fussy, angry tones.</p> + +<p>Coming when it did, this demand was to Louis a bolt of judgment; and he +joined the conference with a face as gray as ashes.</p> + +<p>"Now about those stolen despatches! We want to know the truth! Were you +drunk, or were you not? Who has them?" Captain McDonell arraigned the +Frenchman with a fire of questions that would have confused any other +culprit but Louis.</p> + +<p>"Eric," I whispered, taking advantage of the respite offered by Louis' +examination. "We found Laplante at <i>Pointe a la Croix</i>. He was drunk. He +confessed Miriam is held by Diable's squaw. Then we discovered someone +was listening to the confession and pursued the eavesdropper into the +bush. When we came back, Laplante had been carried off. I found one of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +my canoemen had your lost fowling-piece, and it was he who had listened +and carried off the drunk sot and tried to send that spear-head into me +at the Sault. 'Twas Diable, Eric! Father Holland, a priest in our +company, told me of the white woman on Lake Winnipeg. Did you find +this—" indicating the spear handle—"there?"</p> + +<p>Eric, cold, white and trembling, only whispered an affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Was that all?"</p> + +<p>"All," he answered, a strange, fierce look coming over his face, as the +full import of my news forced home on him. "Was—was—Laplante—in +that?" he asked, gripping my arm in his unwounded hand with foreboding +force.</p> + +<p>"Not that we know of. Only Diable. But Louis is friendly with the Sioux, +and if we only keep him in sight we may track them."</p> + +<p>"I'll—keep—him—in sight," muttered Hamilton in low, slow words.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Eric!" I whispered. "If we harm him, he may mislead us. Let us +watch him and track him!"</p> + +<p>"He's asking leave to go trapping in the Sioux country. Can you go as +trader for your people? To the buffalo hunt first, then, south? I'll +watch here, if he stays; you, there, if he goes, and he shall tell us +all he knows or—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, man," I urged. "Listen!"</p> + +<p>"Where," Governor McDonell was thundering at Laplante, "where are the +parties that stole those despatches?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>The question brought both Hamilton and myself to the table. We went +forward where we could see Laplante's face without being seen by his +questioners.</p> + +<p>"If I answer, Your Honor," began the Frenchman, taking the captain's +bluster for what it was worth and holding out doggedly for his own +rights, "I'll be given leave to trap with the Sioux?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, man. Speak out."</p> + +<p>"The parties—that stole—those despatches," Laplante was answering +slowly. At this stage he looked at his interlocutor as if to question +the sincerity of the guarantee and he saw me standing screwing the +spear-head on the tell-tale handle. I patted the spear-head, smiled +blandly back, and with my eyes dared him to go on. He paused, bit his +lip and flushed.</p> + +<p>"No lies, no roguery, or I'll have you at the whipping-post," roared the +governor. "Speak up. Where are the parties?"</p> + +<p>"Near about here," stammered Louis, "and you may ask your new +turn-coat."</p> + +<p>I was betrayed! Betrayed and trapped; but he should not go free! I would +have shouted out, but Hamilton's hand silenced me.</p> + +<p>"Here!" exclaimed the astounded governor. "Go call that young +Nor'-Wester! If <i>he</i> backs up y'r story, <i>he</i> was Cameron's secretary, +you can go to the buffalo hunt."</p> + +<p>That response upset Louis' bearings. He had expected the governor would +refer to me; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> the command let him out of an awkward place and he +darted from the room, as Hamilton and I supposed,—simpletons that we +were with that rogue!—to find the young Nor'-Wester. This turn of +affairs gave me my chance. If the young Nor'-Wester and Laplante came +together, my disguise as Highlander and turn-coat would be stripped from +me and I should be trapped indeed.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, old boy!" and I gripped Hamilton's hand. "If he stays, he's +your game. When he goes, he's mine. Good luck to us both! You'll come +south when you're better."</p> + +<p>Then I bolted through the main hall thinking to elude the canny Scots, +but saw both men in the stairway waiting to intercept me. When I ran +down a flight of side stairs, they dashed to trap me at the gate. At the +doorway a man lounged against me. The lantern light fell on a pointed +beard. It was Laplante, leaning against the wall for support and shaking +with laughter.</p> + +<p>"You again, old tombstone! Whither away so fast?" and he made to hold +me. "I'm in a hurry myself! My last night under a roof, ha! ha! Wait +till I make my grand farewell! We both did well, did the grand, ho! ho! +But I must leave a fair demoiselle!"</p> + +<p>"Let go," and I threw him off.</p> + +<p>"Take that, you ramping donkey, you Anglo-Saxon animal," and he aimed a +kick in my direction. Though I could ill spare the time to do it, I +turned. All the pent-up strength, from the walk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> with Frances Sutherland +rushed into my clenched fist and Louis Laplante went down with a thud +across the doorway. There was the sish-rip of a knife being thrust +through my boot, but the blade broke and I rushed past the prostrate +form.</p> + +<p>Certain of waylaying me, the Scots were dodging about the gate; but by +running in the shadow of the warehouse to the rear of the court, I gave +both the slip. I had no chance to reconnoitre, but dug my hunting-knife +into the stockade, hoisted myself up the wooden wall, got a grip of the +top and threw myself over, escaping with no greater loss than boots +pulled off before climbing the palisade, and the Highland cap which +stuck fast to a picket as I alighted below. At dawn, bootless and +hatless, I came in sight of Fort Gibraltar and Father Holland, who was +scanning the prairie for my return, came running to greet me.</p> + +<p>"The tip-top o' the mornin' to the renegade! I thought ye'd been +scalped—and so ye have been—nearly—only they mistook y'r hat for the +wool o' y'r crown. Boots gone too! Out wid your midnight pranks."</p> + +<p>A succession of welcoming thuds accompanied the tirade. As breath +returned, I gasped out a brief account of the night.</p> + +<p>"And now," he exclaimed triumphantly, "I have news to translate ye to a +sivinth hiven! Och! But it's clane cracked ye'll be when ye hear it. +Now, who's appointed to trade with the buffalo hunters but y'r very +self?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was with difficulty I refrained from embracing the bearer of such +good tidings.</p> + +<p>"Be easy," he commanded. "Ye'll need these demonstrations, I'm +thinkin'—huntin' one lass and losin' y'r heart to another."</p> + +<p>We arranged he should go to Fort Douglas for Frances Sutherland and I +was to set out later. They were to ride along the river-path south of +the forks where I could join them. I, myself, picked out and paid for +two extra horses, one a quiet little cayuse with ambling action, the +other, a muscular broncho. I had the satisfaction of seeing Father +Holland mounted on the latter setting out for Fort Douglas, while the +Indian pony wearing an empty side-saddle trotted along in tow.</p> + +<p>The information I brought back from Fort Douglas delayed any more +hostile demonstrations against the Hudson's Bay. That very morning, +before I had finished breakfast, Governor McDonell rode over to Fort +Gibraltar, and on condition that Fort Douglas be left unmolested gave +himself up to the Nor'-Westers. At noon, when I was riding off to the +buffalo hunt and the Missouri, I saw the captain, smiling and debonair, +embarking—or rather being embarked—with North-West brigades, to be +sent on a free trip two thousand five hundred miles to Montreal.</p> + +<p>"A safe voyage to ye," said Duncan Cameron, commander of Nor'-Westers, +as the ex-governor of Red River settled himself in a canoe. "A safe +voyage to ye, mon!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And a prosperous return," was the ironical answer of the dauntless +ruler over the Hudson's Bay.</p> + +<p>"Sure now, Rufus," said Father Holland to me a year afterwards, "'twas a +prosperous return he had!"</p> + +<p>Fortunately, I had my choice of scouts, and, by dangling the prospects +of a buffalo hunt before La Robe Noire and Little Fellow, tempted them +to come with me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>HOW A YOUTH BECAME A KING</h3> + + +<p>When the prima-donna of some vauntful city trills her bird-song above +the foot-lights, or the cremona moans out the sigh of night-winds +through the forest, artificial townsfolk applaud. Yet a nesting-tree, a +thousand leagues from city discords, gives forth better music with +deeper meaning and higher message—albeit the songster sings only from +love of song. The fretted folk of the great cities cannot understand the +witching fascinations of a wild life in a wild, free, tameless land, +where God's own hand ministers to eye and ear. To fare sumptuously, to +dress with the faultless distinction that marks wealth, to see and above +all to be seen—these are the empty ends for which city men engage in a +mad, feverish pursuit of wealth, trample one another down in a strife +more ruthless than war and gamble away gifts of mind and soul. These are +the things for which they barter all freedom but the name. Where one +succeeds a thousand fail. Those with higher aims count themselves happy, +indeed, to possess a few square feet of canvas, that truly represents +the beauty dear to them, before weeds had undermined and overgrown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> and +choked the temple of the soul. That any one should exchange gilded +chains for freedom to give manhood shoulder swing, to be and to +do—without infringing on the liberty of others to be and to do—is to +such folk a matter of no small wonderment. For my part, I know I was +counted mad by old associates of Quebec when I chose the wild life of +the north country.</p> + +<p>But each to his taste, say I; and all this is only the opinion of an old +trader, who loved the work of nature more than the work of man. Other +voices may speak to other men and teach them what the waterways and +forests, the plains and mountains, were teaching me. If "ologies" and +"ics," the lore of school and market, comfort their souls—be it so. As +for me, it was only when half a continent away from the jangle of +learning and gain that I began to stir like a living thing and to know +that I existed. The awakening began on the westward journey; but the new +life hardly gained full possession before that cloudless summer day on +the prairie, when I followed the winding river trail south of the forks. +The Indian scouts were far to the fore. Rank grass, high as the +saddle-bow, swished past the horse's sides and rippled away in an +unbroken ocean of green to the encircling horizon. Of course allowance +must be made for a man in love. Other men have discovered a worldful of +beauty, when in love; but I do not see what difference two figures on +horseback against the southern sky-line could possibly make to the +shimmer of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> purple above the plains, or the fragrance of prairie-roses +lining the trail. It seems to me the lonely call of the meadow-lark high +overhead—a mote in a sea of blue—or the drumming and chirruping of +feathered creatures through the green, could not have sounded less +musical, if I had not been a lover. But that, too, is only an opinion; +for one glimpse of the forms before me brought peace into the whole +world.</p> + +<p>Father Holland evidently saw me, for he turned and waved. The other +rider gave no sign of recognition. A touch of the spur to my horse and I +was abreast of them, Frances Sutherland curveting her cayuse from the +trail to give me middle place.</p> + +<p>"Arrah, me hearty, here ye are at last! Och, but ye're a skulkin' +wight," called the priest as I saluted both. "What d'y' say for y'rself, +ye belated rascal, comin' so tardy when ye're headed for Gretna +Green—Och! 'Twas a <i>lapsus linguæ</i>! 'Tis Pembina—not Gretna +Green—that I mean."</p> + +<p>Had it been half a century later, when a little place called Gretna +sprang up on this very trail, Frances Sutherland and I need not have +flinched at this reference to an old-world Mecca for run-away lovers. +But there was no Gretna on the Pembina trail in those days and the +Little Statue's cheeks were suddenly tinged deep red, while I completely +lost my tongue.</p> + +<p>"Not a word for y'rself?" continued the priest, giving me full benefit +of the mischievous spirit working in him. "He, who bearded the foe in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +his den, now meeker than a lambkin, mild as a turtle-dove, timid as a +pigeon, pensive as a whimpering-robin that's lost his mate——"</p> + +<p>"There ought to be a law against the jokes of the clergy, Sir," I +interrupted tartly. "The jokes aren't funny and one daren't hit back."</p> + +<p>"There ought to be a law against lovers, me hearty," laughed he. +"They're always funny, and they can't stand a crack."</p> + +<p>"Against all men," ventured Frances Sutherland with that instinctive, +womanly tact, which whips recalcitrant talkers into line like a deft +driver reining up kicking colts. "All men should be warranted safe, not +to go off."</p> + +<p>"Unless there's a fair target," and the priest looked us over +significantly and laughed. If he felt a gentle pull on the rein, he +yielded not a jot. Unluckily there are no curb-bits for hard-mouthed +talkers.</p> + +<p>"Rufus, I don't see that ye wear a ticket warranting ye'll not go off," +he added merrily. Red became redder on two faces, and hot, hotter with +at least one temper.</p> + +<p>"And womankind?" I managed to blurt out, trying to second her efforts +against our tormentor. "What guarantee against dangers from them? The +pulpit silenced—though that's a big contract—mankind labeled, what for +women?"</p> + +<p>"Libeled," she retorted. "Men say we don't hit straight enough to be +dangerous."</p> + +<p>"The very reason ye are dangerous," the priest broke in. "Ye aim at a +head and hit a heart!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> Then away ye go to Gretna Green—och! It's +Pembina, I mean! Marry, my children——" and he paused.</p> + +<p>"Marry!—What?" I shouted. Thereupon Frances Sutherland broke into peals +of laughter, in which I could see no reason, and Father Holland winked.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong with ye?" asked the priest solemnly. "Faith, 'tis no +advice I'm giving; but as I was remarking, marry, my children, I'd +sooner stand before a man not warranted safe than a woman, who might +take to shying pretty charms at my head! Faith, me lambs, ye'll learn +that I speak true."</p> + +<p>As Mr. Jack MacKenzie used to put it in his peppery reproof, I always +did have a knack of tumbling head first the instant an opportunity +offered. This time I had gone in heels and all, and now came up in as +fine a confusion as any bashful bumpkin ever displayed before his lady. +Frances Sutherland had regained her composure and came to my rescue with +another attempt to take the lead from the loquacious churchman.</p> + +<p>"I'm so grateful to you for arranging this trip," and she turned +directly to me.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m," blurted Father Holland with unutterable merriment, before I +could get a word in, "he's grateful to himself for that same thing. +Faith! He's been thankin' the stars, especially Venus, ever since he got +marching orders!"</p> + +<p>"How did you reach Fort Gibraltar?" she persisted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sans boots and cap," I promptly replied, determined to be ahead of the +interloper.</p> + +<p>"Sans heart, too," and the priest flicked my broncho with his whip and +knocked the ready-made speech, with which I had hoped to silence him, +clean out of my head. Frances Sutherland took to examining remote +objects on the horizon. Hers was a nature not to be beaten.</p> + +<p>"Let us ride faster," she suddenly proposed with a glance that boded +roguery for the priest's portly form. She was off like a shaft from a +bow-string, causing a stampede of our horses. That was effective. A hard +gallop against a stiff prairie wind will stop a stout man's eloquence.</p> + +<p>"Ho youngsters!" exclaimed the priest, coming abreast of us as we reined +up behind the scouts. "If ye set me that gait—whew—I'll not be left +for Gretna Green—Faith—it's Pembina, I mean," and he puffed like a +cargo boat doing itself proud among the great liners.</p> + +<p>He was breathless, therefore safe. Frances Sutherland was not disposed +to break the accumulating silence, and I, for the life of me, could not +think of a single remark appropriate for a party of three. The ordinary +commonplaces, that stop-gap conversation, refused to come forth. I +rehearsed a multitude of impossible speeches; but they stuck behind +sealed lips.</p> + +<p>"Silence is getting heavy, Rufus," he observed, enjoying our +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>Thus we jogged forward for a mile or more.</p> + +<p>"Troth, me pet lambs," he remarked, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> breath returned, "ye'll both +bleat better without me!"</p> + +<p>Forthwith, away he rode fifty yards ahead, keeping that distance beyond +us for the rest of the day and only calling over his shoulder +occasionally.</p> + +<p>"Och! But y'r bronchos are slow! Don't be telling me y'r bronchos are +not slow! Arrah, me hearties, be making good use o' the honeymoon,—I +mean afternoon, not honeymoon. Marry, me children, but y'r bronchos are +bog-spavined and spring-halted. Jiggle-joggle faster, with ye, ye +rascals! Faith, I see ye out o' the tail o' my eye. Those bronchos are +nosing a bit too close, I'm thinkin'! I'm going to turn! I warn ye +fair—ready! One—shy-off there! Two—have a care! Three—I'm coming! +Four—prepare!"</p> + +<p>And he would glance back with shouts of droll laughter. "Get epp! We +mustn't disturb them! Get epp!" This to his own horse and off he would +go, humming some ditty to the lazy hobble of his nag.</p> + +<p>"Old angel!" said I, under my breath, and I fell to wondering what +earthly reason any man had for becoming a priest.</p> + +<p>He was right. Talk no longer lagged, whatever our bronchos did; but, +indeed, all we said was better heard by two than three. Why that was, I +cannot tell, for like beads of a rosary our words were strung together +on things commonplace enough; and fond hearts, as well as mystics, have +a key to unlock a world of meaning from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> meaningless words. Tufts of +poplars, wood islands on the prairie, skulking coyotes, that prowled to +the top of some earth mound and uttered their weird cries, mud-colored +badgers, hulking clumsily away to their treacherous holes, gophers, sly +fellows, propped on midget tails pointing fore-paws at us—these and +other common things stole the hours away. The sun, dipping close to the +sky-line, shone distorted through the warm haze like a huge blood +shield. Far ahead our scouts were pitching tents on ground well back +from the river to avoid the mosquitoes swarming above the water. It was +time to encamp for the night.</p> + +<p>Those long June nights in the far north with fire glowing in the track +of a vanished sun and stillness brooding over infinite space—have a +glory, that is peculiarly their own. Only a sort of half-darkness lies +between the lingering sunset and the early sun-dawn. At nine o'clock the +sun-rim is still above the western prairie. At ten, one may read by +daylight, and, if the sky is clear, forget for another hour that night +has begun. After supper, Father Holland sat at a distance from the tents +with his back carefully turned towards us, a precaution on his part for +which I was not ungrateful. Frances Sutherland was throned on the boxes +of our quondam table, and I was reclining against saddle-blankets at her +feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh! To be so forever," she exclaimed, gazing at the globe of solid gold +against the opal-green sky. "To have the light always clear, just +ahead,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> nothing between us and the light, peace all about, no care, no +weariness, just quiet and beauty like this forever."</p> + +<p>"Like this forever! I ask nothing better," said I with great heartiness; +but neither her eyes nor her thoughts were for me. Would the eyes +looking so intently at the sinking sun, I wondered, condescend to look +at a spot against the sun. In desperation I meditated standing up. 'Tis +all very well to talk of storming the citadel of a closed heart, but +unless telepathic implements of war are perfected to the same extent as +modern armaments, permitting attack at long range, one must first get +within shooting distance. Apparently I was so far outside the defences, +even my design was unknown.</p> + +<p>"I think," she began in low, hesitating words, so clear and thrilling, +they set my heart beating wildly with a vague expectation, "I think +heaven must be very, very near on nights like this, don't—you—Rufus?"</p> + +<p>I wasn't thinking of heaven at all, at least, not the heaven she had in +mind; but if there is one thing to make a man swear white is black and +black white and to bring him to instantaneous agreement with any +statement whatsoever, it is to hear his Christian name so spoken for the +first time. I sat up in an electrified way that brought the fringe of +lashes down to hide those gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"Very near? Well rather! I've been in heaven all day," I vowed. "I've +been getting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> glimpses of paradise all the way from Fort William——"</p> + +<p>"Don't," she interrupted with a flash of the imperious nature, which I +knew. "Please don't, Mr. Gillespie."</p> + +<p>"Please don't Mister Gillespie me," said I, piqued by a return to the +formal. "If you picked up Rufus by mistake from the priest, he sets a +good example. Don't drop a good habit!"</p> + +<p>That was my first step inside the outworks.</p> + +<p>"Rufus," she answered so gently I felt she might disarm and slay me if +she would, "Rufus Gillespie"—that was a return of the old spirit, a +compromise between her will and mine—"please don't begin saying that +sort of thing—there's a whole day before us——"</p> + +<p>"And you think I can't keep it up?"</p> + +<p>"You haven't given any sign of failing. You know, Rufus," she added +consolingly, "you really must not say those things, or something will be +hurt! You'll make me hurt it."</p> + +<p>"Something is hurt and needs mending, Miss Sutherland——"</p> + +<p>"Don't Miss Sutherland me," she broke in with a laugh, "call me Frances; +and if something is hurt and needs mending, I'm not a tinker, though my +father and the priest—yes and you, too—sometimes think so. But sisters +do mending, don't they?" and she laughed my earnestness off as one would +puff out a candle.</p> + +<p>"No—no—no—not sisters—not that," I protested. "I have no sisters, +Little Statue. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> wouldn't know how to act with a sister, unless she +were somebody else's sister, you know. I can't stand the sisterly +business, Frances——"</p> + +<p>"Have you suffered much from the sisterly?" she asked with a merry +twinkle.</p> + +<p>"No," I hastened to explain, "I don't know how to play the sisterly +touch-and-go at all, but the men tell me it doesn't work—dead failure, +always ends the same. Sister proposes, or is proposed to——"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried the Little Statue with the faintest note of alarm, and she +moved back from me on the boxes. "I think we'd better play at being very +matter-of-fact friends for the rest of the trip."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Miss Sutherland—Frances, I mean," said I. "I'm not the +fool to pretend that——"</p> + +<p>"Then pretend anything you like," and there was a sudden coldness in her +voice, which showed me she regarded my refusal and the slip in her name +as a rebuff. "Pretend anything you like, only don't say things."</p> + +<p>That was a throwing down of armor which I had not expected.</p> + +<p>"Then pretend that a pilgrim was lost in the dark, lost where men's +souls slip down steep places to hell, and that one as radiant as an +angel from heaven shone through the blackness and guided him back to +safe ground," I cried, taking quick advantage of my fair antagonist's +sudden abandon and casting aside all banter.</p> + +<p>"Children! children!" cried the priest. "Children!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> Sun's down! Time to +go to your trundles, my babes!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," I shouted. "Wait till I hear the rest of this story."</p> + +<p>At my words she had started up with a little gasp of fright. A look of +awe came into her gray eyes, which I have seen on the faces of those who +find themselves for the first time beside the abyss of a precipice. And +I have climbed many lofty peaks, but never one without passing these +places with the fearful possibilities of destruction. Always the novice +has looked with the same unspeakable fear into the yawning depths, with +the same unspeakable yearning towards the jewel-crowned heights beyond. +This, or something of this, was in the startled attitude of the +trembling figure, whose eyes met mine without flinching or favor.</p> + +<p>"Or pretend that a traveler had lost his compass, and though he was +without merit, God gave him a star."</p> + +<p>"Is it a pretty story, Rufus?" called the priest.</p> + +<p>"Very," I cried out impatiently. "Don't interrupt."</p> + +<p>"Or pretend that a poor fool with no merit but his love of purity and +truth and honor lost his way to paradise, and God gave him an angel for +a guide."</p> + +<p>"Is it a long story, Rufus?" called the priest.</p> + +<p>"It's to be continued," I shouted, leaping to my feet and approaching +her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And pretend that the pilgrim and the traveler and the fool, asked no +other privilege but to give each his heart's love, his life's devotion +to her who had come between him and the darkness——"</p> + +<p>"Rufus!" roared the priest. "I declare I'll take a stick to you. Come +away! D' y' hear? She's tired."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," she answered, in a broken whisper, so cold it stabbed me +like steel; and she put out her hand in the mechanical way of the +well-bred woman in every land.</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" I asked, holding the hand as if it had been a galvanic +battery, though the priest was coming straight towards us.</p> + +<p>"All?" she returned, the lashes falling over the misty, gray eyes. "Ah, +Rufus! Are we playing jest is earnest, or earnest is jest?" and she +turned quickly and went to her tent.</p> + +<p>How long I stood in reverie, I do not know. The priest's broad hand +presently came down on my shoulder with a savage thud.</p> + +<p>"Ye blunder-busticus, ye, what have ye been doing?" he asked. "The +Little Statue was crying when she went to her tent."</p> + +<p>"Crying?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ye idiot. I'll stay by her to-morrow."</p> + +<p>And he did. Nor could he have contrived severer punishment for the +unfortunate effect of my words. Fool, that I was! I should keep myself +in hand henceforth. How many men have made that vow regarding the woman +they love?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> Those that have kept it, I trow, could be counted easily +enough. But I had no opportunity to break my vow; for the priest rode +with Frances Sutherland the whole of the second day, and not once did he +let loose his scorpion wit. She had breakfast alone in her tent next +morning, the priest carrying tea and toast to her; and when she came +out, she leaped to her saddle so quickly I lost the expected favor of +placing that imperious foot in the stirrup. We set out three abreast, +and I had no courage to read my fate from the cold, marble face. The +ground became rougher. We were forced to follow long detours round +sloughs, and I gladly fell to the rear where I was unobserved. Clumps of +willows alone broke the endless dip of the plain. Glassy creeks +glittered silver through the green, and ever the trail, like a narrow +ribbon of many loops, fled before us to the dim sky-line.</p> + +<p>When we halted for our nooning, Frances Sutherland had slipped from her +saddle and gone off picking prairie roses before either the priest or I +noticed her absence.</p> + +<p>"If you go off, you nuisance, you," said the priest rubbing his bald +pate, and gazing after her in a puzzled way, when we had the meal ready, +"I think she'll come back and eat."</p> + +<p>I promptly took myself off and had the glum pleasure of hearing her chat +in high spirits over the dinner table of packing boxes; but she was on +her cayuse and off with the scouts long before Father Holland and I had +mounted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Rufus," said the priest with a comical, quizzical look, as we set off +together. "Rufus, I think y'r a fool."</p> + +<p>"I've thought that several hundred thousand times myself, this morning."</p> + +<p>"Have ye as much as got a glint of her eye to-day?"</p> + +<p>"No. I can't compete against the Church with women. Any fool knows that, +even as big a fool as I."</p> + +<p>"Tush, youngster! Don't take to licking your raw tongue up and down the +cynic's saw edge! Put a spur to your broncho there and ride ahead with +her."</p> + +<p>"Having offended a goddess, I don't wish to be struck dead by inviting +her wrath."</p> + +<p>"Pah! I've no patience with y'r ramrod independence! Bend a stiff neck, +or you'll break a sore heart! Ride ahead, I tell you, you young mule!" +and he brought a smart flick across my broncho.</p> + +<p>"Father Holland," I made answer with the dignity of a bishop and my nose +mighty high in the air, "will you permit me to suggest that people know +their own affairs best——"</p> + +<p>"Tush, no! I'll permit you to do nothing of the kind," said he, driving +a fly from his horse's ear. "Don't you know, you young idiot, that +between a man surrendering his love, and a woman surrendering hers, +there's difference enough to account for tears? A man gives his and gets +it back with compound interest in coin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> that's pure gold compared to his +copper. A woman gives hers and gets back——" the priest stopped.</p> + +<p>"What?" I asked, interest getting the better of wounded pride.</p> + +<p>"Not much that's worth having from idiots like you," said he; by which +the priest proved he could deal honestly by a friend, without any +mincing palliatives.</p> + +<p>His answer set me thinking for the best part of the afternoon; and I +warrant if any man sets out with the priest's premises and thinks hard +for an afternoon he will come to the same conclusion that I did.</p> + +<p>"Let's both poke along a little faster," said I, after long silence.</p> + +<p>"Oho! With all my heart!" And we caught up with Frances Sutherland and +for the first time that day I dared to look at her face. If there were +tear marks about the wondrous eyes, they were the marks of the shower +after a sun-burst, the laughing gladness of life in golden light, the +joyous calm of washed air when a storm has cleared away turbulence. Why +did she evade me and turn altogether to the priest at her right? Had I +been of an analytical turn of mind, I might, perhaps, have made a very +careful study of an emotion commonly called jealousy; but, when one's +heart beats fast, one's thoughts throng too swiftly for introspection. +Was I a part of the new happiness? I did not understand human nature +then as I understand it now, else would I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> have known that fair eyes +turn away to hide what they dare not reveal. I prided myself that I was +now well in hand. I should take the first opportunity to undo my folly +of the night before.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was after supper. Father Holland had gone to his tent. Frances +Sutherland was arranging a bunch of flowers in her lap; and I took my +place directly behind her lest my face should tell truth while my tongue +uttered lies.</p> + +<p>"Speaking of stars, you know Miss Sutherland," I began, remembering that +I had said something about stars that must be unsaid.</p> + +<p>"Don't call me <i>Miss</i> Sutherland, Rufus," she said, and that gentle +answer knocked my grand resolution clean to the four winds.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Frances——" Chaos and I were one. Whatever was it I +was to say about stars?</p> + +<p>"Well?" There was a waiting in the voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes—you know—Frances." I tried to call up something coherent; but +somehow the thumping of my heart set up a rattling in my head.</p> + +<p>"No—Rufus. As a matter of fact, I don't know. You were going to tell me +something."</p> + +<p>"Bother my stupidity, Miss—Miss—Frances, but the mastiff's forgotten +what it was going to bow-wow about!"</p> + +<p>"Not the moon this time," she laughed. "Speaking of stars," and she gave +me back my own words.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Yes! Speaking of stars! Do you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> know I think a lot of the men +coming up from Fort William got to regarding the star above the leading +canoe as their own particular star."</p> + +<p>I thought that speech a masterpiece. It would convince her she was the +star of all the men, not mine particularly. That was true enough to +appease conscience, a half-truth like Louis Laplante's words. So I would +rob my foolish avowal of its personal element. A flush suffused the +snowy white below her hair.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I didn't notice any particular star above the leading canoe. There +were so very, very many splendid stars, I used to watch them half the +night!"</p> + +<p>That answer threw me as far down as her manner had elated me.</p> + +<p>"Well! What of the stars?" asked the silvery voice.</p> + +<p>I was dumb. She flung the flowers aside as though she would leave; but +Father Holland suddenly emerged from the tent fanning himself with his +hat.</p> + +<p>"Babes!" said he. "You're a pair of fools! Oh! To be young and throw our +opportunities helter-skelter like flowers of which we're tired," and he +looked at the upset lapful. "Children! children! <i>Carpe Diem! Carpe +Diem!</i> Pluck the flowers; for the days are swifter than arrows," and he +walked away from us engrossed in his own thoughts, muttering over and +over the advice of the Latin poet, "<i>Carpe Diem! Carpe Diem!</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is <i>Carpe Diem</i>?" asked Frances Sutherland, gazing after the +priest in sheer wonder.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't strong on classics at Laval and I haven't my crib."</p> + +<p>"Go on!" she commanded. "You're only apologizing for my ignorance. You +know very well."</p> + +<p>"It means just what he says—as if each day were a flower, you know, had +its joys to be plucked, that can never come again."</p> + +<p>"Flowers! Oh! I know! The kind you all picked for me coming up from Fort +William. And do you know, Rufus, I never could thank you all? Were those +<i>Carpe Diem</i> flowers?"</p> + +<p>"No—not exactly the kind Father Holland means we should pick."</p> + +<p>"What then?" and she turned suddenly to find her face not a hand's +length from mine.</p> + +<p>"This kind," I whispered, bending in terrified joy over her shoulder; +and I plucked a blossom straight from her lips and another and yet +another, till there came into the deep, gray eyes what I cannot +transcribe, but what sent me away the king of all men—for had I not +found my Queen?</p> + +<p>And that was the way I carried out my grand resolution and kept myself +in hand.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE BUFFALO HUNT</h3> + + +<p>I question if Norse heroes of the sea could boast more thrilling +adventure than the wild buffalo hunts of American plain-rangers. A +cavalcade of six hundred men mounted on mettlesome horses eager for the +furious dash through a forest of tossing buffalo-horns was quite as +imposing as any clash between warring Vikings. Squaws, children and a +horde of ragged camp-followers straggled in long lines far to the +hunters' rear. Altogether, the host behind the flag numbered not less +than two thousand souls. Like any martial column, our squad had captain, +color-bearer and chaplain. Luckily, all three were known to me, as I +discovered when I reached Pembina. The truce, patched up between +Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers after Governor McDonell's surrender, left +Cuthbert Grant free to join the buffalo hunt. Pursuing big game across +the prairie was more to his taste than leading the half-breeds during +peace. The warden of the plains came hot-foot after us, and was promptly +elected captain of the chase. Father Holland was with us too. Our course +lay directly on his way to the Missouri and a jolly chaplain he made. In +Grant's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> company came Pierre, the rhymster, bubbling over with jingling +minstrelsy, that was the delight of every half-breed camp on the plains. +Bareheaded, with a red handkerchief banding back his lank hair, and clad +in fringed buckskin from the bright neck-cloth to the beaded moccasins, +he was as wild a figure as any one of the savage rabble. Yet this was +the poet of the plain-rangers, who caught the song of bird, the burr of +cataract through the rocks, the throb of stampeding buffalo, the moan of +the wind across the prairie, and tuned his rude minstrelsy to wild +nature's fugitive music. Viking heroes, I know, chanted their deeds in +songs that have come down to us; but with the exception of the Eskimo, +descendants of North American races have never been credited with a +taste for harmony. Once I asked Pierre how he acquired his art of +verse-making. With a laugh of scorn, he demanded if the wind and the +waterfalls and the birds learned music from beardless boys and +draggle-coated dominies with armfuls of books. However, it may have been +with his Pegasus, his mount for the hunt was no laggard. He rode a +knob-jointed, muscular brute, that carried him like poetic inspiration +wherever it pleased. Though Pierre's right hand was busied upholding the +hunters' flag, and he had but one arm to bow-string the broncho's +arching neck, the half-breed poet kept his seat with the easy grace of +the plainsman born and bred in the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Faith, man, 'tis the fate of genius to ride a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> fractious steed," said +Father Holland, when the bronchos of priest and poet had come into +violent collision with angry squeals for the third time in ten minutes.</p> + +<p>"And what are the capers of this, my beast, compared to the antics of +fate, Sir Priest?" asked Pierre with grave dignity.</p> + +<p>The wind caught his long hair and blew it about his face till he became +an equestrian personification of the frenzied muse. I had become +acquainted with his trick of setting words to the music of quaint +rhymes; but Father Holland was taken aback.</p> + +<p>"By the saints," he exclaimed, "I've no mind to run amuck of Pegasus! +I'll get out of your way. Faith, 'tis the first time I've seen poetry in +buckskin of this particular binding," and he wheeled his broncho out, +leaving me abreast of the rhymster.</p> + +<p>Pierre's lips began to frame some answer to the churchman.</p> + +<p>"Have a care, Father," I warned. "You've escaped the broncho; but look +out for the poet."</p> + +<p>"Save us! What's coming now?" gasped the priest.</p> + +<p>"Ha! I have it!" and Pierre turned triumphantly to Father Holland.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"The Lord be praised that poetry's free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or you'd bottle it up like a saint's thumb-bone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That beauty's beauty for eyes that see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without regard to a priestly gown——"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<p>"Hold on," interrupted Father Holland. "Hold on, Pierre!"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Your double-quick Peg<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has a limp of one leg!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"'Bone' and 'gown' don't fit, Mr. Rhymster."</p> + +<p>"Upon my honor! You turned poet, too, Father Holland!" said I. "We might +be on a pilgrimage to Helicon."</p> + +<p>"To where?" says Grant, whose knowledge of classics was less than my +own, which was precious little indeed.</p> + +<p>"Helicon."</p> + +<p>At that Father Holland burst in such roars of laughter, the rhymster +took personal offense, dug his moccasins against the horse's sides and +rode ahead. His fringed leggings were braced straight out in the +stirrups as if he anticipated his broncho transforming the concave into +the convex,—known in the vernacular as "bucking."</p> + +<p>"Mad as a hatter," said Grant, inferring the joke was on Pierre. "Let +him be! Let him be! He'll get over it! He's working up his rhymes for +the feast after the buffalo hunt."</p> + +<p>And we afterwards got the benefit of those rhymes.</p> + +<p>The tenth day west from Pembina our scouts found some herd's footprints +on soggy ground. At once word was sent back to pitch camp on rolling +land. A cordon of carts with shafts turned outward encircled the camping +ground. At one end the animals were tethered, at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> other the hunter's +tents were huddled together. All night mongrel curs, tearing about the +enclosure in packs, kept noisy watch. Twice Grant and I went out to +reconnoitre. We saw only a whitish wolf scurrying through the long +grass. Grant thought this had disturbed the dogs; but I was not so sure. +Indeed, I felt prepared to trace features of Le Grand Diable under every +elk-hide, or wolf-skin in which a cunning Indian could be disguised. I +deemed it wise to have a stronger guard and engaged two runners, Ringing +Thunder and Burnt Earth, giving them horses and ordering them to keep +within call during the thick of the hunt.</p> + +<p>At daybreak all tents were a beehive of activity. The horses, with +almost human intelligence, were wild to be off. Riders could scarcely +gain saddles, and before feet were well in the stirrups, the bronchos +had reared and bolted away, only to be reined sharply in and brought +back to the ranks. The dogs, too, were mad, tearing after make-believe +enemies and worrying one another till there were several curs less for +the hunt. Inside the cart circle, men were shouting last orders to +women, squaws scolding half-naked urchins, that scampered in the way, +and the whole encampment setting up a din that might have scared any +buffalo herd into endless flight. Grant gave the word. Pierre hoisted +the flag, and the camp turmoil was left behind. The <i>Bois-Brulés</i> kept +well within the lines and observed good order; but the Indian rabble +lashed their half-broken horses into a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> fury of excitement, that +threatened confusion to all discipline. The camp was strongly guarded. +Father Holland remained with the campers, but in spite of his holy +calling, I am sure he longed to be among the hunters.</p> + +<p>Scouts ahead, we followed the course of a half-dried slough where +buffalo tracks were visible. Some two miles from camp, the out-runners +returned with word that the herds were browsing a short distance ahead, +and that the marsh-bed widened to a banked ravine. The buffalo could not +have been found in a better place; for there was a fine slope from the +upper land to our game. We at once ascended the embankment and coursed +cautiously along the cliff's summit. Suddenly we rounded an abrupt +headland and gained full view of the buffalo. The flag was lowered, +stopping the march, and up rose our captain in his stirrups to survey +the herd. A light mist screened us and a deep growth of the leathery +grass, common to marsh lands, half hid a multitude of broad, humped, +furry backs, moving aimlessly in the valley. Coal-black noses poked +through the green stalks sniffing the air suspiciously and the curved +horns tossed broken stems off in savage contempt.</p> + +<p>From the headland beneath us to the rolling prairie at the mouth of the +valley, the earth swayed with giant forms. The great creatures were +restless as caged tigers and already on the rove for the day's march. I +suppose the vast flocks of wild geese, that used to darken the sky<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> and +fill the air with their shrill "hunk, hunk," when I first went to the +north, numbered as many living beings in one mass as that herd; but men +no more attempted to count the creatures in flock or herd, than to +estimate the pebbles of a shore.</p> + +<p>Protruding eyes glared savagely sideways. Great, thick necks hulked +forward in impatient jerks; and those dagger-pointed horns, sharper than +a pruning hook, promised no boy's sport for our company. The buffalo +sees best laterally on the level, and as long as we were quiet we +remained undiscovered. At the prospect, some of the hunters grew +excitedly profane. Others were timorous, fearing a stampede in our +direction. Being above, we could come down on the rear of the buffaloes +and they would be driven to the open.</p> + +<p>Grant scouted the counseled caution. The hunters loaded guns, filled +their mouths with balls to reload on the gallop and awaited the +captain's order. Wheeling his horse to the fore, the warden gave one +quick signal. With a storm-burst of galloping hoofs, we charged down the +slope. At sound of our whirlwind advance, the bulls tossed up their +heads and began pawing the ground angrily. From the hunters there was no +shouting till close on the herd, then a wild halloo with unearthly +screams from the Indians broke from our company. The buffaloes started +up, turned panic-stricken, and with bellowings, that roared down the +valley, tore for the open prairie. The ravine rocked with the plunging +monsters,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> and reëchoed to the crash of six-hundred guns and a +thunderous tread. Firing was at close range. In a moment there was a +battle royal between dexterous savages, swift as tigers, and these +leviathans of the prairie with their brute strength.</p> + +<p>A quick fearless horse was now invaluable; for the swiftest riders +darted towards the large buffaloes and rode within a few yards before +taking aim. Instantly, the ravine was ablaze with shots. Showers of +arrows from the Indian hunters sung through the air overhead. Men +unhorsed, ponies thrown from their feet, buffaloes wounded—or +dead—were scattered everywhere. One angry bull gored furiously at his +assailant, ripping his horse from shoulder to flank, then, maddened by +the creature's blood, and before a shot from a second hunter brought him +down, caught the rider on its upturned horns and tossed him high. By +keeping deftly to the fore, where the buffalo could not see, and +swerving alternately from side to side as the enraged animals struck +forward, trained horses avoided side thrusts. The saddle-girths of one +hunter, heading a buffalo from the herd, gave way as he was leaning over +to send a final ball into the brute's head. Down he went, shoulders +foremost under its nose, while the horse, with a deft leap cleared the +vicious drive of horns. Strange to say, the buffalo did not see where he +fell and galloped onward. Carcasses were mowed down like felled trees; +but still we plunged on and on, pursuing the racing herd; while the +ground shook in an earthquake under stampeding hoofs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>I had forgotten time, place, danger—everything in the mad chase and was +hard after a savage old warrior that outraced my horse. Gradually I +rounded him closer to the embankment. My broncho was blowing, almost +wind-spent, but still I dug the spurs into him, and was only a few +lengths behind the buffalo, when the wily beast turned. With head down, +eyes on fire and nostrils blood-red, he bore straight upon me. My +broncho reared, then sprang aside. Leaning over to take sure aim, I +fired, but a side jerk unbalanced me. I lost my stirrup and sprawled in +the dust. When I got to my feet, the buffalo lay dead and my broncho was +trotting back. Hunters were still tearing after the disappearing herd. +Riderless horses, mad with the smell of blood and snorting at every +flash of powder, kept up with the wild race. Little Fellow, La Robe +Noire, Burnt Earth, and Ringing Thunder, had evidently been left in the +rear; for look where I might I could not see one of my four Indians. +Near me two half-breeds were righting their saddles. I also was +tightening the girths, which was not an easy matter with my excited +broncho prancing round in a circle. Suddenly there was the whistle of +something through the air overhead, like a catapult stone, or recoiling +whip-lash. The same instant one of the half-breeds gave an upward toss +of both arms and, with a piercing shriek, fell to the ground. The fellow +caught at his throat and from his bared chest protruded an arrow shaft.</p> + +<p>I heard his terrified comrade shout, "The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> Sioux! the Sioux!" Then he +fled in a panic of fear, not knowing where he was going and staggering +as he ran; and I saw him pitch forward face downwards. I had barely +realized what had happened and what it all meant, before an exultant +shout broke from the high grass above the embankment. At that my horse +gave a plunge and, wrenching the rein from my grasp, galloped off +leaving me to face the hostiles. Half a score of Indians scrambled down +the cliff and ran to secure the scalps of the dead. Evidently I had not +been seen; but if I ran I should certainly be discovered and a Sioux's +arrow can overtake the swiftest runner. I was looking hopelessly about +for some place of concealment, when like a demon from the earth a +horseman, scarlet in war-paint appeared not a hundred yards away. +Brandishing his battle-axe, he came towards me at furious speed. With +weapons in hand I crouched as his horse approached; and the fool mistook +my action for fear. White teeth glistened and he shrieked with derisive +laughter. I knew that sound. Back came memory of Le Grand Diable +standing among the shadows of a forest camp-fire, laughing as I struck +him.</p> + +<p>The Indian swung his club aloft. I dodged abreast of his horse to avoid +the blow. With a jerk he pulled the animal back on its haunches. Quick, +when it rose, I sent a bullet to its heart. It lurched sideways, reared +straight up and fell backwards with Le Grand Diable under. The fall +knocked battle-axe and club from his grasp;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> and when his horse rolled +over in a final spasm, two men were instantly locked in a death clutch. +The evil eyes of the Indian glared with a fixed look of uncowed hatred +and the hands of the other tightened on the redman's throat. Diable was +snatching at a knife in his belt, when the cries of my Indians rang out +close at hand. Their coming seemed to renew his strength; for with the +full weight of an antagonist hanging from his neck, the willowy form +squirmed first on his knees, then to his feet. But my men dashed up, +knocked his feet from under him and pinioned him to the ground. La Robe +Noire, with the blood-lust of his race, had a knife unsheathed and would +have finished Diable's career for good and all; but Little Fellow struck +the blade from his hand. That murderous attempt cost poor La Robe Noire +dearly enough in the end.</p> + +<p>Hare-skin thongs of triple ply were wound about Diable's crossed arms +from wrists to elbows. Burnt Earth gagged the knave with his own +moccasin, while Ringing Thunder and Little Fellow quickly roped him neck +and ankles to the fore and hind shanks of the dead buffalo. This time my +wily foe should remain in my power till I had rescued Miriam.</p> + +<p>"<i>Monsieur! Monsieur!</i>" gasped Little Fellow as he rose from putting a +last knot to our prisoner's cords. "The Sioux!" and he pointed in alarm +to the cliff.</p> + +<p>True, in my sudden conflict, I had forgotten about the marauding Sioux; +but the fellows had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> disappeared from the field of the buffalo hunt and +it was to the embankment that my Indians were anxiously looking. Three +thin smoke lines were rising from the prairie. I knew enough of Indian +lore to recognize this tribal signal as a warning to the Sioux band of +some misfortune. Was Miriam within range of those smoke signals? Now was +my opportunity. I could offer Diable in exchange for the Sioux captives. +Meanwhile, we had him secure. He would not be found till the hunt was +over and the carts came for the skins.</p> + +<p>Mounting the broncho, which Little Fellow had caught and brought back, I +ordered the Indians to get their horses and follow; and I rode up to the +level prairie. Against the southern horizon shone the yellow birch of a +wigwam. Vague movements were apparent through the long grass, from which +we conjectured the raiders were hastening back with news of Diable's +capture. We must reach the Sioux camp before these messengers caused +another mysterious disappearing of this fugitive tribe.</p> + +<p>We whipped our horses to a gallop. Again thin smoke lines arose from the +prairie and simultaneously the wigwam began to vanish. I had almost +concluded the tepee was one of those delusive mirages which lead prairie +riders on fools' errands, when I descried figures mounting ponies where +the peaked camp had stood. At this we lashed our horses to faster pace. +The Sioux galloped off and more smoke lines were rising.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do those mean, Little Fellow?" I asked; for there was smoke in a +dozen places ahead.</p> + +<p>"The prairie's on fire, <i>Monsieur</i>! The Sioux have put burnt stick in +dry grass! The wind—it blow—it come hard—fast—fast this way!" and +all four Indians reined up their horses as if they would turn.</p> + +<p>"Coward Indians," I cried. "Go on! Who's put off the trail by the fire +of a fool Sioux? Get through the fire before it grows big, or it will +catch you all and burn you to a crisp."</p> + +<p>The gathering smoke was obscuring the fugitives and my Indians still +hung back. Where the Indian refuses to be coerced, he may be won by +reward, or spurred by praise of bravery.</p> + +<p>"Ten horses to the brave who catches a Sioux!" I shouted. "Come on, +Indians! Who follows? Is the Indian less brave than the pale face?" and +we all dashed forward, spurring our hard-ridden horses without mercy. +Each Indian gave his horse the bit. Beating them over the head, they +craned flat over the horses' necks to lessen resistance to the air. A +boisterous wind was fanning the burning grass to a great tide of fire +that rolled forward in forked tongues; but beyond the flames were +figures of receding riders; and we pressed on. Cinders rained on us like +liquid fire, scorching and maddening our horses; but we never paused. +The billowy clouds of smoke that rolled to meet us were blinding, and +the very atmosphere, livid and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> quivering with heat, seemed to become a +fiery fluid that enveloped and tortured us. Involuntarily, as we drew +nearer and nearer the angry fire-tide, my hand was across my mouth to +shut out the hot burning air; but a man must breathe, and the next +intake of breath blistered one's chest like live coals on raw flesh. +Little wonder our poor beasts uttered that pitiful scream against pain, +which is the horse's one protest of suffering. Presently, they became +wildly unmanageable; and when we dismounted to blindfold them and muffle +their heads in our jackets, they crowded and trembled against us in a +frenzy of terror. Then we tied strips torn from our clothing across our +own mouths and, remounting, beat the frantic creatures forward. I have +often marveled at the courage of those four Indians. For me, there was +incentive enough to dare everything to the death. For them, what motive +but to vindicate their bravery? But even bravery in its perfection has +the limitation of physical endurance; and we had now reached the limit +of what we could endure and live. The fire wave was crackling and +licking up everything within a few paces of us. Live brands fell thick +as a rain of fire. The flames were not crawling in the insidious line of +the prairie fire when there is no wind, but the very heat of the air +seemed to generate a hurricane and the red wave came forward in leaps +and bounds, reaching out cloven fangs that hissed at us like an army of +serpents. I remember wondering in a half delirium whether parts of +Dante's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> hell could be worse. With the instinctive cry to heaven for +help, of human-kind world over, I looked above; but there was only a +great pitchy dome with glowing clouds rolling and heaving and tossing +and blackening the firmament. Then I knew we must choose one of three +things, a long detour round the fire-wave, one dash through the +flames—or death. I shouted to the men to save themselves; but Burnt +Earth and Ringing Thunder had already gone off to skirt the near end of +the fire-line. Little Fellow and La Robe Noire stuck staunchly by me. We +all three paused, facing death; and the Indians' horses trembled close +to my broncho till I felt the burn of hot stirrups against both ankles. +Our buckskin was smoking in a dozen places. There was a lull of the +wind, and I said to myself, "The calm before the end; the next hurricane +burst and those red demon claws will have us." But in the momentary +lull, a place appeared through the trough of smoke billows, where the +grass was green and the fire-barrier breached. With a shout and heads +down, we dashed towards this and vaulted across the flaming wall, our +horses snorting and screaming with pain as we landed on the smoking turf +of the other side. I gulped a great breath of the fresh air into my +suffocating lungs, tore the buckskin covering from my broncho's head and +we raced on in a swirl of smoke, always following the dust which +revealed the tracks of the retreating Sioux. There was a whiff of singed +hair, as if one of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> horses had been burnt, and Little Fellow gave a +shout. Looking back I saw his horse sinking on the blackened patch; but +La Robe Noire and I rode on. The fugitives were ascending rising ground +to the south. They were beating their horses in a rage of cruelty; but +we gained at every pace. I counted twenty riders. A woman seemed to be +strapped to one horse. Was this Miriam? We were on moist grass and I +urged La Robe Noire to ride faster and drove spurs in my own beast, +though I felt him weakening under me. The Sioux had now reached the +crest of the hill. Our horses were nigh done, and to jade the fagged +creatures up rising ground was useless.</p> + +<p>When we finally reached the height, the Sioux were far down in the +valley. It was utterly hopeless to try to overtake them. Ah! It is easy +to face death and to struggle and to fight and to triumph! But the +hardest of all hard things is to surrender, to yield to the inevitable, +to turn back just when the goal looms through obscurity!</p> + +<p>I still had Diable in my power. We headed about and crawled slowly back +by unburnt land towards the buffalo hunters.</p> + +<p>Little Fellow, we overtook limping homeward afoot. Burnt Earth and +Ringing Thunder awaited us near the ravine. The carts were already out +gathering hides, tallow, flesh and tongues. We made what poor speed we +could among the buffalo carcasses to the spot where we had left Le Grand +Diable. It was Little Fellow, who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> hobbling ahead, and the Indian +suddenly turned with such a cry of baffled rage, I knew it boded +misfortune. Running forward, I could hardly believe my eyes. Fools that +we were to leave the captive unguarded! The great buffalo lay +unmolested; but there was no Le Grand Diable. A third time had he +vanished as if in league with the powers of the air. Closer examination +explained his disappearance. A wet, tattered moccasin, with the +appearance of having been chewed, lay on the turf. He had evidently +bitten through his gag, raised his arms to his mouth, eaten away the +hare thongs, and so, without the help of the Sioux raiders, freed his +hands, untied himself and escaped.</p> + +<p>Dumfounded and baffled, I returned to the encampment and took counsel +with Father Holland. We arranged to set out for the Mandanes on the +Missouri. Diable's tribe had certainly gone south to Sioux territory. +The Sioux and the Mandanes were friendly enough neighbors this year. +Living with the Mandanes south of the Sioux country, we might keep track +of the enemy without exposing ourselves to Sioux vengeance.</p> + +<p>Forebodings of terrible suffering for Miriam haunted me. I could not +close my eyes without seeing her subjected to Indian torture; and I had +no heart to take part in the jubilation of the hunters over their great +success. The savory smell of roasting meat whiffed into my tent and I +heard the shrill laughter of the squaws preparing the hunters' feast. +With hard-wood axles<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> squeaking loudly under the unusual burden, the +last cart rumbled into the camp enclosure with its load of meat and +skins. The clamor of the people subsided; and I knew every one was +busily gorging to repletion, too intent on the satisfaction of animal +greed to indulge in the Saxon habit of talking over a meal. Well might +they gorge; for this was the one great annual feast. There would follow +a winter of stint and hardship and hunger; and every soul in the camp +was laying up store against famine. Even the dogs were happy, for they +were either roving over the field of the hunt, or lying disabled from +gluttony at their masters' tents.</p> + +<p>Father Holland remained in the tepee with me talking over our plans and +plastering Indian ointment on my numerous burns. By and by, the voices +of the feasters began again and we heard Pierre, the rhymester, chanting +the song of the buffalo hunt:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now list to the song of the buffalo hunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, chant of the brave!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, Freemen of the plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We choose our chief! We are no man's slave!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Up, riders, up, ere the early mist<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ascends to salute the rising sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up, rangers, up, ere the buffalo herds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sniff morning air for the hunter's gun!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">They lie in their lairs of dank spear-grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down in the gorge, where the prairie dips.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We've followed their tracks through the sucking ooze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where our bronchos sank to their steaming hips.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">We've followed their tracks from the rolling plain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through slime-green sloughs to a sedgy ravine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the cat-tail spikes of the marsh-grown flags<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stand half as high as the billowy green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The spear-grass touched our saddle-bows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blade-points pricked to the broncho's neck;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we followed the tracks like hounds on scent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till our horses reared with a sudden check.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The scouts dart back with a shout, "They are found!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Great fur-maned heads are thrust through reeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A forest of horns, a crunching of stems,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reined sheer on their haunches are terrified steeds!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Get you gone to the squaws at the tents, old men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cart-lines safely encircle the camp!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now, braves of the plain, brace your saddle-girths!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quick! Load guns, for our horses champ!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A tossing of horns, a pawing of hoofs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the hunters utter never a word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the stealthy panther creeps on his prey,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So move we in silence against the herd.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">With arrows ready and triggers cocked,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We round them nearer the valley bank;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They pause in defiance, then start with alarm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the ominous sound of a gun-barrel's clank.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A wave from our captain, out bursts a wild shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A crash of shots from our breaking ranks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the herd stampedes with a thunderous boom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While we drive our spurs into quivering flanks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The arrows hiss like a shower of snakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bullets puff in a smoky gust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out fly loose reins from the bronchos' bits<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hunters ride on in a whirl of dust.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">The bellowing bulls rush blind with fear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through river and marsh, while the trampled dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon bridge safe ford for the plunging herd;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth rocks like a sea 'neath the mighty tread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">A rip of the sharp-curved sickle-horns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hunter falls to the blood-soaked ground!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is gored and tossed and trampled down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On dashes the furious beast with a bound,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">When over sky-line hulks the last great form<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rumbling thunder of their hoofs' beat, beat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dies like an echo in distant hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Back ride the hunters chanting their feat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Now, old men and squaws, come you out with the carts!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's meat against hunger and fur against cold!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gather full store for the pemmican bags,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Garner the booty of warriors bold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So list ye the song of the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their glorious deeds in the days of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is the tale of the buffalo hunt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, have proudly told.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>IN SLIPPERY PLACES</h3> + + +<p>A more desolate existence than the life of a fur-trading winterer in the +far north can scarcely be imagined. Penned in some miserable lodge a +thousand miles from human companionship, only the wild orgies of the +savages varied the monotony of dull days and long nights. The winter I +spent with the Mandanes was my first in the north. I had not yet learned +to take events as the rock takes wave-blows, and was still at that +mawkish age when a man is easily filled with profound pity for himself. +A month after our arrival, Father Holland left the Mandane village. Eric +Hamilton had not yet come; so I felt much like the man whom a gloomy +poet describes as earth's last habitant. I had accompanied the priest +half-way to the river forks. Here, he was to get passage in an Indian +canoe to the tribes of the upper Missouri. After an affectionate +farewell, I stood on a knoll of treeless land and watched the +broad-brimmed hat and black robe receding from me.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, boy! God bless you!" he had said in broken voice. "Don't fall +to brooding when you're alone, or you'll lose your wits. Now mind +yourself! Don't mope!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>For my part, I could not answer a word, but keeping hold of his hand +walked on with him a pace.</p> + +<p>"Get away with you! Go home, youngster!" he ordered, roughly shaking me +off and flourishing his staff.</p> + +<p>Then he strode swiftly forward without once looking back, while I would +have given all I possessed for one last wave. As he plunged into the +sombre forest, where the early autumn frost of that north land had +already tinged the maple woods with the hectic flush of coming death, so +poignant was this last wresting from human fellowship, I could scarcely +resist the impulse to desert my station and follow him. Poorer than the +poorest of the tribes to whom he ministered, alone and armed only with +his faith, this man was ready to conquer the world for his Master. +"Would that I had half the courage for my quest," I mused, and walked +slowly back to the solitary lodge.</p> + +<p>Black Cat, Chief of the Mandane village, in a noisy harangue, adopted me +as his son and his brother and his father and his mother and I know not +what; but apart from trade with his people, I responded coldly to these +warm overtures. From Father Holland's leave-taking to Hamilton's coming, +was a desolately lonesome interval. Daily I went to the north hill and +strained my eyes for figures against the horizon. Sometimes horsemen +would gradually loom into view, head first, then arms and horse, like +the peak of a ship preceding appearance of full canvas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> and hull over +sea. Thereupon I would hurriedly saddle my own horse and ride furiously +forward, feeling confident that Hamilton had at last come, only to find +the horsemen some company of Indian riders. What could be keeping him? I +conjectured a thousand possibilities; but in truth there was no need for +any conjectures. 'Twas I, who felt the days drag like years. Hamilton +was not behind his appointed time. He came at last, walking in on me one +night when I least expected him and was sitting moodily before my +untouched supper. He had nothing to tell except that he had wasted many +weeks following false clues, till our buffalo hunters returned with news +of the Sioux attack, Diable's escape and our bootless pursuit. At once +he had left Fort Douglas for the Missouri, pausing often to send scouts +scouring the country for news of Diable's band; but not a trace of the +rascals had been found; and his search seemed on the whole more barren +of results than mine. Laplante, he reported, had never been seen the +night after he left the council hall to find the young Nor'-Wester. In +my own mind, I had no doubt the villain had been in that company we +pursued through the prairie fire. Altogether, I think Hamilton's coming +made matters worse rather than better. That I had failed after so nearly +effecting a rescue seemed to embitter him unspeakably.</p> + +<p>Out of deference to the rival companies employing us, we occupied +different lodges. Indeed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> I fear poor Eric did but a sorry business for +the Hudson's Bay that winter. I verily believe he would have forgotten +to eat, let alone barter for furs, had I not been there to lug him +forcibly across to my lodge, where meals were prepared for us both. +Often when I saw the Indian trappers gathering before his door with +piles of peltries, I would go across and help him to value the furs. At +first the Indian rogues were inclined to take advantage of his +abstraction and palm off one miserable beaver skin, where they should +have given five for a new hatchet; and I began to understand why they +crowded to his lodge, though he did nothing to attract them, while they +avoided mine. Then I took a hand in Hudson's Bay trade and equalized +values. First, I would pick over the whole pile, which the Indians had +thrown on the floor, putting spoiled skins to one side, and peltries of +the same kind in classified heaps.</p> + +<p>"Lynx, buffalo, musk-ox, marten, beaver, silver fox, black bear, +raccoon! Want them all, Eric?" I would ask, while the Indians eyed me +with suspicious resentment.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly, take everything," Eric would answer, without +knowing a word of what I had said, and at once throwing away his +opportunity to drive a good bargain.</p> + +<p>Picking over the goods of Hamilton's packet, the Mandanes would choose +what they wanted. Then began a strange, silent haggling over prices. +Unlike Oriental races, the Indian maintains stolid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> silence, compelling +the white man to do the talking.</p> + +<p>"Eric, Running Deer wants a gun," I would begin.</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, give it to him, and don't bother me," Eric would +urge, and the faintest gleam of amused triumph would shoot from the +beady eyes of Running Deer. Running Deer's peltries would be spread out, +and after a half hour of silent consideration on his part and trader's +talk on mine, furs to the value of so many beaver skins would be passed +across for the coveted gun. I remember it was a wretched old squaw with +a toothless, leathery, much-bewrinkled face and a reputation for +knowledge of Indian medicines, who first opened my eyes to the sort of +trade the Indians had been driving with Hamilton. The old creature was +bent almost double over her stout oak staff and came hobbling in with a +bag of roots, which she flung on the floor. After thawing out her frozen +moccasins before the lodge fire and taking off bandages of skins about +her ankles, she turned to us for trade. We were ready to make +concessions that might induce the old body to hurry away; but she +demanded red flannel, tea and tobacco enough to supply a whole family of +grandchildren, and sat down on the bag of roots prepared to out-siege +us.</p> + +<p>"What's this, Eric?" I asked, knowing no more of roots than the old +woman did of values.</p> + +<p>"Seneca for drugs. For goodness' sake, buy it quick and don't haggle."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But she wants your whole kit, man," I objected.</p> + +<p>"She'll have the whole kit and the shanty, too, if you don't get her +out," said Hamilton, opening the lodge door; and the old squaw presently +limped off with an armful of flannel, one tea packet and a parcel of +tobacco, already torn open. Such was the character of Hamilton's +bartering up to the time I elected myself his first lieutenant; but as +his abstractions became almost trance-like, I think the superstition of +the Indians was touched. To them, a maniac is a messenger of the Great +Spirit; and Hamilton's strange ways must have impressed them, for they +no longer put exorbitant values on their peltries.</p> + +<p>After the day's trading Eric would come to my hut. Pacing the cramped +place for hours, wild-eyed and silent, he would abruptly dash into the +darkness of the night like one on the verge of madness. Thereupon, the +taciturn, grave-faced La Robe Noire, tapping his forehead significantly, +would look with meaning towards Little Fellow; and I would slip out some +distance behind to see that Hamilton did himself no harm while the +paroxysm lasted. So absorbed was he in his own gloom, for days he would +not utter a syllable. The storm that had gathered would then discharge +its strength in an outburst of incoherent ravings, which usually ended +in Hamilton's illness and my watching over him night and day, keeping +firearms out of reach. I have never seen—and hope I never may—any +other being age so swiftly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> perceptibly. I had attributed his worn +appearance in Fort Douglas to the cannon accident and trusted the +natural robustness of his constitution would throw off the apparent +languor; but as autumn wore into winter, there were more gray hairs on +his temple, deeper lines furrowed his face and the erect shoulders began +to bow.</p> + +<p>When days slipped into weeks and weeks into months without the slightest +inkling of Miriam's whereabouts to set at rest the fear that my rash +pursuit had caused her death, I myself grew utterly despondent. Like all +who embark on daring ventures, I had not counted on continuous +frustration. The idea that I might waste a lifetime in the wilderness +without accomplishing anything had never entered my mind. Week after +week, the scouts dispatched in every direction came back without one +word of the fugitives, and I began to imagine my association with +Hamilton had been unfortunate for us both. This added to despair the +bitterness of regret.</p> + +<p>The winter was unusually mild, and less game came to the Missouri from +the mountains and bad lands than in severe seasons. By February, we were +on short rations. Two meals a day, with cat-fish for meat and dried +skins in soup by way of variety, made up our regular fare for +mid-winter. The frequent absence of my two Indians, scouring the region +for the Sioux, left me to do my own fishing; and fishing with bare hands +in frosty weather is not pleasant employment for a youth of soft +up-bringing. Protracted bachelordom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> was also losing its charms; but +that may have resulted from a new influence, which came into my life and +seemed ever present.</p> + +<p>At Christmas, Hamilton was threatened with violent insanity. As the +Mandanes' provisions dwindled, the Indians grew surlier toward us; and I +was as deep in despondency as a man could sink. Frequently, I wondered +whether Father Holland would find us alive in the spring, and I +sometimes feared ours would be the fate of Athabasca traders whose +bodies satisfied the hunger of famishing Crees.</p> + +<p>How often in those darkest hours did a presence, which defied time and +space, come silently to me, breathing inspiration that may not be +spoken, healing the madness of despair and leaving to me in the midst of +anxiety a peace which was wholly unaccountable! In the lambent flame of +the rough stone fireplace, in the darkness between Hamilton's hut and +mine, through which I often stole, dreading what I might +find—everywhere, I felt and saw, or seemed to see, those gray eyes with +the look of a startled soul opening its virgin beauty and revealing its +inmost secrets.</p> + +<p>A bleak, howling wind, with great piles of storm-scud overhead, raved +all the day before Christmas. It was one of those afternoons when the +sombre atmosphere seems weighted with gloom and weariness. On Christmas +eve Hamilton's brooding brought on acute delirium. He had been more +depressed than usual, and at night when we sat down to a cheerless +supper of hare-skin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> soup and pemmican, he began to talk very fast and +quite irrationally.</p> + +<p>"See here, old boy," said I, "you'd better bunk here to-night. You're +not well."</p> + +<p>"Bunk!" said he icily, in the grand manner he sometimes assumed at the +Quebec Club for the benefit of a too familiar member. "And pray, Sir, +what might 'bunk' mean?"</p> + +<p>"Go to bed, Eric," I coaxed, getting tight hold of his hands. "You're +not well, old man; come to bed!"</p> + +<p>"Bed!" he exclaimed with indignation. "Bed! You're a madman, Sir! I'm to +meet Miriam on the St. Foye road." (It was here that Miriam lived in +Quebec, before they were married.) "On the St. Foye road! See the lights +glitter, dearest, in Lower Town," and he laughed aloud. Then followed +such an outpouring of wild ravings I wept from very pity and +helplessness.</p> + +<p>"Rufus! Rufus, lad!" he cried, staring at me and clutching at his +forehead as lucid intervals broke the current of his madness. +"Gillespie, man, what's wrong? I don't seem able to think. +Who—are—you? Who—in the world—are you? Gillespie! O Gillespie! I'm +going mad! Am I going mad? Help me, Rufus! Why can't you help me? It's +coming after me! See it! The hideous thing!" Tears started from his +burning eyes and his brow was knotted hard as whipcord.</p> + +<p>"Look! It's there!" he screamed, pointing to the fire, and he darted to +the door, where I caught him. He fought off my grasp with maniacal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +strength, and succeeded in flinging open the door. Then I forgot this +man was more than brother to me, and threw myself upon him as against an +enemy, determined to have the mastery. The bleak wind roared through the +open blackness of the doorway, and on the ground outside were shadows of +two struggling, furious men. I saw the terrified faces of Little Fellow +and La Robe Noire peering through the dark, and felt wet beads start +from every pore in my body. Both of us were panting like fagged racers. +One of us was fighting blindly, raining down aimless blows, I know not +which, but I think it must have been Hamilton, for he presently sank in +my arms, limp and helpless as a sick child.</p> + +<p>Somehow I got him between the robes of my floor mattress. Drawing a box +to the bedside I again took his hands between mine and prepared for a +night's watch.</p> + +<p>He raved in a low, indistinct tone, muttering Miriam's name again and +again, and tossing his head restlessly from side to side. Then he fell +into a troubled sleep. The supper lay untouched. Torches had burned +black out. One tallow candle, that I had extravagantly put among some +evergreens—our poor decorations for Christmas Eve—sputtered low and +threw ghostly, branching shadows across the lodge. I slipped from the +sick man's side, heaped more logs on the fire and stretched out between +robes before the hearth. In the play of the flame Hamilton's face seemed +suddenly and strangely calm. Was it the dim<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> light, I wonder. The +furrowed lines of sorrow seemed to fade, leaving the peaceful, +transparent purity of the dead. I could not but associate the branched +shadows on the wall with legends of death keeping guard over the dying. +The shadow by his pillow gradually assumed vague, awesome shape. I sat +up and rubbed my eyes. Was this an illusion, or was I, too, going mad? +The filmy thing distinctly wavered and receded a little into the dark.</p> + +<p>An unspeakable fear chilled my veins. Then I could have laughed defiance +and challenged death. Death! Curse death! What had we to fear from +dying? Had we not more to fear from living? At that came thought of my +love and the tumult against life was quieted. I, too, like other +mortals, had reason, the best of reason, to fear death. What matter if a +lonely one like myself went out alone to the great dark? But when +thought of my love came, a desolating sense of separation—separation +not to be bridged by love or reason—overwhelmed me, and I, too, shrank +back.</p> + +<p>Again I peered forward. The shadow fluttered, moved, and came out of the +gloom, a tender presence with massy, golden hair, white-veined brow, and +gray eyes, speaking unutterable things.</p> + +<p>"My beloved!" I cried. "Oh, my beloved!" and I sprang towards her; but +she had glided back among the spectral branches.</p> + +<p>The candle tumbled to the floor, extinguishing all light, and I was +alone with the sick man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> breathing heavily in the darkness. A log broke +over the fire. The flames burst up again; but I was still alone. Had I, +too, lost grip of reality; or was she in distress calling for me? +Neither suggestion satisfied; for the mean lodge was suddenly filled +with a great calm, and my whole being was flooded and thrilled with the +trancing ecstasy of an ethereal presence.</p> + +<p>If I remember rightly—and to be perfectly frank, I do—though I was in +as desperate straits as a man could be, I lay before the hearth that +Christmas Eve filled with gratitude to heaven—God knows such a gift +must have come from heaven!—for the love with which I had been dowered.</p> + +<p>How it might have been with other men I know not. For myself, I could +not have come through that dreary winter unscathed without the influence +of her, who would have been the first to disclaim such power. Among the +velvet cushions of the east one may criticise the lapse of white man to +barbarity; but in the wilderness human voice is as grateful to the ear +as rain patter in a drouth. There, men deal with facts, not arguments. +Natives break the loneliness of an isolated life by not unwelcomed +visits. Comes a time when they tarry over long in the white man's lodge. +Other men, who have scouted the possibility of sinking to savagery, have +forsaken the ways of their youth. Who can say that I might not have +departed from the path called rectitude?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>Religion may keep a holy man upright in slippery places; but for common +mortals, devotion to a being, whom, in one period of their worship men +rank with angels, does much to steady wavering feet. Hers was the +influence that aroused loathing for the drunken debauches, the cheating, +the depraved living of the Indian lodges: hers, the influence that kept +the loathing from slipping into indifference, the indifference from +becoming participation. Indeed, I could wish a young man no better +talisman against the world, the flesh and the devil, than love for a +pure woman.</p> + +<p>How we dragged through the hours of that night, of Christmas and the +days that followed, I do not attempt to set down here. Hamilton's +illness lasted a month. What with trading and keeping our scouts on the +search for Miriam and waiting on the sick man, I had enough to busy me +without brooding over my own woes. Hard as my life was, it was fortunate +I had no time for thoughts of self and so escaped the melancholy apathy +that so often benumbs the lonely man's activities. And when Eric became +convalescent, I had enough to do finding diversion for his mind. Keeping +record of our doings on birch-bark sheets, playing quoits with the +Mandanes and polo with a few fearless riders, helped to pass the long +weary days.</p> + +<p>So the dismal winter wore away and spring was drizzling into summer. +Within a few weeks we should be turning our faces northward for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +forks of the Red and Assiniboine. The prospect of movement after long +stagnation cheered Hamilton and fanned what neither of us would +acknowledge—a faint hope that Miriam might yet be alive in the north. I +verily believe Eric would have started northward with restored courage +had not our plans been thwarted by the sinister handiwork of Le Grand +Diable.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>THE GOOD WHITE FATHER</h3> + + +<p>For a week Hamilton and I had been busy in our respective lodges getting +peltries and personal belongings into shape for return to Red River. On +Saturday night, at least I counted it Saturday from the notches on my +doorpost, though Eric, grown morose and contradictory, maintained that +it was Sunday—we sat talking before the fire of my lodge. A dreary +raindrip pattered through the leaky roof and the soaked parchment tacked +across the window opening flapped monotonously against the pine logs.</p> + +<p>Unfastening the moon-shaped medallion, which my uncle had given me, I +slowly spelled out the Nor'-Westers' motto—"Fortitude in Distress."</p> + +<p>"For-ti-tude in Dis-tress," I repeated idly. "By Jove, Hamilton, we need +it, don't we?"</p> + +<p>Eric's lips curled in scorn. Without answering, he impatiently kicked a +fallen brand back to the live coals. I know old saws are poor comfort to +people in distress, being chiefly applicable when they are not needed.</p> + +<p>"What in the world can be keeping Father Holland?" I asked, leading off +on another tack.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> "Here we are almost into the summer, and never a sight +of him."</p> + +<p>"Did you really expect him back alive from the Bloods?" sneered +Hamilton. He had unconsciously acquired a habit of expecting the worst.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," I returned. "He's been among them before."</p> + +<p>"Then all I have to say is, you're a fool!"</p> + +<p>Poor Eric! He had informed me I was a fool so often in his ravings I had +grown quite used to the insult. He glared savagely at the fire, and if I +had not understood this bitterness towards the missionary, the next +remark was of a nature to enlighten me.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why any man in his senses wants to save the soul of an +Indian," he broke out. "Let them go where they belong! Souls! They +haven't any souls, or if they have, it's the soul of a fiend——"</p> + +<p>"By the bye, Eric," I interrupted, for this petulant ill-humor, that saw +naught but evil in everything, was becoming too frequent and always +ended in the same way—a night of semi-delirium, "by the bye, did you +see those fellows turning up soil for corn with a buffalo shoulder-blade +as a hoe?"</p> + +<p>"I wish every damn Red a thousand feet under the soil, deeper than that, +if the temperature increases."</p> + +<p>It was impossible to talk to Hamilton without provoking a quarrel. +Leaning back with hands clasped behind my head, I watched through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +half-closed eyes his sad face darkling under stormy moods.</p> + +<p>At last the rain succeeded in soaking through the parchment across the +window and the wind drove through a great split in chilling gusts that +added to the cabin's discomfort. I got up and jammed an old hat into the +hole. At the window I heard the shouting of Indians having a hilarious +night among the lodges and was amazed at the sound of discharging +firearms above the huzzas, for ammunition was scarce among the Mandanes. +The hubbub seemed to be coming towards our hut. I could see nothing +through the window slit, and lighting a pine fagot, shot back the +latch-bolt and threw open the door. A multitude of tawny, joyous, +upturned faces thronged to the steps. The crowd was surging about some +newcomer, and Chief Black Cat was prancing around in an ecstasy of +delight, firing away all his gunpowder in joyous demonstration. I lifted +my torch. The Indians fell back and forth strode Father Holland, his +face shining wet and abeam with pleasure. The Indians had been welcoming +"their good white father." As he dismissed his Mandane children we drew +him in and placed his soaked over-garments before the fire. Then we +proffered him all the delicacies of bachelors' quarters, and filled and +refilled his bowl with soup, and did not stop pouring out our lye-black +tea till he had drained the dregs of it.</p> + +<p>Having satisfied his inner-man, we gave him the best stump-tree seat in +the cabin and sat back to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> listen. There was the awkward pause of +reunion, when friends have not had time to gather up the loose threads +of a parted past and weave them anew into stronger bands of comradeship. +Hamilton and the priest were strangers; but if the latter were as +overcome by the meeting after half a year's isolation as I was, the +silence was not surprising. To me it seemed the genial face was +unusually grave, and I noticed a long, horizontal scar across his +forehead.</p> + +<p>"What's that, Father?" I asked, indicating the mark on his brow.</p> + +<p>"Tush, youngster! Nothing! Nothing at all! Sampled scalping-knife on me; +thought better of it, kept me out of the martyr's crown."</p> + +<p>"And left you your own!" cried Hamilton astonished at the priest's +careless stoicism.</p> + +<p>"Left me my own," responded Father Holland.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say the murderous——" I began.</p> + +<p>"Tush, youngster! Be quiet!" said he. "Haven't many brethren come from +the same tribe more like warped branches than men? What am I, that I +should escape? Never speak of it again," and he continued his silent +study of the flames' play.</p> + +<p>"Where are your Indians?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"In the lodges. Shall I whistle for them?"</p> + +<p>He did not answer, but leaned forward with elbows on his knees, rubbing +his chin vigorously first with one hand, then the other, still studying +the fire.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How strong are the Mandanes?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Weak, weak," I answered. "Few hundred. It hasn't been worth while for +traders to come here for years."</p> + +<p>"Was it worth while this year?"</p> + +<p>"Not for trade."</p> + +<p>"For anything else?" and he looked at Eric's dejected face.</p> + +<p>"Nothing else," I put in hastily, fearing one of Hamilton's outbreaks. +"We've been completely off the track, might better have stayed in the +north——"</p> + +<p>"No, you mightn't, not by any means," was his sharp retort. "I've been +in the Sioux lodges for three weeks."</p> + +<p>With an inarticulate cry, Hamilton sprang to his feet. He was trembling +from head to foot and caught Father Holland roughly by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Speak out, Sir! What of Miriam?" he demanded in dry, hard, rasping +tones.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, safe and inviolate. So's the boy, a big boy now! May ye +have them both in y'r arms soon—soon—soon!" and again he fell to +studying the fire with an unhurried deliberation, that was torture to +Hamilton.</p> + +<p>"Are they with you? Are they with you?" shouted Hamilton, hope bounding +up elastically to the wildest heights after his long depression. "Don't +keep me in suspense! I cannot bear it. Tell me where they are," he +pleaded. "Are they with you?" and his eyes burned into the priest's like +live coals. "Are—they—with—you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No—Lord—no!" roared Father Holland, alarmed at Hamilton's violent +condition. "But," he added, seeing Eric reel dizzily, "but they're all +right! Now you keep quiet and don't scare the wits out of a body! +They're all right, I tell you, and I've come straight from them for the +ransom price."</p> + +<p>"Get it, Rufus, get it!" shouted Hamilton to me, throwing his hands +distractedly to his head, a habit too common with him of late. "Get it! +Get it!" he kept calling, utterly beside himself.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, will you?" thundered the priest, as if Eric's sitting down +would calm all agitation. "Sit down! Behave! Keep quiet, both of you, or +my tongue'll forget holy orders and give ye some good Irish eloquence! +What d' y' mane, scarin' the breath out of a body and blowing his ideas +to limbo? Keep quiet, now, and listen!"</p> + +<p>"And did they," I cried, in spite of the injunction, "did they do that +to you?" pointing to the scar on his brow.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they did."</p> + +<p>"Because they saw you with me?"</p> + +<p>"No, that's a brand for the faith, you conceited whelp, you—they +stopped their tortures because they saw you with me. Now, swell out, +Rufus, and gloat over your importance! I tell you it was the devil, +himself, snatched my martyr's crown."</p> + +<p>"Le Grand Diable?"</p> + +<p>"Le Grand Diable's own minion. I saw his devilish eyes leering from the +back o' the crowd, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> I was tied to a stake. 'Bring that Indian to +me,' sez I, transfixing him with my gaze; for—you understand—I +couldn't point, my hands being tied. Troth! But ye should 'a' seen their +looks of amazement at me boldness! There was I, roped to that tree, like +a pig for the boiling pot, and sez I, 'Bring—that Indian—to me!' just +as though I was managing the execution," and the priest paused to enjoy +the recollection of the effects of his boldness.</p> + +<p>"A squaw up with an old clout," he continued, "and slashed it across my +face, saying, 'Take that, pale face! Take that, man with a woman's +skirts on!' and 'Take that!' howled a young buck, fetching the flat of +his dagger across me forehead, close-cropped hair giving no grip for +scalping, not to mention a pate as bald as mine," and the priest roared +at his own joke, patting his bare crown affectionately.</p> + +<p>"Though the blood was boilin' in me enraged veins and dribblin' down my +face like the rain to-night, by the help o' the Lord, I felt no pain. +Never flinchin' nor takin' heed o' that bold baste of a squaw, I bawled +like a bull of Bashan, 'Bring—that Indian—to me, coward-hearted +Sioux—d' y' fear an Iroquois? Bring him to me and I'll make him enrich +your tribe!'</p> + +<p>"Faith! Their eyes grew big as a harvest moon and they brought Le Grand +Diable to me. Knowing his covetous heart, I told him if he still had the +woman and the child, I'd get him a big ransom. At that they all jangled +a bit, the old squaw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> clouting me with her filthy rag as if she wanted +to slap me to a peak. At length they let Le Grand Diable unfasten the +bands. With my hands tied behind my back, I was taken to his lodge. +Miriam and the boy were kept in a place behind the Sioux squaw's hut. +Once when the skin tied between blew up, I caught a glimpse of her poor +white face. The boy was playing round her feet. I was in a corner of the +lodge but was so grimed with grease and dirt, if she saw me she thought +I was some Indian captive and turned away her head. I told Le Grand +Diable in <i>habitant</i> French—which the rascal understands—that I could +obtain a good ransom for his prisoners. He left me alone in the lodge +for some hours, I think to spy upon me and learn if I tried to speak to +Miriam; but I lay still as a log and pretended to sleep. When he came +back, he began bartering for the price; but I could make him no promises +as to the amount or time of payment, for I was not sure you were here, +and would not have him know where you are.</p> + +<p>"He kept me hanging on for his answer during the whole week, and many a +time Miriam brushed past so close her skirts touched me; but that +she-male devil of his—may the Lord give them both a warm, front +seat!—was always watching and I could not speak. Miriam's face was +hidden under her shawl and she looked neither to the right, nor to the +left. I don't think she ever saw me. On condition you stay in your camp +and don't go to meet her, but send your two Indians alone for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> with +your offer, he let me go. Here I am! Now, Rufus, where are your men? Off +with them bearing more gifts than the Queen of Sheba carried to +Solomon!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>From the hour that La Robe Noire and Little Fellow, laden with gaudy +trinkets and hunting outfits, departed for the Sioux lodges, Hamilton +was positively a madman. In the first place, he had been determined to +disguise himself as an Indian and go instead of La Robe Noire, whose +figure he resembled. To this, we would not listen. Le Grand Diable was +not the man to be tricked and there was no sense in ransoming Miriam for +a captive husband. Then, he persisted in riding part of the way with our +messengers, which necessitated my doing likewise. I had to snatch his +horse's bridle, wheel both our horses round and head homeward at a +gallop, before he would listen to reason and come back.</p> + +<p>Round the lodges he was a ramping tiger. Twenty times a day he went from +our hut to the height of land commanding the north country, keeping me +on the run at his heels; and all night he beat around the cramped shack +as if it had been a cage. On the fourth day from the messengers' +departure, chains could not bind him. If all went well, they should be +with us at night. In defiance of Le Grand Diable's conditions, which an +arrow from an unseen marksman might enforce, Eric saddled his mare and +rode out to meet the men.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>Of course Father Holland and I peltered after him; but it was only +because gathering darkness prevented travel that we prevailed on him to +dismount and await the Indians' coming at the edge of the village.</p> + +<p>At last came the clank, clank of shod hoofs in the valley. The natives +used only unshod animals, so we recognized our men. Hamilton darted away +like a hare racing for cover.</p> + +<p>"The Lord have mercy upon us!" groaned Father Holland. "Listen, lad! +There's only one horse!"</p> + +<p>I threw myself to the earth and laying my ear to the turf strained for +every sound. The thud, thud of a single horse, fore and hind feet +striking the beaten trail in quick gallop, came distinctly up from the +valley.</p> + +<p>"It may not be our men," said I, with sickening forebodings tugging at +throat and heart.</p> + +<p>"I mistrusted them! I mistrusted the villains!" repeated the priest. "If +only you had enough Mandanes to ride down on them, but you're too weak. +There are at least two thousand Sioux."</p> + +<p>Hamilton and Little Fellow, talking loudly and gesticulating, rode +crashing through the furze.</p> + +<p>"I knew it! I knew it!" shouted Hamilton fiercely, "One of us should +have gone."</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" came from Father Holland in a voice so low and +unnaturally calm, I knew he feared the worst.</p> + +<p>"Wrong!" yelled Hamilton, "They hold La<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> Robe Noire as hostage and +demand five hundred pounds of ammunition, twenty guns and ten horses. Of +course, I should have gone——"</p> + +<p>"And would it have mended matters if you'd been held hostage too?" I +demanded, utterly out of patience and at that stage when a little strain +makes a man strike his best friends. "You know very well, the men were +only sent to make an offer. You'd no right to expect everything on one +trip without any bargaining——"</p> + +<p>"Shut up, boy!" exclaimed Father Holland. "Just when ye both need all +y'r wits, y'r scattering them to the four winds. Now, mind yourselves! I +don't like these terms! 'Tis the devil's own doing! Let's talk this +over!"</p> + +<p>With a vast deal of the wordy eloquence that characterizes Indian +diplomacy, the tenor of Le Grand Diable's message was "His shot pouch +was light and his pipe cold; he hung down his head and the pipe of peace +had not been in the council; the Sioux were strangers and the whites +were their enemies; the pale-faces had been in their power and they had +always conveyed them on their journey with glad hearts and something to +eat." Finally, the Master of Life, likewise Earth, Air, Water, and Fire +were called on to witness that if the white men delivered five hundred +rounds of ammunition, twenty guns and ten horses, the white woman and +her child, likewise the two messengers, would be sent safely back to the +Mandane lodge; none but these two messengers would be permitted in the +Sioux camp; also,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> the Sioux would not answer for the lives of the white +men if they left the Mandane lodges. Let the white men, therefore, send +back the full ransom by the hands of the same messenger.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>LE GRAND DIABLE SENDS BACK OUR MESSENGER</h3> + + +<p>Father Holland advised caution and consideration before acting. A policy +of bargaining was his counsel.</p> + +<p>"I don't like those terms, at all," he said, "too much like giving your +weapons to the enemy. I don't like all this."</p> + +<p>He would temporize and rely on Le Grand Diable's covetous disposition +bringing him to our terms; but Hamilton would hear of neither caution +nor delay.</p> + +<p>The ransom price was at once collected. Next morning, Little Fellow, on +a fresh mount with a string of laden horses on each side, went post +haste back to the Sioux.</p> + +<p>In all conscience, Hamilton had been wild enough during the first +parley. His excitement now exceeded all bounds. The first two days, when +there was no possibility of Miriam's coming and Little Fellow could not +yet have reached the Sioux, I tore after Eric so often I lost count of +the races between our lodge and the north hill. The performance began +again on the third day, and I broke out with a piece of my mind, which +surprised him mightily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look you here, Hamilton!" I exclaimed, rounding him back from the hill, +"Can't you stop this nonsense and sit still for only two days more, or +must I tie you up? You've tried to put me crazy all winter and, by Jove, +if you don't stop this, you'll finish the job——"</p> + +<p>He gazed at me with the dumb look of a wounded animal and was too amazed +for words. Leaving me in mid-road, feeling myself a brute, he went +straight to his own hut. After that incident, he gave us no further +anxiety and kept an iron grip on his impatience. With me, anger had +given place to contrition. He remained much by himself until the night, +when our messengers were expected. Then he came across to my quarters, +where Father Holland and I were keyed up to the highest pitch. Putting +out his hand he said—</p> + +<p>"Is it all right with us again, Rufus, old man?"</p> + +<p>That speech nigh snapped the strained cords.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said I, gripping the extended hand, and I immediately +coughed hard, to explain away the undue moisture welling into my eyes.</p> + +<p>We all three sat as still and silent as a death-watch, Father Holland +fumbling and pretending to pore over some holy volume, Eric with fingers +tightly interlaced and upper teeth biting through lower lip, and I with +clenched fists dug into jacket pockets and a thousand imaginary sounds +singing wild tunes in my ears.</p> + +<p>How the seconds crawled, and the minutes barely moved, and the hours +seemed to heap up in a blockade and crush us with their leaden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> weight! +Twice I sought relief for pent emotion by piling wood on the fire, +though the night was mild, and by breaking the glowing embers into a +shower of sparks. The soft, moccasined tread of Mandanes past our door +startled Father Holland so that his book fell to the floor, while I +shook like a leaf. Strange to say, Hamilton would not allow himself the +luxury of a single movement, though the lowered brows tightened and +teeth cut deeper into the under lip.</p> + +<p>Dogs set up a barking at the other end of the village—a common enough +occurrence where half-starved curs roved in packs—but I could not +refrain from lounging with a show of indifference to the doorway, where +I peered through the moon-silvered dusk. As usual, the Indians with +shrill cry flew at the dogs to silence them. The noise seemed to be +annoying my companions and was certainly unnerving me, so I shut the +door and walked back to the fire.</p> + +<p>The howl of dogs and squaws increased. I heard the angry undertone of +men's voices. A hoarse roar broke from the Mandane lodges and rolled +through the village like the sweep of coming hurricane. There was a +fleet rush, a swift pattering of something pursued running round the +rear of our lodge, with a shrieking mob of men and squaws after it. The +dogs were barking furiously and snapping at the heels of the thing, +whatever it was.</p> + +<p>"A hostile!" exclaimed Hamilton, leaping up.</p> + +<p>Hardly knowing what I did, I bounded towards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> the door and shot forward +the bolt, with a vague fear that blood might be spilled on our +threshold.</p> + +<p>"For shame, man!" cried Father Holland, making to undo the latch.</p> + +<p>But the words had not passed his lips when the parchment flap of the +window lifted. A voice screamed through the opening and in hurtled a +round, nameless, blood-soaked horror, rolling over and over in a red +trail, till it stopped with upturned, dead, glaring eyes and hideous, +gaping mouth, at the very feet of Hamilton.</p> + +<p>It was the scalpless head of La Robe Noire. Our Indian had paid the +price of his own blood-lust and Diable's enmity.</p> + +<p>Before the full enormity of the treachery—messengers murdered and +mutilated, ransom stolen and captives kept—had dawned on me, Father +Holland had broken open the door. He was rushing through the night +screaming for the Mandanes to catch the miscreant Sioux. When I turned +back, not daring to look at that awful object, Hamilton had fallen to +the hut floor in a dead faint.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And now may I be spared recalling what occurred on that terrible night!</p> + +<p>Women luxuriate and men traffic in the wealth of the great west, but how +many give one languid thought to the years of bloody deeds by which the +west was won?</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Before restoring Hamilton, it was necessary to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> remove that which was +unseemly; also to wash out certain stains on the hearth-stones; and +those things would have tried the courage of more iron-nerved men than +myself.</p> + +<p>I should not have been surprised if Eric had come out of that faint, a +gibbering maniac; but I toiled over him with the courage of blank +hopelessness, pumping his arms up and down, forcing liquor between the +clenched teeth, splashing the cold, clammy face with water, and laving +his forehead. At last he opened his eyes wearily. Like a man ill at ease +with life, moaning, he turned his face to the wall.</p> + +<p>Outside, it was as if the unleashed furies of hell fought to quench +their thirst in human blood. The clamor of those red demons was in my +ears and I was still working over Hamilton, loosening his jacket collar, +under-pillowing his chest, fanning him, and doing everything else I +could think of, to ease his labored breathing, when Father Holland burst +into the lodge, utterly unmanned and sobbing like a child.</p> + +<p>"For the Lord's sake, Rufus," he cried, "for the Lord's sake, come and +help! They're murdering him! They're murdering him! 'Twas I who set them +on him, and I can't stop them! I can't stop them!"</p> + +<p>"Let them murder him!" I returned, unconsciously demonstrating that the +civilized heart differs only in degree from the barbarian.</p> + +<p>"Come, Rufus," he pleaded, "come, for the love of Frances, or your hands +will not be clean.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> There'll be blood on your hands when you go back to +her. Come, come!"</p> + +<p>Out we rushed through the thronging Mandanes, now riotous with the lust +of blood. A ring of young bucks had been formed round the Sioux to keep +the crowd off. Naked, with arms pinioned, the victim stood motionless +and without fear.</p> + +<p>"Good white father, he no understand," said the Mandanes, jostling the +weeping priest back from the circle of the young men. "Good white +father, he go home!" In spite of protest by word and act they roughly +shoved us to our lodge, the doomed man's death chant ringing in our ears +as they pushed us inside and clashed our door. In vain we had argued +they would incur the vengeance of the Sioux nation. Our voices were +drowned in the shout for blood—for blood!</p> + +<p>The sigh of the wind brought mournful strains of the victim's dirge to +our lodge. I fastened the door, with robes against it to keep the sound +out. Then a smell of burning drifted through the window, and I +stop-gapped that, too, with more robes.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That the Sioux would wreak swift vengeance could not be doubted. As soon +as the murderous work was over, guides were with difficulty engaged. +Having fitted up a sort of prop in which I could tie Hamilton to the +saddle, I saw both Father Holland and Eric set out for Red River before +daybreak.</p> + +<p>It was best they should go and I remain. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> Miriam were still in the +country, stay I would, till she were safe; but I had no mind to see Eric +go mad or die before the rescue could be accomplished.</p> + +<p>As they were leaving I took a piece of birch bark. On it I wrote with a +charred stick:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Greetings to my own dear love from her ever loyal and devoted +knight."</p></div> + +<p>This, Father Holland bore to Frances Sutherland from me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>THE PRICE OF BLOOD</h3> + + +<p>How many shapeless terrors can spring from the mind of man I never knew +till Eric and the priest left me alone in the Mandane village. Ever, on +closing my eyes, there rolled and rolled past, endlessly, without going +one pace beyond my sight, something too horrible to be contemplated. +When I looked about to assure myself the thing was not there—could not +possibly be there—memory flashed back the whole dreadful scene. Up +started glazed eyes from the hearth, the floor, and every dim nook in +the lodge. Thereupon I would rush into the village road, where the +shamefaced greetings of guilty Indians recalled another horror.</p> + +<p>If I ventured into Le Grand Diable's power a fate worse than La Robe +Noire's awaited me. That there would be a hostile demonstration over the +Sioux messenger's death I was certain. Nothing that I offered could +induce any of the Indians to act as scouts or to reconnoiter the enemy's +encampment. I had, of my own will, chosen to remain, and now I found +myself with tied hands, fuming and gnashing against fate, conjuring up +all sorts of projects for the rescue of Miriam, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> butting my head +against the impossible at every turn. Thus three weary days dragged +past.</p> + +<p>Having reflected on the consequences of their outrage, the Mandanes +exhibited repentance of a characteristically human form—resentment +against the cause of their trouble. Unfortunately, I was the cause. From +the black looks of the young men I half suspected, if the Sioux chief +would accept me in lieu of material gifts, I might be presented as a +peace-offering. This would certainly not forward my quest, and prudence, +or cowardice—two things easily confused when one is in peril—counseled +discretion, and discretion seemed to counsel flight.</p> + +<p>"Discretion! Discretion to perdition!" I cried, springing up from a +midnight reverie in my hut. Every selfish argument for my own safety had +passed in review before my mind, and something so akin to judicious +caution, which we trappers in plain language called "cowardice," was +insidiously assailing my better self, I cast logic's sophistries to the +winds, and dared death or torture to drive me from my post. Whence comes +this sublime, reasonless <i>abandon</i> of imperiled human beings, which +casts off fear and caution and prudence and forethought and all that +goes to make success in the common walks of life, and at one blind leap +mounts the Sinai of duty? To me, the impulse upwards is as mysterious as +the impulse downwards, and I do not wonder that pagans ascribe one to +Ormuzd, the other to Ahriman. 'Tis ours to yield or resist, and I +yielded with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> vehemence of a passionate nature, vowing in the +darkness of the hut—"Here, before God, I stay!"</p> + +<p>Swift came test of my oath. While the words were yet on my lips, +stealthy steps suddenly glided round the lodge. A shuffling stopped at +the door, while a chilling fear took possession of me lest the mutilated +form of my other Indian should next be hurled through the window. I had +not time to shoot the door-bolt to its catch before a sharp click told +of lifted latch. The hinge creaked, and there, distinct in the +starlight, that smote through the open, stood Little Fellow, himself, +haggard and almost naked.</p> + +<p>"Little Fellow! Good boy!" I shouted, pulling him in. "Where did you +come from? How did you get away? Is it you or your ghost?"</p> + +<p>Down he squatted with a grunt on one of the robes, answering never a +word. The gaunt look of the man declared his needs, so I prepared to +feed him back to speech. This task kept me busy till daybreak, for the +filling capacity of a famishing Indian may not be likened to any other +hungry thing on earth without doing the red man grave injustice.</p> + +<p>"Hoohoo! Hoohoo! But I be sick man to-morrow!" and he rubbed himself +down with a satisfied air of distension, declining to have his plate +reloaded for the tenth time. I noticed the poor wretch's skin was cut to +the bone round wrists and ankles. Chafed bandage marks encircled the +flesh of his neck.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did this, Little Fellow?" and I pointed to the scars.</p> + +<p>A grim look of Indian gratitude for my interest came into the stolid +face.</p> + +<p>"Bad Indians," was the terse response.</p> + +<p>"Did they torture you?"</p> + +<p>He grunted a ferocious negative.</p> + +<p>"You got away too quick for them?"</p> + +<p>An affirmative grunt.</p> + +<p>"Le Grand Diable—did you see him?"</p> + +<p>At that name, his white teeth snapped shut, and from the depths of the +Indian's throat came the vicious snarl of an enraged wolf.</p> + +<p>"Come," I coaxed, "tell me. How long since you left the Sioux?"</p> + +<p>"Walkee—walkee—walkee—one sleep," and rising, he enacted a hobbling +gait across the cabin in unison with the rhythmic utterance of his +words.</p> + +<p>"Walkee—walkee—walkee—one."</p> + +<p>"Traveled at night!" I interrupted. "Two nights! You couldn't do it in +two nights!"</p> + +<p>"Walkee—walkee—walkee—one sleep," he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Three nights!"</p> + +<p>Four times he hobbled across the floor, which meant he had come afoot +the whole distance, traveling only at night.</p> + +<p>Sitting down, he began in a low monotone relating how he had returned to +La Robe Noire with the additional ransom demanded by Le Grand Diable. +The "pig Sioux, more gluttonous than the wolverine, more treacherous +than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> the mountain cat," had come out to receive them with hootings. The +plunder was taken, "as a dead enemy is picked by carrion buzzards." He, +himself, was dragged from his horse and bound like a slave squaw. La +Robe Noire had been stripped naked, and young men began piercing his +chest with lances, shouting, "Take that, man who would scalp the +Iroquois! Take that, enemy to the Sioux! Take that, dog that's friend to +the white man!" Then had La Robe Noire, whose hands were bound, sprung +upon his torturers and as the trapped badger snaps the hand of the +hunter so had he buried his teeth in the face of a boasting Sioux.</p> + +<p>Here, Little Fellow's teeth clenched shut in savage imitation. Then was +Le Grand Diable's knife unsheathed. More, my messenger could not see; +for a Sioux bandaged his eyes. Another tied a rope round his neck. Thus, +like a dead stag, was he pulled over the ground to a wigwam. Here he lay +for many "sleeps," knowing not when the great sun rose and when he sank. +Once, the lodges became very still, like many waters, when the wind +slumbers and only the little waves lap. Then came one with the soft, +small fingers of a white woman and gently, scarcely touching him, as the +spirits rustle through the forest of a dark night, had these hands cut +the rope around his neck, and unbound him. A whisper in the English +tongue, "Go—run—for your life! Hide by day! Run at night!"</p> + +<p>The skin of the tent wall was lifted by the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> hands. He rolled out. +He tore the blind from his eyes. It was dark. The spirits had quenched +their star torches. No souls of dead warriors danced on the fire plain +of the northern sky! The father of winds let loose a blast to drown all +sound and help good Indian against the pig Sioux! He ran like a hare. He +leaped like a deer. He came as the arrows from the bow of the great +hunter. Thus had he escaped from the Sioux!</p> + +<p>Little Fellow ceased speaking, wrapped himself in robes and fell asleep.</p> + +<p>I could not doubt whose were the liberator's hands, and I marveled that +she had not come with him. Had she known of our efforts at all? It +seemed unlikely. Else, with the liberty she had, to come to Little +Fellow, surely she would have tried to escape. On the other hand, her +immunity from torture might depend on never attempting to regain +freedom.</p> + +<p>Now I knew what to expect if I were captured by the Sioux. Yet, given +another stormy night, if Little Fellow and I were near the Sioux with +fleet horses, could not Miriam be rescued in the same way he had +escaped? Until Little Fellow had eaten and slept back to his normal +condition of courage, it would be useless to propose such a hazardous +plan. Indeed, I decided to send him to some point on the northern trail, +where I could join him and go alone to the Sioux camp. This would be +better than sitting still to be given as a hostage to the Sioux. If the +worst happened and I were captured, had I the courage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> to endure Indian +tortures? A man endures what he must endure, whether he will, or not; +and I certainly had not courage to leave the country without one blow +for Miriam's freedom.</p> + +<p>With these thoughts, I gathered my belongings in preparation for secret +departure from the Mandanes that night. Then I prepared breakfast, saw +Little Fellow lie back in a dead sleep, and strolled out among the +lodges.</p> + +<p>Four days had passed without the coming of the avengers. The villagers +were disposed to forget their guilt and treat me less sulkily. As I +sauntered towards the north hill, pleasant words greeted me from the +lodges.</p> + +<p>"Be not afraid, my son," exhorted Chief Black Cat. "Lend a deaf ear to +bad talk! No harm shall befall the white man! Be not afraid!"</p> + +<p>"Afraid!" I flouted back. "Who's afraid, Black Cat? Only white-livered +cowards fear the Sioux! Surely no Mandane brave fears the Sioux—ugh! +The cowardly Sioux!"</p> + +<p>My vaunting pleased the old chief mightily; for the Indian is nothing if +not a boaster. At once Black Cat would have broken out in loud tirade on +his friendship for me and contempt for the Sioux, but I cut him short +and moved towards the hill, that overlooked the enemy's territory. A +great cloud of dust whirled up from the northern horizon.</p> + +<p>"A tornado the next thing!" I exclaimed with disgust. "The fates are +against me! A fig for my plans!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>I stooped. With ear to the ground I could hear a rumbling clatter as of +a buffalo stampede.</p> + +<p>"What is it, my son?" asked the voice of the chief, and I saw that Black +Cat had followed me to the hill.</p> + +<p>"Are those buffalo, Black Cat?" and I pointed to the north.</p> + +<p>As he peered forward, distinguishing clearly what my civilized eyes +could not see, his face darkened.</p> + +<p>"The Sioux!" he muttered with a black look at me. Turning, he would have +hurried away without further protests of friendship, but I kept pace +with him.</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" said I, with a lofty contempt, which I was far from feeling. +"Pooh! Black Cat! Who's afraid of the Sioux? Let the women run from the +Sioux!"</p> + +<p>He gave me a sidelong glance to penetrate my sincerity and slackened his +flight to the proud gait of a fearless Indian. All the same, alarm was +spread among the lodges, and every woman and child of the Mandanes were +hidden behind barricaded doors. The men mounted quickly and rode out to +gain the vantage ground of the north hill before the enemy's arrival.</p> + +<p>Another cross current to my purposes! Fool that I was, to have +dilly-dallied three whole days away like a helpless old squaw wringing +her hands, when I should have dared everything and ridden to Miriam's +rescue! Now, if I had been near the Sioux encampment, when all the +warriors were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> away, how easily could I have liberated Miriam and her +child!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Always, it is the course we have not followed, which would have led on +to the success we have failed to grasp in our chosen path. So we salve +wounded mistrust of self and still, in spite of manifest proof to the +contrary, retain a magnificent conceit.</p> + +<p>I cursed my blunders with a vehemence usually reserved for other men's +errors, and at once decided to make the best of the present, letting +past and future each take care of itself, a course which will save a man +gray hairs over to-morrow and give him a well-provisioned to-day.</p> + +<p>Arming myself, I resolved to be among the bargain-makers of the Mandanes +rather than be bargained by the Sioux. Wakening Little Fellow, I told +him my plan and ordered him to slip away north while the two tribes were +parleying and to await me a day's march from the Sioux camp. He told me +of a wooded valley, where he could rest with his horses concealed, and +after seeing him off, I rode straight for the band of assembled Mandanes +and surprised them beyond all measure by taking a place in the forefront +of Black Cat's special guard. The Sioux warriors swept towards us in a +tornado. Ascending the slope at a gallop, whooping and beating their +drums, they charged past us, and down at full speed through the village, +displaying a thousand dexterities of horsemanship and prowess to strike<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +terror to the Mandanes. Then they dashed back and reined up on the +hillside beneath our forces. The men were naked to the waist and their +faces were blackened. Porcupine quills, beavers' claws, hooked bones, +and bears' claws stained red hung round their necks in ringlets, or +adorned gorgeous belts. Feathered crests and broad-shielded mats of +willow switches, on the left arm, completed their war dress. The leaders +had their buckskin leggings strung from hip to ankle with small bells, +and carried firearms, as well as arrows and stone lances; but the +majority had only Indian weapons. In that respect—though we were not +one third their number—we had the advantage. All the Mandanes carried +firearms; but I do not believe there was enough ammunition to average +five rounds a man. Luckily, this was unknown to the Sioux. I scanned +every face. Diable was not there.</p> + +<p>Scarcely were the ranks in position, when both Sioux and Mandane chiefs +rode forward, and there opened such a harangue as I have never heard +since, and hope I never may.</p> + +<p>"Our young man has been killed," lamented the Sioux. "He was a good +warrior. His friends sorrow. Our hearts are no longer glad. Till now our +hands have been white, and our hearts clean. But the young man has been +slain and we are grieved. Of the scalps of the enemy, he brought many. +We hang our heads. The pipe of peace has not been in our council. The +whites are our enemies. Now, the young man is dead.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> Tell us if we are +to be friends or enemies. We have no fear. We are many and strong. Our +bows are good. Our arrows are pointed with flint and our lances with +stone. Our shot-pouches are not light. But we love peace. Tell us, what +doth the Mandane offer for the blood of the young man? Is it to be peace +or war? Shall we be friends or enemies? Do you raise the tomahawk, or +pipe of peace? Say, great chief of the Mandanes, what is thy answer?"</p> + +<p>This and more did the Sioux chief vauntingly declaim, brandishing his +war club and addressing the four points of the compass, also the sun, as +he shouted out his defiance. To which Black Cat, in louder voice, made +reply.</p> + +<p>"Say, great chief of the Sioux, our dead was brought into the camp. The +body was yet warm. It was thrown at our feet. Never before did it enter +the heart of a Missouri to seek the blood of a Sioux! Our messengers +went to your camp smoking the sacred calumet of peace. They were sons of +the Mandanes. They were friends of the white men. The white man is like +magic. He comes from afar. He knows much. He has given guns to our +warriors. His shot bags are full and his guns many. But his men, ye +slew. We are for peace, but if ye are for war, we warn you to leave our +camp before the warriors hidden where ye see them not, break forth. We +cannot answer for the white man's magic," and I heard my power over +darkness and light, life and death, magnified in a way to terrify my own +dreams; but Black Cat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> cunningly wound up his bold declamation by asking +what the Sioux chief would have of the white man for the death of the +messenger.</p> + +<p>A clamor of voices arose from the warriors, each claiming some +relationship and attributing extravagant virtues to the dead Sioux.</p> + +<p>"I am the afflicted father of the youth ye killed," called an old +warrior, putting in prior claim for any forthcoming compensation and +enhancing its value by adding, "and he had many feathers in his cap."</p> + +<p>"He, who was killed, I desired for a nephew," shouted another, "and an +ivory wand he carried in his hand."</p> + +<p>"He who was killed was my brother," cried a third, "and he had a new gun +and much powder."</p> + +<p>"He was braver than the buffalo," declared another.</p> + +<p>"He had three wounds!" "He had scars!" "He wore many scalps!" came the +voices of others.</p> + +<p>"Many bells and beads were on his leggings!"</p> + +<p>"He had garnished moccasins!"</p> + +<p>"He slew a bear with his own hands!"</p> + +<p>"His knife had a handle of ivory!"</p> + +<p>"His arrows had barbs of beavers' claws!"</p> + +<p>If the noisy claimants kept on, they would presently make the dead man a +god. I begged Black Cat to cut the parley short and demand exactly what +gift would compensate the Sioux for the loss of so great a warrior. +After another half-hour's jangling, in which I took an animated part, +beating down their exorbitant request for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> two hundred guns with beads +and bells enough to outfit the whole Sioux tribe, we came to terms. +Indeed, the grasping rascals well-nigh cleared out all that was left of +my trading stock; but when I saw they had no intention of fighting, I +held back at the last and demanded the surrender of Le Grand Diable, +Miriam and the child in compensation for La Robe Noire.</p> + +<p>Then, they swore by everything, from the sun and the moon to the cow in +the meadow, that they were not responsible for the doings of Le Grand +Diable, who was an Iroquois. Moreover, they vowed he had hurriedly taken +his departure for the north four days before, carrying with him the +Sioux wife, the strange woman and the white child. As I had no object in +arousing their resentment, I heard their words without voicing my own +suspicions and giving over the booty, whiffed pipes with them. But I had +no intention of being tricked by the rascally Sioux, and while they and +the Mandanes celebrated the peace treaty, I saddled my horse and spurred +off for their encampment, glad to see the last of a region where I had +suffered much and gained nothing.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>LAPLANTE AND I RENEW ACQUAINTANCE</h3> + + +<p>The warriors had spoken truth to the Mandanes. Le Grand Diable was not +in the Sioux lodges. I had been at the encampment for almost a week, +daily expecting the warriors' return, before I could persuade the people +to grant me the right of search through the wigwams. In the end, I +succeeded only through artifice. Indeed, I was becoming too proficient +in craft for the maintenance of self-respect. A child—I explained to +the surly old men who barred my way—had been confused with the Sioux +slaves. If it were among their lodges, I was willing to pay well for its +redemption. The old squaws, eying me distrustfully, averred I had come +to steal one of their naked brats, who swarmed on my tracks with as +tantalizing persistence as the vicious dogs. The jealous mothers would +not hear of my searching the tents. Then I was compelled to make friends +with the bevies of young squaws, who ogle newcomers to the Indian camps. +Presently, I gained the run of all the lodges. Indeed, I needed not a +little diplomacy to keep from being adopted as son-in-law by one +pertinacious old fellow—a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> kind of embarrassment not wholly confined to +trappers in the wilds. But not a trace of Diable and his captives did I +find.</p> + +<p>I had hobbled my horses—a string of six—in a valley some distance from +the camp and directly on the trail, where Little Fellow was awaiting me. +Returning from a look at their condition one evening, I heard a band of +hunters had come from the Upper Missouri. I was sitting with a group of +men squatted before my fatherly Indian's lodge, when somebody walked up +behind us and gave a long, low whistle.</p> + +<p>"Mon Dieu! Mine frien', the enemy! Sacredie! 'Tis he! Thou cock-brained +idiot! Ho—ho! Alone among the Sioux!" came the astonished, +half-breathless exclamation of Louis Laplante, mixing his English and +French as he was wont, when off guard.</p> + +<p>Need I say the voice brought me to my feet at one leap? Well I +remembered how I had left him lying with a snarl between his teeth in +the doorway of Fort Douglas! Now was his chance to score off that +grudge! I should not have been surprised if he had paid me with a stab +in the back.</p> + +<p>"What for—come you—here?" he slowly demanded, facing me with a +revengeful gleam in his eyes. His English was still mixed. There was +none of the usual light and airy impudence of his manner.</p> + +<p>"You know very well, Louis," I returned without quailing. "Who should +know better than you? For the sake of the old days, Louis, help<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> to undo +the wrong you allowed? Help me and before Heaven you shall command your +own price. Set her free! Afterwards torture me to the death and take +your full pleasure!"</p> + +<p>"I'll have it, anyway," retorted Louis with a hard, dry, mirthless +laugh. "Know they—what for—you come?" He pointed to the Indians, who +understood not a word of our talk; and we walked a pace off from the +lodges.</p> + +<p>"No! I'm not always a fool, Louis," said I, "though you cheated me in +the gorge!"</p> + +<p>"See those stones?" There was a pile of rock on the edge of the ravine.</p> + +<p>"I do. What of them?"</p> + +<p>"All of your Indian—left after the dogs—it lie there!" His eye +questioned mine; but there was not a vestige of fear in me towards that +boaster. This, I set down not vauntingly, but fully realizing what I owe +to Heaven.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow," said I. "That was cruel work."</p> + +<p>"Your other man—he fool them——"</p> + +<p>"All the better," I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"They not be cheated once more again! No—no—mine frien'! To come here, +alone! Ha—ha! Stupid Anglo-Saxon ox!"</p> + +<p>"Don't waste your breath, Louis," I quietly remarked. "Your names have +no more terror for me now than at Laval! However big a knave you are, +Louis, you're not a fool. Why don't you make something out of this? I +can reward you. Hold <i>me</i>, if you like! Scalp me and skin me and put me +under a stone-pile for revenge! Will it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> make your revenge any sweeter +to torture a helpless, white woman?"</p> + +<p>Louis winced. 'Twas the first sign of goodness I had seen in the knave, +and I credited it wholly to his French ancestors.</p> + +<p>"I never torture white woman," he vehemently declared, with a sudden +flare-up of his proud temper. "The son of a seigneur——"</p> + +<p>"The son of a seigneur," I broke in, "let an innocent woman go into +captivity by lying to me!"</p> + +<p>"Don't harp on that!" said Louis with a scornful laugh—a laugh that is +ever the refuge of the cornered liar. "You pay me back by stealing +despatches."</p> + +<p>"Don't harp on that, Louis!" and I returned his insolence in full +measure. "I didn't steal your despatches, though I know the thief. And +you paid me back by almost trapping me at Fort Douglas."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't succeed," exclaimed Laplante. "Mon Dieu! If I had only +known you were a spy!"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't. I came to see Hamilton."</p> + +<p>"And you pay me back as if I had succeed," continued Louis, "by kicking +me—me—the son of a seigneur—kicking me in the stomach like a pig, +which is no fit treatment for a gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"And you paid me back by sticking your knife in my boot——"</p> + +<p>"And didn't succeed," broke in Louis regretfully.</p> + +<p>At that, we both laughed in spite of ourselves,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> laughed as comrades. +And the laugh brought back memories of old Laval days, when we used to +thrash each other in the schoolyard, but always united in defensive +league, when we were disciplined inside the class-room.</p> + +<p>"See here, old crony," I cried, taking quick advantage of his sudden +softening and again playing suppliant to my adversary. "I own up! You +owe me two scores, one for the despatches I saw taken from you, one for +knocking you down in Fort Douglas; for your knife broke and did not cut +me a whit. Pay those scores with compound interest, if you like, the way +you used to pummel me black and blue at Laval; but help me now as we +used to help each other out of scrapes at school! Afterwards, do as you +wish! I give you full leave. As the son of a seigneur, as a gentleman, +Louis, help me to free the woman!"</p> + +<p>"Pah!" cried Louis with mingled contempt and surrender. "I not punish +you here with two thousand against one! Louis Laplante is a +gentleman—even to his enemy!"</p> + +<p>"Bravo, comrade!" I shouted out, full of gratitude, and I thrust forward +my hand.</p> + +<p>"No—no—thanks much," and Laplante drew himself up proudly, "not till I +pay you well, richly,—generous always to mine enemy!"</p> + +<p>"Very good! Pay when and where you will."</p> + +<p>"Pay how I like," snapped Louis.</p> + +<p>With that strange contract, his embarrassment seemed to vanish and his +English came back fluently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'd better leave before the warriors return," he said. "They come +home to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Is Diable among them?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Is Diable here?"</p> + +<p>"No." His face clouded as I questioned.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where he is?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Will he be back?"</p> + +<p>"Dammie! How do I know? He will if he wants to! I don't tell tales on a +man who saved my life."</p> + +<p>His answer set me to wondering if Diable had seen me hold back the +trader's murderous hand, when Louis lay drunk, and if the Frenchman's +knowledge of that incident explained his strange generosity now.</p> + +<p>"I'll stay here in spite of all the Sioux warriors on earth, till I find +out about that knave of an Indian and his captives," I vowed.</p> + +<p>Louis looked at me queerly and gave another whistle.</p> + +<p>"You always were a pig-head," said he. "I can keep them from harming +you; but remember, I pay you back in your own coin. And look out for the +daughter of L'Aigle, curse her! She is the only thing I ever fear! Keep +you in my tent! If Le Grand Diable see you——" and Louis touched his +knife-handle significantly.</p> + +<p>"Then Diable <i>is</i> here!"</p> + +<p>"I not say so," but he flushed at the slip of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> tongue and moved +quickly towards what appeared to be his quarters.</p> + +<p>"He is coming?" I questioned, suspicious of Louis' veracity.</p> + +<p>"Dolt!" said Louis. "Why else do I hide you in my tent? But remember I +pay you back in your own coin afterwards! Ha! There they come!"</p> + +<p>A shout of returning hunters arose from the ravine, at which Louis +bounded for the tent on a run, dashing inside breathlessly, I following +close behind.</p> + +<p>"Stay you here, inside, mind! Mon Dieu! If you but show your face; 'tis +two white men under one stone-pile! Louis Laplante is a fool—dammie—a +fool—to help you, his enemy, or any other man at his own risk."</p> + +<p>With these enigmatical words, the Frenchman hurried out, fastening the +tent flap after him and leaving me to reflect on the wild impulses of +his wayward nature. Was his strange, unwilling generosity the result of +animosity to the big squaw, who seemed to exercise some subtle and +commanding influence over him; or of gratitude to me? Was the noble +blood that coursed in his veins, directing him in spite of his +degenerate tendencies; or had the man's heart been touched by the sight +of a white woman's suffering? If his alarm at the sound of returning +hunters had not been so palpably genuine—for he turned pale to the +lips—I might have suspected treachery. But there was no mistaking the +motive of fear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> that hurried him to the tent; and with Le Grand Diable +among the hunters, Louis might well fear to be seen in my company. There +was a hubbub of trappers returning to the lodges. I heard horses turned +free and tent-poles clattering to the ground; but Laplante did not come +back till it was late and the Indians had separated for the night.</p> + +<p>"I can take you to her!" he whispered, his voice thrilling with +suppressed emotion. "Le Grand Diable and the squaw have gone to the +valley to set snares! And when I whistle, come out quickly! Mon Dieu! If +you're caught, both our scalps go! Dammie! Louis is a fool. I take you +to her; but I pay you back all the same!"</p> + +<p>"To whom?" The question throbbed with a rush to my lips.</p> + +<p>"Stupid dolt!" snarled Louis. "Follow me! Keep your ears open for my +whistle—one—they return—two—come you out of the tent—three, we are +caught, save yourself!"</p> + +<p>I followed the Frenchman in silence. It was a hazy summer night with +just enough light from the sickle moon for us to pick our way past the +lodges to a large newly-erected wigwam with a small white tent behind.</p> + +<p>"This way," whispered Louis, leading through the first to an opening +hidden by a hanging robe. Raising the skin, he shoved me forward and +hastened out to keep guard.</p> + +<p>The figure of a woman with a child in her arms was silhouetted against +the white tent wall. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> was sitting on some robes, crooning in a low +voice to the child, and was unaware of my presence.</p> + +<p>"And was my little Eric at the hunt, and did he shoot an arrow all by +himself?" she asked, fondling the face that snuggled against her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>The boy gurgled back a low, happy laugh and lisped some childish reply, +which only a mother could translate.</p> + +<p>"And he will grow big, big and be a great warrior and fight—fight for +his poor mother," she whispered, lowering her voice and caressing the +child's curls.</p> + +<p>The little fellow sat up of a sudden facing his mother and struck out +squarely with both fists, not uttering a word.</p> + +<p>"My brave, brave little Eric! My only one, all that God has left to me!" +she sobbed hiding her weeping face on the child's neck. "O my God, let +me but keep my little one! Thou hast given him to me and I have +treasured him as a jewel from Thine own crown! O my God, let me but keep +my darling, keep him as Thy gift—and—and—O my God!—Thy—Thy—Thy +will be done!"</p> + +<p>The words broke in a moan and the child began to cry.</p> + +<p>"Hush, dearie! The birds never cry, nor the beavers, nor the great, bold +eagle! My own little warrior must never cry! All the birds and the +beasts and the warriors are asleep! What does Eric say before he goes to +sleep?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<p>A pair of chubby arms were flung about her neck and passionate, childish +kisses pressed her forehead and her cheeks and her lips. Then he slipped +to his knees and put his face in her lap.</p> + +<p>"God bless my papa—and keep my mamma—and make little Eric brave and +good—for Jesus' sake——" the child hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Amen," prompted the gentle voice of the mother.</p> + +<p>"And keep little Eric for my mamma so she won't cry," added the child, +"for Jesus' sake—Amen," and he scrambled to his feet.</p> + +<p>A low, piercing whistle cut the night air like the flight of an +arrow-shaft. It was Louis Laplante's signal that Diable and the squaw +were coming back. At the sound, mother and child started up in alarm. +Then they saw me standing in the open way. A gasp of fright came from +the white woman's lips. I could tell from her voice that she was all +a-tremble, and the little one began to whimper in a smothered, +suppressed way.</p> + +<p>I whispered one word—"Miriam!"</p> + +<p>With a faint cry of anguish, she leaped forward. "Is it you, Eric? O +Eric! is it you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No—no, Miriam, not Eric, but Eric's friend, Rufus Gillespie."</p> + +<p>She tottered as if I had struck her. I caught her in my arms and helped +her to the couch of robes.</p> + +<p>Then I took up my station facing the tent entrance;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> for I realized the +significance of Laplante's warning.</p> + +<p>"We have hunted for more than a year for you," I whispered, bending over +her, "but the Sioux murdered our messenger and the other you yourself +let out of the tent!"</p> + +<p>"That—your messenger for me?" she asked in sheer amazement, proving +what I had suspected, that she was kept in ignorance of our efforts.</p> + +<p>"I have been here for a week, searching the lodges. My horses are in the +valley, and we must dare all in one attempt."</p> + +<p>"I have given my word I will not try," she hastily interrupted, +beginning to pluck at her red shawl in the frenzied way of delirious +fever patients. "If we are caught, they will torture us, torture the +child before my eyes. They treat him well now and leave me alone as long +as I do not try to break away. What can you, one man, do against two +thousand Sioux?" and she began to weep, choking back the anguished sobs, +that shook her slender frame, and picking feverishly at the red shawl +fringe.</p> + +<p>To look at that agonized face would have been sacrilege, and in a +helpless, nonplussed way, I kept gazing at the painful workings of the +thin, frail fingers. That plucking of the wasted, trembling hands haunts +me to this day; and never do I see the fingers of a nervous, sensitive +woman working in that delirious, aimless fashion but it sets me +wondering to what painful treatment from a brutalized nature she has +been subjected, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> her hands take on the tricks of one in the last +stages of disease. It may be only the fancy of an old trader; but I dare +avow, if any sympathetic observer takes note of this simple trick of +nervous fingers, it will raise the veil on more domestic tragedies and +heart-burnings than any father-confessor hears in a year.</p> + +<p>"Miriam," said I, in answer to her timid protest, "Eric has risked his +life seeking you. Won't you try all for Eric's sake? There'll be little +risk! We'll wait for a dark, boisterous, stormy night, and you will roll +out of your tent the way you thrust my Indian out. I'll have my horses +ready. I'll creep up behind and whisper through the tent."</p> + +<p>"Where <i>is</i> Eric?" she asked, beginning to waver.</p> + +<p>Two shrill, sharp whistles came from Louis Laplante, commanding me to +come out of the tent.</p> + +<p>"That's my signal! I must go. Quick, Miriam, will you try?"</p> + +<p>"I will do what you wish," she answered, so low, I had to kneel to catch +the words.</p> + +<p>"A stormy night our signal, then," I cried.</p> + +<p>Three, sharp, terrified whistles, signifying, "We are caught, save +yourself," came from Laplante, and I flung myself on the ground behind +Miriam.</p> + +<p>"Spread out your arms, Miriam! Quick!" I urged. "Talk to the boy, or +we're trapped."</p> + +<p>With her shawl spread out full and her elbows<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> sticking akimbo, she +caught the lad in her arms and began dandling him to right, and left, +humming some nursery ditty. At the same moment there loomed in the tent +entrance the great, statuesque figure of the Sioux squaw, whom I had +seen in the gorge. I kicked my feet under the canvas wall, while +Miriam's swaying shawl completely concealed me from the Sioux woman and +thus I crawled out backwards. Then I lay outside the tent and listened, +listened with my hand on my pistol, for what might not that monster of +fury attempt with the tender, white woman?</p> + +<p>"There were words in the tepee," declared the angry tones of the Indian +woman. "The pale face was talking! Where is the messenger from the +Mandanes?"</p> + +<p>At that, the little child set up a bitter crying.</p> + +<p>"Cry not, my little warrior! Hush, dearie! 'Twas only a hunter +whistling, or the night hawk, or the raccoon! Hush, little Eric! +Warriors never cry! Hush! Hush! Or the great bear will laugh at you and +tell his cubs he's found a coward!" crooned Miriam, making as though she +neither heard, nor saw the squaw; but Eric opened his mouth and roared +lustily. And the little lad unconsciously foiled the squaw; for she +presently took herself off, evidently thinking the voices had been those +of mother and son.</p> + +<p>I skirted cautiously around the rear of the lodges to avoid encountering +Diable, or his squaw. The form of a man hulked against me in the dark. +'Twas Louis.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mon Dieu, Gillespie, I thought one scalp was gone," he gasped.</p> + +<p>"What are you here for? You don't want to be seen with me," I protested, +grateful and alarmed for his foolhardiness in coming to meet me.</p> + +<p>"Sacredie! The dogs! They make pretty music at your shins without me," +and Louis struck boldly across the open for his tent. "Fool to stay so +long!" he muttered. "I no more ever help you once again! Mon Dieu! No! I +no promise my scalp too! They found your horses in the valley! They—how +you say it?—think for some Mandane is here and fear. They rode back +fast on your horses. 'Twas why I whistle for, twice so quick! They ride +north in the morning. I go too, with the devil and his wife! I be gone +to the devil this many a while! But I must go, or they suspect and knife +me. That vampire! Ha! she would drink my gore! I no more have nothing to +do with you. Before morning, you must do your own do alone! Sacredie! Do +not forget, I pay you back yet!"</p> + +<p>So he rattled on, ever keeping between me and the lodges. By his +confused words, I knew he was in great trepidation.</p> + +<p>"Why, there are my horses!" I exclaimed, seeing all six standing before +Diable's lodge.</p> + +<p>"You do your do before morning! Take one of my saddles!" said Louis.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, all my saddles were piled before the Iroquois' wigwam; and +there stood my enemy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> and the Sioux squaw, talking loudly, pointing to +the horses and gesticulating with violence.</p> + +<p>"Mon Dieu! Prenez garde! Get you in!" muttered Louis. We were at his +tent door, and I was looking back at my horses. "If they see you, all is +lost," he warned.</p> + +<p>And the warning came just in time. With that animal instinct of +nearness, which is neither sight, nor smell, my favorite broncho put +forward his ears and whinnied sharply. Both Diable and the squaw noted +the act and turned; but Louis had knocked me forward face down into the +tent.</p> + +<p>With an oath, he threw himself on his couch. "Take my saddle," he said. +"I steal another. Do your do before morning. I no more have nothing to +do with you, till I pay you back all the same!"</p> + +<p>And he was presently fast asleep, or pretending to be.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>WHEREIN LOUIS INTRIGUES</h3> + + +<p>Next morning Le Grand Diable would set out for the north. This night, +then, was my last chance to rescue Miriam. "Do your do before morning!" +How Laplante's words echoed in my ears! I had told Miriam a stormy night +was to be the signal for our attempt; and now the rising moon was +dispelling any vague haziness that might have helped to conceal us. In +an hour, the whole camp would be bright as day in clear, silver light. +Presently, the clatter of the lodges ceased. Only an occasional snarl +from the dogs, or the angry squeals of my bronchos kicking the Indian +ponies, broke the utter stillness. There was not even a wind to drown +foot-treads, and every lodge of the camp was reflected across the ground +in elongated shadows as distinct as a crayon figure on white paper. What +if some watchful Indian should discover our moving shadows? La Robe +Noire's fate flashed back and I shuddered.</p> + +<p>Flinging up impatiently from the robes, I looked from the tent way. Some +dog of the pack gave the short, sharp bark of a fox. Then, but for the +crunching of my horses over the turf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> some yards away, there was +silence. I could hear the heavy breathing of people in near-by lodges. +Up from the wooded valley came the far-off purr of a stream over stony +bottom and the low washing sound only accentuated the stillness. The +shrill cry of some lonely night-bird stabbed the atmosphere with a throb +of pain. Again the dog snapped out a bark and again there was utter +quiet.</p> + +<p>"One chance in a thousand," said I to myself, "only one in a thousand; +but I'll take it!" And I stepped from the tent. This time the wakeful +dog let out a mouthful of quick barkings. Jerking off my boots—I had +not yet taken to the native custom of moccasins—I dodged across the +roadway into the exaggerated shadow of some Indian camp truckery. Here I +fell flat to the ground so that no reflection should betray my +movements. Then I remembered I had forgotten Louis Laplante's saddle. +Rising, I dived back to the tepee for it and waited for the dogs to +quiet before coming out again. That alert canine had set up a duet with +a neighboring brute of like restless instincts and the two seemed to +promise an endless chorus. As I live, I could have sworn that Louis +Laplante laughed in his sleep at my dilemma; but Louis was of the sort +to laugh in the face of death itself. A man flew from a lodge and +dealing out stout blows quickly silenced the vicious curs; but I had to +let time lapse for the man to go to sleep before I could venture out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once more, chirp of cricket, croak of frog and the rush of waters +through the valley were the only sounds, and I darted across to the camp +shadow. Lying flat, I began to crawl cautiously and laboriously towards +my horses. One gave a startled snort as I approached and this set the +dogs going again. I lay motionless in the grass till all was quiet and +then crept gently round to the far side of my favorite horse and caught +his halter strap lest he should whinny, or start away. I drew erect +directly opposite his shoulders, so that I could not be seen from the +lodges and unhobbling his feet, led him into the concealment of a group +of ponies and had the saddle on in a trice. To get the horse to the rear +of Miriam's tent was no easy matter. I paced my steps so deftly with the +broncho's and let him munch grass so often, the most watchful Indian +could not have detected a man on the far side of the horse, directing +every move. Behind the Sioux lodge, the earth sloped abruptly away, bare +and precipitous; and I left the horse below and clambered up the steep +to the white wall of Miriam's tent. Once the dogs threatened to create a +disturbance, but a man quieted them, and with gratitude I recognized the +voice of Laplante.</p> + +<p>Three times I tapped on the canvas but there was no response. I put my +arm under the tent and rapped on the ground. Why did she not signal? Was +the Sioux squaw from the other lodge listening? I could hear nothing but +the tossings of the child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miriam," I called, shoving my arm forward and feeling out blindly.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, a woman's hand grasped mine and thrust it out, while a voice +so low it might have been the night breeze, came to my ear—"We are +watched."</p> + +<p>Watched? What did it matter if we were? Had I not dared all? Must not +she do the same? This was the last chance. We must not be foiled. My +horse, I knew, could outrace any cayuse of the Sioux band.</p> + +<p>"Miriam," I whispered back, lifting the canvas, "they will take you away +to-morrow—my horse is here! Come! We must risk all!"</p> + +<p>And I shoved myself bodily in under the tent wall. She was not a hand's +length away, sitting with her face to the entrance of Diable's lodge, +her figure rigid and tense with fear. In the half light I could discern +the great, powerful, angular form of a giantess in the opening. 'Twas +the Sioux squaw. Miriam leaned forward to cover the child with a motion +intended to conceal me, and I drew quickly out.</p> + +<p>I thought I had not been detected; but the situation was perilous +enough, in all conscience, to inspire caution, and I was backing away, +when suddenly the shadows of two men coming from opposite sides appeared +on the white tent, and something sprang upon me with tigerish fury. +There was the swish of an unsheathing blade, and I felt rather than saw +Le Grand Diable and Louis Laplante contesting over me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never! He's mine, my captive! He stole my saddle! He's mine, I tell +you," ground out the Frenchman, throwing off my assailant. "Keep him for +the warriors and let him be tortured," urged Louis, snatching at the +Indian's arm.</p> + +<p>I sprang up. It was Louis, who tripped my feet from under me, and we two +tumbled to the bottom of the cliff, while the Indian stood above +snarling out something in the Sioux tongue.</p> + +<p>"Idiot! Anglo-Saxon ox!" muttered Louis, grappling with me as we fell. +"Do but act it out, or two scalps go! I no promise mine when I say I +help you, bah——"</p> + +<p>That was the last I recall; for I went down head backwards, and the blow +knocked me senseless.</p> + +<p>When I came to, with an aching neck and a humming in my ears, there was +the gray light of a waning moon, and I found myself lying bound in +Miriam's tent. Her child was whimpering timidly and she was hurriedly +gathering her belongings into a small bundle.</p> + +<p>"Miriam, what has happened?" I asked. Then the whole struggle and +failure came back to me with an overwhelming realization that torture +and death would be our portion.</p> + +<p>"Try no more," she whispered, brushing past me and making as though she +were gathering things where I lay. "Never try, for my sake, never try! +They will torture you. I shall die soon. Only save the child! For +myself, I am past<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> caring. Good-by forever!" and she dashed to the other +side of the tent.</p> + +<p>At that, with a deal of noisy mirth, in burst Laplante and the Sioux +squaw.</p> + +<p>"Ho-ho! My knight-errant has opened his eyes! Great sport for the +braves, say I! Fine mouse-play for the cat, ho-ho!" and Louis looked +down at me with laughing insolence, that sent a chill through my veins. +'Twas to save his own scalp the rascal was acting and would have me act +too; but I had no wish to betray him. Striking at her captives and +rudely ordering them out, the Sioux led the way and left Louis to bring +up the rear.</p> + +<p>"Leave this, lady," said Louis with an air that might have been +impudence or gallantry; and he grabbed the bundle from Miriam's hand and +threw it over his shoulder at me. This was greeted with a roar of +laughter from the Sioux woman and one look of unspeakable reproach from +Miriam. Whistling gaily and turning back to wink at me, the Frenchman +disappeared in Diable's lodge. For my part, I was puzzled. Did Louis act +from the love of acting and trickery and intrigue? Was he befooling the +daughter of L'Aigle, or me?</p> + +<p>They tore down Diable's tepee, stringing the poles on the bronchos +stolen from me and leaving Miriam's white tent with the Sioux. I saw +them mount with my horses to the fore, and they set out at a sharp trot. +From the hoof-beats, I should judge they had not gone many paces,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> when +one rider seemed to turn back, and Louis ran into the tent where I lay. +I did not utter one word of pleading; but as he stooped for Miriam's +bundle, he whisked out a jack-knife and my heart bounded with a great +hope. I suppose, involuntarily, I must have lifted my arms to have the +bonds severed; for Laplante shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No—mine frien'—not now—I not scalp Louis Laplante for your +sake,—no, never. Use your teeth—so!" said he, laying the blade of the +knife in his own teeth to show me how; and he slipped the thing into +hiding under my armpits. "The warriors—they come back to-day," he +warned. "You wait till we are far, then cut quick, or they do worse to +you than to La Robe Noire! I leave one horse for you in the valley +beyond the beaver-dam. Tra-la, comrade, but not forget you. I pay you +back yet all the same," and with a whistle, he had vanished.</p> + +<p>I hung upon the Frenchman's words as a drowning sailor to a life-line, +and heard the hoof-beats grow fainter and fainter in the distance, +hardly daring to realize the fearful peril in which I lay. By the light +at the tent opening, I knew it was daybreak. Already the Sioux were +stirring in their lodges and naked urchins came to the entrance to hoot +and pelt mud. Somehow, I got into sitting posture, with my head bowed +forward on my arms, so I could use the knife without being seen. At +that, the impertinent brats became bolder and swarming into the tent +began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> poking sticks. I held my arm closer to my side, and felt the hard +steel's pressure with a pleasure not to be marred by that tantalizing +horde. There seemed to be a gathering hubbub outside. Indians, squaws +and children were rushing in the direction of the trail to the Mandanes. +The children in my tent forgot me and dashed out with the rest. I could +not doubt the cause of the clamor. This was the morning of the warriors' +return; and getting the knife in my teeth, I began filing furiously at +the ropes about my wrists. Man is not a rodent; but under stress of +necessity and with instruments of his own designing, he can do something +to remedy his human helplessness. To the din of clamoring voices outside +were added the shouts of approaching warriors, the galloping of a +multitude of horses and the whining yells of countless dogs.</p> + +<p>While all the Sioux were on the outskirts of the encampment, I might yet +escape unobserved, but the returning braves were very near. Putting all +my strength in my wrists, I burst the half-cut bonds; and the rest was +easy. A slash of the knife and my feet were free and I had rolled down +the cliff and was running with breathless haste over fallen logs, under +leafy coverts, across noisy creeks, through the wooded valley to the +beaver dam. How long, or how far, I ran in this desperate, heedless +fashion, I do not know. The branches, that reached out like the bands of +pursuers, caught and ripped my clothing to shreds. I had been bootless, +when I started; but my feet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> were now bare and bleeding. A gleam of +water flashed through the green foliage. This must be the river, with +the beaver-dam, and to my eager eyes, the stream already appeared muddy +and sluggish as if obstructed. My heart was beating with a sensation of +painful, bursting blows. There was a roaring in my ears, and at every +step I took, the landscape swam black before me and the trees racing +into the back ground staggered on each side like drunken men. Then I +knew that I had reached the limit of my strength and with the domed +mud-tops of the beaver-dam in sight half a mile to the fore, I sank down +to rest. The river was marshy, weed-grown and brown; but I gulped down a +drink and felt breath returning and the labored pulse easing. Not daring +to pause long, I went forward at a slackened rate, knowing I must +husband my strength to swim or wade across the river. Was it the +apprehension of fear, or the buzzing in my ears, that suggested the +faint, far-away echo of a clamoring multitude? I stopped and listened. +There was no sound but the lapping of water, or rush of wind through the +leaves. I went on again at hastened pace, and distinctly down the valley +came echo of the Sioux war-whoop.</p> + +<p>I was pursued. There was no mistaking that fact, and with a thrill, +which I have no hesitancy in confessing was the most intense fear I have +ever experienced in my life, I broke into a terrified, panic-stricken +run. The river grew dark, sluggish and treacherous-looking. By the +blood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> flowing from my feet, Indian scouts could track me for leagues. I +looked to the river with the vague hope of running along the water bed +to throw my pursuers off the trail; but the water was deep and I had not +strength to swim. The beaver-dam was huddled close to the clay bank of +the far side and on the side, where I ran, the current spread out in a +flaggy marsh. Hoping to elude the Sioux, I plunged in and floundered +blindly forward. But blood trails marked the pond behind and the soft +ooze snared my feet.</p> + +<p>I was now opposite the beaver-dam and saw with horror there were +branches enough floating in mid-stream to entangle the strongest +swimmer. The shouts of my pursuers sounded nearer. They could not have +known how close they were upon me, else had they ambushed me in silence +after Indian custom, shouting only when they sighted their quarry. The +river was not tempting for a fagged, breathless swimmer, whose dive must +be short and sorry. I had nigh counted my earthly course run, when I +caught sight of a hollow, punky tree-trunk standing high above the bank. +I could hear the swiftest runners behind splashing through the marsh +bed. Now the thick willow-bush screened me, but in a few moments they +would be on my very heels. With the supernatural strength of a last +desperate effort, I bounded to the empty trunk and like some hounded, +treed creature, clambered up inside, digging my wounded feet into the +soft, wet wood-rot and burrowing naked fingers through the punk of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +rounded sides till I was twice the height of a man above the blackened +opening at the base. Then a piece of wood crumbled in my right hand. +Daylight broke through the trunk and I found that I had grasped the edge +of a rotted knot-hole.</p> + +<p>Bracing my feet across beneath me like tie beams of raftered +scaffolding, I craned up till my eye was on a level with the knot-hole +and peered down through my lofty lookout. Either the shouting of the +Sioux warriors had ceased, which indicated they had found my tracks and +knew they were close upon me, or my shelter shut out the sound of +approaching foes. I broke more bark from the hole and gained full view +of the scene below.</p> + +<p>A crested savage ran out from the tangled foliage of the river bank, saw +the turgid settlings of the rippling marsh, where I had been +floundering, and darted past my hiding-place with a shrill yell of +triumph. Instantaneously the woods were ringing, echoing and re-echoing +with the hoarse, wild war-cries of the Sioux. Band after band burst from +the leafy covert of forest and marsh willows, and dashed in full pursuit +after the leading Indian. Some of the braves still wore the buckskin +toggery of their visit to the Mandanes; but the swiftest runners had +cast off all clothing and tore forward unimpeded. The last coppery form +disappeared among the trees of the river bank and the shoutings were +growing fainter, when, suddenly, there was such an ominous calm, I knew +they were foiled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>Would they return to the last marks of my trail? That thought sent the +blood from my head with a rush that left me dizzy, weak and shivering. I +looked to the river. The floating branches turned lazily over and over +to the lapping of the sluggish current, and the green slime oozing from +the clustered beaver lodges of the far side might hide either a miry +bottom, or a treacherous hole.</p> + +<p>A naked Indian came pattering back through the brush, looking into every +hollow log, under fallen trees, through clumps of shrub growth, where a +man might hide, and into the swampy river bed. It was only a matter of +time when he would reach my hiding-place. Should I wait to be smoked out +of my hole, like a badger, or a raccoon? Again I looked hopelessly to +the river. A choice of deaths seemed my only fate. Torture, burning, or +the cool wash of a black wave gurgling over one's head?</p> + +<p>A broad-girthed log lay in the swamp and stretched out over mid-stream +in a way that would give a quick diver at least a good, clean, clear +leap. A score more savages had emerged from the woods and were eagerly +searching, from the limbs of trees above, where I might be perched, to +the black river-bed below. However much I may vacillate between two +courses, once my decision is taken, I have ever been swift to act; and I +slipped down the tree-trunk with the bound of a bullet through a +gun-barrel, took one last look from the opening, which revealed pursuers +not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> fifty yards away, plunged through the marsh, dashed to the fallen +log and made a rush to the end.</p> + +<p>A score of brazen throats screeched out their baffled rage. There was a +twanging of bow-strings. The humming of arrow flight sung about my head. +I heard the crash of some savage blazing away with his old flintlock. A +deep-drawn breath, and I was cleaving the air. Then the murky, greenish +waters splashed in my face, opened wide and closed over me.</p> + +<p>A tangle of green was at the soft, muddy bottom. Something living, +slippery, silky and furry, that was neither fish, nor water snake, got +between my feet; but countless arrows, I knew, were aimed and ready for +me, when I came to the surface. So I held down for what seemed an +interminable time, though it was only a few seconds, struck for the far +shore, and presently felt the green slime of the upper water matting in +my hair.</p> + +<p>Every swimmer knows that rich, sweet, full intake of life-giving air +after a long dive. I drew in deep, fresh breaths and tried to blink the +slime from my eyes and get my bearings. There were the howlings of +baffled wolves from what was now the far side of the river bank; but +domed clay mounds, mossy, floating branches and a world of willows +shrubs were about my head. Then I knew what the furry thing among the +tangle at the river bottom was, and realized that I had come up among +the beaver lodges. The dam must have been an old one; for the clay +houses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> were all overgrown with moss and water-weeds. A perfect network +of willow growth interlaced the different lodges.</p> + +<p>I heard the splash as of a diver from the opposite side. Was it a +beaver, or my Indian pursuers? Then I could distinctly make out the +strokes of some one swimming and splashing about. My foes were +determined to have me, dead, or alive. I ducked under, found shallow, +soft bottom, half paddled, half waded, a pace more shoreward, and came +up with my head in utter darkness.</p> + +<p>Where was I? I drew breath. Yes, assuredly, I was above water; but the +air was fetid with heavy, animal breath and teeth snarled shut in my +very face. Somehow, I had come up through the broken bottom of an old +beaver lodge and was now in the lair of the living creatures. What was +inside, I cannot record; for to my eyes the blackness was positively +thick. I felt blindly out through the palpable darkness and caught tight +hold of a pole, that seemed to reach from side to side. This gave me +leverage and I hoisted myself upon it, bringing my crown a mighty sharp +crack as I mounted the perch; for the beaver lodge sloped down like an +egg shell.</p> + +<p>I must have seemed some water monster to the poor beaver; for there was +a scurrying, scampering and gurgling off into the river. Then my own +breathing and the drip of my clothes were all that disturbed the lodge.</p> + +<p>Time, say certain philosophers, is the measure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> of a man's ideas +marching along in uniform procession. But I hold they are wrong. Time is +nothing of the sort; else had time stopped as I hung panting over the +pole in the beaver lodge; for one idea and one only, beat and beat and +beat to the pulsing of the blood that throbbed through my brain—"I am +safe—I am safe—I am safe!"</p> + +<p>How can I tell how long I hung there? To me it seemed a century. I do +not even know whether I lost consciousness. I am sure I repeatedly +awakened with a jerk back from some hazy, far-off, oblivious realm, shut +off even in memory from the things of this life. I am sure I tried to +burrow my hand through the clammy moss-wall of the beaver lodge to let +in fresh air; but my spirit would be suddenly rapt away to that other +region. I am sure I felt the waters washing over my head and sweeping me +away from this world to another life. Then I would lose grip of the pole +and come to myself clutching at it with wild terror; and again the +drowse of life's borderland would overpower me. And all the time I was +saying over and over, "I am safe! I am safe!"</p> + +<p>How many of the things called hours slipped past, I do not know. As I +said before, it seemed to me a century. Whether it was mid-day, or +twilight, when I let myself down from the pole and crawled like a +bedraggled water-rat to the shore, I do not know. Whether it was +morning, or night, when I dragged myself under the fern-brake and fell +into a death-like sleep, I do not know. When I awakened, the forest was +a labyrinth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> of shafted moonlight and sombre shadows. All that had +happened in the past twenty-four hours came back to me with vivid +reality. I remembered Laplante's promise to leave a horse for me in the +valley beyond the beaver dam. With this hope in my heart I crawled +cautiously down through the silent shadows of the night.</p> + +<p>At daybreak I found Louis had made good his promise, and I was speeding +on horseback towards the trail, where Little Fellow awaited me.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS</h3> + + +<p>He who would hear that paradox of impossibilities—silence become +vocal—must traverse the vast wastes of the prairie by night. As a +mother quiets a fretful child, so the illimitable calm lulls tumultuous +thoughts. The wind moving through empty solitudes comes with a sigh of +unutterable loneliness. Unconsciously, men listen for some faint +rustling from the gauzy, wavering streamers that fire northern skies. +The dullest ear can almost fancy sounds from the noiseless wheeling of +planets through the overspanning vaulted blue; and human speech seems +sacrilege.</p> + +<p>Though the language of the prairie be not in words, some message is +surely uttered; for the people of the plains wear the far-away look of +communion with the unseen and the unheard. The fine sensibility of the +white woman, perhaps, shows the impress of the vast solitudes most +readily, and the gravely repressed nature of the Indian least; but all +plain-dwellers have learned to catch the voice of the prairie. I, +myself, know the message well, though I may no more put it into words +than the song love sings in one's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> heart. Love, says the poet, is +infinite. So is the space of the prairie. That, I suppose, is why both +are too boundless for the limitation of speech.</p> + +<p>Night after night, with only a grassy swish and deadened tread over the +turf breaking stillness, we journeyed northward. Occasionally, like the +chirp of cricket in a dry well, life sounded through emptiness. Skulking +coyotes, seeking prey among earth mounds, or night hawks, lilting +solitarily in vaulted mid-heaven, uttered cries that pierced the vast +blue. Owls flapped stupidly up from our horses' feet. Hungry kites +wheeled above lonely Indian graves, or perched on the scaffolding, where +the dead lay swathed in skins.</p> + +<p>Reflecting on my experiences with the Mandanes and the Sioux, I was +disposed to upbraid fate as a senseless thing with no thread of purpose +through life's hopeless jumble. Now, something in the calm of the +plains, or the certainty of our unerring star-guides, quieted my unrest. +Besides, was I not returning to one who was peerless? That hope speedily +eclipsed all interests. That was purpose enough for my life. Forthwith, +I began comparing lustrous gray eyes to the stars, and tracing a woman's +figure in the diaphanous northern lights. One face ever gleamed through +the dusk at my horse's head and beckoned northward. I do not think her +presence left me for an instant on that homeward journey. But, indeed, I +should not set down these extravagances, which each may recall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> in his +own case, only I would have others judge whether she influenced me, or +I, her.</p> + +<p>Thus we traveled northward, journeying by night as long as we were in +the Sioux territory. Once in the land of the Assiniboines, we rode day +and night to the limit of our horses' endurance. Remembering the +Hudson's Bay outrage at the Souris, and having also heard from Mandane +runners of a raid planned by our rivals against the North-West fort at +Pembina, I steered wide of both places, following the old Missouri trail +midway between the Red and Souris rivers. It may have been because we +traveled at night, but I did not encounter a single person, native or +white, till we came close to the Red and were less than a day's journey +from Fort Gibraltar. On the river trail, we overtook some Hudson's Bay +trappers. The fellows would not answer a single question about events +during the year and scampered away from us as if we carried smallpox, +which had thinned the population a few years before.</p> + +<p>"That's bad!" said I aloud, as the men fled down the river bank, where +we could not follow. Little Fellow looked as solemn as a grave-stone. He +shook his head with ominous wisdom that foresees all evil but refuses to +prophesy.</p> + +<p>"Bother to you, Little Fellow!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean? What's +up?"</p> + +<p>Again the Indian shook his head with dark mutterings, looking mighty +solemn, but he would not share his foreknowledge. We met more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> Hudson's +Bay men, and their conduct was unmistakably suspicious. On a sudden +seeing us, they reined up their horses, wheeled and galloped off without +a word.</p> + +<p>"I don't like that! I emphatically don't!" I piloted my broncho to a +slight roll of the prairie, where we could reconnoitre. Distinctly there +was the spot where the two rivers met. Intervening shrubbery confused my +bearings. I rose in my stirrups, while Little Fellow stood erect on his +horse's back.</p> + +<p>"Little Fellow!" I cried, exasperated with myself, "Where's Fort +Gibraltar? I see where it ought to be, where the towers ought to be +higher than that brush, but where's the fort?"</p> + +<p>The Indian screened his eyes and gazed forward. Then he came down with a +thud, abruptly re-straddling his horse, and uttered one explosive +word—"Smoke."</p> + +<p>"Smoke? I don't see smoke! Where's the fort?"</p> + +<p>"No fort," said he.</p> + +<p>"You're daft!" I informed him, with the engaging frankness of a master +for a servant. "There—is—a fort, and you know it—we're both +lost—that's more! A fine Indian you are, to get lost!"</p> + +<p>Little Fellow scrambled with alacrity to the ground. Picking up two +small switches, he propped them against each other.</p> + +<p>"Fort!" he said, laconically, pointing to the switches.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + +<p>"L'anglais!" he cried, thrusting out his foot, which signified Hudson's +Bay.</p> + +<p>"No fort!" he shouted, kicking the switches into the air. "No fort!" and +he looked with speechless disgust at the vacancy.</p> + +<p>Now I knew what he meant. Fort Gibraltar had been destroyed by Hudson's +Bay men. We had no alternative but to strike west along the Assiniboine, +on the chance of meeting some Nor'-Westers before reaching the company's +quarters at the Portage. That post, too, might be destroyed; but where +were Hamilton and Father Holland? Danger, or no danger, I must learn +more of the doings in Red River. Also, there were reasons why I wished +to visit the settlers of Fort Douglas. We camped on the south side of +the Assiniboine a few miles from the Red, and Little Fellow went to some +neighboring half-breeds for a canoe.</p> + +<p>And a strange story he brought back! A great man, second only to the +king—so the half-breeds said—had come from England to rule over +Assiniboia. He boasted the shock of his power would be felt from +Montreal to Athabasca. He would drive out all Nor'-Westers. This +personage, I afterwards learned, was the amiable Governor Semple, who +succeeded Captain Miles McDonell. Already, as a hunter chases a deer, +had the great governor chased Nor'-Westers from Red River. Did Little +Fellow doubt their word? Where was Fort Gibraltar? Let Little Fellow +look and see for himself if aught but masonry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> and charred walls stood +where Fort Gibraltar had been! Let him seek the rafters of the +Nor-Westers' fort in the new walls of Fort Douglas! Pembina, too, had +fallen before the Hudson's Bay men. Since the coming of the great +governor, nothing could stand before the English.</p> + +<p>But wait! It was not all over! The war drum was beating in the tents of +all the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>! The great governor should be taught that even the +king's arms could not prevail against the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>! Was there smoke +of battle? The <i>Bois-Brulés</i> would be there! The <i>Bois-Brulés</i> had +wrongs to avenge. They would not be turned out of their forts for +nothing! Knives would be unsheathed. There were full powder-bags! There +was a grand gathering of <i>Bois-Brulés</i> at the Portage. They, themselves, +were on the way there. Let Little Fellow and the white trader join them! +Let them be wary; for the English were watchful! Great things were to be +done by the <i>Bois-Brulés</i> before another moon—and Little Fellow's eyes +snapped fire as he related their vauntings.</p> + +<p>I was inclined to regard the report as a fairy tale. If the half-breeds +were arming and the English watchful, the distrust of the Hudson's Bay +men was explained. A nomad, himself, the Indian may be willing enough to +share running rights over the land of his fathers; but when the newcomer +not only usurps possession, but imposes the yoke of laws on the native, +the resentment of the dusky race is easily fanned to that point<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> which +civilized men call rebellion. I could readily understand how the +Hudson's Bay proclamations forbidding the sale of furs to rivals, when +these rivals were friends by marriage and treaty with the natives, +roused all the bloodthirsty fury of the Indian nature. Nor'-Westers' +forts were being plundered. Why should the <i>Bois-Brulés</i> not pillage +Hudson's Bay posts? Each company was stealing the cargo of its rival, as +boats passed and repassed the different forts. Why should the half-breed +not have his share of the booty? The most peace-loving dog can be set +a-fighting; and the fight-loving Indian finds it very difficult indeed, +to keep the peace. This, the great fur companies had not yet realized; +and the lesson was to be driven home to them with irresistible force.</p> + +<p>The half-breeds also had news of a priest bringing a delirious man to +Fort Douglas. The description seemed to fit Hamilton and Father Holland. +Whatever truth might be in the rumors of an uprising, I must ascertain +whether or not Frances Sutherland would be safe. Leaving Little Fellow +to guard our horses, at sundown I pushed my canoe into the Assiniboine +just east of the rapids. Paddling swiftly with the current, I kept close +to the south bank, where overhanging willows concealed one side of the +river.</p> + +<p>As I swung out into the Red, true to the <i>Bois-Brulés'</i> report, I saw +only blackened chimneys and ruined walls on the site of Fort Gibraltar. +Heading towards the right bank, I hugged the naked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> cliff on the side +opposite Fort Douglas, and trusted the rising mist to conceal me. Thus, +I slipped past cannon, pointing threateningly from the Hudson's Bay +post, recrossed to the wooded west bank again, and paddled on till I +caught a glimpse of a little, square, whitewashed house in a grove of +fine old trees. This I knew, from Frances Sutherland's description, was +her father's place.</p> + +<p>Mooring among the shrubbery I had no patience to hunt for beaten path; +but digging my feet into soft clay and catching branches with both +hands, I clambered up the cliff and found myself in a thicket not a +stone's throw from the door. The house was in darkness. My heart sank at +a possibility which hardly framed itself to a thought. Was the +apparition in the Mandane lodge some portent? Had I not read, or heard, +of departed spirits hovering near loved ones? I had no courage to think +more.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door flung open. Involuntarily, I slipped behind the +bushes, but dusk hid the approaching figure. Whoever it was made no +noise. I felt, rather than heard, her coming, and knew no man could walk +so silently. It must be a woman. Then my chest stifled and I heard my +own heart-beats. Garments fluttered past the branches of my +hiding-place. She of whom I had dreamed by night and thought by day and +hoped whether sleeping, or waking, paused, not an arm's length away.</p> + +<p>Toying with the tip of the branch, which I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> gripping for dear life, +she looked languorously through the foliage towards the river. At first +I thought myself the victim of another hallucination, but would not stir +lest the vision should vanish. She sighed audibly, and I knew this was +no spectre. Then I trembled all the more, for my sudden appearance might +alarm her.</p> + +<p>I should wait until she went back to the house—another of my brave vows +to keep myself in hand!—then walk up noisily, giving due warning, and +knock at the door. The keeping of that resolution demanded all my +strength of will; for she was so near I could have clasped her in my +arms without an effort. Indeed, it took a very great effort to refrain +from doing so.</p> + +<p>"Heigh-ho," said a low voice with the ripple of a sunny brook tinkling +over pebbles, "but it's a long day—and a long, long week—and a long, +long, long month—and oh!—a century of years since——" and the voice +broke in a sigh.</p> + +<p>I think—though I would not set this down as a fact—that a certain +small foot, which once stamped two strong men into obedience, now vented +its impatience at a twig on the grass. By the code of eastern +proprieties, I may not say that the dainty toe-tip first kicked the +offensive little branch and then crunched it deep in the turf.</p> + +<p>"I hate this lonely country," said the voice, with the vim of water-fret +against an obstinate stone. "Wonder what it's like in the Mandane land! +I'm sure it's nicer there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now I affirm there is not a youth living who would not at some time give +his right hand to know a woman's exact interpretation of that word +"nicer." For my part, it set me clutching the branch with such ferocity, +off snapped the thing with the sharp splintering of a breaking stick. +The voice gave a gasp and she jumped aside with nervous trepidation.</p> + +<p>"Whatever—was that? I am—not frightened." No one was accusing her. "I +won't go in! I won't let myself be frightened! There! The very idea!" +And three or four sharp stamps followed in quick succession; but she was +shivering.</p> + +<p>"I declare the house is so lonely, a ghost would be live company." And +she looked doubtfully from the dark house to the quivering poplars. "I'd +rather be out here with the tree-toads and owls and bats than in there +alone, even if they do frighten me! Anyway, I'm not frightened! It's +just some stupid hop-and-go-spring thing at the base of our brains that +makes us jump at mice and rats." But the hands interlocking at her back +twitched and clasped and unclasped in a way that showed the automatic +brain-spring was still active.</p> + +<p>"It's getting worse every day. I can't stand it much longer, looking and +looking till I'm half blind and no one but Indian riders all day long. +Why doesn't he come? Oh! I know something is wrong."</p> + +<p>"Afraid of the Metis," thought I, "and expecting her father. A fine +father to leave his daughter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> alone in the house with the half-breeds +threatening a raid. She needs some one else to take care of her." This, +on after thought, I know was unjust to her father; for pioneers obey +necessity first and chivalry second.</p> + +<p>"If he would only come!" she repeated in a half whisper.</p> + +<p>"Hope he doesn't," thought I.</p> + +<p>"For a week I've been dreaming such fearful things! I see him sinking in +green water, stretching his hands to me and I can't reach out to save +him. On Sunday he seemed to be running along a black, awful precipice. I +caught him in my arms to hold him back, but he dragged me over and I +screamed myself awake. Sometimes, he is in a black cave and I can't find +any door to let him out. Or he lies bound in some dungeon, and when I +stoop to cut the cords, he begins to sink down, down, down through the +dark, where I can't follow. I leap after him and always waken with such +a dizzy start. Oh! I know he has been in trouble. Something is wrong! +His thoughts are reaching out to me and I am so gross and stupid I can't +hear what his spirit says. If I could only get away from things, the +clatter of everyday things that dull one's inner hearing, perhaps I +might know! I feel as if he spoke in a foreign language, but the words +he uses I can't make out. All to-day, he has seemed so near! Why does he +not come home to me?"</p> + +<p>"Mighty fond daughter," thought I, with a jealous pang. She was fumbling +among the intricate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> draperies, where women conceal pockets, and +presently brought out something in the palm of her hand.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have him know how foolish I am," and she laid the thing +gently against her cheek.</p> + +<p>Now I had never given Frances Sutherland a gift of any sort whatever; +and my heart was pierced with anguish that cannot be described. I was, +indeed, falling over a precipice and her arms were not holding me back +but dragging me over. Would that I, like the dreamer, could awaken with +a start. In all conscience, I was dizzy enough; and every pressure of +that hateful object to her face bound me faster in a dungeon of utter +hopelessness. My sweet day-dreams and midnight rhapsodies trooped back +to mock at me. I felt that I must bow broken under anguish or else steel +myself and shout back cynical derision to the whole wan troop of +torturing regrets. And all the time, she was caressing that thing in her +hand and looking down at it with a fondness, which I—poor fool—thought +that I alone could inspire. I suppose if I could have crept away +unobserved, I would have gone from her presence hardened and embittered; +but I must play out the hateful part of eavesdropper to the end.</p> + +<p>She opened the hand to feast her eyes on the treasure, and I craned +forward, playing the sneak without a pang of shame, but the dusk foiled +me.</p> + +<p>Then the low, mellow, vibrant tones, whose very music would have +intoxicated duller fools than I—'tis ever a comfort to know there are +greater<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> fools—broke in melody: "To my own dear love from her ever +loyal and devoted knight," and she held her opened hand high. 'Twas my +birch-bark message which Father Holland had carried north. I suddenly +went insane with a great overcharge of joy, that paralyzed all motion.</p> + +<p>"Dear love—wherever are you?" asked a voice that throbbed with longing.</p> + +<p>Can any man blame me for breaking through the thicket and my resolution +and discretion and all?</p> + +<p>"Here—beloved!" I sprang from the bush.</p> + +<p>She gave a cry of affright and would have fallen, but my arms were about +her and my lips giving silent proof that I was no wraith.</p> + +<p>What next we said I do not remember. With her head on my shoulder and I +doing the only thing a man could do to stem her tears, I completely lost +track of the order of things. I do not believe either of us was calm +enough for words for some time after the meeting. It was she who +regained mental poise first.</p> + +<p>"Rufus!" she exclaimed, breaking away from me, "You're not a sensible +man at all."</p> + +<p>"Never said I was," I returned.</p> + +<p>"If you do <i>that</i>," she answered, ignoring my remark and receding +farther, "I'll never stop crying."</p> + +<p>"Then cry on forever!"</p> + +<p>With womanly ingratitude, she promptly called me "a goose" and other +irrelevant names.</p> + +<p>The rest of our talk that evening I do not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> intend to set down. In the +first place, it was best understood by only two. In the second, it could +not be transcribed; and in the third, it was all a deal too sacred.</p> + +<p>We did, however, become impersonal for short intervals.</p> + +<p>"I feel as if there were some storm in the air," said Frances +Sutherland. "The half-breeds are excited. They are riding past the +settlement in scores every day. O, Rufus, I know something is wrong."</p> + +<p>"So do I," was my rejoinder. I was thinking of the strange gossip of the +Assiniboine encampment.</p> + +<p>"Do you think the <i>Bois-Brulés</i> would plunder your boats?" she asked +innocently, ignorant that the malcontents were Nor'-Westers.</p> + +<p>"No," said I. "What boats?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Nor'-West boats, of course, coming up Red River from Fort William +to go up the Assiniboine for the winter's supplies. They're coming in a +few days. My father told me so."</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Sutherland an H. B. C. or Nor'-Wester?" I asked in the slang of +the company talk.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she answered. "I don't think he knows himself. He says +there are numbers of men like that, and they all know there is to be a +raid. Why, Rufus, there are men down the river every day watching for +the Nor'-Westers' Fort William express." "Where do the men come from?" I +questioned,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> vainly trying to patch some connection between plots for a +raid on North-West boats and plots for a fight by Nor'-West followers.</p> + +<p>"From Fort Douglas, of course."</p> + +<p>"H. B. C.'s, my dear. You must go to Fort Douglas at once. There will be +a fight. You must go to-morrow with your father, or with me to-night," I +urged, thinking I should take myself off and notify my company of the +intended pillaging.</p> + +<p>"With you?" she laughed. "Father will be home in an hour. Are you sure +about a fight!"</p> + +<p>"Quite," said I, trembling for her safety. This certainty of mine has +been quoted to prove premeditation on the Nor'-Westers' part; but I +meant nothing of the sort. I only felt there was unrest on both sides, +and that she must be out of harm's way.</p> + +<p>Truly, I have seldom had a harder duty to perform than to leave Frances +alone in that dark house to go and inform my company of the plot.</p> + +<p>Many times I said good-by before going to the canoe and times unnumbered +ran back from the river to repeat some warning and necessitate another +farewell.</p> + +<p>"Rufus, dear," she said, "this is about the twentieth time. You mustn't +come back again."</p> + +<p>"Then good-by for the twenty-first," said I, and came away feeling like +a young priest anointed for some holy purpose.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I declare now, as I declared before the courts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> of the land, that in +hastening to the Portage with news of the Hudson's Bay's intention to +intercept the Nor'-Westers' express from Fort William, I had no other +thought but the faithful serving of my company. I knew what suffering +the destruction of Souris had entailed in Athabasca, and was determined +our brave fellows should not starve in the coming winter through my +negligence.</p> + +<p>Could I foresee that simple act of mine was to let loose all the +punishment the Hudson's Bay had been heaping up against the day of +judgment?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>LOUIS PAYS ME BACK</h3> + + +<p>What tempted me to moor opposite the ruins of Fort Gibraltar? What +tempts the fly into the spider's web and the fish with a wide ocean for +play-ground into one small net? I know there is a consoling fashion of +ascribing our blunders to the inscrutable wisdom of a long-suffering +Providence; but common-sense forbids I should call evil good, deify my +errors, and give thanks for what befalls me solely through my own fault.</p> + +<p>Bare posts hacked to the ground were all that remained of Fort +Gibraltar's old wall. I had not gone many paces across the former +courtyard, when voices sounded from the gravel-pit that had once done +duty as a cellar. The next thing I noticed was the shaggy face of Louis +Laplante bobbing above the ground. With other vagabond wanderers, the +Frenchman had evidently been rummaging old Nor'-West vaults.</p> + +<p>"Tra-la, comrade," he shouted, leaping out of the cellar as soon as he +saw me. "I, Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, am resurrecting. I was a +Plante! Now I'm a <i>Louis d'or</i>, fresh coined from the golden vein of +dazzling wit.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> Once we were men, but they drowned us in a wine-barrel +like your lucky dog of an English prince. Now we're earth-goblins +re-incarnate! Behold gnomes of the mine! Knaves of the nethermost +depths, tra-la! Vampires that suck the blood of whisky-cellars and float +to the skies with dusky wings and dizzy heads! Laugh with us, old +solemncholy! See the ground spin! Laugh, I say, or be a hitching-post, +and we'll dance the May-pole round you! We're vampires, comrade, and +you're our cousin, for you're a bat," and Louis applauded his joke with +loud, tipsy laughter and staggered up to me drunk as a lord. His heavy +breath and bloodshot eyes testified what he had found under the rubbish +heaps of Fort Gibraltar's cellar. Embracing me with the affection of a +long-lost brother, he rattled on with a befuddled, meaningless jargon.</p> + +<p>"So the knife cut well, did it? And the Sioux did not eat you by inches, +beginning with your thumbs? Ha! Très bien! Very good taste! You were not +meant for feasts, my solemncholy? Some men are monuments. That's you, +mine frien'! Some are champagne bottles that uncork, zip, fizz, froth, +stars dancing round your head! That's me! 'Tis I, Louis Laplante, son of +a seigneur, am that champagne bottle!"</p> + +<p>Pausing for breath, he drew himself erect with ridiculous pomposity. Now +there are times when the bravest and wisest thing a brave and wise man +can do is take to his heels. I have heard my Uncle Jack MacKenzie say +that vice and liquor and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> folly are best frustrated by flight; and all +three seemed to be embodied in Louis Laplante that night. A stupid sort +of curiosity made me dally with the mischief brewing in him, just as the +fly plays with the spider-web, or the fish with a baited hook.</p> + +<p>"There's a fountain-spout in Nor'-West vaults for those who know where +to tap the spigot, eh, Louis?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm a Hudson's Bay man and to the conqueror comes the tribute," +returned Louis, sweeping me a courtly bow.</p> + +<p>"I hope such a generous conqueror draws all the tribute he deserves. Do +you remember how you saved my life twice from the Sioux, Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Generous," shouted the Frenchman, drawing himself up proudly, "generous +to mine enemy, always magnificent, grand, superb, as becomes the son of +a seigneur! Now I pay you back, rich, well, generous."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Louis," I expostulated. "'Tis I who am in your debt. I owe +you my life twice over. How shall I pay you?" and I made to go down to +my canoe.</p> + +<p>"Pay me?" demanded Louis, thrusting himself across my path in a menacing +attitude. "Stand and pay me like a man!"</p> + +<p>"I am standing," I laughed. "Now, how shall I pay you?"</p> + +<p>"Strike!" ordered Louis, launching out a blow which I barely missed. +"Strike, I say, for kicking me, the son of a seigneur, like a pig!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> + +<p>At that, half a dozen more drunken vagabonds of the Hudson's Bay service +reeled up from the cellar pit; and I began to understand I was in for as +much mischief as a young man could desire. The fellows were about us in +a circle, and now, that it was too late, I was quite prepared like the +fly and the fish to seek safety in flight.</p> + +<p>"Sink his canoe," suggested one; and I saw that borrowed craft swamped.</p> + +<p>"Strike! <i>Sacredie!</i> I pay you back generous," roared Louis. "How can I, +Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, strike a man who won't hit back?"</p> + +<p>"And how can I strike a man who saved my life?" I urged, trying to +mollify him. "See here, Louis, I'm on a message for my company to-night. +I can't wait. Some other day you can pay me all you like—not to-night, +some-other-time——"</p> + +<p>"Some-oder-time! No—never! Some-oder-time—'tis the way I pay my own +debts, always some-oder-time, and I never not pay at all. You no +some-oder-time me, comrade! Louis knows some-oder-time too well! He quit +his cups some-oder-time and he never quit, not at all! He quit wild +Indian some-oder-time, and he never quit, not at all! And he go home and +say his confess to the curé some-oder-time, and he never go, not at all! +And he settle down with a wife and become a grand seigneur +some-oder-time, and he never settle down at all!"</p> + +<p>"Good night, Laplante! I have business for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> the company. I must go," I +interrupted, trying to brush through the group that surrounded us.</p> + +<p>"So have we business for the company, the Hudson's Bay Company, and you +can't go," chimed in one of the least intoxicated of the rival trappers; +and they closed about me so that I had not striking room.</p> + +<p>"Are you men looking for trouble?" I asked, involuntarily fingering my +pistol belt.</p> + +<p>"No—we're looking for the Nor'-West brigade billed to pass from Fort +William to Athabasca," jeered the boldest of the crowd, a red-faced, +middle-aged man with blear eyes. "We're looking for the Nor'-Westers' +express," and he laughed insolently.</p> + +<p>"You don't expect to find our brigades in Fort Gibraltar's cellar," said +I, backing away from them and piecing this latest information to what I +had already heard of plots and conspiracies.</p> + +<p>Forthwith I felt strong hands gripping both my arms like a vise and the +coils of a rope were about me with the swiftness of a lasso. My first +impulse was to struggle against the outrage; but I was beginning to +learn the service of open ears and a closed mouth was often more +valuable than a fighter's blows. Already I had ascertained from their +own lips that the Hudson's Bay intended to molest our north-bound +brigade.</p> + +<p>"Well," said I, with a laugh, which surprised the rascals mightily, "now +you've captured your elephant, what do you propose to do with him?"</p> + +<p>Without answering, the men shambled down to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> the landing place of the +fort, jostling me along between the red-faced man and Louis Laplante.</p> + +<p>"I consider this a scurvy trick, Louis," said I. "You've let me into a +pretty scrape with your idiotic heroics about paying back a fancied +grudge. To save a mouse from the tigers, Louis, and then feed him to +your cats! Fie, man! I like your son-of-a-seigneur ideas of honor!"</p> + +<p>"Ingrate! Low-born ingrate," snapped the Frenchman, preparing to strike +one of his dramatic attitudes, "if I were not the son of a seigneur, and +you a man with bound arms, you should swallow those words," and he +squared up to me for a second time. "If you won't fight, you shan't run +away——"</p> + +<p>"Off with your French brag," ordered the soberest of the Hudson's Bay +men, catching Louis by the scruff of his coat and spinning him out of +the way. "There'll be neither fighting nor running away. It is to Fort +Douglas we'll take our fine spy."</p> + +<p>The words stung, but I muffled my indignation.</p> + +<p>"I'll go with pleasure," I returned, thinking that Frances Sutherland +and Hamilton and Father Holland were good enough company to compensate +for any captivity. "With pleasure, and 'tis not the first time I'll have +found friends in the Hudson's Bay fort."</p> + +<p>At that speech, the red-faced man, who seemed to be the ringleader, eyed +me narrowly. We all embarked on a rickety raft, that would, I declare, +have drowned any six sober men who risked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> their lives on it; but drunk +men and children seem to do what sober, grown folk may not are.</p> + +<p>How Louis Laplante was for fighting a duel <i>en route</i> with the man, who +spoke of "French brag" and was only dissuaded from his purpose by the +raft suddenly teetering at an angle of forty-five degrees with the +water, which threatened to toboggan us all into mid-river; how I was +then stationed in the centre and the other men distributed equally on +each side of the raft to maintain balance; how we swung out into the +Red, rocking with each shifting of the crew and were treated to a volley +of objurgations from the red-faced man—I do not intend to relate. This +sort of melodrama may be seen wherever there are drunken men, a raft and +a river. The men poled only fitfully, and we were driven solely by the +current. It was dark long before we had neared Fort Douglas and the +waters swished past with an inky, glassy sheen that vividly recalled the +murky pool about the beaver-dam. And yet I had no fear, but drifted +along utterly indifferent to the termination of the freakish escapade in +which I had become involved. Nature mercifully sets a limit to human +capacity for suffering; and I felt I had reached that limit. Nothing +worse could happen than had happened, at least, so I told myself, and I +awaited with cynical curiosity what might take place inside the Hudson's +Bay fort. Then a shaft of lantern light pierced the dark, striking +aslant the river, and the men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> began poling hard for Fort Douglas wharf. +We struck the landing with a bump, disembarked, passed the sentinel at +the gate and were at the entrance to the main building.</p> + +<p>"You kick me here," said Louis. "I pay you back here!"</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with him?" asked the soberest man of the +red-faced leader.</p> + +<p>"Hand him over to Governor Semple for a spy."</p> + +<p>"The governor's abed. Besides, they don't want him about to hear H. B. +secrets when the Nor'-West brigade's a-coming! You'd better get sobered +up, yez hed! That's my advice to yez, before going to Governor Semple," +and the prudent trapper led the way inside. To the fore was the main +stairway, on the right the closed store, and on the left a small +apartment which the governor had fitted up as a private office. For some +unaccountable reason—the same reason, I suppose, that mischief is +always awaiting the mischief-maker—the door to this office had been +left ajar and a light burned inside. 'Twas Louis, ever alert, when +mischief was abroad, who tip-toed over to the open door, poked his head +in and motioned his drunken companions across the sacred precincts of +Governor Semple's private room. I was loath to be a party to this mad +nonsense, but the fly and the fish should have thought of results before +venturing too near strange coils. The red-faced fellow gave me a push. +The sober man muttered, "Better come, or they'll raise a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> row," and we +were all within the forbidden place, the door shut and bolted.</p> + +<p>To city folk, used to the luxuries of the east, I dare say that office +would have seemed mean enough. But the men had been so long away from +leather chairs, hair-cloth sofa, wall mirror, wine decanter and other +odds and ends which furnish a gentleman's living apartments that the +very memory of such things had faded, and that small room, with its +old-country air, seemed the vestibule to another world.</p> + +<p>"Sump—too—uss—ain't it?" asked the sober man with bated breath and +obvious distrust of his tongue.</p> + +<p>"Mag—nee—feque! M. Louis Laplante, look you there," cried the +Frenchman, catching sight of his full figure in the mirror and instantly +striking a pose of admiration. Then he twirled fiercely at both ends of +his mustache till it stood out with the wire finish of a Parisian dandy.</p> + +<p>The red-faced fellow had permitted me, with arms still tied, to walk +across the room and sit on the hair-cloth sofa. He was lolling back in +the governor's armchair, playing the lord and puffing one of Mr. +Semple's fine pipes.</p> + +<p>"We are gentlemen adventurers of the ancient and honorable Hudson's Bay +Company, gentlemen adventurers," he roared, bringing his fist down with +a thud on the desk. "We hereby decree that the Fort William brigade be +captured, that the whisky be freely given to every dry-throated lad in +the Hudson's Bay Company, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> the Nor'-Westers be sent down the Red on +a raft, that this meeting raftify this dissolution, afterwards +moving—seconding—and unanimously amending——"</p> + +<p>"Adjourning—you mean," interrupted one of the orator's audience.</p> + +<p>"I say," called one, who had been dazed by the splendor, "how do you +tell which is the lookin' glass and which is the window?" And he looked +from the window on one side to its exact reflection, length and width, +directly opposite.</p> + +<p>The puzzle was left unsolved; for just then Louis Laplante found a flask +of liquor and speedily divided its contents among the crowd—which was +not calculated to clear up mysteries of windows and mirrors among those +addle-pates. Dull wit may be sport for drunken men, but it is mighty +flat to an onlooker, and I was out of patience with their carousal.</p> + +<p>"The governor will be back here presently, Louis," said I.</p> + +<p>"Tired of being a tombstone, ha—ha! Better be a champagne bottle!" he +laughed with slightly thickened articulation and increased unsteadiness +in his gait.</p> + +<p>"If you don't hide that bottle in your hand, there'll be a big head and +a sore head for you men to-morrow morning." I rose to try and get them +out of the office; but a sober man with tied arms among a drunken crew +is at a disadvantage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ha—old—wise—sh—head! To—be—sh—shure! Whur—d'—y'—hide—it?"</p> + +<p>"Throw it out of the window," said I, without the slightest idea of +leading him into mischief.</p> + +<p>"Whish—whish—ish—the window, Rufush?" asked Louis imploringly.</p> + +<p>The last potion had done its work and Louis was passing from the jovial +to the pensive stage. He would presently reach a mood which might be +ugly enough for a companion in bonds. Was it this prospect, I wonder, or +the mischievous spirit pervading the very air from the time I reached +the ruins that suggested a way out of my dilemma?</p> + +<p>"Throw it out of the window," said I, ignoring his question and shoving +him off.</p> + +<p>"Whish—ish—the window—dammie?" he asked, holding the bottle +irresolutely and looking in befuddled distraction from side to side of +the room.</p> + +<p>"Thur—both—windows—fur as I see," said the man, who had been sober, +but was no longer so.</p> + +<p>"Throw it through the back window! Folks comin' in at the door won't see +it."</p> + +<p>The red-faced man got up to investigate, and all faith in my plan died +within me; but the lantern light was dusky and the red-faced man could +no longer navigate a course from window to mirror.</p> + +<p>"There's a winder there," said he, scratching his head and looking at +the window reflected in perfect proportion on the mirrored surface.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And there's a winder there," he declared, pointing at the real window. +"They're both winders and they're both lookin'-glasses, for I see us all +in both of them. This place is haunted. Lem-me out!"</p> + +<p>"Take thish, then," cried Louis, shoving the bottle towards him and +floundering across to the door to bar the way. "Take thish, or tell me +whish—ish—the window."</p> + +<p>"Both winders, I tell you, and both lookin'-glasses," vowed the man. The +other four fellows declined to express an opinion for the very good +reason that two were asleep and two befuddled beyond questioning.</p> + +<p>"See here, Louis," I exclaimed, "there's only one way to tell where to +throw that bottle."</p> + +<p>"Yesh, Rufush," and he came to me as if I were his only friend on earth.</p> + +<p>"The bottle will go through the window and it won't go through the +mirror," I began.</p> + +<p>"Dammie—I knew that," he snapped out, ready to weep.</p> + +<p>"Well—you undo these things," nodding to the ropes about my arms, "and +I'll find out which opens, and the one that opens is the window, and you +can throw out the bottle."</p> + +<p>"The very thing, Rufush, wise—sh—head—old—old—ol' solemncholy," and +he ripped the ropes off me.</p> + +<p>Now I offer no excuse for what I did. I could have opened that window +and let myself out some distance ahead of the bottle, without involving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +Louis and his gang in greater mischief. What I did was not out of spite +to the governor of a rival company; but mischief, as I said, was in the +very air. Besides, the knaves had delayed me far into midnight, and I +had no scruples about giving each twenty-four hours in the fort +guardroom. I took a precautionary inspection of the window-sash. Yes, I +was sure I could leap through, carrying out sash and all.</p> + +<p>"Hurry—ol' tombshtone—governor—sh-comin'," urged Louis.</p> + +<p>I made towards the window and fumbled at the sash.</p> + +<p>"This doesn't open," said I, which was quite true, for I did not try to +budge it. Then I went across to the mirror. "Neither does this," said I.</p> + +<p>"Wha'—wha'—'ll—we do—Rufush?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you. You can jump through a window but not through a glass. +Now you count—one two—three,"—this to the red-faced man—"and when +you say 'three' I'll give a run and jump. If I fall back, you'll know +it's the mirror, and fling the bottle quick through the other. Ready, +count!"</p> + +<p>"One," said the red-faced man.</p> + +<p>Louis raised his arm and I prepared for a dash.</p> + +<p>"Two!"</p> + +<p>Louis brought back his arm to gain stronger sweep.</p> + +<p>"Three!"</p> + +<p>I gave a leap and made as though I had fallen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> back. There was the +pistol-shot splintering of bottle and mirror crashing down to the floor. +The window frame gave with a burst, and I was outside rushing past the +sleepy sentinel, who poured out a volley of curses after me.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>A DAY OF RECKONING</h3> + + +<p>As well play pussy-wants-a-corner with a tiger as make-believe war with +an Indian. In both cases the fun may become ghastly earnest with no time +for cry-quits. So it was with the great fur-trading companies at the +beginning of this century. Each held the Indian in subjection and +thought to use him with daring impunity against its rival. And each was +caught in the meshes of its own merry game.</p> + +<p>I, as a Nor'-Wester, of course, consider that the lawless acts of the +Hudson's Bay had been for three years educating the natives up to the +tragedy of June 19, 1816. But this is wholly a partisan, opinion. +Certainly both companies have lied outrageously about the results of +their quarrels. The truth is Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers were playing +war with the Indian. Consequences having exceeded all calculation, both +companies would fain free themselves of blame.</p> + +<p>For instance, it has been said the Hudson's Bay people had no intention +of intercepting the North-West brigade bound up the Red and Assiniboine +for the interior—this assertion despite the fact our rivals had +pillaged every North-West<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> fort that could be attacked. Now I +acknowledge the Nor'-Westers disclaim hostile purpose in the rally of +three hundred <i>Bois-Brulés</i> to the Portage; but this sits not well with +the warlike appearance of these armed plain rangers, who sallied forth +to protect the Fort William express. Nor does it agree with the +expectations of the Indian rabble, who flocked on our rear like carrion +birds keen for the spoils of battle. Both companies had—as it +were—leveled and cocked their weapon. To send it off needed but a +spark, and a slight misunderstanding ignited that spark.</p> + +<p>My arrival at the Portage had the instantaneous effect of sending two +strong battalions of <i>Bois-Brulés</i> hot-foot across country to meet the +Fort William express before it could reach Fort Douglas. They were to +convoy it overland to a point on the Assiniboine where it could be +reshipped. To the second of these parties, I attached myself. I was +anxious to attempt a visit to Hamilton. There was some one else whom I +hoped to find at Fort Douglas; so I refused to rest at the Portage, +though I had been in my saddle almost constantly for twenty days.</p> + +<p>When we set out, I confess I did not like the look of things. Those +Indians smeared with paint and decked out with the feathered war-cap +kept increasing to our rear. There were the eagles! Where was the +carcass? The presence of these sinister fellows, hot with the lust of +blood, had ominous significance. Among the half-breeds there was +unconcealed excitement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p> + +<p>Shortly before we struck off the Assiniboine trail northward for the +Red, in order to meet the expected brigade beyond Fort Douglas, some of +our people slipped back to the Indian rabble. When they reappeared, they +were togged out in native war-gear with too many tomahawks and pistols +for the good of those who might interfere with our mission. There was no +misunderstanding the ugly temper of the men. Here, I wish to testify +that explicit orders were given for the forces to avoid passing near +Fort Douglas, or in any way provoking conflict. There was placed in +charge of our division the most powerful plain-ranger in the service of +the company, the one person of all others, who might control the natives +in case of an outbreak—and that man was Cuthbert Grant. Pierre, the +minstrel, and six clerks were also in the party; but what could a +handful of moderate men do with a horde of Indians and Metis wrought up +to a fury of revenge?</p> + +<p>"Now, deuce take those rascals! What are they doing?" exclaimed Grant +angrily, as we left the river trail and skirted round a slough of Frog +Plains on the side remote from Fort Douglas. Our forces were following +in straggling disorder. The first battalions of the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, which +had already rounded the marsh, were now in the settlement on Red River +bank. It was to them that Grant referred. Commanding a halt and raising +his spy-glass, he took an anxious survey of the foreground.</p> + +<p>"There's something seriously wrong," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> "Strikes me we're near a +powder mine! Here, Gillespie, you look!" He handed the field-glass to +me.</p> + +<p>A great commotion was visible among the settlers. Ox-carts packed with +people were jolting in hurried confusion towards Fort Douglas. Behind, +tore a motley throng of men, women and children, running like a +frightened flock of sheep. Whatever the cause of alarm, our men were not +molesting them; for I watched the horsemen proceeding leisurely to the +appointed rendezvous, till the last rider disappeared among the woods of +the river path.</p> + +<p>"Scared! Badly scared! That's all, Grant," said I. "You've no idea what +wild stories are going the rounds of the settlement about the +<i>Bois-Brulés</i>!"</p> + +<p>"And you've no idea, young man, what wild stories are going the rounds +of the <i>Bois-Brulés</i> about the settlement," was Grant's moody reply.</p> + +<p>My chance acquaintance with the Assiniboine encampment had given me some +idea, but I did not tell Grant so.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they've taken a few old fellows prisoners to ensure the fort's +good behavior, while we save our bacon," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"If they have, those Highlanders will go to Fort Douglas shining bald as +a red ball," answered the plain-ranger.</p> + +<p>In this, Grant did his people injustice; for of those prisoners taken by +the advance guard, not a hair of their heads was injured. The warden +was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> nervously apprehensive. This was unusual with him; and I have since +wondered if his dark forebodings arose from better knowledge of the +<i>Bois-Brulés</i> than I possessed, or from some premonition.</p> + +<p>"There'd be some reason for uneasiness, if you weren't here to control +them, Grant," said I, nodding towards the Indians and Metis.</p> + +<p>"One man against a host! What can I do?" he asked gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, man! Do! Why, do what you came to do! Whatever's the +matter with you?"</p> + +<p>The swarthy face had turned a ghastly, yellowish tint and he did not +answer.</p> + +<p>"'Pon my honor," I exclaimed. "Are you ill, man?"</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't that! When I went to sleep, last night, there were—corpses all +round me. I thought I was in a charnel house and——"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, Grant!" I shuddered out. "Don't you go off your head +next! Leave that for us green chaps! Besides, the Indians were raising +stench enough with a dog-stew to fill any brain with fumes. For +goodness' sake, let's go on, meet those fellows with the brigade, secure +that express and get off this 'powder mine'—as you call it."</p> + +<p>"By all means!" Grant responded, giving the order, and we moved forward +but only at snail pace; for I think he wanted to give the settlers +plenty of time to reach the fort.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p> + +<p>By five o'clock in the afternoon we had almost rounded the slough and +were gradually closing towards the wooded ground of the river bank. We +were within ear-shot of the settlers. They were flying past with +terrified cries of "The half-breeds! The half-breeds!" when I heard +Grant groan from sheer alarm and mutter—</p> + +<p>"Look! Look! The lambs coming to meet the wolves!"</p> + +<p>To this day I cannot account for the madness of the thing. There, some +twenty, or thirty Hudson's Bay men—mere youths most of them—were +coming with all speed to head us off from the river path, at a wooded +point called Seven Oaks. What this pigmy band thought it could do +against our armed men, I do not know. The blunder on their part was so +unexpected and inexcusable, it never dawned on us the panic-stricken +settlers had spread a report of raid, and these poor valiant defenders +had come out to protect the colony. If that be the true explanation of +their rash conduct in tempting conflict, what were they thinking about +to leave the walls of their fort during danger? My own opinion is that +with Lord Selkirk's presumptuous claims to exclusive possession in Red +River and the recent high-handed success of the Hudson's Bay, the men of +Fort Douglas were so flushed with pride they did not realize the risk of +a brush with the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>. Much, too, may be attributed to Governor +Semple's inexperience; but it was very evident the purpose of the force +deliberately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> blocking our path was not peaceable. If the Hudson's Bay +blundered in coming out to challenge us, so did we, I frankly admit; for +we regarded the advance as an audacious trick to hold us back till the +Fort William express could be captured.</p> + +<p>Now that the thing he feared had come, all hesitancy vanished from +Grant's manner. Steeled and cool like the leader he was, he sternly +commanded the surging Metis to keep back. Straggling Indians and +half-breeds dashed to our fore-ranks with the rush of a tempest and +chafed hotly against the warden. At a word from Grant, the men swung +across the enemy's course sickle-shape; but they were furious at this +disciplined restraint. From horn to horn of the crescent, rode the +plain-ranger, lashing horses back to the circle and shaking his fist in +the quailing face of many a bold rebel.</p> + +<p>Both sides advanced within a short distance of each other. We could see +that Governor Semple, himself, was leading the Hudson's Bay men. +Immediately, Boucher, a North-West clerk, was sent forward to parley. +Now, I hold the Nor'-Westers would not have done that if their purpose +had been hostile; but Boucher rode out waving his hand and calling—</p> + +<p>"What do you want? What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"What do you want, yourself?" came Governor Semple's reply with some +heat and not a little insolence.</p> + +<p>"We want our fort," demanded Boucher,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> slightly taken aback, but +thoroughly angered. His horse was prancing restively within pistol range +of the governor.</p> + +<p>"Go to your fort, then! Go to your fort!" returned Semple with stinging +contempt in manner and voice.</p> + +<p>He might as well have told us to go to Gehenna; for the fort was +scattered to the four winds.</p> + +<p>"The fool!" muttered Grant. "The fool! Let him answer for the +consequences. Their blood be on their own heads."</p> + +<p>Whether the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, who had lashed their horses into a lather of +foam and were cursing out threats in the ominous undertone that precedes +a storm-burst, now encroached upon the neutral ground in spite of Grant, +or were led gradually forward by the warden as the Hudson's Bay +governor's hostility increased, I did not in the excitement of the +moment observe. One thing is certain, while the quarrel between the +Hudson's Bay governor and the North-West clerk was becoming more +furious, our surging cohorts were closing in on the little band like an +irresistible tidal wave. I could make out several Hudson's Bay faces, +that seemed to remind me of my Fort Douglas visit; but of the rabble of +Nor'-Westers and <i>Bois-Brulés</i> disguised in hideous war-gear, I dare +avow not twenty of us were recognizable.</p> + +<p>"Miserable rogue!" Boucher was shouting, utterly beside himself with +rage and flourishing his gun directly over the governor's head, +"Miserable rogue! Why have you destroyed our fort?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Call him off, Grant! Call him off, or it's all up!" I begged, seeing +the parley go from bad to worse; but Grant was busy with the +<i>Bois-Brulés</i> and did not hear.</p> + +<p>"Wretch!" Governor Semple exclaimed in a loud voice. "Dare you to speak +so to me!" and he caught Boucher's bridle, throwing the horse back on +its haunches.</p> + +<p>Boucher, agile as a cat, slipped to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Arrest him, men!" commanded the governor. "Arrest him at once!"</p> + +<p>But the clerk was around the other side of the horse, with his gun +leveled across its back.</p> + +<p>Whether, when Boucher jumped down, our bloodthirsty knaves thought him +shot and broke from Grant's control to be avenged, or whether Lieutenant +Holt of the Hudson's Bay at that unfortunate juncture discharged his +weapon by accident, will never be known.</p> + +<p>Instantaneously, as if by signal, our men with a yell burst from the +ranks, leaped from their saddles and using horses as breast-work, fired +volley after volley into the governor's party. The neighing and plunging +of the frenzied horses added to the tumult. The Hudson's Bay men were +shouting out incoherent protest; but what they said was drowned in the +shrill war-cry of the Indians. Just for an instant, I thought I +recognized one particular voice in that shrieking babel, which flashed +back memory of loud, derisive laughter over a camp fire and at the +buffalo hunt; but all else was forgotten in the terrible consciousness +that our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> men's murderous onslaught was deluging the prairie with +innocent blood.</p> + +<p>Throwing himself between the <i>Bois-Brulés</i> and the retreating band, the +warden implored his followers to grant truce. As well plead with wild +beasts. The half-breeds were deaf to commands, and in vain their leader +argued with blows. The shooting had been of a blind sort, and few shots +did more than wound; but the natives were venting the pent-up hate of +three years and would give no quarter. From musketry volleys the fight +had become hand-to-hand butchery.</p> + +<p>I had dismounted and was beating the scoundrels back with the butt end +of my gun, begging, commanding, abjuring them to desist, when a Hudson's +Bay youth swayed forward and fell wounded at my feet. There was the +baffled, anguished scream of some poor wounded fellow driven to bay, and +I saw Laplante across the field, covered with blood, reeling and +staggering back from a dozen red-skin furies, who pressed upon their +fagged victim, snatching at his throat like hounds at the neck of a +beaten stag. With a bound across the prostrate form of the youth, I ran +to the Frenchman's aid. Louis saw me coming and struck out so valiantly, +the wretched cowards darted back just as I have seen a miserable pack of +open-mouthed curs dodge the last desperate sweep of antlered head. That +gave me my chance, and I fell on their rear with all the might I could +put in my muscle, bringing the flat of my gun down with a crash on +crested head-toggery,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> and striking right and left at Louis' assailants.</p> + +<p>"Ah—<i>mon Dieu</i>—comrade," sobbed Louis, falling in my arms from sheer +exhaustion, while the tears trickled down in a white furrow over his +blood-splashed cheeks, "<i>mon Dieu</i>—comrade, but you pay me back +generous!"</p> + +<p>"Tutts, man, this is no time for settling old scores and playing the +grand! Run for your life. Run to the woods and swim the river!" With +that, I flung him from me; for I heard the main body of our force +approaching. "Run," I urged, giving the Frenchman a push.</p> + +<p>"The run—ha—ha—my old spark," laughed Louis with a tearful, lack-life +sort of mirth, "the run—it has all run out," and with a pitiful reel +down he fell in a heap.</p> + +<p>I caught him under the armpits, hoisted him to my shoulders, and made +with all speed for the wooded river bank. My pace was a tumble more than +a run down the river cliff, but I left the man at the very water's edge, +where he could presently strike out for the far side and regain Fort +Douglas by swimming across again. Then I hurried to the battle-field in +search of the wounded youth whom I had left. As I bent above him, the +poor lad rolled over, gazing up piteously with the death-look on his +face; and I recognized the young Nor'-Wester who had picked flowers with +me for Frances Sutherland and afterwards deserted to the Hudson's Bay. +The boy moaned and moved his lips as if speaking, but I heard no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> sound. +Stooping on one knee, I took his head on the other and bent to listen; +but he swooned away. Afraid to leave him—for the savages were wreaking +indescribable barbarities on the fallen—I picked him up. His arms and +head fell back limply as if he were dead, and holding him thus, I again +dashed for the fringe of woods. Rogers of the Hudson's Bay staggered +against me wounded, with both hands thrown up ready to surrender. He was +pleading in broken French for mercy; but two half-breeds, one with +cocked pistol, the other with knife, rushed upon him. I turned away that +I might not see; but the man's unavailing entreaties yet ring in my +ears. Farther on, Governor Semple lay, with lacerated arm and broken +thigh. He was calling to Grant, "I'm not mortally wounded! If you could +get me conveyed to the fort I think I would live!"</p> + +<p>Then I got away from the field and laid my charge in the woods. Poor +lad! The pallor of death was on every feature. Tearing open his coat and +taking letters from an inner pocket to send to relatives, I saw a +knife-stab in his chest, which no mortal could survive. Battle is +pitiless. I hurriedly left the dying boy and went back to the living, +ordering a French half-breed to guard him.</p> + +<p>"See that no one mutilates this body," said I, "and I'll reward you."</p> + +<p>My shout seemed to recall the lad's consciousness. Whether he fully +understood the terrible significance of my words, I could not tell; but +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> opened his eyes with a reproachful glazed stare; and that was the +last I saw of him.</p> + +<p>Knowing Grant would have difficulty in obtaining carriers for Governor +Semple, and only too anxious to gain access to Fort Douglas, I ran with +haste towards the recumbent form of the fallen leader. Grant was at some +distance scouring the field for reliable men, and while I was yet twenty +or thirty yards away an Indian glided up.</p> + +<p>"Dog!" he hissed in the prostrate man's face. "You have caused all this! +You shall not live! Dog that you are!"</p> + +<p>Then something caught my feet. I stumbled and fell. There was the flare +of a pistol shot in Governor Semple's face and a slight cry. The next +moment I was by his side. The shot had taken effect in the breast. The +body was yet hot with life; but there was neither breath, nor heart +beat.</p> + +<p>A few of the Hudson's Bay band gained hiding in the shrubbery and +escaped by swimming across to the east bank of the Red, but the remnant +tried to reach the fort across the plain. Calling me, Grant, now utterly +distracted, directed his efforts to this quarter. I with difficulty +captured my horse and galloped off to join the warden. Our riders were +circling round something not far from the fort walls and Grant was +tearing over the prairie, commanding them to retire. It seems, when +Governor Semple discovered the strength of our forces, he sent some of +his men back to Fort Douglas for a field-piece. Poor Semple<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> with his +European ideas of Indian warfare! The <i>Bois-Brulés</i> did not wait for +that field-piece. The messengers had trundled it out only a short +distance from the gateway, when they met the fugitives flying back with +news of the massacre. Under protection of the cannon, the men made a +plucky retreat to the fort, though the <i>Bois-Brulés</i> harassed them to +the very walls. This disappearance—or rather extermination—of the +enemy, as well as the presence of the field-gun, which was a new terror +to the Indians, gave Grant his opportunity. He at once rounded the men +up and led them off to Frog Plains, on the other side of the swamp. Here +we encamped for the night, and were subsequently joined by the first +division of <i>Bois-Brulés</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>THE IROQUOIS PLAYS HIS LAST CARD</h3> + + +<p>The <i>Bois-Brulés</i> and Indian marauders, who gathered to our camp, were +drunk with the most intoxicating of all stimulants—human blood. This +flush of victory excited the redskins' vanity to a boastful frenzy. +There was wild talk of wiping the pale-face out of existence; and if a +weaker man than Grant had been at the head of the forces, not a white in +the settlement would have escaped massacre. In spite of the bitterness +to which the slaughter at Seven Oaks gave rise, I think all fair-minded +people have acknowledged that the settlers owed their lives to the +warden's efforts.</p> + +<p>That night pandemonium itself could not have presented a more hideous +scene than our encampment. The lust of blood is abhorrent enough in +civilized races, but in Indian tribes, whose unrestrained, hard life +abnormally develops the instincts of the tiger, it is a thing that may +not be portrayed. Let us not, with the depreciatory hypocrisy, +characteristic of our age, befool ourselves into any belief that +barbaric practices were more humane than customs which are the flower of +civilized centuries. Let us be truthful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> Scientific cruelty may do its +worst with intricate armaments; but the blood-thirst of the Indian +assumed the ghastly earnest of victors drinking the warm life-blood of +dying enemies and of torturers laving hands in a stream yet hot from +pulsing hearts.</p> + +<p>Decked out in red-stained trophies with scalps dangling from their +waists, the natives darted about like blood-whetted beasts; and the +half-breeds were little better, except that they thirsted more for booty +than life. There was loud vaunting over the triumph, the ignorant rabble +imagining their warriors heroes of a great battle, instead of the +murderous plunderers they were. Pierre, the rhymester, according to his +wont, broke out in jubilant celebration of the half-breeds' feat:<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ho-ho! List you now to a tale of truth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, proudly sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>, whose deeds dismay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hearts of the soldiers serving the king!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swift o'er the plain rode our warriors brave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meet the gay voyageurs come from the sea.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Out came the bold band that had pillaged our land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we taught them the plain is the home of the free.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We were passing along to the landing-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Three hostile whites we bound on the trail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The enemy came with a shout of acclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We flung back their taunts with the shriek of a gale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They have come to attack us," our people cry.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our cohorts spread out in a crescent horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their path we bar in a steel scimitar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And their empty threats we flout with scorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They halt in the face of a dauntless foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They spit out their venom of baffled rage!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Honor, our breath to the very death!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So we proffer them peace, or a battle-gage.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The governor shouts to his soldiers, "Draw!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the enemy strikes the first, fateful blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our men break from line, for the battle-wine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a fighting race has a fiery glow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The governor thought himself mighty in power.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shock of his strength—Ha-ha!—should be known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the land of the sea to the prairie free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all free men should be overthrown!<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But naked and dead on the plain lies he,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the carrion hawk, and the sly coyote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greedily feast on the great and the least,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without respect for a lord of note.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The governor thought himself mighty in power.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He thought to enslave the <i>Bois-Brulés</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ha-ha," laughed the hawk. Ho-ho! Let him mock.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Plain rangers ride forth to slay, to slay."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose cry outpierces the night-bird's note?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose voice mourns sadly through sighing trees?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What spirits wail to the prairie gale?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who tells his woes to the evening breeze?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ha-ha! We know, though we tell it not.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We fought with them till none remained.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The coyote knew, and his hungry crew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Licked clean the grass where the turf was stained.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ho-ho! List you all to my tale of truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis I, Pierre, the rhymester, this glory tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of freedom saved and brave hands laved<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the blood of tyrants who fought and fell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The whole scene was repugnant beyond endurance. My ears were so filled +with the death cries heard in the afternoon, I had no relish for +Pierre's crude recital of what seemed to him a glorious conquest. I +could not rid my mind of that dying boy's sad face. Many half-breeds +were preparing to pillage the settlement. Intending to protect the +Sutherland home and seek the dead lad's body, I borrowed a fresh horse +and left the tumult of the camp.</p> + +<p>I made a detour of the battle-field in order to reach the Sutherland +homestead before night. I might have saved myself the trouble; for every +movable object—to the doors and window sashes—had been taken from the +little house, whether by father and daughter before going to the fort, +or by the marauders, I did not know.</p> + +<p>It was unsafe to return by the wooded river trail after dark and I +struck directly to the clearing and followed the path parallel to the +bush.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> When I reached Seven Oaks, I was first apprised of my whereabouts +by my horse pricking forward his ears and sniffing the air uncannily. I +tightened rein and touched him with the spur, but he snorted and jumped +sideways with a suddenness that almost unseated me, then came to a +stand, shaking as if with chill. Something skulked across the trail and +gained cover in the woods. With a reassuring pat, I urged my horse back +towards the road, for the prairie was pitted with badger and gopher +holes; but the beast reared, baulked and absolutely refused to be either +driven, or coaxed.</p> + +<p>"Wise when men are fools!" said I, dismounting. Bringing the reins over +his head, I tried to pull him forward; but he planted all fours and +jerked back, almost dragging me off my feet.</p> + +<p>"Are you possessed?" I exclaimed, for if ever horror were plainly +expressed by an animal, it was by that horse. Legs rigid, head bent +down, eyes starting forward and nostrils blowing in and out, he was a +picture of terror.</p> + +<p>Something wriggled in the thicket. The horse rose on his hind legs, +wrenched the rein from my hand and scampered across the plain. I sent a +shot into the bush. There was a snarl and a scurrying through the +underbrush.</p> + +<p>"Pretty bold wolf! Never saw a broncho act that way over a coyote +before!"</p> + +<p>I might as well find the body of the English lad before trying to catch +my horse, so I walked on. Suddenly, in the silver-white of a starry sky, +I saw what had terrified the animal. Close to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> shrubbery lay the +stark form of a white man, knees drawn upwards and arms spread out like +the bars of a cross. Was that the lad I had known? I rushed towards the +corpse—but as quickly turned away. From downright lack of courage, I +could not look at it; for the body was mutilated beyond semblance to +humanity. Would that I had strength and skill to paint that dead figure +as it was! Then would those, who glory in the shedding of blood, glory +to their shame; and the pageant of war be stripped of all its false +toggery revealing carnage and slaughter in their revolting nakedness.</p> + +<p>I could not look back to know if that were the lad, but ran aimlessly +towards the scene of the Seven Oaks fray. As I approached, there was a +great flapping of wings. Up rose buzzards, scolding in angry discord at +my interruption. A pack of wolves skulked a few feet off and eyed me +impatiently, boldly waiting to return when I left. The impudence of the +brutes enraged me and I let go half a dozen charges, which sent them to +a more respectful distance. Here were more bodies like the first. I +counted eight within a stone's throw, and there were twice as many +between Seven Oaks and the fort. Where they lay, I could tell very well; +for hawks wheeled with harsh cries overhead and there was a vague +movement of wolfish shapes along the ground.</p> + +<p>What possessed me to hover about that dreadful scene, I cannot imagine, +unless the fear of those creatures returning; but I did not carry a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> +thing with which I could bury the dead. Involuntarily, I sought out +Rogers and Governor Semple; for I had seen the death of each. It was +when seeking these, that I thought I distinguished the faintest motion +of one figure still clothed and lying apart from the others.</p> + +<p>The sight riveted me to the spot.</p> + +<p>Surely it was a mistake! The form could not have moved! It must have +been some error of vision, or trick of the shadowy starlight; but I +could not take my eyes from the prostrate form. Again the body +moved—distinctly moved—beyond possibility of fancy, the chest heaving +up and sinking like a man struggling but unable to rise. With the +ghastly dead and the ravening wolves all about, the movement of that +wounded man was strangely terrifying and my knees knocked with fear, as +I ran to his aid.</p> + +<p>The man was an Indian, but his face I could not see; for one hand +staunched a wound in his head and the other gripped a knife with which +he had been defending himself. My first thought was that he must be a +Nor'-Wester, or his body would not have escaped the common fate; but if +a Nor'-Wester, why had he been left on the field? So I concluded he was +one of the camp-followers, who had joined our forces for plunder and +come to a merited end. Still he was a man; and I stooped to examine him +with a view to getting him on my horse and taking him back to the camp.</p> + +<p>At first he was unconscious of my presence. Gently I tried to remove the +left hand from his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> forehead, but at the touch, out struck the right +hand in vicious thrusts of the hunting-knife, one blind cut barely +missing my arm.</p> + +<p>"Hold, man!" I cried, "I'm no foe, but a friend!" and I caught the right +arm tightly.</p> + +<p>At the sound of my voice, the left hand swung out revealing a frightful +gash; and the next thing I knew, his left arm had encircled my neck like +the coil of a strangler, five fingers were digging into the flesh of my +throat and Le Grand Diable was making frantic efforts to free his right +hand and plunge that dagger into me. The shock of the discovery threw me +off guard, and for a moment there was a struggle, but only for a moment. +Then the wounded man fell back, writhing in pain, his face contorted +with agony and hate. I do not think he could see me. He must have been +blind from that wound. I stood back, but his knife still cut the air.</p> + +<p>"Le Grand Diable! Fool!" I said, "I will not harm you! I give you the +white man's word, I will not hurt you!"</p> + +<p>The right arm fell limp and still. Had I, by some strange irony, been +led to this spot that I might witness the death of my foe? Was this the +end of that long career of evil?</p> + +<p>"Le Grand Diable!" I cried, going a pace nearer, which seemed to bring +back the ebbing life. "Le Grand Diable! You cannot stay here among the +wolves. Tell me whereto find Miriam and I'll take you back to the camp! +Tell me and no one shall harm you! I will save you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p> + +<p>The thin lips moved. He was saying, or trying to say, something.</p> + +<p>"Speak louder!" and I bent over him. "Speak the truth and I take you to +the camp!"</p> + +<p>The lips were still moving, but I could not hear a sound.</p> + +<p>"Speak louder!" I shouted. "Where is Miriam? Where is the white woman?" +I put my ear to his lips, fearful that life might slip away before I +could hear.</p> + +<p>There was a snarl through the glistening set teeth. The prostrate body +gave an upward lurch. With one swift, treacherous thrust, he drove his +knife into my coat-sleeve, grazing my forearm. The effort cost him his +life. He sank down with a groan. The sightless, bloodshot eyes opened. +Le Grand Diable would never more feign death.</p> + +<p>I jerked the knife from my coat, hurled it from me, sprang up and fled +from the field as if it had been infected with a pest, or I pursued by +gends. Never looking back and with superstitious dread of the dead +Indian's evil spirit, I tore on and on till, breath-spent and exhausted, +I threw myself down with the North-West camp-fires in sight.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> It should scarcely be necessary for the author to state +that these are the sentiments of the Indian poet expressing the views of +the savage towards the white man, and not the white man towards the +savage. The poem is as close a translation of the original ballad sung +by Pierre in Metis dialect the night of the massacre, as could be given. +The Indian nature is more in harmony with the hawk and the coyote than +with the white man; hence the references. Other thoughts embodied in +this crude lay are taken directly from the refrains of the trappers +chanted at that time.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Governor Semple unadvisedly boasted that the shock of his +power would be felt from Montreal to Athabasca.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>FORT DOUGLAS CHANGES MASTERS</h3> + + +<p>I suppose there are times in the life of every one, even the +strongest—and I am not that—when a feather's weight added to a burden +may snap power of endurance. I had reached that stage before +encountering Le Grand Diable on the field of massacre at Seven Oaks. +With the events in the Mandane country, the long, hard ride northward +and this latest terrible culmination of strife between Nor'-Westers and +Hudson's Bay, the past month had been altogether too hard packed for my +well-being. The madness of northern traders no longer amazed me.</p> + +<p>An old nurse of my young days, whom I remember chiefly by her ramrod +back and sharp tongue, used to say, "Nerves! nerves! nothing but +nerves!" She thanked God she was born before the doctors had discovered +nerves. Though neurotic theories had not been sufficiently elaborated +for me to ascribe my state to the most refined of modern ills—nervous +prostration—I was aware, as I dragged over the prairie with the horse +at the end of a trailing bridle rein, that something was seriously out +of tune. It was daylight before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span> I caught the frightened broncho and no +knock-kneed coward ever shook more, as I vainly tried to vault into the +saddle, and after a dozen false plunges at the stirrup, gave up the +attempt and footed it back to camp. There was a daze between my eyes, +which the over-weary know well, and in the brain-whirl, I could +distinguish only two thoughts, Where was Miriam—and Father Holland's +prediction—"Benedicite! The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall +deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher."</p> + +<p>Thus, I reached the camp, picketed the horse, threw myself down in the +tent and slept without a break from the morning of the 20th till mid-day +of the 21st. I was awakened by the <i>Bois-Brulés</i> returning from a +demonstration before the gateway of Fort Douglas. Going to the tent +door, I saw that Pritchard, one of the captive Hudson's Bay men, had +been brought back from a conference with the enemy. From his account, +the Hudson's Bay people seemed to be holding out against us; but the +settlers, realizing the danger of Indian warfare, to a man favored +surrender. Had it not been for Grant, there would have been no farther +parley; but on news that settlers were pressing for capitulation, the +warden again despatched Pritchard to the Hudson's Bay post. In the hope +of gaining access to Frances Sutherland and Eric Hamilton I accompanied +him. Such was the terror prevailing within the walls, in spite of +Pritchard's assurance regarding my friendly purpose, admission was +flatly denied me. I contented<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> myself with verbal messages that Hamilton +and Father Holland must remain. I could guarantee their safety. The same +offer I made to Frances, but told her to do what was best for herself +and her father. When Pritchard came out, I knew from his face that Fort +Douglas was ours. Hamilton and Father Holland would stay, he reported; +but Mistress Sutherland bade him say that after Seven Oaks her father +had no friendly feeling for Nor'-Westers, and she could not let him go +forth alone. Terms were stipulated between the two companies with due +advantage to our side from the recent victory and the formal surrender +of Fort Douglas took place the following day.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with the settlers, Cuthbert?" I asked of the +warden before the capitulation.</p> + +<p>"Aye! That's a question," was the grim response.</p> + +<p>"Why not leave them in the fort till things quiet down?"</p> + +<p>"With all the Indians of Red River in possession of that fort?" asked +Grant, sarcastically. "Were a few Nor'-Westers so successful in holding +back the Metis at Seven Oaks, you'd like to see that experiment +repeated?"</p> + +<p>"'Twill be worse, Grant, if you let them go back to their farms."</p> + +<p>"They'll not do that, if I'm warden of the plains," he declared with +great determination. "We'll have to send them down the Red to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> lake +till that fool of a Scotch nobleman decides what to do with his fine +colonists."</p> + +<p>"But, Grant, you don't mean to send them up north in this cold country. +They may not reach Hudson's Bay in time to catch the company ship to +Scotland! Why, man, it's sheer murder to expose those people to a winter +up there without a thing to shelter them!"</p> + +<p>"To my mind, freezing is not quite so bad as a massacre. If they won't +take our boats to the States, or Canada, what else can Nor'-Westers do?"</p> + +<p>And what else, indeed? I could not answer Grant's question, though I +know every effort we made to induce those people to go south instead of +north has been misrepresented as an infamous attempt to expel Selkirk +settlers from Red River. Truly, I hope I may never see a sadder sight +than the going forth of those colonists to the shelterless plain. It was +disastrous enough for them to be driven from their native heath; but to +be lured away to this far country for the purpose of becoming buffers +between rival fur-traders, who would stop at nothing, and to be +sacrificed as victims for their company's criminal policy—I speak as a +Nor'-Wester—was immeasurably cruel.</p> + +<p>Grant was, of course, on hand for the surrender, and he wisely kept the +plain-rangers at a safe distance. Clerks lined each side of the path to +the gate, and I pressed forward for a glimpse of Frances Sutherland. +There was the jar of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> heavy bolt shot back. Confused noises sounded +from the courtyard. The gates swung open, and out marched the sheriff of +Assiniboia, bearing in one hand a pole with a white sheet tacked to the +end for a flag of truce, and in the other the fort keys. Behind, sullen +and dejected, followed a band of Hudson's Bay men. Grant stepped up to +meet the sheriff. The terms of capitulation were again stated, and there +was some signing of paper. Of those things my recollection is +indistinct; for I was straining my eyes towards the groups of settlers +inside the walls. When I looked back to the conferring leaders the +silence was so intense a pinfall could have been heard. The keys of the +fort were being handed to the Nor'-Westers and the Hudson's Bay men had +turned away their faces that they might not see. The vanquished then +passed quickly to the barges at the river. Each of the six drunken +fellows, whom I had last seen in the late Governor Semple's office, the +Highlanders who had spied upon me when I visited Fort Douglas but a year +before, the clerks whom I had heard talking that night in the great +hall, and many others with whom I had but a chance acquaintance, filed +down to the river. Seeing all ready, with a North-West clerk at the prow +of each boat to warn away marauders, the men came back for settlers and +wounded comrades. I would have proffered my assistance to some of the +burdened people on the chance of a word with Frances Sutherland, but the +colonists proudly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> resented any kind offices from a Nor'-Wester. I saw +Louis Laplante come limping out, leaning on the arm of the red-faced +man, whose eye quailed when it met mine. Poor Louis looked sadly +battered, with his head in a white bandage, one arm in a sling, and a +dejected stoop to his shoulders that was unusual with him.</p> + +<p>"This is too bad, Louis," said I, hurrying forward. "I forgot to send +word about you. You might as well have stayed in the fort till your +wounds healed. Won't you come back?"</p> + +<p>Louis stole a furtive, sheepish glance at me, hung his head and looked +away with a suspicion of moisture about his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You always were a brute to fight at Laval! I might trick you at first, +but you always ended by giving me the throw," he answered +disconsolately.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Louis." I was astounded at the note of reproach in his voice. +"We're even now—let by-gones be by-gones! You helped me, I helped you. +You trapped me into the fort, I tricked you into breaking a mirror and +laying up a peck of trouble for yourself. Surely you don't treasure any +grudge yet?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head without looking at me.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand. Let us begin over again. Come, forget old scores, +come back to the fort till you're well."</p> + +<p>"Pah!" said Louis with a sudden, strange impatience which I could not +fathom. "You understand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> some day and turn upon me and strike and give +me more throw."</p> + +<p>"All right, comrade, treasure your wrath! Only I thought two men, who +had saved each other's lives, might be friends and bury old quarrels."</p> + +<p>"You not know," he blurted out in a broken voice.</p> + +<p>"Not know what?" I asked impatiently. "I tell you I forgive all and I +had thought you might do as much——"</p> + +<p>"Do as much!" he interrupted fiercely. "<i>O mon Dieu!</i>" he cried, with a +sob that shook his frame. "Take me away! Take me away!" he begged the +man on whose arm he was leaning; and with those enigmatical words he +passed to the nearest boat.</p> + +<p>While I was yet gazing in mute amazement after Louis Laplante, wondering +whether his strange emotion were revenge, or remorse, the women and +children marched forth with the men protecting each side. The empty +threats of half-breeds to butcher every settler in Red River had +evidently reached the ears of the women. Some trembled so they could +scarcely walk and others stared at us with the reproach of murder in +their eyes, gazing in horror at our guilty hands. At last I caught sight +of Frances Sutherland. She was well to the rear of the sad procession, +leaning on the arm of a tall, sturdy, erect man whom I recognized as her +father. I would have forced my way to her side at once, but a swift +glance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> forbade me. A gleam of love flashed to the gray eyes for an +instant, then father and daughter had passed.</p> + +<p>"Little did I think," the harsh, rasping voice of the father was saying, +"that daughter of mine would give her heart to a murderer. Which of +these cut-throats may I claim for a son?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, father," she whispered. "Remember he warned us to the fort and +took me to Pembina." She was as pale as death.</p> + +<p>"Aye! Aye! We're under obligations to strange benefactors when times go +awry!" he returned bitterly.</p> + +<p>"O father! Don't! You'll think differently when you know——" but a +hulking lout stumbled between us, and I missed the rest.</p> + +<p>They were at the boats and an old Highlander was causing a blockade by +his inability to lift a great bale into the barge.</p> + +<p>"Let me give you a lift," said I, stepping forward and taking hold of +the thing.</p> + +<p>"Friend, or foe?" asked the Scot, before he would accept my aid.</p> + +<p>"Friend, of course," and I braced myself to give the package a hoist.</p> + +<p>"Hudson's Bay, or Nor'-Wester?" pursued the settler, determined to take +no help from the hated enemy.</p> + +<p>"Nor'-Wester, but what does that matter? A friend all the same! Yo +heave! Up with it!"</p> + +<p>"Neffer!" roared the man in a towering passion, and he gave me a push +that sent me knocking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> into the crowd on the landing. Involuntarily, I +threw out my arm to save a fall and caught a woman's outstretched hand. +It was Frances Sutherland's and I thrilled with the message she could +not speak.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Mistress Sutherland," said I, as soon as I could +find speech, and I stepped back tingling with embarrassment and delight.</p> + +<p>"A civil-tongued young man, indeed," remarked the father, sarcastically, +with a severe scrutiny of my retreating person. "A civil-tongued young +man to know your name so readily, Frances! Pray, who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Some Nor'-Wester," answered Frances, the white cheeks blushing red, +and she stepped quickly forward to the gang-plank. "Some Nor'-Wester, I +suppose!" she repeated unconcernedly, but the flush had suffused her +neck and was not unnoticed by the father's keen eyes.</p> + +<p>Then they seated themselves at the prow beside the Nor'-Wester appointed +to accompany the boat; and I saw that Louis Laplante was sitting +directly opposite Frances Sutherland, with his eyes fixed on her face in +a bold gaze, that instantly quenched any kindness I may have felt +towards him. How I regretted my thoughtlessness in not having +forestalled myself in the Sutherlands' barge. The next best thing was to +go along with Grant, who was preparing to ride on the river bank and +escort the company beyond all danger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You coming too?" asked Grant sharply, as I joined him.</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Think two are necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Not when one of the two is Grant," I answered, which pleased him, "but +as my heart goes down the lake with those barges——"</p> + +<p>"Hut-tutt—man," interrupted Grant. "War's bad enough without love; but +come if you like."</p> + +<p>As the boats sheered off from the wharf, Grant and I rode along the +river trail. I saw Frances looking after me with surprise, and I think +she must have known my purpose, though she did not respond when I +signalled to her.</p> + +<p>"Stop that!" commanded Grant peremptorily. "You did that very slyly, +Rufus, but if they see you, there'll be all sorts of suspicion about +collusion."</p> + +<p>The river path ran into the bush, winding in and out of woods, so we +caught only occasional glimpses of the boats; but I fancied her eyes +were ever towards the bank where we rode, and I could distinctly see +that the Frenchman's face was buried in his arms above one of the +squarish packets opposite the Sutherlands.</p> + +<p>"Is it the same lass," asked Grant, after we had been riding for more +than an hour, "is it the same lass that was disguised as an Indian girl +at Fort Gibraltar?"</p> + +<p>His question astonished me. I thought her disguise too complete even for +his sharp penetration; but I was learning that nothing escaped the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> +warden's notice. Indeed, I have found it not unusual for young people at +a certain stage of their careers to imagine all the rest of the world +blind.</p> + +<p>"The same," I answered, wondering much.</p> + +<p>"You took her back to Fort Douglas. Did you hear anything special in the +fort that night?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but that McDonell was likely to surrender. How did you know I +was there?"</p> + +<p>"Spies," he answered laconically. "The old <i>voyageurs</i> don't change +masters often for nothing. If you hadn't been stuck off in the Mandane +country, you'd have learned a bit of our methods. Her father used to +favor the Nor'-Westers. What has changed him?"</p> + +<p>"Seven Oaks changed him," I returned tersely.</p> + +<p>"Aye! Aye! That was terrible," and his face darkened. "Terrible! +Terrible! It will change many," and the rest of his talk was full of +gloomy portents and forebodings of blame likely to fall upon him for the +massacre; but I think history has cleared and justified Grant's part in +that awful work. Suddenly he turned to me.</p> + +<p>"There's pleasure in this ride for you. There's none for me. Will ye +follow the boats alone and see that no harm comes to them?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said I, and the warden wheeled his horse and galloped back +towards Fort Douglas.</p> + +<p>For an hour after he left, the trail was among the woods, and when I +finally reached a clearing and could see the boats, there was cause +enough for regret that the warden had gone. A great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> outcry came from +the Sutherlands' boat and Louis Laplante was on his feet gesticulating +excitedly and talking in loud tones to the rowers.</p> + +<p>"Hullo, there!" I shouted, riding to the very water's edge and +flourishing my pistol. "Stop your nonsense, there! What's wrong?"</p> + +<p>"There's a French papist demands to have speech wi' ye," called Mr. +Sutherland.</p> + +<p>"Bring him ashore," I returned.</p> + +<p>The boat headed about and approached the bank. Then the rowers ceased +pulling; for the water was shallow, and we were within speaking +distance.</p> + +<p>"Now, Louis, what do you mean by this nonsense?" I began.</p> + +<p>In answer, the Frenchman leaped out of the boat and waded ashore.</p> + +<p>"Let them go on," he said, scrambling up the cliff in a staggering, +faint fashion.</p> + +<p>"If you meant to stay at the fort, why didn't you decide sooner?" I +demanded roughly.</p> + +<p>"I didn't." This doggedly and with downcast eyes.</p> + +<p>"Then you go down the lake with the rest and no skulking!"</p> + +<p>"Gillespie," answered Louis in a low tone, "there's strength of an ox in +you, but not the wit. Let them go on! Simpleton, I tell you of Miriam."</p> + +<p>His words recalled the real reason of my presence in the north country; +for my quest had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span> indeed been eclipsed by the fearful events of the past +week. I signalled the rowers to go without him, waved a last farewell to +Frances Sutherland, and turned to see Louis Laplante throw himself on +the grass and cry like a schoolboy. Dismounting I knelt beside him.</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, old boy," said I, with the usual vacuity of thought and +stupidity of expression at such times. "Cheer up! Seven Oaks has knocked +you out. I knew you shouldn't make this trip till you were strong again. +Why, man, you have enough cuts to undo the pluck of a giant-killer!"</p> + +<p>Louis was not paying the slightest attention to me. He was mumbling to +himself and I wondered if he were in a fever.</p> + +<p>"The priest, the Irish priest in the fort, he say to me: 'Wicked fellow, +you be tortured forever and ever in the furnace, if you not undo what +you did in the gorge!' What care Louis Laplante for the fire? Pah! What +care Louis for wounds and cuts and threats? Pah! The fire not half so +hot as the hell inside! The cuts not half so sharp as the thinks that +prick and sting and lash from morn'g to night, night to morn'g! Pah! +Something inside say: 'Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, a dog! A cur! +Toad! Reptile!' Then I try stand up straight and give the lie, but it +say: 'Pah! Louis Laplante!' The Irish priest, he say, 'You repent!' What +care Louis for repents? Pah! But her eyes, they look and look and look +like two steel-gray stars! Sometime<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span> they caress and he want to pray! +Sometime they stab and he shiver; but they always shine like stars of +heaven and the priest, he say, 'You be shut out of heaven!' If the angel +all have stars, steel glittering stars, for eyes, heaven worth for +trying! The priest, he say, 'You go to abode of torture!' Torture! Pah! +More torture than 'nough here. Angels with stars in their heads, more +better. But the stars stab through—through—through——"</p> + +<p>"Bother the stars," said I to myself. "What of Miriam?" I asked, +interrupting his penitential confidences.</p> + +<p>His references to steel-gray eyes and stars and angels somehow put me in +no good mood, for a reason with which most men, but few women, will +sympathize.</p> + +<p>"Stupid ox!" He spat out the words with unspeakable impatience at my +obtuseness. "What of Miriam! Why the priest and the starry eyes and the +something inside, they all say, 'Go and get Miriam! Where's the white +woman? You lied! You let her go! Get her—get her—get her!' What of +Miriam? Pah!"</p> + +<p>After that angry outburst, the fountains of his sorrow seemed to dry up +and he became more the old, nonchalant Louis whom I knew.</p> + +<p>"Where is Miriam?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He ignored my question and went on reasoning with himself.</p> + +<p>"No more peace—no more quiet—no more sing and rollick till he get +Miriam!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span></p> + +<p>Was the fellow really delirious? The boats were disappearing from view. +I could wait no longer.</p> + +<p>"Louis," said I, "if you have anything to say, say it quick! I can't +wait longer."</p> + +<p>"You know I lie to you in the gorge?" and he looked straight at me.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," I answered, "and I punished you pretty well for it twice."</p> + +<p>"You know what that lie mean"—and he hesitated—"mean to her—to +Miriam?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Louis, I know."</p> + +<p>"And you forgive all? Call all even?"</p> + +<p>"As far as I'm concerned—yes—Louis! God Almighty alone can forgive the +suffering you have caused her."</p> + +<p>Then Louis Laplante leaped up and, catching my hand, looked long and +steadily into my eyes.</p> + +<p>"I go and find her," he muttered in a low, tense voice. "I follow their +trail—I keep her from suffer—I bring them all back—back here in the +bush on this river—I bring her back, or I kill Louis Laplante!"</p> + +<p>"Old comrade—you were always generous," I began; but the words choked +in my throat.</p> + +<p>"I know not where they are, but I find them! I know not how +soon—perhaps a year—but I bring them back! Go on with the boats," and +he dropped my hand.</p> + +<p>"I can't leave you here," I protested.</p> + +<p>"You come back this way," he said. "May be you find me."</p> + +<p>Poor Louis! His tongue tripped in its old evasive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> ways even at the +moment of his penitence, which goes to prove—I suppose—that we are all +the sum total of the thing called habit, that even spontaneous acts are +evidences of the summed result of past years. I did not expect to find +him when I came back, and I did not. He had vanished into the woods like +the wild creature that he was; but I was placing a strange, reasonless +reliance on his promise to find Miriam.</p> + +<p>When I caught up with the boats, the river was widening so that attack +would be impossible, and I did not ride far. Heading my horse about, I +spurred back to Fort Douglas. Passing Seven Oaks, I saw some of the +Hudson's Bay men, who had remained burying the dead—not removing them. +That was impossible after the wolves and three days of a blistering sun.</p> + +<p>I told Hamilton of neither Le Grand Diable's death, nor Louis Laplante's +promise. He had suffered disappointments enough and could ill stand any +sort of excitement. I found him walking about in the up-stairs hall, but +his own grief had deadened him to the fortunes of the warring companies.</p> + +<p>"Confound you, boy! Tell me the truth!" said Father Holland to me +afterwards in the courtyard.</p> + +<p>Le Grand Diable's death and Louis Laplante's promise seemed to make a +great impression on the priest.</p> + +<p>"I tell you the Lord delivered that evil one into the hands of the +punisher; and of the innocent,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> the Lord, Himself, is the defender. +Await His purpose! Await His time!"</p> + +<p>"Mighty long time," said I, with the bitter impatience of youth.</p> + +<p>"Quiet, youngster! I tell you she shall be delivered!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At last the Nor-Westers' Fort William brigade with its sixty men and +numerous well-loaded canoes—whose cargoes had been the bone of +contention between Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers at Seven Oaks—arrived +at Fort Douglas. The newcomers were surprised to find us in possession +of the enemy's fort. The last news they had heard was of wanton and +successful aggression on the part of Lord Selkirk's Company; and I think +the extra crews sent north were quite as much for purposes of defence as +swift travel. But the gravity of affairs startled the men from Fort +William; for they, themselves, had astounding news. Lord Selkirk was on +his way north with munitions of war and an army of mercenaries formerly +of the De Meurons' regiment, numbering two hundred, some said three or +four hundred men; but this was an exaggeration. For what was he coming +to Red River in this warlike fashion? His purpose would probably show +itself. Also, if his intent were hostile, would not Seven Oaks massacre +afford him the very pretence he wanted for chastising Nor'-Westers out +of the country? The canoemen had met the ejected settlers bound up the +lake; and with them, whom did they see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> but the bellicose Captain Miles +McDonell, given free passage but a year before to Montreal and now on +"the prosperous return," which he, himself, had prophesied?</p> + +<p>The settlers' news of Seven Oaks sent the brave captain hurrying +southward to inform Lord Selkirk of the massacre.</p> + +<p>We had had a victory; but how long would it last? Truly the sky was +darkening and few of us felt hopeful about the bursting of the storm.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>HIS LORDSHIP TO THE RESCUE</h3> + + +<p>Even at the hour of our triumph, we Nor'-Westers knew that we had yet to +reckon with Lord Selkirk; and a speedy reckoning the indomitable +nobleman brought about. The massacre at Seven Oaks afforded our rivals +the very pretext they desired. Clothed with the authority of an officer +of the law, Lord Selkirk hurried northward; and a personage of his +importance could not venture into the wilderness without a strong +body-guard. At least, that was the excuse given for the retinue of two +or three hundred mercenaries decked out in all the regimentals of war, +whom Lord Selkirk brought with him to the north. A more rascally, daring +crew of ragamuffins could not have been found to defend Selkirk's side +of the gentlemen adventurers' feud. The men were the offscourings of +European armies engaged in the Napoleonic wars, and came directly from +the old De Meurons' regiment. The information which the Fort William +brigade brought of Selkirk's approach, also explained why that same +brigade hastened back to the defence of Nor'-West quarters on Lake +Superior; and their help was needed. News of events at Fort<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span> William +came to us in the Red River department tardily. First, there was a vague +rumor among the Indian <i>voyageurs</i>, who were ever gliding back and +forward on the labyrinthine waters of that north land like the birds of +passage overhead. Then came definite reports from freemen who had been +expelled from Fort William; and we could no longer doubt that Nor'-West +headquarters, with all the wealth of furs and provisions therein had +fallen into the hands of the Hudson's Bay forces. Afterwards came +warning from our <i>Bourgeois</i>, driven out of Fort William, for Fort +Douglas to be prepared. Lord Selkirk would only rest long enough at Fort +William to take possession of everything worth possessing, in the name +of the law—for was he not a justice of the peace?—and in the name of +the law would he move with like intent against Fort Douglas. To the +earl's credit, be it said, that his victories were bloodless; but they +were bloodless because the Nor'-Westers had no mind to unleash those +redskin bloodhounds a second time, preferring to suffer loss rather than +resort to violence. Nevertheless, we called in every available hand of +the Nor'-West staff to man Fort Douglas against attack. But summer +dragged into autumn and autumn into winter, and no Lord Selkirk. Then we +began to think ourselves secure; for the streams were frozen to a depth +of four feet like adamant, and unless Selkirk were a madman, he would +not attempt to bring his soldiers north by dog-train during the bitter +cold of mid-winter. But 'tis ever the policy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> of the astute madman to +discount the enemy's calculations; and Selkirk utterly discounted ours +by sending his hardy, dare-devil De Meurons across country under the +leadership of that prince of braggarts, Captain D'Orsonnens. Indeed, we +had only heard the rumor of their coming, when we awakened one morning +after an obscure, stormy night to find them encamped at St. James, +westward on the Assiniboine River. Day after day the menacing force +remained quiet and inoffensive, and we began to look upon these +notorious ruffians as harmless. For our part, vigilance was not lacking. +Sentinels were posted in the towers day and night. Nor'-West spies +shadowed every movement of the enemy; and it was seriously considered +whether we should not open communication with D'Orsonnens to ascertain +what he wanted; but, truth to say, we knew very well what he wanted, and +had had such a surfeit of blood, we were not anxious to re-open +hostilities.</p> + +<p>As for Hamilton, I can hardly call his life at Fort Douglas anything +more than a mere existence. A blow stuns, but one may recover. Repeated +failure gradually benumbs hope and willpower and effort, like some +ghoulish vampire sucking away a man's life-blood till he faint and die +from very inanition. The blow, poor Eric had suffered, when he lost +Miriam; the repeated failure, when we could not restore her; and I saw +this strong, athletic man slowly succumb as to some insidious, +paralyzing disease. The thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> of effort seemed to burden him. He +would silently mope by the hour in some dark corner of Fort Douglas, or +wander aimlessly about the courtyard, muttering and talking to himself. +He was weary and fatigued without a stroke of work; and what little +sleep he snatched from wakeful vigils seemed to give him no rest. His +food, he thrust from him with the petulance of a child; and at every +suggestion I could make, he sneered with a quiet, gentle insistence that +was utterly discomfiting. To be sure, I had Father Holland's boisterous +good cheer as a counter-irritant; for the priest had remained at Fort +Douglas, and was ministering to the tribes of the Red and Assiniboine. +But it was on her, who had been my guiding star and hope and inspiration +from the first, that I mainly depended. As hard, merciless winter closed +in, I could not think of those shelterless colonists driven to the lake, +without shuddering at the distress I knew they must suffer; and I +despatched a runner, urging them to return to Red River, and giving +personal guarantee for their safety. Among those, who came back, were +the Sutherlands; and if my quest had entailed far greater hardship than +it did, that quiet interval with leisure to spend much time at the +Selkirk settlement would have repaid all suffering. After sundown, I was +free from fort duties. Tying on snow-shoes after the manner of the +natives, I would speed over the whitened drifts of billowy snow. The +surface, melted by the sun-glare of mid-day and encrusted with brittle, +glistening ice, never gave under my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> weight; and, oddly enough, my way +always led to the Sutherland homestead. After the coming of the De +Meurons, Frances used to expostulate against what she called my +foolhardiness in making these evening visits; but their presence made no +difference to me.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe those drones intend doing anything very dreadful, after +all, sir," I remarked one night to Frances Sutherland's father, +referring to the soldiers.</p> + +<p>Following his daughter's directions I had been coming very early, also +very often, with the object of accustoming the dour Scotchman to my +staying late; and he had softened enough towards me to take part in +occasional argument.</p> + +<p>"Don't believe they intend doing a thing, sir," I reiterated.</p> + +<p>Pushing his spectacles up on his forehead, he closed the book of +sermons, which he had been reading, and puckered his brows as if he were +compromising a hard point with conscience, which, indeed, I afterwards +knew, was exactly what he had been doing.</p> + +<p>"Aye," said he, "aye, aye, young man. But I'm thinking ye'll no do y'r +company ony harm by speerin' after the designs o' fightin' men who make +ladders."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" I cried, all alert for information. "Have they been making +ladders?"</p> + +<p>He pulled the spectacles down on his nose and deliberately reopened the +book of sermons.</p> + +<p>"Of that, I canna say," he replied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span></p> + +<p>Only once again did he emerge from his readings. I had risen to go. +Frances usually accompanied me to the outer door, where I tied my +snow-shoes and took a farewell unobserved by the father; but when I +opened the door, such a blast of wind and snow drove in, I instantly +clapped it shut again and began tying the racquets on inside.</p> + +<p>"O Rufus!" exclaimed Frances, "you can't go back to Fort Douglas in that +storm!"</p> + +<p>Then we both noticed for the first time that a hurricane of wind was +rocking the little house to its foundations.</p> + +<p>"Did that spring up all of a sudden?" I cried. "I never saw a blizzard +do that before."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid, Rufus, we were not noticing."</p> + +<p>"No, we were otherwise interested," said I, innocently enough; but she +laughed.</p> + +<p>"You can't go," she declared.</p> + +<p>"The wind will be on my back," I assured her. "I'll be all right," and I +went on lacing the snow-shoe thongs about my ankle.</p> + +<p>The book of sermons shut with a snap and the father turned towards us.</p> + +<p>"Let no one say any man left the Sutherland hearth on such a night! Put +by those senseless things," and he pointed to the snow-shoes.</p> + +<p>"But those ladders," I interposed. "Let no one say when the enemy came +Rufus Gillespie was absent from his citadel!"</p> + +<p>The wind roared round the house corners like a storm at sea; and the +father looked down at me with a strange, quizzical expression.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ye're a headstrong young man, Rufus Gillespie," said the hard-set +mouth. "Ye maun knock a hole in the head, or the wall! Will ye go?"</p> + +<p>"Knock the hole in the wall," I laughed back. "Of course I go."</p> + +<p>"Then, tak' the dogs," said he, with a sparkle of kindliness in the cold +eyes. So it came that I set out in the Sutherlands' dog-sled with a +supply of robes to defy biting frost.</p> + +<p>And I needed them every one. Old settlers, describing winter storms, +have been accused of an imagination as expansive as the prairie; but I +affirm no man could exaggerate the fury of a blizzard on the unbroken +prairie. To one thing only may it be likened—a hurricane at sea. People +in lands boxed off at short compass by mountain ridges forget with what +violence a wind sweeping half a continent can disport itself. In the +boisterous roar of the gale, my shouts to the dogs were a feeble whisper +caught from my lips and lost in the shrieking wind. The fine snowy +particles were a powdered ice that drove through seams of clothing and +cut one's skin like a whip lash. Without the fringe of woods along the +river bank to guide me, it would have been madness to set out by day, +and worse than madness by night; but I kept the dogs close to the woods. +The trees broke the wind and prevented me losing all sense of direction +in the tornado whirl of open prairie. Not enough snow had fallen on the +hard-crusted drifts to impede the dogs. They scarcely sank and with the +wind on their backs dashed ahead till the woods<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span> were passed and we were +on the bare plains. No light could be seen through the storm, but I knew +I was within a short distance of the fort gate and wheeled the dogs +toward the river flats of the left. The creatures seemed to scent human +presence. They leaped forward and brought the sleigh against the wall +with a knock that rolled me out.</p> + +<p>"Good fellows;" I cried, springing up, uncertain where I was.</p> + +<p>The huskies crouched around my feet almost tripping me and I felt +through the snowy darkness against the stockades, stake by stake.</p> + +<p>Ah! There was a post! Here were close-fitted boards—here, +iron-lining—this must be the gate; but where was the lantern that hung +behind? A gust of wind might have extinguished the light; so I drubbed +loudly on the gate and shouted to the sentry, who should have been +inside.</p> + +<p>The wind lulled for a moment and up burst wild shouting from the +courtyard intermingled with the jeers of Frenchmen and cries of terror +from our people. Then I knew judgment had come for the deeds at Seven +Oaks. The gale broke again with a hissing of serpents, or red irons, and +the howling wind rose in shrill, angry bursts. Hugging the wall, while +the dogs whined behind, I ran towards the rear. Men jostled through the +snowy dark, and I was among the De Meurons. They were too busy scaling +the stockade on the ladders of which I had heard to notice an intruder. +Taking advantage of the storm, I mounted a ladder, vaulted over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> +pickets and alighted in the courtyard. Here all was noise, flight, +pursuit and confusion. I made for the main hall, where valuable papers +were kept, and at the door, cannoned against one of our men, who +shrieked with fright and begged for mercy.</p> + +<p>"Coward!" said I, giving him a cuff. "What has happened?"</p> + +<p>A flare fell on us both, and he recognized me.</p> + +<p>"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!"</p> + +<p>I left him bawling out his fear and rushed inside.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" I asked, tripping up a clerk who was flying through +the hallway.</p> + +<p>"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" I commanded, grasping the lap of his coat. +"What—<i>has</i>—happened?"</p> + +<p>"The De Meurons!" This was fairly screamed.</p> + +<p>I shook him till he sputtered something more.</p> + +<p>"They've captured the fort—our people didn't want to shed blood——"</p> + +<p>"And threw down their guns," I interjected, disgusted beyond word.</p> + +<p>"Threw down their guns," he repeated, as though that were a praiseworthy +action. "The s-s-sentinels—saw the court—full—full—full of +s-soldiers!"</p> + +<p>"Full of soldiers!" I thundered. "There are not a hundred in the gang."</p> + +<p>Thereupon I gave the caitiff a toss that sent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span> him reeling against the +wall, and dashed up-stairs for the papers. All was darkness, and I nigh +broke my neck over a coffin-shaped rough box made for one of the +trappers, who had died in the fort. Why was the thing lying there, +anyway? The man should have been put into it and buried at once without +any drinking bout and dead wake, I reflected with some sharpness, as I +rubbed my bruised shins and shoved the box aside. Shouts rang up from +the courtyard. Heavy feet trampled in the hall below. Hamilton, as a +Hudson's Bay man, and Father Holland, I knew, were perfectly safe. But I +was far from safe. Why were they not there to help me, I wondered, with +the sort of rage we all vent on our friends when we are cornered and +they at ease. I fumbled across the apartment, found the right desk, +pried the drawer open with my knife, and was in the very act of seizing +the documents when I saw my own shadow on the floor. Lantern light burst +with a glare through the gloom of the doorway.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>FATHER HOLLAND AND I IN THE TOILS</h3> + + +<p>Behind the lantern was a face with terrified eyes and gaping mouth. It +was the priest, his genial countenance a very picture of fear.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Father?" I asked. "You needn't be alarmed; you're all +right."</p> + +<p>"But I am alarmed, for you're all wrong! Lord, boy, why didn't ye stay +with that peppery Scotchman? What did Frances mane by lettin' you out +to-night?" and he shaded the light of the lantern with his hand.</p> + +<p>"I wanted these things," I explained.</p> + +<p>"Ye want a broad thumpin', I'm thinkin', ye rattle-pate, to risk y'r +precious noodle here to-night," he whispered, coming forward and fussing +about me with all the maternal anxiety of a hen over her only chicken.</p> + +<p>"Listen," said I. "The whole mob's coming in."</p> + +<p>"Go!" he urged, pushing me from the desk over which I still fumbled.</p> + +<p>"Run for those dogs of mercenaries!" I protested.</p> + +<p>"Ye swash-buckler! Ye stiff-necked braggart!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span> bawled the priest. "Out +wid y'r nonsense, and what good are y' thinkin' ye'll do—? Stir your +stumps, y' stoopid spalpeen!"</p> + +<p>"Listen," I urged, undisturbed by the tongue-thrashing that stormed +about my ears. In the babel of voices I thought I had heard some one +call my name.</p> + +<p>"Run, Rufus! Run for y'r life, boy!" urged Father Holland, apparently +thinking the ruffians had come solely for me.</p> + +<p>"Run yourself, Father; run yourself, and see how you like it," and I +tucked the documents inside my coat.</p> + +<p>"Divil a bit I'll run," returned the priest.</p> + +<p>"Hark!"</p> + +<p>The De Meurons' leaders were shouting orders to their men. Above the +screams of people fleeing in terror through passage-ways, came a shrill +bugle-call.</p> + +<p>"Go—go—go—Rufus!" begged Father Holland in a paroxysm of fear. "Go!" +he pleaded, pushing me towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I won't!" and I jerked away from him. "There, now." I caught up a club +and loaded pistol.</p> + +<p>The Nor'-Westers had no time to defend themselves. Almost before my +stubborn defiance was uttered, the building was filled with a mob of +intoxicated De Meurons. Rushing everywhere with fixed bayonets and +cursing at the top of their voices, they threatened death to all +Nor'-Westers. There was a loud scuffling of men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> forcing their way +through the defended hall downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Go, Rufus, go! Think of Frances! Save yourself," urged the priest.</p> + +<p>It was too late. I could not escape by the hall. Noisy feet were already +trampling up the stairs and the clank of armed men filled every passage.</p> + +<p>"Jee-les-pee! Jee-les-pee! Seven Oaks!" bawled a French voice from the +half-way landing, and a multitude of men with torches dashed up the +stairs. I took a stand to defend myself; for I thought I might be +charged with implication in the massacre.</p> + +<p>"Jee-les-pee," roared the voices. "Where is Gillespie?" thundered a +leader.</p> + +<p>"That's you, Rufus, lad! Down with you!" muttered the priest. Before I +knew his purpose, he had tripped my feet from under me and knocked me +flat on the floor. Overturning the empty coffin-box, he clapped it above +my whole length, imprisoning me with the snap and celerity of a +mouse-trap. Then I heard the thud of two hundred avoirdupois seating +itself on top of the case. The man above my person had whisked out a +book of prayers, and with lantern on the desk was conning over +devotions, which, I am sure, must have been read with the manual upside +down; for bits of the <i>pater noster</i>, service of the mass, and vesper +psalms were uttered in a disconnected jumble, though I could not but +apply the words to my own case.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>Libera nos a malo—ora pro nobis, peccatoribus—ab hoste maligno +defende me—ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me—peccator videbit et +irascetur—desiderium peccatorum peribit</i>——" came from the priest with +torrent speed.</p> + +<p>"Jee-les-pee! Jee-les-pee!" roared a dozen throats above the half-way +landing. Then came the stamp of many feet to the door.</p> + +<p>"Wait, men!" Hamilton's voice commanded. "I'll see if he's here!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Simulacra gentium argentum et aurum, opera manuum hominum</i>," like +hailstones rattled the Latin words down on my prison.</p> + +<p>"One moment, men," came Eric's voice; but he could not hold them back. +In burst the door with a rush, and immediately the room was crowded with +vociferating French soldiers.</p> + +<p>"<i>Manus habent, et non palpabunt; pedes</i>——"</p> + +<p>"Is Gillespie here?" interrupted Hamilton, without the slightest +recognition of the priest in his tones.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pedes habent et non ambulabunt; non clamabunt in gutture suo</i>," +muttered the priest, finishing his verse; then to the men with a +stiffness which I did not think Father Holland could ever assume—</p> + +<p>"How often must I be disturbed by men seeking that young scoundrel? Look +at this place, fairly topsy-turvy with their hunt! Faith! The room is +before you. Look and see!" and with a great indifference he went on with +his devotions.</p> + +<p>"<i>Similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea</i>——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Some one here before us?" interrupted an Englishman with some +suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Two parties here before ye," answered the priest, icily, as if these +repeated questions rumpled ecclesiastical dignity, and he gabbled on +with the psalm, "<i>similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea, et omnes</i>——"</p> + +<p>"If we lifted that box," interrupted the persistent Englishman, "what +might there be?"</p> + +<p>"If ye lift that box," answered Father Holland with massive +solemnity—and I confess every hair on my body bristled as he rose—"If +ye lift that box there might be a powr—dead—body," which was very +true; for I still held the cocked pistol in hand and would have shot the +first man daring to molest me.</p> + +<p>But the priest's indifference was not so great as it appeared. I could +tell from a tremor in his voice that he was greatly disturbed; and he +certainly lost his place altogether in the vesper psalm.</p> + +<p>"<i>Requiescat in pace</i>," were his next words, uttered in funereal +gravity. Singularly enough, they seemed to fit the situation.</p> + +<p>Father Holland's prompt offer to have the rough box examined satisfied +the searchers, and there were no further demands.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the Englishman, taken aback, "I beg your pardon, sir! No +offence meant."</p> + +<p>"No offence," replied the priest, reseating himself. "<i>Benedicite</i>——"</p> + +<p>"Sittin' on the coffin!" blurted out the voice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> of an English youth as +the weight of the priest again came down heavily on my prison; and again +I breathed easily.</p> + +<p>"Come on, men!" shouted Hamilton, apprehensive of more curiosity. "We're +wasting time! He may be escaping by the basement window!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Jam hiems transiit, imber abiit et recessit; surge, amica mea, et +veni!</i>" droned the priest, and the whole company clattered downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Quick!—Out with you!" commanded Father Holland. "Speed to y'r heels, +and blessing on the last o' ye!"</p> + +<p>I dashed down the stairs and was bolting through the doorway when some +one shouted, "There he is!"</p> + +<p>"Run, Gillespie!" cried some one else—one of our men, I suppose—and I +had plunged into the storm and raced for the ladders at the rear +stockades with a pack of pursuers at my heels. The snow drifts were in +my favor, for with my moccasins, I leaped lightly forward, while the +booted soldiers floundered deep. I eluded my pursuers and was half-way +up a ladder when a soldier's head suddenly appeared above the wall on +the other side. Then a bayonet prodded me in the chest and I fell +heavily backwards to the ground.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I was captured.</p> + +<p>That is all there is to say. No man dilates with pleasure over that part +of his life when he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> was vanquished. It is not pleasant to have weapons +of defence wrested from one's hands, to feel soldiers standing upon +one's wrists and rifling pockets.</p> + +<p>It is hard to feel every inch the man on the horizontal.</p> + +<p>In truth, when the soldiers picked me up without ceremony, or +gentleness, and bundling me up the stairs of the main hall, flung me +into a miserable pen, with windows iron-barred to mid-sash, I was but a +sorry hero. My tormentors did not shackle me; I was spared that +humiliation.</p> + +<p>"There!" exclaimed a Hudson's Bay man, throwing lantern-light across the +dismal low roof as I fell sprawling into the room. "That'll cool the +young hot-head," and all the French soldiers laughed at my discomfiture.</p> + +<p>They chained and locked the door on the outside. I heard the soldiers' +steps reverberating through the empty passages, and was alone in a sort +of prison-room, used during the régime of the petty tyrant McDonell. It +was cold enough to cool any hot-head, and mine was very hot indeed. I +knew the apartment well. Nor'-Westers had used it as a fur storeroom. +The wind came through the crevices of the board walls and piled +miniature drifts on the floor-cracks, all the while rattling loose +timbers like a saw-mill. The roof was but a few feet high, and I crept +to the window, finding all the small panes coated with two inches of +hoar-frost. Whether the iron bars outside ran across, or up and down, I +could not remember;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> but the fact would make a difference to a man +trying to escape. Much as I disliked to break the glass letting in more +cold, there was only one way of finding out about those bars. I raised +my foot for an outward kick, but remembering I wore only the moccasins +with which I had been snowshoeing, I struck my fist through instead, and +shattered the whole upper half of the window. I broke away cross-pieces +that might obstruct outward passage, and leaning down put my hand on the +sharp points of upright spikes. So intense was the frost, the skin of my +finger tips stuck to the iron, and I drew my hand in, with the sting of +a fresh burn.</p> + +<p>It was unfortunate about those bars. I could not possibly get past them +down to the ground without making a ladder from my great-coat. I groped +round the room hoping that some of the canvas in which we tied the +peltries, might be lying about. There was nothing of the sort, or I +missed it in the dark. Quickly tearing my coat into strips, I knotted +triple plies together and fastened the upper end to the crosspiece of +the lower window. Feet first, I poked myself out, caught the strands +with both hands, and like a flash struck ground below with badly skinned +palms. That reminded me I had left my mits in the prison room.</p> + +<p>The storm had driven the soldiers inside. I did not encounter a soul in +the courtyard, and had no difficulty in letting myself out by the main +gate.</p> + +<p>I whistled for the dogs. They came huddling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> from the ladders where I +had left them, the sleigh still trailing at their heels. One poor animal +was so benumbed I cut him from the traces and left him to die. Gathering +up the robes, I shook them free of snow, replaced them in the sleigh and +led the string of dogs down to the river. It would be bitterly cold +facing that sweep of unbroken wind in mid-river; but the trail over ice +would permit greater speed, and with the high banks on each side the +dogs could not go astray.</p> + +<p>To an overruling Providence, and to the instincts of the dogs, I owe my +life. The creatures had not gone ten sleigh-lengths when I felt the loss +of my coat, and giving one final shout to them, I lay back on the sleigh +and covered myself, head and all, under the robes, trusting the huskies +to find their way home.</p> + +<p>I do not like to recall that return to the Sutherlands. The man, who is +frozen to death, knows nothing of the cruelties of northern cold. The +icy hand, that takes his life, does not torture, but deadens the victim +into an everlasting, easy, painless sleep. This I know, for I felt the +deadly frost-slumber, and fought against it. Aching hands and feet +stopped paining and became utterly feelingless; and the deadening thing +began creeping inch by inch up the stiffening limbs the life centres, +till a great drowsiness began to overpower body and mind. Realizing what +this meant, I sprang from the sleigh and stopped the dogs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span> I tried to +grip the empty traces of the dead one, but my hands were too feeble; so +I twisted the rope round my arm, gave the word, and raced off abreast +the dog train. The creatures went faster with lightened sleigh, but +every step I took was a knife-thrust through half-frozen awakening +limbs. Not the man who is frozen to death, but the man who is +half-frozen and thawed back to life, knows the cruelties of northern +cold.</p> + +<p>In a stupefied way, I was aware the dogs had taken a sudden turn to the +left and were scrambling up the bank. Here my strength failed or I +tripped; for I only remember being dragged through the snow, rolling +over and over, to a doorway, where the huskies stopped and set up a +great whining. Somehow, I floundered to my feet. With a blaze of light +that blinded me, the door flew open and I fell across the threshold +unconscious.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Need I say what door opened, what hands drew me in and chafed life into +the benumbed being?</p> + +<p>"What was the matter, Rufus Gillespie?" asked a bluff voice the next +morning. I had awakened from what seemed a long, troubled sleep and +vaguely wondered where I was.</p> + +<p>"What happened to ye, Rufus Gillespie?" and the man's hand took hold of +my wrist to feel my pulse.</p> + +<p>"Don't, father! you'll hurt him!" said a voice that was music to my +ears, and a woman's hand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span> whose touch was healing, began bathing my +blistered palms.</p> + +<p>At once I knew where I was and forgot pain. In few and confused words I +tried to relate what had happened.</p> + +<p>"The country's yours, Mr. Sutherland," said I, too weak, thick-tongued +and deliriously happy for speech.</p> + +<p>"Much to be thankful for," was the Scotchman's comment. "Seven Oaks is +avenged. It would ill 'a' become a Sutherland to give his daughter's +hand to a conqueror, but I would na' say I'd refuse a wife to a man +beaten as you were, Rufus Gillespie," and he strode off to attend to +outdoor work.</p> + +<p>And what next took place, I refrain from relating; for lovers' eloquence +is only eloquent to lovers.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p> + +<h2> CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>UNDER ONE ROOF</h3> + + +<p>Nature is not unlike a bank. When drafts exceed deposits comes a +protest, and not infrequently, after the protest, bankruptcy. From the +buffalo hunt to the recapture of Fort Douglas by the Hudson's Bay +soldiers, drafts on that essential part of a human being called stamina +had been very heavy with me. Now came the casting-up of accounts, and my +bill was minus reserve strength, with a balance of debt on the wrong +side.</p> + +<p>The morning after the escape from Fort Douglas, when Mr. Sutherland +strode off, leaving his daughter alone with me, I remember very well +that Frances abruptly began putting my pillow to rights. Instead of +keeping wide awake, as I should by all the codes of romance and common +sense, I—poor fool—at once swooned, with a vague, glimmering +consciousness that I was dying and this, perhaps, was the first blissful +glimpse into paradise. When I came to my senses, Mr. Sutherland was +again standing by the bedside with a half-shamed look of compassion +under his shaggy brows.</p> + +<p>"How far," I began, with a curious inability<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> to use my wits and tongue, +"how far—I mean how long have I been asleep, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Hoots, mon! Dinna claver in that feckless fashion! It's months, lad, +sin' ye opened y'r mouth wi' onything but daft gab."</p> + +<p>"Months!" I gasped out. "Have I been here for months?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, months. The plain was snaw-white when ye began y'r bit nappie. +Noo, d'ye no hear the clack o' the geese through yon open window?"</p> + +<p>I tried to turn to that side of the little room, where a great wave of +fresh, clear air blew from the prairie. For some reason my head refused +to revolve. Stooping, the elder man gently raised the sheet and rolled +me over so that I faced the sweet freshness of an open, sunny view.</p> + +<p>"Did I rive ye sore, lad?" asked the voice with a gruffness in strange +contradiction to the gentleness of the touch.</p> + +<p>Now I hold that however rasping a man's words may be, if he handle the +sick with gentleness, there is much goodness under the rough surface. +Thoughtlessness and stupidity, I know, are patent excuses for half the +unkindness and sorrow of life. But thoughtlessness and stupidity are +also responsible for most of life's brutality and crime. Not +spiteful intentions alone, but the dulled, brutalized, deadened +sensibilities—that go under the names of thoughtlessness and +stupidity—make a man treat something weaker than himself with +roughness, or in an excessive degree,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> qualify for murder. When the +harsh voice asked, "Do I rive ye sore?" I began to understand how +surface roughness is as often caused by life's asperities as by the +inner dullness akin to the brute.</p> + +<p>Indeed, if my thoughts had not been so intent on the daughter, I could +have found Mr. Sutherland's character a wonderfully interesting study. +The infinite capacity of a canny Scot for keeping his mouth shut I never +realized till I knew Mr. Sutherland. For instance, now that +consciousness had returned, I noticed that the father himself, and not +the daughter, did all the waiting on me even to the carrying of my +meals.</p> + +<p>"How is your daughter, Mr. Sutherland?" I asked, surely a natural enough +question to merit a civil reply.</p> + +<p>"Aye—is it Frances y'r speerin' after?" he answered, meeting my +question with a question; and he deigned not another word. But I lay in +wait for him at the next meal.</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen your daughter yet, Mr. Sutherland," I stuttered out with +a deal of blushing. "I haven't even heard her about the house."</p> + +<p>"No?" he asked with a show of surprise. "Have ye no seen Frances?" And +that was all the satisfaction I got.</p> + +<p>Between the dinner hour and supper time I conjured up various plots to +hoodwink paternal caution.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sutherland," I began, "I have a message for your daughter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aye," said he.</p> + +<p>"I wish her to hear it personally."</p> + +<p>"Aye."</p> + +<p>"When may I see her?"</p> + +<p>"Ye maun bide patient, lad!"</p> + +<p>"But the message is urgent." That was true; for had not forty-eight +hours passed since I had regained consciousness and I had heard neither +her footsteps nor her voice?</p> + +<p>"Aye," said the imperturbable father.</p> + +<p>"Very urgent, Mr. Sutherland," I added.</p> + +<p>"Aye."</p> + +<p>"When may I see her, Sir?"</p> + +<p>"All in guid time. Ye maun bide quiet, lad."</p> + +<p>"The message cannot wait," I declared. "It must be given at once."</p> + +<p>"Then deleever it word for word to me, young mon, and I'll trudge off to +Frances."</p> + +<p>"Your daughter is not at home?"</p> + +<p>"What words wu'l ye have me bear to her, lad?" he asked.</p> + +<p>That was too much for a youth in a peevish state of convalescence. What +lover could send his heart's eloquence by word of mouth with a peppery, +prosaic father?</p> + +<p>"Tell Mistress Sutherland I must see her at once," I quickly responded +with a flash of temper that was ever wont to flare up when put to the +test.</p> + +<p>"Aye," he answered, with an amused look in the cold, steel eyes. "I'll +deleever y'r message when—when"—and he hesitated in a way suggestive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> +of eternity—"I'll deleever y'r message when I see her."</p> + +<p>At that I turned my face to the wall in the bitterness of spirit which +only the invalid, with all the strength of a man in his whims and the +weakness of an infant in his body, knows. I spent a feverish, restless +night, with the hard-faced Scotchman watching from his armchair at my +bedside. Once, when I suddenly awakened from sleep, or delirium, his +eyes were fastened on my face with a gleam of grave kindliness.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sutherland," I cried, with all the impatience of a child, "please +tell me, where is your daughter?"</p> + +<p>"I sent her to a neighbor, sin' ye came to y'r senses, lad," said he. +"Ye hae kept her about ye night and day sin' ye gaed daft, and losh, +mon, ye hae gabbled wild talk enough to turn the head o' ony lassie +clean daft. An' ye claver sic' nonsense when ye're daft, what would ye +say when ye're sane? Hoots, mon, ye maun learn to haud y'r tongue——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sutherland," I interrupted in a great heat, quite forgetful of his +hospitality, "I'm sorry to be the means of driving your daughter from +her home. I beg you to send me back to Fort Douglas——"</p> + +<p>"Haud quiet," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "An' wa'd ye have me +expose the head of a mitherless bairn to a' the clack o' the auld geese +in the settlement? Temper y'r ardor wi' discretion, lad! 'Twas but the +day before<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> yesterday she left and she was sair done wi' nursing you and +losing of sleep! Till ye're fair y'rsel' again and up, and she's weel +and rosy wi' full sleep, bide patient!"</p> + +<p>That speech sent my face to the wall again; but this time not in anger. +And that dogged fashion Mr. Sutherland had of taking his own way did me +many a good turn. Often have I heard those bragging captains of the +Hudson's Bay mercenaries swagger into the little cottage sitting-room, +while I lay in bed on the other side of the thin board partition, and +relate to Mr. Sutherland all the incidents of their day's search for me.</p> + +<p>"So many pounds sterling for the man who captures the rascal," declares +D'Orsonnens.</p> + +<p>"Aye, 'tis a goodly price for one poor rattle-pate," says Mr. +Sutherland.</p> + +<p>Whereupon, D'Orsonnens swears the price is more than my poor empty head +is worth, and proceeds to describe me in terms which Mr. Sutherland will +only tolerate when thundered from an orthodox pulpit.</p> + +<p>"I'd have ye understand, Sir," he would declare with great dignity, +"I'll have no papistical profanity under my roof."</p> + +<p>Forthwith, he would show D'Orsonnens the door, lecturing the astonished +soldier on the errors of Romanism; for whatever Mr. Sutherland deemed +evil, from oaths to theological errors, he attributed directly to the +pope.</p> + +<p>"The ne'er-do-weel can hawk naething frae me," said he when relating the +incident.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once I heard a Fort Douglas man observe that, as the search had proved +futile, I must have fallen into one of the air-holes of the ice.</p> + +<p>"Nae doot the headstrong young mon is' gettin' what he deserves. I +warrant he's warm in his present abode," answered Mr. Sutherland.</p> + +<p>On another occasion D'Orsonnens asked who the man was that Mr. +Sutherland's daughter had been nursing all winter.</p> + +<p>"A puir body driven from Fort Douglas by those bloodthirsty villains," +answered Mr. Sutherland, giving his visitor a strong toddy; and he at +once improved the occasion by taking down a volume and reading the +French officer a series of selections against Romanism. After that +D'Orsonnens came no more.</p> + +<p>"I hope I did not tell Nor'-West secrets in a Hudson's Bay house when I +was delirious, Mr. Sutherland," I remarked.</p> + +<p>The Scotchman had lugged me from bed in a gentle, lumbering, well-meant +fashion, and I was sitting up for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Ye're no the mon wi' a leak t' y'r mouth. I dinna say, though, ye're +aye as discreet wi' the thoughts o' y'r heart as y'r head! Ye need na +fash y'r noodle wi' remorse aboot company secrets. I canna say ye'll no +fret aboot some other things ye hae told. A' the winter lang, 'twas +Frances and stars and spooks and speerits and bogies and statues and +graven images—wha' are forbidden by the Holy Scriptures—till the +lassie thought ye gane clean daft! 'Twas a bonnie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> e'e, like silver +stars; or a bit blush, like the pippin; or laughter, like a wimplin' +brook; or lips, like posies; or hair, like links o' gold; and mair o' +the like till the lassie came rinnin' oot o' y'r room, fair red wi' +shame! Losh, mon, ye maun keep a still tongue in y'r head and not blab +oot y'r thoughts o' a wife till she believes na mon can hae peace wi'out +her. I wad na hae ye abate one jot o' all ye think, for her price is far +above rubies; but hae a care wi' y'r grand talk! After ye gang to the +kirk, lad, na mon can keep that up."</p> + +<p>His warning I laughed to the winds, as youth the world over has ever +laughed sage counsels of chilling age.</p> + +<p>I can compare my recovery only to the swift transition of seasons in +those northern latitudes. Without any lingering spring, the cold +grayness of long, tense winter gives place to a radiant sun-burst of +warm, yellow light. The uplands have long since been blown bare of snow +by the March winds, and through the tangle of matted turf shoot myriad +purple cups of the prairie anemone, while the russet grass takes on +emerald tints. One day the last blizzard may be sweeping a white trail +of stormy majesty across the prairie; the next a fragrance of flowers +rises from the steaming earth and the snow-filled ravines have become +miniature lakes reflecting the dazzle of a sunny sky and fleece clouds.</p> + +<p>My convalescence was similar to the coming of summer. Without any weary +fluctuation from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> well to ill, and ill to well—which sickens the heart +with a deferred hope—all my old-time strength came back with the glow +of that year's June sun.</p> + +<p>"There's nae accountin' for some wilful folk, lad," was Mr. Sutherland's +remark, one evening after I was able to leave my room. "Ye hae risen +frae y'r bed like the crocus frae snaw. An' Frances were hangin' aboot +y'r pillow, lad, I'm nae sure y'd be up sae dapper and smart."</p> + +<p>"I thought my nurse was to return when I was able to be up," I answered, +strolling to the cottage door.</p> + +<p>"Come back frae the door, lad. Dinna show y'rsel' tae the enemy. There +be more speerin' for ye than hae love for y'r health. Have y'r wits +aboot ye! Dinna be frettin' y'rsel' for Frances! The lassies aye rin +fast enow tae the mon wi' sense to hold his ain!"</p> + +<p>With that advice he motioned me to the only armchair in the room, and +sitting down on the outer step to keep watch, began reading some +theological disputation aloud.</p> + +<p>"Odds, lad, ye should see the papist so'diers rin when I hae Calvin by +me," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity you can't lay the theological thunderers on the doorstep to +drive stray De Meurons off. Then you could come in and take this chair +yourself," I answered, sitting back where no visitor could see me.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Sutherland did not hear. He was deep in polemics, rolling out +stout threats, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> used Scriptural texts as a cudgel, with a zest that +testified enjoyment. "The wicked bend their bow," began the rasping +voice; but when he cleared his throat, preparatory to the main argument, +my thoughts went wandering far from the reader on the steps. As one +whose dream is jarred by outward sound, I heard his tones quaver.</p> + +<p>"Aye, Frances, 'tis you," he said, and away he went, pounding at the +sophistries of some straw enemy.</p> + +<p>A shadow was on the threshold, and before I had recalled my listless +fancy, in tripped Frances Sutherland, herself, feigning not to see me. +The gray eyes were veiled in the misty fashion of those fluffy things +women wear, which let through all beauty, but bar out intrusion. I do +not mean she wore a veil: veils and frills were not seen among the +colonists in those days. But the heavy lashes hung low in the slumbrous, +dreamy way that sees all and reveals nothing. Instinctively I started +up, with wild thoughts thronging to my lips. At the same moment Mr. +Sutherland did the most chivalrous thing I have seen in homespun or +broadcloth.</p> + +<p>"Hoots wi' y'r giddy claver," said he, before I had spoken a word; and +walking off, he sat down at some distance.</p> + +<p>Thereupon his daughter laughed merrily with a whole quiver of dangerous +archery about her lips.</p> + +<p>"That is the nearest to an untruth I have ever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> heard him tell," she +said, which mightily relieved my embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Why did he say that?" I asked, with my usual stupidity.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I cannot say," and looking straight at me, she let go the +barbed shaft, that lies hidden in fair eyes for unwary mortals.</p> + +<p>"Sit down," she commanded, sinking into the chair I had vacated. "Sit +down, Rufus, please!" This with an after-shot of alarm from the heavy +lashes; for if a woman's eyes may speak, so may a man's, and their +language is sometimes bolder.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," and I sat down on the arm of that same chair.</p> + +<p>For once in my life I had sense to keep my tongue still; for, if I had +spoken, I must have let bolt some impetuous thing better left unsaid.</p> + +<p>"Rufus," she began, in the low, thrilling tones that had enthralled me +from the first, "do you know I was your sole nurse all the time you were +delirious?"</p> + +<p>"No wonder I was delirious! Dolt, that I was, to have been delirious!" +thought I to myself; but I choked down the foolish rejoinder and +endeavored to look as wise as if my head had been ballasted with the +weight of a patriarch's wisdom instead of ballooning about like a kite +run wild.</p> + +<p>"I think I know all your secrets."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" A man usually has some secrets he would rather not share; and +though I had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> swung the full tether of wild west freedom—thanks +solely to her, not to me—I trembled at recollection of the passes that +come to every man's life when he has been near enough the precipice to +know the sensation of falling without going over.</p> + +<p>"You talked incessantly of Miriam and Mr. Hamilton and Father Holland."</p> + +<p>"And what did I say about Frances?"</p> + +<p>"You said things about Frances that made her tremble."</p> + +<p>"Tremble? What a brute, and you waiting on me day and——"</p> + +<p>"Hush," she broke in. "Tremble because I am just a woman and not an +angel, just a woman and not a star. We women are mortals just as you men +are. Sometimes we're fools as well as mortals, just as you men are; but +I don't think we're knaves quite so often, because we're denied the +opportunity and hedged about and not tempted."</p> + +<p>As she gently stripped away the pretty hypocrisies with which lovers +delude themselves and lay up store for disappointment, I began to +discount that old belief about truth and knowledge rendering a woman +mannish and arrogant and assertive.</p> + +<p>"You men marry women, expecting them to be angels, and very often the +angel's highest ambition is to be considered a doll. Then your hope goes +out and your faith——"</p> + +<p>"But, Frances," I cried, "if any sensible man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> had his choice of an +angel and a fair, good woman——"</p> + +<p>"Be sure to say fair, or he'd grumble because he hadn't a doll," she +laughed.</p> + +<p>"No levity! If he had choice of angels and stars and a good woman, he'd +choose the woman. The star is mighty far away and cold and steely. The +angel's a deal too perfect to know sympathy with faults and blunders. I +tell you, Little Statue, life is only moil and toil, unless love +transmutes the base metal of hard duty into the pure gold of unalloyed +delight."</p> + +<p>"That's why I tremble. I must do more than angel or star! Oh, Rufus, if +I can only live up to what you think I am—and you can live up to what I +think you are, life will be worth living."</p> + +<p>"That's love's leverage," said I.</p> + +<p>Then there was silence; for the sun had set and the father was no longer +reading. Shadows deepened into twilight, and twilight into gloaming. And +it was the hour when the brooding spirit of the vast prairie solitudes +fills the stillness of night with voiceless eloquence. Why should I +attempt to transcribe the silent music of the prairie at twilight, which +every plain-dweller knows and none but a plain-dweller may understand? +What wonder that the race native to this boundless land hears the +rustling of spirits in the night wind, the sigh of those who have lost +their way to the happy hunting-ground, and the wail of little ones whose +feet are bruised<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> on the shadow trail? What wonder the gauzy northern +lights are bands of marshaling warriors and the stars torches lighting +those who ride the plains of heaven? Indeed, I defy a white man with all +the discipline of science and reason to restrain the wanderings of +mystic fancy during the hours of sunset on the prairie.</p> + +<p>There is, I affirm, no such thing as time for lovers. If they have +watches and clocks, the wretched things run too fast; and if the sun +himself stood still in sympathy, time would not be long. So I confess I +have no record of time that night Frances Sutherland returned to her +home and Mr. Sutherland kept guard at the door. When he had passed the +threshold impatiently twice, I recollected with regret that it was +impossible to read theology in the dark. The third time he thrust his +head in.</p> + +<p>"Mind y'rselves," he called. "I hear men coming frae the river, a pretty +hour, indeed, for visitin'. Frances, go ben and see yon back window's +open!"</p> + +<p>"The soldiers from the fort," cried Frances with a little gasp.</p> + +<p>"Don't move," said I. "They can't see me here. It's dark. I want to hear +what they say and the window is open. Indeed, Frances, I'm an expert at +window-jumping," and I had begun to tell her of my scrape with Louis' +drunken comrades in Fort Douglas, when I heard Mr. Sutherland's grating +tones according the newcomers a curious welcome.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> "Ye swearin', +blasphemin', rampag'us, carousin' infidel, ye'll no darken my doorway +this night. Y'r French gab may be foul wi' oaths for all I ken; but +ye'll no come into my hoose! An' you, Sir, a blind leader o' the blind, +a disciple o' Beelzebub, wi' y'r Babylonish idolatries, wi' y'r incense +that fair stinks in the nostrils o' decent folk, wi' y'r images and +mummery and crossin' o' y'rsel', wi' y'r pagan, popish practises, wi' +y'r skirts and petticoats, I'll no hae ye on my premises, no, not an' ye +leave y'r religion outside! An' you, Meester Hamilton, a respectable +Protestant, I'm fair surprised to see ye in sic' company."</p> + +<p>"'Tis Eric and Father Holland and Laplante," I shouted, springing to my +feet and rushing to the doorway, but Frances put herself before me.</p> + +<p>"Keep back," she whispered. "The priest and Mr. Hamilton have been here +before; but father would not let them in. The other man may be a De +Meuron. Be careful, Rufus! There's a price on your head."</p> + +<p>"Ho—ho—my <i>Ursus Major</i>, prime guardian of <i>Ursa Major</i>, first of the +heavenly constellations in the north," insolently laughed Louis Laplante +through the dusk.</p> + +<p>"Let me pass, Frances," I begged, thrusting her gently aside, but her +trembling hands still clung to my arm.</p> + +<p>"Impertinent rascal," rasped the irate Scotchman. "I'd have ye +understand my name's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> Sutherland, not <i>Major Ursus</i>. I'll no bide wi' +y'r impudence! Leave this place——"</p> + +<p>"The Bruin growls," interrupted Louis with a laugh, and I heard Mr. +Sutherland's gasp of amazed rage at the lengths of the Frenchman's +insolence.</p> + +<p>"I must, dearest," I whispered, disengaging the slender hands from my +arm; and I flung out into the dusk.</p> + +<p>In the gloom, my approach was unnoticed; and when I came upon the group, +Father Holland had laid his hand upon Mr. Sutherland's shoulder and in a +low, tense voice was uttering words, which—thank an all-bountiful +Providence!—have no sectarian limits.</p> + +<p>"And the King shall answer and say unto them, 'I was a stranger and ye +took me not in: naked and ye clothed me not: sick and in prison and ye +visited me not. Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to one +of the least of these, ye did it not to me'——"</p> + +<p>"Dinna con Holy Writ to me, Sir," interrupted Mr. Sutherland, throwing +the priest's hand off and jerking back.</p> + +<p>Then Louis Laplante saw me. There was a long, low whistle.</p> + +<p>"Ye daft gommerel," gasped Mr. Sutherland, facing me with unutterable +disgust. "Ye daft gommerel! A' my care and fret, waste—gane clean to +waste. I wash m' hands o' ye——"</p> + +<p>But Louis had knocked the Scotchman aside and tumbled into my arms, half +laughing, half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> crying and altogether as hysterical as was his wont.</p> + +<p>"I pay you back at las', my comrade! Ha—old solemncholy! You thought +the bird of passage, he come not back at all! But the birds return! So +does Louis! He decoy-duck the whole covey! You generous? No more not +generous than the son of a seigneur, mine enemy! You give life? He give +life! You give liberty! So does Louis! You help one able help himself? +Louis help one not able help himself! Ha! <i>Très bien! Noblesse oblige! +La Gloire!</i> She—near! She here! She where I, Louis Laplante, son of a +seigneur, snare that she-devil, trap that fox, trick the tigress! +Ha—ol' tombstone! <i>Noblesse oblige</i>—I say! She near—she here," and he +flung up both arms like a frenzied maniac.</p> + +<p>"Man! Are you mad?" I demanded, uncertain whether he were apostrophizing +Diable's squaw, or abstract glory. "Speak out!" I shouted, shaking him +by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"These—are they all friends?" asked Louis, suddenly cooled and looking +suspiciously at the group.</p> + +<p>"All," said I, still holding him by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"That—that thing—that bear—that bruin—he a friend?" and Louis +pointed to Mr. Sutherland.</p> + +<p>"Friend to the core," said I, laying both hands upon his shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> +"Core with prickles outside," gibed Louis.</p> + +<p>"Louis," I commanded, utterly out of patience, "what of Miriam? Speak +plain, man! Have you brought the tribe as you promised?"</p> + +<p>It must have been mention of Miriam's name, for the white, drawn face of +Eric Hamilton bent over my shoulder and fiery, glowing eyes burned into +the very soul of the Frenchman. Louis staggered back as if red irons had +been thrust in his face.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacredie</i>," said he, backing against Father Holland, "I am no +murderer."</p> + +<p>It was then I observed that Frances Sutherland had followed me. Her +slender white fingers were about the bronzed hand of the French +adventurer.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Laplante will tell us what he knows," she said softly, and she +waited for his answer.</p> + +<p>"The daughter of <i>L'Aigle</i>," he replied slowly and collectedly, all the +while feasting upon that fair face, "comes down the Red with her tribe +and captives, many captive women. They pass here to-night. They camp +south the rapids, this side of the rapids. Last night I leave them. I +run forward, I find Le Petit Garçon—how you call him?—Leetle Fellow? +He take me to the priest. He bring canoe here. He wait now for carry us +down. We must go to the rapids—to the camp! There my contract! My +bargain, it is finished," and he shrugged his shoulders, for Frances had +removed her hand from his.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p> + +<p>Whether Louis Laplante's excitable nature were momentarily unbalanced by +the success of his feat, I leave to psychologists. Whether some +premonition of his impending fate had wrought upon him strangely, let +psychical speculators decide. Or whether Louis, the sly rogue, worked up +the whole situation for the purpose of drawing Frances Sutherland into +the scene—which is what I myself suspect—I refer to private judgment, +and merely set down the incidents as they occurred. That was how Louis +Laplante told us of bringing Diable's squaw and her captives back to Red +River. And that was how Father Holland and Eric and Louis and Mr. +Sutherland and myself came to be embarking with a camping outfit for a +canoe-trip down the river.</p> + +<p>"Have the Indians passed, or are they to come?" I asked Louis as Mr. +Sutherland and Eric settled themselves in a swift, light canoe, leaving +the rest of us to take our places in a larger craft, where Little +Fellow, gurgling pleased recognition of me, acted as steersman.</p> + +<p>"They come later. The fast canoe go forward and camp. We watch behind," +ordered Louis, winking at me significantly.</p> + +<p>I saw Frances step to her father's canoe.</p> + +<p>"You're no coming, Frances," he protested, querulously.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, father. I never disobeyed you in my life, and I <i>am</i> +coming! Don't tell me not to! Push out, Mr. Hamilton," and she picked up +a paddle and I saw the canoe dart swiftly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> forward into mid-current, +where the darkness enveloped it; and we followed fast in its wake.</p> + +<p>"Louis," said I, trying to fathom the meaning of his wink, "are those +Indians to come yet?"</p> + +<p>"No. Simpleton—you think Louis a fool?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Why did you lie to them?"</p> + +<p>"Get them out of the way."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because, stupid, some ones they be killed to-night! The Englishman, he +have a wife—he not be killed! Mademoiselle—she love a poor fool—or +break her pretty heart! The father—he needed to stick-pin you both—so +you never want for to fight each other," and Louis laughed low like the +purr of water on his paddle-blade.</p> + +<p>"Faith, lad," cried the priest, who had been unnaturally silent, +because, I suppose, he was among aliens to his faith, "faith, lad, 'tis +a good heart ye have, if ye'd but cut loose from the binding past. May +this night put an end to your devil pranks!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>And that night did!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST OF LOUIS' ADVENTURES</h3> + + +<p>I think, perhaps, the reason good enterprises fail so often where evil +ventures succeed, is that the good man blunders forward, trusting to the +merits of his cause, where the evil manipulator proceeds warily as a cat +over broken glass. And so, altogether apart from his services as guide, +I felt Louis Laplante's presence on the river a distinct advantage.</p> + +<p>"The Lord is with us, lad. She shall be delivered! The Lord is with us; +but don't you bungle His plans!" ejaculated Father Holland for the +twentieth time; and each time the French trapper looked waggishly over +his shoulder at me and winked.</p> + +<p>"Bungle! Pah!" Louis clapped his paddle athwart the canoe and laughed a +low, sly, defiant laugh. "Bungle! Pah! Catch Louis bungle his cards, ha, +ha! Trumps! He play trumps—he hold his hand low—careless—nodings in +it—he keep quiet—nodings worth play in his hand—but his sleeve—ha, +ha!" and Louis laughed softly and winked at the full moon.</p> + +<p>"The daughter of L'Aigle, she cuff Louis, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> slap his cheek, she call +him lump—lout—slouch! Ha, ha!—Louis no fool—he pare the claws of +L'Aigle to-night!"</p> + +<p>At that, Little Fellow's stolid face took on a vindictive gleam, and he +snapped out something in Indian tongue which set Louis to laughing. +Suddenly the Indian's paddle was suspended in mid-air, and Little Fellow +bent over the prow, gazing at the moon-tracked water.</p> + +<p>"<i>Sacredie!</i>" cried Louis, catching up water that trickled through his +fingers, "'tis dried rabbit thong! They are ahead of us! They have +passed while that Scotch mule was balk! We must catch the Englishman," +and he began hitting out with his paddle at a great rate.</p> + +<p>We had overtaken Mr. Sutherland's canoe within half an hour of Louis' +discovery, and Eric wheeled about with a querulous demand.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong? Are they ahead? I thought you said they were behind," and +he turned suspiciously to Laplante.</p> + +<p>"You thought wrong," said Louis, ever facile with subterfuges. "You +thought wrong, Mister High-and-Mighty! Camp here and watch; they come +before morning!"</p> + +<p>"No lies to me," shouted Eric, becoming uncontrollably excited. "If you +mislead us, your life shall——"</p> + +<p>"Pig-head! I no save your wife for back chin! Camp here, I say," and +Louis' fitful temper began to show signs of sulking.</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, Eric, do what you're<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> told! We've made a bad enough +business of it——"</p> + +<p>"Give the Frenchman a chance! Do what you're told, I say, ye blunderers! +Troth, the Lord Himself couldn't bring success to such blundering +idiots," was Father Holland's comment.</p> + +<p>"I'll take na orders frae meddlesome papists," began the Scotchman; but +Little Fellow had forcibly turned the prow of the canoe shoreward. I +gave them a shove with my paddle. Frances took the cue, and while her +father was yet scolding raised her paddle and had them close to the +river bank.</p> + +<p>"Get your tent up here," I called to conciliate them. "Then come to the +bank and watch for the Indians."</p> + +<p>A bit of clean gravel ran out from the clay cliff.</p> + +<p>"That's the ground," said I, as the other canoe bumped over the pebbles; +and I stopped paddling and dangled my hand in the water.</p> + +<p>Something in the dark drifted wet and soft against my fingers. +Ordinarily such an incident would not have alarmed me; but instantly a +shudder of apprehension ran through my frame. I scarce had courage to +look into the river lest the white face of a woman should appear through +the watery depths. Clutching the water-soaked tangle, I jerked it up. +Something gave with a rip, and my hand was full of shawl fringe.</p> + +<p>"What's that, Rufus?" asked Father Holland.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> "Don't know." I motioned +him to be silent and held it up in the moonlight. Distinctly it was, or +had been, red fringe.</p> + +<p>"Do you think—" he began, then stopped. Our keel had rubbed bottom and +Hamilton was springing out of the other canoe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," I replied, choking with dread. "This is too terrible! He'll +kill himself! Go up the bank with him! Keep him busy at the tent! Little +Fellow and I'll pole for it. The water's shallow there——"</p> + +<p>"What do <i>you</i> think?" said the priest to Laplante.</p> + +<p>"T'ink! I never t'ink! I finds out." But all the same, Louis' assurance +was shaken and he peered searchingly into the river.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you coming? What's your plan?" called Eric.</p> + +<p>"Certainly we are, but get this truck to higher ground, will you?" I +hoisted out the camp trappings. "I want to paddle out for something."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Something lost out there. I lost it out of my hand."</p> + +<p>Frances Sutherland, I know, suspected trouble from the alarm which I +could not keep out of my speech; for she pressed to the water's edge.</p> + +<p>"Get the tent ready," I urged.</p> + +<p>"What's the meaning of this mystery?" persisted Hamilton sharply. "What +have you lost?"</p> + +<p>"Don't press him too closely. Faith, it may<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> be a love token," +interjected Father Holland, as he stepped ashore; but he whispered in my +ear as he passed, "You're wrong, lad! You're on the wrong track!"</p> + +<p>I leaped back to the canoe, Little Fellow and the Frenchman following, +and we paddled to the shallows where I had caught the fringe. I prodded +the soft mud below and trailed the paddle back and forward over the clay +bottom. Louis did likewise; but in vain. Only soft ooze came up on the +blade. Then Little Fellow stripped and dived. Of course it was dark +under water, as it always is dark under the muddy Red, and the Indian +could not feel a thing from which fringe could have ripped. Had my jerk +disturbed whatever it was and sent it rolling down to mid-current? I +asked Father Holland this when I came back.</p> + +<p>"Tush, faint-heart," he muttered, drawing me aside. "'Tis only a trial +of your faith."</p> + +<p>I said something about trials of faith which I shall not repeat here, +but which the majority of people, who are on the tenter-hooks of such +trials, have said for themselves.</p> + +<p>"Faith! Pah!" exclaimed Louis, joining our whispered conference, while +Eric and Mr. Sutherland were hoisting a tent. "That shawl, it mean +nodings of things heavenly! It only mean rag stuck in the mud and reds +nearabouts here! I have told the Great Bear and his snarl Englishman the +Indians not come till morning. They get tent ready and watch! You follow +Louis, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> lead you to camp. The priest—he good for say a little +prayer; the Indian for fight; Louis—for swear; Rufus—to snatch the +Englishwoman, he good at snatching the fair, ha-ha."</p> + +<p>He darted to the shore, calling Little Fellow from the canoe and leaving +Father Holland and me to follow as best we could.</p> + +<p>"We'll be back soon, Eric," I shouted. "We're going to get the lie of +the land. Keep watch here," and I broke into a run to keep up with the +French trapper and the Indian, who were leading into the woods away from +the river. I could hear Father Holland puffing behind like a wind-blown +racer. Abruptly the priest came to a stop.</p> + +<p>"By all the saints," he ordered. "Go back to the tent!"</p> + +<p>I turned. A white form emerged from the foliage and Frances was beside +me.</p> + +<p>"May I not come?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No—dearest, there will be fighting."</p> + +<p>"No—Lord—no," panted Father Holland coming up to us. "We're not +swapping one woman for another. What would Rufus do without ye?"</p> + +<p>"You are going for Miriam?" she questioned, holding my hand. "God speed +you and bring you back safely!"</p> + +<p>"Say rather—bring Miriam," and I unfastened the clinging hand almost +roughly.</p> + +<p>"Come on, slugs, sloths, laggards," commanded Laplante impatiently, and +we dashed into the thick of the woods, leaving the white figure alone +against the shadowy thicket. She called out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> something, of which I heard +only two words, "Miriam" and "Rufus"; but I knew those names were +uttered in supplication and they filled my heart with daring hope. +Surely, we must succeed—for the Little Statue's prayers were following +me—and I bounded on with a faith as buoyant as the priest's blind +trust. Thus we ran through the moon-shafted woods pursuing the flitting, +lithe figures of trapper and Indian, who scarce disturbed a fern leaf, +while Father Holland and I floundered through the underbrush like +ramping elephants. Then I found myself panting as hard as the priest and +clinging to his arm for support; for illness had taken all the bravery +out of my muscles, like champagne uncorked and left in the heat.</p> + +<p>"Brace yourself, lad," said the priest. "The Lord is with us, but don't +you bungle."</p> + +<p>A long, low whistle came through the dark, a whistle that was such a +perfect imitation of the night hawk, no spy might detect it for the +signal of a runner. After the whistle, was the soft, ominous hiss of a +serpent in the grass; and we were abreast of Louis Laplante and Little +Fellow standing stock still sniffing forward as hounds might scent a +foe.</p> + +<p>"She may not be there! She may be drown;" whispered Louis, "but we creep +on, quiet like hare, no noise like deer, stiller than mountain cat, +hist—what that?"</p> + +<p>The night breeze set the leaves all atremble—clapping their hands, as +the Indians call it—and a whiff of burning bark tainted the air.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> +"That's it," said I under my breath.</p> + +<p>The smoke was blowing from wooded flats between us and the river. +Cautiously parting interlaced branches and as carefully replacing each +bough to prevent backward snap, we turned down the sloping bank. I +suppose necessity's training in the wilds must produce the same result +in man and beast; and from that fact, faddists of the various "osophies" +and "ologies" may draw what conclusions they please; but I affirm that +no panther could creep on its prey with more stealth, caution and +cunning than the trapper and Indian on the enemy's camp. I have seen +wild creatures approaching a foe set each foot down with noiseless +tread; but I have never seen such a combination of instincts, brute and +human, as Louis and Little Fellow displayed. The Indian felt the ground +for tracks and pitfalls and sticks, that might crackle. Louis, with his +whole face pricked forward, trusted more to his eyes and ears and that +sense of "feel," which is—contradictory as it may seem—utterly +intangible. Once the Indian picked up a stick freshly broken. This was +examined by both, and the Indian smelt it and tried his tongue on the +broken edge. Then both fell on all fours, creeping under the branches of +the thicket and pausing at every pace.</p> + +<p>"Would that I had taken lessons in forest lore before I went among the +Sioux," I thought to myself. Now I knew what had been incomprehensible +before—why all my well-laid plans had been detected.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p> + +<p>A wind rustled through the foliage. That was in our favor; for in spite +of our care the leaves crushed and crinkled beneath us. At intervals a +glimmer of light shone from the beach. Louis paused and listened so +intently our breathing was distinctly audible. A vague murmur of low +voices—like the "talking of the trees" in Little Fellow's +language—floated up from the river; and in the moonlight I saw Laplante +laugh noiselessly. Trees stood farther apart on the flats and brushwood +gave place to a forest of ferns, that concealed us in their deep +foliage; but the thick growth also hid the enemy, and we knew not at +what moment we might emerge in full view of the camp. So we stretched +out flat, spying through the fern stalks before we parted the stems to +draw ourselves on a single pace. Presently, the murmur separated into +distinct voices, with much low laughing and the bitter jeers that make +up Indian mirth. We could hear the crackling of the fire, and wormed +forward like caterpillars.</p> + +<p>There was a glare of light through the ferns, and Louis stopped. We all +three pulled abreast of him. Lying there as a cat watches a mouse, we +parted first one and then another of the fronds till the Indian +encampment could be clearly seen.</p> + +<p>"Is that the tribe?" I whispered; but Louis gripped my arm in a vice +that forbade speech.</p> + +<p>The camp was not a hundred feet away. Fire blazed in the centre. Poles +were up for wigwams,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> and already skins had been overlaid, completing +several lodges. Men lay in lazy attitudes about the fire. Squaws were +taking what was left of the evening meal and slave-women were putting +things to rights for the night. Sitting apart, with hands tied, were +other slaves, chiefly young women taken in some recent fray and not yet +trusted unbound. Among these was one better clad than the others. Her +wrists were tied; but her hands managed to conceal her face, which was +bowed low. In her lap was a sleeping child. Was this Miriam? Children +were with the other captives; but to my eyes this woman's torn shawl +appeared reddish in the fire glow.</p> + +<p>"Let's go boldly up and offer to buy the slaves," I suggested; but +Louis' grip tightened forbiddingly and Little Fellow's forefinger +pointed towards a big creature, who was ordering the others about. 'Twas +a woman of giant, bronzed form, with the bold stride of a conquering +warrior and a trophy-decked belt about her waist. The fire shone against +her girdle and the stones in the leather strap glowed back blood-red. +Father Holland breathed only one word in my ear, "Agates;" and the fire +of the red stones flashed like some mystic flame through my being till +brain and heart were hot with vengeance and my hands burned as if every +nerve from palm to finger-tips were a blade point reaching out to +destroy that creature of cruelty.</p> + +<p>"Diable's squaw," I gasped out, beside myself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> with anger and joy. "Let +me but within arm's length of her——"</p> + +<p>"Hold quiet," the priest hissed low and angry, gripping my shoulder like +a steel winch. "'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord! See that you save +the white woman! Leave the evil-doer to God! The Lord's with us, but I +tell you, don't you bungle!"</p> + +<p>"Bungle!" I could have shouted out defiance to the whole band. "Let go!" +I ordered, trying to struggle up; for the iron hand still held me. "Let +go, or I'll——"</p> + +<p>But Louis Laplante's palm was forcibly slapped across my mouth and his +other hand he laid significantly on his dagger, giving me one +threatening look. By the firelight I saw his lips mechanically counting +the numbers of the enemy and mechanically I audited his count.</p> + +<p>"Twenty men, thirty squaws and the slaves," said he under his breath.</p> + +<p>An Indian left the fire and approached the captives.</p> + +<p>"See! Watch! Is that woman Miriam?" demanded the priest. "She'll take +her hands from her face now."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is!" I was furious at the restraint and hesitancy; but as +I said before, the experienced intriguer proceeds as warily as a cat.</p> + +<p>"You not sure—not for sure—<i>Mon Dieu</i>—no," muttered Laplante; and he +was right. With the forest shadows across the captives, it was +impossible to distinguish the color of their faces.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> Taking a knife from +his belt, the Indian cut the cords of all but the woman with her hands +across her face. A girl brought refuse of food; but this woman took no +notice, never moving her hands. Thereupon the young squaw sneered and +the Indian idlers jeered loud in harsh, strident laughter. This roused +the big squaw. She strode up, Little Fellow all the while with +glistening teeth following her motions as a cat's head turns to a mouse. +With the flat of her hand she struck the silent woman, who leaped up and +ran to a wigwam. In speechless fear, the child had scrambled to its feet +and backed away from the angry group towards the ferns; but the light +was fitful and shadowy, and we could recognize neither woman, nor child.</p> + +<p>"I can't stand this any longer," I declared. "I must know if that's +Miriam. Let's draw closer."</p> + +<p>Father Holland and I crawled stealthily to the very border of fern +growth, Louis and the Indian lying still and muttering over some plan of +action.</p> + +<p>"Hist," said the priest, "we'll try the child."</p> + +<p>Unlike naked Indian children, the little thing had a loose garment +banded about its waist; but its feet were bare and its hair as raven +black as that of any young savage. It stood like some woodland elf in +the maze of heavy sleepiness, at each harsh word from the camp, sidling +shyly closer to our hiding-place. We dragged forward till I could have +touched the child, but feared to startle it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span></p> + +<p>Putting his hand out slowly, Father Holland caught the little creature's +arm. It gave a start, jerked back and looked in mute wonderment at our +strange hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"Pretty boy," crooned the priest in low, coaxing tones, gently +tightening his hold.</p> + +<p>"Is it white?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>"I can't see."</p> + +<p>"Good little man," he went on, slowly folding his hands about it. +Drawing quickly back, he lifted the child completely into his arms.</p> + +<p>"Is boy sleepy?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Call him 'Eric,'" I urged.</p> + +<p>"Is Eric sleepy?"</p> + +<p>The child's head fell wearily against the priest's shoulder. Snuggling +closer, he lisped back in perfect English, "Eric's tired."</p> + +<p>At once Father Holland's free hand caught my arm as if he feared I might +rush out. For a moment neither of us spoke.</p> + +<p>Then he said, "Give me your coat."</p> + +<p>I ripped off my buckskin-smock. Wrapping the sleeping boy about, the +priest laid him gently among the ferns.</p> + +<p>"Where's the mother?" asked Father Holland with a catching intake of +breath.</p> + +<p>I pointed to the wigwam. The big squaw had come out, leaving Miriam +alone and was engaged in noisy dispute with the men. Louis and Little +Fellow had now wriggled abreast of us.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, <i>mon brave</i>—your time, it come now! You save the white woman! +I pay my devoirs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> to the lady, ha, ha—I owe her much—I pay you both +back with one stroke, one grand stroke. Little Fellow, he watch for +spring surprise and help us both! Swoop—snitch—snatch—snap her up! +'Tis done—tra-la!" and Louis drew up for all the world like a tiger +about to spring, but the priest drew him down.</p> + +<p>"Listen," commanded the churchman, in the slow, tense way of one who +intended to be obeyed. "I'll go back and come up by the beach. I'll +brow-beat them and tongue-whack them for having slaves. They'll offer +fight; so'll I. They'll all run down; that's your chance. Wait till they +all go. I'll make them, every one. That's your chance. You rush! Try +that! If it fail, in the name of the Lord, have y'r weapons ready—and +the Lord be with us!"</p> + +<p>"They'll kill you," I protested. "Let me go!"</p> + +<p>"You? What about Frances?"</p> + +<p>"Pah!" said Louis. "I go myself—I trick—I trap—I snare 'em——"</p> + +<p>"Hush to ye, ye braggart," interrupted the priest. "Gillespie is as +flabby as dough from an illness. 'Tis here you sit quiet, and help with +Miriam as ye'd save y'r soul! Howld down with y'r bouncing nonsense, +lad, and the saints be with ye; for it's a fight there'll be, and there +is the fightin' stuff of a soldier in ye! Never turn to me—mind ye +never turn to help me, or the curse of the fool be on y'r head—and the +Lord be with us!"</p> + +<p>"Amen." But I spoke to vacancy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> While a rising wind set the branches +overhead grating noisily, he had risen and darted away. Louis Laplante, +contrary to the priest's orders, also rose and disappeared in the woods. +Little Fellow still lay by me, but I could not rely on him for +intelligent action, and there came over me that sense of aloneness in +danger, which I knew so well in the Mandane country. The child's +slightest cry might alarm the camp, and I shivered when he breathed +heavily, or turned in his sleep. The Indians might miss the boy and +search the woods. Instinctively my hand was on my pistol. It was well to +be as near Miriam's tent as possible; and I, too, took advantage of the +wind to change my place. I moved back, signalling the Indian to follow, +and skirted round the open till I was directly opposite Miriam's wigwam. +Why had Louis gone off, and why did he not come back? Had he gone to +keep secret guard over the priest, or to decoy the vigilant Sioux woman? +In his intentions I had confidence enough, but not in his judgment. At +that moment my speculations were interrupted by a loud shout from the +beach. Every Indian in camp started up as if hostiles had uttered their +war-cry.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, there! Hallo! Hallo!" called the priest. Indians dashed to the +river, while bedraggled squaws and naked children rushed from wigwams +and stood in clamorous groups between the lodges and the water. The +topmost branches of the trees swayed back and forward in the wind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> +alternately throwing shafts of moonlight and shadows across the opening +of Miriam's wigwam. When the light flooded the tent a solitary, +white-faced form appeared in dark, sharp outline. The bare arms were +tied at the wrists, and beat aimlessly through the darkness. And there +was a sound of piteous weeping.</p> + +<p>Should I make the final, desperate dash now? "Don't bungle His plans," +came the priest's warning; and I waited. The squaws were very near; and +the angular figure of Diable's wife hung on the rear of the group. She +was scolding like a termagant in the Sioux tongue, ordering the other +women to the fray; but still she kept back, looking over her shoulder +suspiciously at Miriam's tent, uncertain whether to go or stay. We had +failed in every other attempt to rescue Miriam. If the Lord—as the +priest believed—had planned the sufferer's aid, His instruments had +blundered badly. There must be no more feeble-fingering.</p> + +<p>"Thieves! Thieves! Cut-throats!" bawled Father Holland in a storm of +abuse. "Ye rascals," he thundered, cutting the air with his stick and +purposely backing away from the camp to draw the Indians off. Then his +voice was lost in a chorus of shrill screams.</p> + +<p>The moonlight shone across the wigwam opening. The captive had heard the +English tongue, and was listening. But the Sioux squaw had also heard +and recognized the voice of a former prisoner. She ran forward a pace, +then hesitated,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> looking back doubtfully. As she turned her head, out +from the gloom of the thicket with the leap of a lynx, lithe and swift, +sprang the crouching form of Louis Laplante. I felt Little Fellow all in +a tremor by my side; the tremor not of fear, but of the couchant +panther; and he uttered the most vicious snarl I have ever heard from +human throat. Louis alighted neatly and noiselessly, directly behind the +Sioux woman. She must have felt his presence, for she turned round and +round expectantly. Louis, silent and elusive as a shadow, circled about +her, tripping from side to side as she turned her head. But the fire +betrayed him. She had wheeled towards the forest as if spying for the +unseen presence among the foliage, and Louis deftly dodged behind. The +move put him between the fire and his antagonist, and the full profile +of his queer, bending figure was shadowed clear past the woman. She +turned like some vengeful, malign goddess, and I thought it all up with +the daring trapper; but he doffed his red toque and swept the advancing +fury the low bow of a French courtier. Then he drew himself erect and +laughed insolently in the woman's face. His careless assurance allayed +her suspicions.</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'tis you!" she growled.</p> + +<p>"'Tis I, fleet-foot, winged messenger, humble slave," laughed Louis, +with another grotesque bow; but the rogue had cleverly put himself +between the squaw and Miriam's tent.</p> + +<p>I should have rushed to Miriam's rescue long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> since, instead of watching +this by-play between trapper and mountain cat; but as the foray waxed +hotter with the priest, the young braves had run back to their tents for +guns and clubs.</p> + +<p>"Stand off, ye scoundrels," roared the priest, in tones of genuine +anger; for the Indians were closing threateningly about him. "Stand +back, ye knaves, ye sons of Satan," and every soul but Louis Laplante +and the Sioux squaw ran with querulous shouts to the river.</p> + +<p>"Cruel! Cruel! Cruel!" sobbed a voice from the wigwam; and there was a +straining to break the thongs which bound her. "Cruel! Cruel! Hast Thou +no pity? O my God! Hast Thou no pity? Shall not a sparrow fall to the +ground without Thy knowledge? Is this Thy pity? O my God!" The voice +broke in a torrent of heart-piercing cries.</p> + +<p>I could endure it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Have at ye, ye villains! Come out like men! Now, me brave bhoys, show +the stuff that's in ye! A fig for y'r valor if ye fail! The curse o' the +Lord on the coward heart! Back with ye; ye red divils! Out with ye, +Rufus! The Lord shall deliver the captive! What, 'an wuld ye dare strike +a servant o' the Lord? Let the deliverer appear, I say," he shouted, +weaving in commands to us as he dealt stout blows about him and receded +down the river bank. "Take that—and that—and that," I heard him shout, +with a rat-tat-too of sharp thuds from the staff accompanying each +word.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> Then I knew the quarrel on the beach was at its height; and Louis +Laplante was still foiling the Sioux's approach to Miriam's wigwam like +a deft fencer.</p> + +<p>"Follow me, Little Fellow," I commanded. "Have your knife ready," and I +had not finished speaking when three shrill whistles came from Louis. +'Twas his old-time signal of danger. Above the hubbub at the river the +Sioux squaw was screaming to the braves.</p> + +<p>Bounding from concealment, I tore off the layer roofing of the wigwam, +plunged through the tapering pole frame, shaking the frail lean-to like +a house of cards, and was beside Miriam. Again I heard Louis' whistle +and again the squaw's angry scream; but Little Fellow had followed on my +heels and stood with knife-blade glittering bare at the tent-entrance.</p> + +<p>"Hush," I whispered, slashing my dagger through the thongs around her +hands and cutting the rope that held her to the central stake. "We've +found you at last. Come! Come!" and I caught her up.</p> + +<p>"O my God!" she cried. "At last! At last! Where is the child? They have +taken little Eric!"</p> + +<p>"We have him safe! His father is waiting! Don't hesitate, Miriam!"</p> + +<p>"Run, Little Fellow," I ordered, "Across the camp. Get the child," and I +sprang from the wigwam, which crashed to the ground behind me. I had +thought to save skirting the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> woods by a run across the camping-ground; +but when my Indian dashed for the child and the Sioux saw me undefended +with the white woman in my arms, she made a desperate lunge at Laplante +and called at the top of her voice for the braves.</p> + +<p>Louis, with weapons in hand, still kept between the fury and Miriam; but +I think his French chivalry must have been restraining him. Though the +Sioux offered him many opportunities and was doing her best to sheathe a +knife in his heart, he seemed to refrain from using either dagger or +pistol. An insolent laugh was on his face. The life-and-death game which +he was playing was to his daring spirit something novel and amusing.</p> + +<p>"The lady is—perturbed," he laughed, dodging a thrust at his neck; "she +fences wide, tra-la," this as the barrel of his pistol parried a drive +of her knife; "she hits afar—ho—ho—not so fast, my fury—not so +furious, my fair—zipp, ha—ha—ha—another miss—another miss—the +lady's a-miss," for the squaw's weapon struck fire against his own.</p> + +<p>"Look out for the braves, have a care," I shouted; for a dozen young +bucks were running up behind to the woman's aid.</p> + +<p>"Ha—ha—-<i>prenez garde</i>—my tiger-cat has kittens," he laughed; and he +looked over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>That backward look gave the fury her opportunity. In the firelight blue +steel flashed bright.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> The Frenchman reeled, threw up his arms, and +fell. One sharp, deep, broken draw of breath, and with a laugh on his +lips, Louis Laplante died as he had lived. Then the tiger-cat leaped +over the dead form at Miriam and me.</p> + +<p>What happened next I can no more set down consecutively than I can +distinguish the parts in a confused picture with a red-eyed fury +striking at me, naked Indians brandishing war-clubs, flashes of powder +smoke, a circle of gesticulating, screeching dark faces in the +background, my Indian fighting like a very fiend, and a pale-faced woman +with a little curly-headed boy at her feet standing against the woods.</p> + +<p>"Run, <i>Monsieur</i>; I keep bad Indians off," urged Little Fellow. +"Run—save white squaw and papoose—run, <i>Monsieur</i>."</p> + +<p>Now, whatever may be said to the contrary, however brave two men may be, +they cannot stand off a horde of armed savages. I let go my whole +pistol-charge, which sent the red demons to a distance and intended +dashing for the woods, when the Sioux woman put her hand in her pocket +and hurled a flint head at Little Fellow. The brave Indian sprang aside +and the thing fell to the ground. With it fell a crumpled sheet of +paper. I heard rather than saw Little Fellow's crouching leap. Two forms +rolled over and over in the camp ashes; and with Miriam on my shoulder +and the child under the other arm, I had dashed into the thicket of the +upper ground.</p> + +<p>Overhead tossed the trees in a swelling wind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> and up from the shore +rushed the din of wrangling tongues, screaming and swearing in a clamor +of savage wrath. The wind grew more boisterous as I ran. Behind the +Indian cries died faintly away; but still with a strength not my own, +always keeping the river in view, and often mistaking the pointed +branches, which tore clothing and flesh from head to feet, for the hands +of enemies—I fled as if wolves had been pursuing.</p> + +<p>Again and again sobbed Miriam—"O, my God! At last! At last! Thanks be +to God! At last! At last!"</p> + +<p>We were on a hillock above our camp. Putting Miriam down, I gave her my +hand and carried the child. When I related our long, futile search and +told her that Eric was waiting, agitation overcame her, and I said no +more till we were within a few feet of the tents.</p> + +<p>"Please wait." I left her a short distance from the camp that I might go +and forewarn Eric.</p> + +<p>Frances Sutherland met me in the way and read the news which I could not +speak.</p> + +<p>"Have you—oh—have you?" she asked. "Who is that?" and she pointed to +the child in my arms.</p> + +<p>"Where's Hamilton? Where's your father?" I demanded, trembling from +exhaustion and all undone.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hamilton is in his tent priming a gun. Father is watching the +river. And oh, Rufus! is it really so?" she cried, catching, sight of +Miriam's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> stooped, ragged figure. Then she darted past me. Both her arms +encircled Miriam, and the two began weeping on each other's shoulders +after the fashion of women.</p> + +<p>I heard a cough inside Hamilton's tent. Going forward, I lifted the +canvas flap and found Eric sitting gloomily on a pile of robes.</p> + +<p>"Eric," I cried, in as steady a voice as I command, which indeed, was +shaking sadly, and I held the child back that Hamilton might not see, +"Eric, old man, I think at last we've run the knaves down."</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he exclaimed with a start, not knowing what I had said. "Are +you men back? Did you find out anything?"</p> + +<p>"Why—yes," said I: "we found this," and I signalled Frances to bring +Miriam.</p> + +<p>This was no way to prepare a man for a shock that might unhinge reason; +but my mind had become a vacuum and the warm breath of the child +nestling about my neck brought a mist before my eyes.</p> + +<p>"What did you say you had found?" asked Hamilton, looking up from his +gun to the tent-way; for the morning light already smote through the +dark.</p> + +<p>"This," I said, lifting the canvas a second time and drawing Miriam +forward.</p> + +<p>I could but place the child in her arms. She glided in. The flap fell. +There was the smothered outcry of one soul—rent by pain.</p> + +<p>"Miriam—Miriam—my God—Miriam!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> "Come away," whispered a choky voice +by my side, and Frances linked her arm through mine.</p> + +<p>Then the tent was filled and the night air palpitated with sounds of +anguished weeping. And with tears raining from my eyes, I hastened away +from what was too sacred for any ear but a pitying God's. That had come +to my life which taught me the depths of Hamilton's suffering.</p> + +<p>"Dearest," said I, "now we understand both the pain and the joy of +loving," and I kissed her white brow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE PRIEST JOURNEYS TO A FAR COUNTRY</h3> + + +<p>Again the guest-chamber of the Sutherland home was occupied.</p> + +<p>How came it that a Catholic priest lay under a Protestant roof? How +comes it that the new west ever ruthlessly strips reality naked of creed +and prejudice and caste, ever breaks down the barrier relics of a +mouldering past, ever forces recognition of men as individuals with +individual rights, apart from sect and class and unmerited prerogatives? +The Catholic priest was wounded. The Protestant home was near. Manhood +in Protestant garb recognized manhood in Roman cassock. Necessity +commanded. Prejudice obeyed as it ever obeys in that vast land of +untrameled freedom. So Father Holland was cared for in the Protestant +home with a tenderness which Mr. Sutherland would have repudiated. For +my part, I have always thanked God for that leveling influence of the +west. It pulls the fools from high places and awards only one +crown—merit.</p> + +<p>It was Little Fellow who had brought Father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> Holland, wounded and +insensible, from the Sioux camp.</p> + +<p>"What of Louis Laplante's body, Little Fellow?" I asked, as soon as I +had seen all the others set out for the settlement with Father Holland +lying unconscious in the bottom of the canoe.</p> + +<p>"The white man, I buried in the earth as the white men do—deep in the +clay to the roots of the willow, so I buried the Frenchman," answered +the Indian. "And the squaw, I weighted with stones at her feet; for they +trod on the captives. And with stones I weighted her throat, which was +marked like the deer's when the mountain cat springs. With the stones at +her throat and her feet, the squaw, I rolled into the water."</p> + +<p>"What, Little Fellow," I cried, remembering how I had seen him roll over +and over through the camp-fire, with his hands locked on the Sioux +woman's throat, "did you kill the daughter of L'Aigle?"</p> + +<p>"Non, <i>Monsieur</i>; Little Fellow no bad Indian. But the squaw threw a +flint and the flint was poison, and my hands were on her throat, and the +squaw fell into the ashes, and when Little Fellow arose she was dead. +Did she not slay La Robe Noire? Did she not slay the white man before +Monsieur's eyes? Did she not bind the white woman? Did she not drag me +over the ground like a dead stag? So my fingers caught hard in her +throat, and when I arose she lay dead in the ashes. So I fled and hid +till the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> tribe left. So I shoved her into the water and pushed her +under, and she sank like a heavy rock. Then I found the priest."</p> + +<p>I had no reproaches to offer Little Fellow. He had only obeyed the +savage instincts of a savage race, exacting satisfaction after his own +fashion.</p> + +<p>"The squaw threw a flint. The flint was poison. Also the squaw threw +this at Little Fellow, white man's paper with signs which are magic," +and the Indian handed me the sheet, which had fallen from the woman's +pocket as she hurled her last weapon.</p> + +<p>Without fear of the magic so terrifying to him, I took the dirty, +crumpled missive and unfolded it. The superscription of Quebec citadel +was at the top. With overwhelming revulsion came memory of poor Louis +Laplante lying at the camp-fire in the gorge tossing a crumpled piece of +paper wide of the flames, where the Sioux squaw surreptitiously picked +it up. The paper was foul and tattered almost beyond legibility; but +through the stains I deciphered in delicate penciling these words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"In memory of last night's carouse in Lower Town, (one favor +deserves another, you know, and I got you free of that scrape), +spike the gun of my friend the enemy. If R-f-s G—p—e, E. +H—l-t-n, J—k MacK, or any of that prig gang come prying round +your camp for news, put them on the wrong track. I owe the +whole —— —— set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> a score. Pay it for me, and we'll call the +loan square."</p></div> + +<p>No name was signed; but the scene in the Quebec club three years before, +when Eric had come to blows with Colonel Adderly, explained not only the +authorship but Louis' treachery. 'Tis the misfortune of errant rogues +like poor Louis that to get out of one scrape ever involves them in a +worse. Now I understood the tumult of contradictory emotions that had +wrought upon him when I had saved his life and he had resolved to undo +the wrong to Miriam.</p> + +<p>Little Fellow put the small canoe to rights, and I had soon joined the +others at the Sutherland homestead. But for two days the priest lay as +one dead, neither moaning nor speaking. On the morning of the third, +though he neither opened his eyes nor gave sign of recognition, he asked +for bread. Then my heart gave a great bound of hope—for surely a man +desiring food is recovering!—and I sent Frances Sutherland to him and +went out among the trees above the river.</p> + +<p>That sense of resilient relief which a man feels on discharging an +impossible task, or throwing off too heavy a burden, came over me. +Miriam was rescued, the priest restored, and I dowered with God's best +gift—the love of a noble, fair woman. Hard duty's compulsion no longer +spurred me; but my thoughts still drove in a wild whirl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span> There was a +glassy reflection of a faded moon on the water, and daybreak came +rustling through the trees which nodded and swayed overhead. A +twittering of winged things arose in the branches, first only the +cadence of a robin's call, an oriole's flute-whistle, the stirring +wren's mellow note. Then, suddenly, out burst from the leafed sprays a +chorus of song that might have rivaled angels' melodies. The robin's +call was a gust of triumph. The oriole's strain lilted exultant and a +thousand throats gushed out golden notes.</p> + +<p>"Now God be praised for love and beauty and goodness—and above all—for +Frances—for Frances," were the words that every bird seemed to be +singing; though, indeed, the interpretation was only my heart's +response. I know not how it was, but I found myself with hat off and +bowed head, feeling a gratitude which words could not frame—for the +splendor of the universe and the glory of God.</p> + +<p>"Rufus," called a voice more musical to my ear than any bird song; and +Frances was at my side with a troubled face. "He's conscious and +talking, but I can't understand what he means. Neither can Miriam and +Eric. I wish you would come in."</p> + +<p>I found the priest pale as the pillows against which he leaned, with +glistening eyes gazing fixedly high above the lintel of the door. +Miriam, with her snow-white hair and sad-lined face, was fanning the air +before him. At the other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span> side stood Eric with the boy in his arms. Mr. +Sutherland and I entered the room abreast. For a moment his wistful gaze +fell on the group about the bed. First he looked at Eric and the child, +then at Miriam, and from Miriam to me, then back to the child. The +meaning of it all dawned, gleamed and broke in full knowledge upon him; +and his face shone as one transfigured.</p> + +<p>"The Lord was with us," he muttered, stroking Miriam's white hair. +"Praise be to God! Now I can die in peace——"</p> + +<p>"No, you can't, Father," I cried impetuously.</p> + +<p>"Ye irriverent ruffian," he murmured with a flash of old mirth and a +gentle pressure of my hand. "Ye irriverent ruffian. Peace! Peace! I die +in peace," and again the wistful eyes gazed above the door.</p> + +<p>"Rufus," he whispered softly, "where are they taking me?"</p> + +<p>"Taking you?" I asked in surprise; but Frances Sutherland's finger was +on her lips, and I stopped myself before saying more.</p> + +<p>"Troth, yes, lad, where are they taking me? The northern tribes have +heard not a word of the love of the Lord; and I must journey to a far, +far country."</p> + +<p>At that the boy set up some meaningless child prattle. The priest heard +him and listened.</p> + +<p>"Father," asked the child in the language of Indians when referring to a +priest, "Father, if the good white father goes to a far, far away, +who'll go to northern tribes?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> "And a little child shall lead them," +murmured the priest, thinking he, himself, had been addressed and +feeling out blindly for the boy. Eric placed the child on the bed, and +Father Holland's wasted hands ran through the lad's tangled curls.</p> + +<p>"A little child shall lead them," he whispered. "Lord, now lettest Thou +Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation. A +light to lighten the Gentiles—and a little child shall lead them."</p> + +<p>Then I first noticed the filmy glaze, as of glass, spreading slowly +across the priest's white face. Blue lines were on his temples and his +lips were drawn. A cold chill struck to my heart, like icy steel. Too +well I read the signs and knew the summons; and what can love, or +gratitude, do in the presence of that summons? Miriam's face was hidden +in her hands and she was weeping silently.</p> + +<p>"The northern tribes know not the Lord and I go to a far country; but a +little child shall lead them!" repeated the priest.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Sir, he shall be dedicated to God," sobbed Miriam. "I shall +train him to serve God among the northern tribes. Do not worry! God will +raise up a servant——"</p> + +<p>But her words were not heeded by the priest.</p> + +<p>"Rufus, lad," he said, gazing afar as before, "Lift me up," and I took +him in my arms.</p> + +<p>"My sight is not so good as it was," he whispered. "There's a dimness +before my face, lad!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> Can <i>you</i> see anything up there?" he asked, +staring longingly forward.</p> + +<p>"Faith, now, what might they all be doing with stars for diadems? What +for might the angels o' Heaven be doin' going up and down betwane the +blue sky and the green earth? Faith, lad, 'tis daft ye are, a-changin' +of me clothes! Lave the black gown, lad! 'Tis the badge of poverty and +He was poor and knew not where to lay His head of a weary night! Lave +the black gown, I say! What for wu'd a powr Irish priest be doin' +a-wearin' of radiant white? Where are they takin' me, Rufus? Not too +near the light, lad! I ask but to kneel at the Master's feet an' kiss +the hem of His robe!"</p> + +<p>There was silence in the room, but for the subdued sobbing of Miriam. +Frances had caught the priest's wrists in both her hands, and had buried +her face on the white coverlet. With his back to the bed, Mr. Sutherland +stood by the window and I knew by the heaving of his angular shoulders +that flood-gates of grief had opened. There was silence; but for the +hard, sharp, quick, short breathings of the priest. A crested bird +hopped to the window-sill with a chirp, then darted off through the +quivering air with a glint of sunlight from his flashing wings. I heard +the rustle of morning wind and felt the priest's face growing cold +against my cheek.</p> + +<p>"I must work the Master's work," he whispered, in short +broken breaths, "while it is day—for the night cometh—when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> +no man—can work.—Don't hold me back, lad—for I must go—to a +far, far country—It's cold, cold, Rufus—the way is—rugged—my feet +are slipping—slipping—give a hand—lad!—Praise to God—there's a +resting-place—somewhere!—Farewell—boy—be brave—farewell—I may not +come back soon—but I must—journey—to—a——far——far——"</p> + +<p>There was a little gasp for breath. His head felt forward and Frances +sobbed out, "He is gone! He is gone!"</p> + +<p>And the warmth of pulsing life in the form against my shoulder gave +place to the rigid cold of motionless death.</p> + +<p>"May the Lord God of Israel receive the soul of His righteous servant," +cried Mr. Sutherland in awesome tones.</p> + +<p>With streaming eyes he came forward and helped me to lay the priest +back.</p> + +<p>Then we all passed out from that chamber, made sacred by an invisible +presence.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h3>VALEDICTORY.</h3> + +<p>'Twas twenty years after Father Holland's death that a keen-eyed, +dark-skinned, young priest came from Montreal on his way to Athabasca.</p> + +<p>This was Miriam's son.</p> + +<p>To-day it is he, the missionary famous in the north land, who passing +back and forward between his lonely mission in the Athabasca and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> the +headquarters of his order, comes to us and occupies the guest-chamber in +our little, old-fashioned, vine-grown cottage.</p> + +<p>The retaking of Fort Douglas virtually closed the bitter war between +Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers. To both companies the conflict had proved +ruinous. Each was as anxious as the other for the terms of peace by +which the great fur-trading rivals were united a few years after the +massacre of Seven Oaks.</p> + +<p>So ended the despotic rule of gentlemen adventurers in the far north. +The massacre turned the attention of Britain to this unknown land and +the daring heroism of explorers has given place to the patient +nation-building of multitudes who follow the pioneer. Such is the record +of a day that is done.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lords of the North, by A. C. Laut + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORDS OF THE NORTH *** + +***** This file should be named 20418-h.htm or 20418-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/1/20418/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/20418-h/images/image001.jpg b/20418-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..55013fd --- /dev/null +++ b/20418-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/20418.txt b/20418.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4eaa9b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/20418.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12168 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lords of the North, by A. C. Laut + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lords of the North + +Author: A. C. Laut + +Release Date: January 22, 2007 [EBook #20418] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORDS OF THE NORTH *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + + + +LORDS + +OF THE + +NORTH + +BY + +A. C. LAUT + +TORONTO +WILLIAM BRIGGS + + +Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one +thousand nine hundred, by WILLIAM BRIGGS, at the Department of +Agriculture. + +[Illustration: + + LORDS + of the + NORTH + +by A. C. LAUT] + + +TO THE + +Pioneers and their Descendants + +WHOSE + +HEROISM WON THE LAND, + +THIS WORK + +IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. + + + + +ACKNOWLEDGMENT. + + +The author desires to express thanks to pioneers and fur traders of the +West for information, details and anecdotes bearing on the old life, +which are herein embodied; and would also acknowledge the assistance of +the history of the North-West Company and manuscripts of the +_Bourgeois_, compiled by Senator L. R. Masson; and the value of such +early works as those of Dr. George Bryce, Gunn, Hargraves, Ross and +others. + + + + +THE TRAPPER'S DEFIANCE. + + +"The adventurous spirits, who haunted the forest and plain, grew fond of +their wild life and affected a great contempt for civilization." + + You boxed-up, mewed-up artificials, + Pent in your piles of mortar and stone, + Hugging your finely spun judicials, + Adorning externals, externals alone, + Vaunting in prideful ostentation + Of the Juggernaut car, called Civilization-- + What know ye of freedom and life and God? + + Monkeys, that follow a showman's string, + Know more of freedom and less of care, + Cage birds, that flutter from perch to ring, + Have less of worry and surer fare. + Cursing the burdens, yourselves have bound, + In a maze of wants, running round and round-- + Are ye free men, or manniken slaves? + + Costly patches, adorning your walls, + Are all of earth's beauty ye care to know; + But ye strut about in soul-stifled halls + To play moth-life by a candle-glow-- + What soul has space for upward fling, + What manhood room for shoulder-swing, + Coffined and cramped from the vasts of God? + + The Spirit of Life, O atrophied soul, + In trappings of ease is not confined; + That touch from Infinite Will 'neath the Whole + In Nature's temple, not man's, is shrined! + From hovel-shed come out and be strong! + Be ye free! Be redeemed from the wrong, + Of soul-guilt, I charge you as sons of God! + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +I, Rufus Gillespie, trader and clerk for the North-West Company, which +ruled over an empire broader than Europe in the beginning of this +century, and with Indian allies and its own riotous _Bois-Brules_, +carried war into the very heart of the vast territory claimed by its +rivals, the Honorable Hudson's Bay Company, have briefly related a few +stirring events of those boisterous days. Should the account here set +down be questioned, I appeal for confirmation to that missionary among +northern tribes, the famous priest, who is the son of the ill-fated girl +stolen by the wandering Iroquois. Lord Selkirk's narration of lawless +conflict with the Nor'-Westers and the verbal testimony of Red River +settlers, who are still living, will also substantiate what I have +stated; though allowance must be made for the violent partisan leaning +of witnesses, and from that, I--as a Nor'-Wester--do not claim to be +free. + +On the charges and counter-charges of cruelty bandied between white men +and red, I have nothing to say. Remembering how white soldiers from +eastern cities took the skin of a native chief for a trophy of victory, +and recalling the fiendish glee of Mandanes over a victim, I can only +conclude that neither race may blamelessly point the finger of reproach +at the other. + +Any variations in detail from actual occurrences as seen by my own eyes +are solely for the purpose of screening living descendants of those +whose lives are here portrayed from prying curiosity; but, in truth, +many experiences during the thrilling days of the fur companies were far +too harrowing for recital. I would fain have tempered some of the +incidents herein related to suit the sentiments of a milk-and-water age; +but that could be done only at the cost of truth. + +There is no French strain in my blood, so I have not that passionate +devotion to the wild daring of _l'ancien regime_, in which many of my +rugged companions under _Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest_ +gloried; but he would be very sluggish, indeed, who could not look back +with some degree of enthusiasm to the days of gentlemen adventurers in +no-man's-land, in a word, to the workings of the great fur trading +companies. Theirs were the trappers and runners, the _Coureurs des Bois_ +and _Bois-Brules_, who traversed the immense solitudes of the pathless +west; theirs, the brigades of gay _voyageurs_ chanting hilarious +refrains in unison with the rhythmic sweep of paddle blades and +following unknown streams until they had explored from St. Lawrence to +MacKenzie River; and theirs, the merry lads of the north, blazing a +track through the wilderness and leaving from Atlantic to Pacific lonely +stockaded fur posts--footprints for the pioneers' guidance. The +whitewashed palisades of many little settlements on the rivers and lakes +of the far north are poor relics of the fur companies' ancient grandeur. +That broad domain stretching from Hudson Bay to the Pacific Ocean, +reclaimed from savagery for civilization, is the best monument to the +unheralded forerunners of empire. + +RUFUS GILLESPIE. + +WINNIPEG--ONE TIME FORT GARRY + FORMERLY RED RIVER SETTLEMENT, +_19th June, 18--_ + +Transcriber's note: Minor typos have been corrected. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE +CHAPTER I. +WHEREIN A LAD SEES MAKERS OF HISTORY 9 + +CHAPTER II. +A STRONG MAN IS BOWED 23 + +CHAPTER III. +NOVICE AND EXPERT 38 + +CHAPTER IV. +LAUNCHED INTO THE UNKNOWN 55 + +CHAPTER V. +CIVILIZATION'S VENEER RUBS OFF 70 + +CHAPTER VI. +A GIRDLE OF AGATES RECALLED 92 + +CHAPTER VII. +THE LORDS OF THE NORTH IN COUNCIL 99 + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE LITTLE STATUE ANIMATE 118 + +CHAPTER IX. +DECORATING A BIT OF STATUARY 131 + +CHAPTER X. +MORE STUDIES IN STATUARY 144 + +CHAPTER XI. +A SHUFFLING OF ALLEGIANCE 163 + +CHAPTER XII. +HOW A YOUTH BECAME A KING 181 + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE BUFFALO HUNT 200 + +CHAPTER XIV. +IN SLIPPERY PLACES 220 + +CHAPTER XV. +THE GOOD WHITE FATHER 234 + +CHAPTER XVI. +LE GRAND DIABLE SENDS BACK OUR MESSENGER 246 + +CHAPTER XVII. +THE PRICE OF BLOOD 253 + +CHAPTER XVIII. +LAPLANTE AND I RENEW ACQUAINTANCE 266 + +CHAPTER XIX. +WHEREIN LOUIS INTRIGUES 281 + +CHAPTER XX. +PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS 297 + +CHAPTER XXI. +LOUIS PAYS ME BACK 313 + +CHAPTER XXII. +A DAY OF RECKONING 327 + +CHAPTER XXIII. +THE IROQUOIS PLAYS HIS LAST CARD 341 + +CHAPTER XXIV. +FORT DOUGLAS CHANGES MASTERS 350 + +CHAPTER XXV. +HIS LORDSHIP TO THE RESCUE 368 + +CHAPTER XXVI. +FATHER HOLLAND AND I IN THE TOILS 378 + +CHAPTER XXVII. +UNDER ONE ROOF 389 + +CHAPTER XXVIII. +THE LAST OF LOUIS' ADVENTURES 409 + +CHAPTER XXIX. +THE PRIEST JOURNEYS TO A FAR COUNTRY 433 + + + + +LORDS OF THE NORTH + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHEREIN A LAD SEES MAKERS OF HISTORY + + +"Has any one seen Eric Hamilton?" I asked. + +For an hour, or more, I had been lounging about the sitting-room of a +club in Quebec City, waiting for my friend, who had promised to join me +at dinner that night. I threw aside a news-sheet, which I had exhausted +down to minutest advertisements, stretched myself and strolled across to +a group of old fur-traders, retired partners of the North-West Company, +who were engaged in heated discussion with some officers from the +Citadel. + +"Has any one seen Eric Hamilton?" I repeated, indifferent to the merits +of their dispute. + +"That's the tenth time you've asked that question," said my Uncle Jack +MacKenzie, looking up sharply, "the tenth time, Sir, by actual count," +and he puckered his brows at the interruption, just as he used to when I +was a little lad on his knee and chanced to break into one of his +hunting stories with a question at the wrong place. + +"Hang it," drawled Colonel Adderly, a squatty man with an over-fed look +on his bulging, red cheeks, "hang it, you don't expect Hamilton? The +baby must be teething," and he added more chaff at the expense of my +friend, who had been the subject of good-natured banter among club +members for devotion to his first-born. + +I saw Adderly's object was more to get away from the traders' arguments +than to answer me; and I returned the insolent challenge of his +unconcealed yawn in the faces of the elder men by drawing a chair up to +the company of McTavishes and Frobishers and McGillivrays and MacKenzies +and other retired veterans of the north country. + +"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said I, "what were you saying to Colonel +Adderly?" + +"Talk of your military conquests, Sir," my uncle continued, "Why, Sir, +our men have transformed a wilderness into an empire. They have blazed a +path from Labrador on the Atlantic to that rock on the Pacific, where my +esteemed kinsman, Sir Alexander MacKenzie, left his inscription of +discovery. Mark my words, Sir, the day will come when the names of David +Thompson and Simon Fraser and Sir Alexander MacKenzie will rank higher +in English annals than Braddock's and----" + +"Egad!" laughed the officer, amused at my uncle, who had been a leading +spirit in the North-West Company and whose enthusiasm knew no bounds, +"Egad! You gentlemen adventurers wouldn't need to have accomplished much +to eclipse Braddock." And he paused with a questioning supercilious +smile. "Sir Alexander was a first cousin of yours, was he not?" + +My uncle flushed hotly. That slighting reference to gentlemen +adventurers, with just a perceptible emphasis of the _adventurers_, was +not to his taste. + +"Pardon me, Sir," said he stiffly, "you forget that by the terms of +their charter, the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company have the +privilege of being known as gentlemen adventurers. And by the Lord, Sir, +'tis a gentleman adventurer and nothing else, that stock-jobbing +scoundrel of a Selkirk has proved himself! And he, sir, was neither +Nor'-Wester, nor Canadian, but an Englishman, like the commander of the +Citadel." My uncle puffed out these last words in the nature of a +defiance to the English officer, whose cheeks took on a deeper purplish +shade; but he returned the charge good-humoredly enough. + +"Nonsense, MacKenzie, my good friend," laughed he patronizingly, "if the +Right Honorable, the Earl of Selkirk, were such an adventurer, why the +deuce did the Beaver Club down at Montreal receive him with open mouths +and open arms and----" + +"And open hearts, Sir, you may say," interrupted my Uncle MacKenzie. +"And I'd thank you not to 'good-friend' me," he added tartly. + +Now, the Beaver Club was an organization at Nor'-Westers renowned for +its hospitality. Founded in 1785, originally composed of but nineteen +members and afterwards extended only to men who had served in the _Pays +d'En Haut_, it soon acquired a reputation for entertaining in regal +style. Why the vertebrae of colonial gentlemen should sometimes lose the +independent, upright rigidity of self-respect on contact with old world +nobility, I know not. But instantly, Colonel Adderly's reference to Lord +Selkirk and the Beaver Club called up the picture of a banquet in +Montreal, when I was a lad of seven, or thereabouts. I had been tricked +out in some Highland costume especially pleasing to the Earl--cap, +kilts, dirk and all--and was taken by my Uncle Jack MacKenzie to the +Beaver Club. Here, in a room, that glittered with lights, was a table +steaming with things, which caught and held my boyish eyes; and all +about were crowds of guests, gentlemen, who had been invited in the +quaint language of the club, "To discuss the merits of bear, beaver and +venison." The great Sir Alexander MacKenzie, with his title fresh from +the king, and his feat of exploring the river now known by his name and +pushing through the mountain fastnesses to the Pacific on all men's +lips--was to my Uncle Jack's right. Simon Fraser and David Thompson and +other famous explorers, who were heroes to my imagination, were there +too. In these men and what they said of their wonderful voyages I was +far more interested than in the young, keen-faced man with a tie, that +came up in ruffles to his ears, and with an imperial decoration on his +breast, which told me he was Lord Selkirk. + +I remember when the huge salvers and platters were cleared away, I was +placed on the table to execute the sword dance. I must have acquitted +myself with some credit; for the gentlemen set up a prodigious clapping, +though I recall nothing but a snapping of my fingers, a wave of my cap +and a whirl of lights and faces around my dizzy head. Then my uncle took +me between his knees, promising to let me sit up to the end if I were +good, and more wine was passed. + +"That's enough for you, you young cub," says my kinsman, promptly +inverting the wine-glass before me. + +"O Uncle MacKenzie," said I with a wry face, "do you measure your own +wine so?" + +Whereat, the noble Earl shouted, "Bravo! here's for you, Mr. MacKenzie." + +And all the gentlemen set up a laugh and my uncle smiled and called to +the butler, "Here, Johnson, toddy for one, glass of hot water, pure, for +other." + +But when Johnson brought back the glasses, I observed Uncle MacKenzie +kept the toddy. "There, my boy, there's Adam's ale for you," said he, +and into the glass of hot water he popped a peppermint lozenge. + +"Fie!" laughed Sir Alexander to my uncle's right, "Fie to cheat the +little man!" + +"His is the best wine of the cellar," vowed His Lordship; and I drank my +peppermint with as much gusto and self-importance as any man of them. + +Then followed toasts, such a list of toasts as only men inured to tests +of strength could take. Ironical toasts to the North-West Passage, whose +myth Sir Alexander had dispelled; toasts to the discoverer of the +MacKenzie River, which brought storms of applause that shook the house; +toasts to "our distinguished guest," whose suave response disarmed all +suspicion; toasts to the "Northern winterers," poor devils, who were +serving the cause by undergoing a life-long term of Arctic exile; toasts +to "the merry lads of the north," who only served in the ranks without +attaining to the honor of partnership; toasts enough, in all conscience, +to drown the memory of every man present. Thanks to my Uncle Jack +MacKenzie, all my toasts were taken in peppermint, and the picture in my +mind of that banquet is as clear to-day as it was when I sat at the +table. What would I not give to be back at the Beaver Club, living it +all over again and hearing Sir Alexander MacKenzie with his flashing +hero-eyes and quick, passionate gestures, recounting that wonderful +voyage of his with a sulky crew into a region of hostiles; telling of +those long interminable winters of Arctic night, when the great explorer +sounded the depths of utter despair in service for the company and knew +not whether he faced madness or starvation; and thrilling the whole +assembly with a description of his first glimpse of the Pacific! Perhaps +it was what I heard that night--who can tell--that drew me to the wild +life of after years. But I was too young, then, to recognize fully the +greatness of those men. Indeed, my country was then and is yet too +young; for if their greatness be recognized, it is forgotten and +unhonored. + +I think I must have fallen asleep on my uncle's knee; for I next +remember sleepily looking about and noticing that many of the gentlemen +had slid down in their chairs and with closed eyes were breathing +heavily. Others had slipped to the floor and were sound asleep. This +shocked me and I was at once wide awake. My uncle was sitting very erect +and his arm around my waist had the tight grasp that usually preceded +some sharp rebuke. I looked up and found his face grown suddenly so hard +and stern, I was all affright lest my sleeping had offended him. His +eyes were fastened on Lord Selkirk with a piercing, angry gaze. His +Lordship was not nodding, not a bit of it. How brilliant he seemed to my +childish fancy! He was leaning forward, questioning those Nor'-Westers, +who had received him with open arms, and open hearts. And the wine had +mounted to the head of the good Nor'-Westers and they were now also +receiving the strange nobleman with open mouths, pouring out to him a +full account of their profits, the extent of the vast, unknown game +preserve, and how their methods so far surpassed those of the Hudson's +Bay, their rival's stock had fallen in value from 250 to 50 per cent. + +The more information they gave, the more His Lordship plied them with +questions. + +"I must say," whispered Uncle Jack to Sir Alexander MacKenzie, "if any +Hudson's Bay man asked such pointed questions on North-West business, +I'd give myself the pleasure of ejecting him from this room." + +Then, I knew his anger was against Lord Selkirk and not against me for +sleeping. + +"Nonsense," retorted Sir Alexander, who had cut active connection with +the Nor'-Westers some years before, "there's no ground for suspicion." +But he seemed uneasy at the turn things had taken. + +"Has your Lordship some colonization scheme that you ask such pointed +questions?" demanded my uncle, addressing the Earl. The nobleman turned +quickly to him and said something about the Highlanders and Prince +Edward's Island, which I did not understand. The rest of that evening +fades from my thoughts; for I was carried home in Mr. Jack MacKenzie's +arms. + +And all these things happened some ten or twelve years before that wordy +sword-play between this same uncle of mine and the English colonel from +the Citadel. + +"We erred, Sir, through too great hospitality," my uncle was saying to +the colonel. "How could we know that Selkirk would purchase controlling +interest in Hudson's Bay stock? How could we know he'd secure a land +grant in the very heart of our domain?" + +"I don't object to his land, nor to his colonists, nor to his dower of +ponies and muskets and bayonets to every mother's son of them," broke in +another of the retired traders, "but I do object to his drilling those +same colonists, to his importing a field battery and bringing out that +little ram of a McDonell from the Army to egg the settlers on! It's bad +enough to pillage our fort; but this proclamation to expel Nor'-Westers +from what is claimed as Hudson's Bay Territory----" + +"Just listen to this," cries my uncle pulling out a copy of the +obnoxious proclamation and reading aloud an order for the expulsion of +all rivals to the Hudson's Bay Company from the northern territory. + +"Where can Hamilton be?" said I, losing interest in the traders' quarrel +as soon as they went into details. + +"Home with his wifie," half sneered the officer in a nagging way, that +irritated me, though the remark was, doubtless, true. "Home with his +wifie," he repeated in a sing-song, paying no attention to the +elucidation of a subject he had raised. "Good old man, Hamilton, but +since marriage, utterly gone to the bad!" + +"To the what?" I queried, taking him up short. This officer, with the +pudding cheeks and patronizing insolence, had a provoking trick of +always keeping just inside the bounds of what one might resent. "To the +what, did you say Hamilton had gone?" + +"To the domestics," says he laughing, then to the others, as if he had +listened to every word of the explanations, "and if His Little +Excellency, Governor MacDonell, by the grace of Lord Selkirk, ruler over +gentlemen adventurers in no-man's-land, expels the good Nor'-Westers +from nowhere to somewhere else, what do the good Nor'-Westers intend +doing to the Little Tyrant?" + +"Charles the First him," responds a wag of the club. + +"Where's your Cromwell?" laughs the colonel. + +"Our Cromwell's a Cameron, temper of a Lucifer, oaths before action," +answers the wag. + +"Tuts!" exclaims Uncle Jack testily. "We'll settle His Lordship's little +martinet of the plains. Warrant for his arrest! Fetch him out!" + +"Warrant 43rd King George III. will do it," added one of the partners +who had looked the matter up. + +"43rd King George III. doesn't give jurisdiction for trial in Lower +Canada, if offense be committed elsewhere," interjects a lawyer with +show of importance. + +"A Daniel come to judgment," laughs the colonel, winking as my uncle's +wrath rose. + +"Pah!" says Mr. Jack MacKenzie in disgust, stamping on the floor with +both feet. "You lawyers needn't think you'll have your pickings when fur +companies quarrel. We'll ship him out, that's all. Neither of the +companies wants to advertise its profits--" + +"Or its methods--ahem!" interjects the colonel. + +"And its private business," adds my uncle, looking daggers at Adderly, +"by going to court." + +Then they all rose to go to the dining-room; and as I stepped out to +have a look down the street for Hamilton, I heard Colonel Adderly's last +fling--"Pretty rascals, you gentlemen adventurers are, so shy and coy +about law courts." + +It was a dark night, with a few lonely stars in mid-heaven, a sickle +moon cutting the horizon cloud-rim and a noisy March wind that boded +snow from The Labrador, or sleet from the Gulf. + +When Eric Hamilton left the Hudson's Bay Company's service at York +Factory on Hudson Bay and came to live in Quebec, I was but a student at +Laval. It was at my Uncle MacKenzie's that I met the tall, dark, sinewy, +taciturn man, whose influence was to play such a strange part in my +life; and when these two talked of their adventures in the far, lone +land of the north, I could no more conceal my awe-struck admiration than +a girl could on first discovering her own charms in a looking-glass. I +think he must have noticed my boyish reverence, for once he condescended +to ask about the velvet cap and green sash and long blue coat which made +up the Laval costume, and in a moment I was talking to him as volubly as +if he were the boy and I, the great Hudson's Bay trader. + +"It makes me feel quite like a boy again," he had said on resuming +conversation with Mr. MacKenzie. "By Jove! Sir, I can hardly realize I +went into that country a lad of fifteen, like your nephew, and here I +am, out of it, an old man." + +"Pah, Eric man," says my uncle, "you'll be finding a wife one of these +days and renewing your youth." + +"Uncle," I broke out when the Hudson's Bay man had gone home, "how old +is Mr. Hamilton?" + +"Fifteen years older than you are, boy, and I pray Heaven you may have +half as much of the man in you at thirty as he has," returns my uncle +mentally measuring me with that stern eye of his. At that information, +my heart gave a curious, jubilant thud. Henceforth, I no longer looked +upon Mr. Hamilton with the same awe that a choir boy entertains for a +bishop. Something of comradeship sprang up between us, and before that +year had passed we were as boon companions as man and boy could be. But +Hamilton presently spoiled it all by fulfilling my uncle's prediction +and finding a wife, a beautiful, fair-haired, frail slip of a girl, near +enough the twenties to patronize me and too much of the young lady to +find pleasure in an awkward lad. That meant an end to our rides and +walks and sails down the St. Lawrence and long evening talks; but I took +my revenge by assuming the airs of a man of forty, at which Hamilton +quizzed me not a little and his wife, Miriam, laughed. When I surprised +them all by jumping suddenly from boyhood to manhood--"like a tadpole +into a mosquito," as my Uncle Jack facetiously remarked. Meanwhile, a +son and heir came to my friend's home and I had to be thankful for a +humble third place. + +And so it came that I was waiting for Eric's arrival at the Quebec Club +that night, peering from the porch for sight of him and calculating how +long it would take to ride from the Chateau Bigot above Charlesbourg, +where he was staying. Stepping outside, I was surprised to see the form +of a horse beneath the lantern of the arched gateway; and my surprise +increased on nearer inspection. As I walked up, the creature gave a +whinny and I recognized Hamilton's horse, lathered with sweat, +unblanketed and shivering. The possibility of an accident hardly +suggested itself before I observed the bridle-rein had been slung over +the hitching-post and heard steps hurrying to the side door of the +club-house. + +"Is that you, Eric?" I called. + +There was no answer; so I led the horse to the stable boy and hurried +back to see if Hamilton were inside. The sitting room was deserted; but +Eric's well-known, tall figure was entering the dining-room. And a +curious figure he presented to the questioning looks of the club men. In +one hand was his riding whip, in the other, his gloves. He wore the +buckskin coat of a trapper and in the belt were two pistols. One sleeve +was torn from wrist to elbow and his boots were scratched as if they had +been combed by an iron rake. His broad-brimmed hat was still on, +slouched down over his eyes like that of a scout. + +"Gad! Hamilton," exclaimed Uncle Jack MacKenzie, who was facing Eric as +I came up behind, "have you been in a race or a fight?" and he gave him +the look of suspicion one might give an intoxicated man. + +"Is it a cold night?" asked the colonel punctiliously, gazing hard at +the still-strapped hat. + +Not a word came from Hamilton. + +"How's the cold in your head?" continued Adderly, pompously trying to +stare Hamilton's hat off. + +"Here I am, old man! What's kept you?" and I rushed forward but quickly +checked myself; for Hamilton turned slowly towards me and instead of +erect bearing, clear glance, firm mouth, I saw a head that was bowed, +eyes that burned like fire, and parched, parted, wordless lips. + +If the colonel had not been stuffing himself like the turkey guzzler +that he was, he would have seen something unspeakably terrible written +on Hamilton's silent face. + +"Did the little wifie let him off for a night's play?" sneered Adderly. + +Barely were the words out, when Hamilton's teeth clenched behind the +open lips, giving him an ugly, furious expression, strange to his face. +He took a quick stride towards the officer, raised his whip and brought +it down with the full strength of his shoulder in one cutting blow +across the baggy, purplish cheeks of the insolent speaker. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A STRONG MAN IS BOWED + + +The whole thing was so unexpected that for one moment not a man in the +room drew breath. Then the colonel sprang up with the bellow of an +enraged bull, overturning the table in his rush, and a dozen club +members were pulling him back from Eric. + +"Eric Hamilton, are you mad?" I cried. "What do you mean?" + +But Hamilton stood motionless as if he saw none of us. Except that his +breath was labored, he wore precisely the same strange, distracted air +he had on entering the club. + +"Hold back!" I implored; for Adderly was striking right and left to get +free from the men. "Hold back! There's a mistake! Something's wrong!" + +"Reptile!" roared the colonel. "Cowardly reptile, you shall pay for +this!" + +"There's a mistake," I shouted, above the clamor of exclamations. + +"Glad the mistake landed where it did, all the same," whispered Uncle +Jack MacKenzie in my ear, "but get him out of this. Drunk--or a +scandal," says my uncle, who always expressed himself in explosives +when excited. "Side room--here--lead him in--drunk--by Jove--drunk!" + +"Never," I returned passionately. I knew both Hamilton and his wife too +well to tolerate either insinuation. But we led him like a dazed being +into a side office, where Mr. Jack MacKenzie promptly turned the key and +took up a posture with his back against the door. + +"Now, Sir," he broke out sternly, "if it's neither drink, nor a +scandal----" There, he stopped; for Hamilton, utterly unconscious of us, +moved, rather than walked, automatically across the room. Throwing his +hat down, he bowed his head over both arms above the mantel-piece. + +My uncle and I looked from the silent man to each other. Raising his +brows in question, Mr. Jack MacKenzie touched his forehead and whispered +across to me--"Mad?" + +At that, though the word was spoken barely above a breath, Eric turned +slowly round and faced us with blood-shot, gleaming eyes. He made as +though he would speak, sank into the armchair before the grate and +pressed both hands against his forehead. + +"Mad," he repeated in a voice low as a moan, framing his words slowly +and with great effort. "By Jove, men, you should know me better than to +mouth such rot under your breath. To-night, I'd sell my soul, sell my +soul to be mad, really mad, to know that all I think has happened, +hadn't happened at all--" and his speech was broken by a sharp intake of +breath. + +"Out with it, man, for the Lord's sake," shouted my uncle, now convinced +that Eric was not drunk and jumping to conclusions--as he was wont to do +when excited--regarding a possible scandal. + +"Out with it, man! We'll stand by you! Has that blasted red-faced +turkey----" + +"Pray, spare your histrionics, for the present," Eric cut in with the +icy self-possession bred by a lifetime's danger, dispelling my uncle's +second suspicion with a quiet scorn that revealed nothing. + +"What the----" began my kinsman, "what did you strike him for?" + +"Did I strike somebody?" asked Hamilton absently. + +Again my uncle flashed a questioning look at me, but this time his face +showed his conviction so plainly no word was needed. + +"Did I strike somebody? Wish you'd apologize----" + +"Apologize!" thundered my uncle. "I'll do nothing of the kind. Served +him right. 'Twas a pretty way, a pretty way, indeed, to speak of any +man's wife----" But the word "wife" had not been uttered before Eric +threw out his hands in an imploring gesture. + +"Don't!" he cried out sharply in the suffering tone of a man under the +operating knife. "Don't! It all comes back! It is true! It is true! I +can't get away from it! It is no nightmare. My God, men, how can I tell +you? There's no way of saying it! It is impossible--preposterous--some +monstrous joke--it's quite impossible I tell you--it couldn't have +happened--such things don't happen--couldn't happen--to her--of all +women! But she's gone--she's gone----" + +"See here, Hamilton," cried my uncle, utterly beside himself with +excitement, "are we to understand you are talking of your wife, or--or +some other woman?" + +"See here, Hamilton," I reiterated, quite heedless of the brutality of +our questions and with a thousand wild suspicions flashing into my mind. +"Is it your wife, Miriam, and your boy?" + +But he heard neither of us. + +"They were there--they waved to me from the garden at the edge of the +woods as I entered the forest. Only this morning, both waving to me as I +rode away--and when I returned from the city at noon, they were gone! I +looked to the window as I came back. The curtain moved and I thought my +boy was hiding, but it was only the wind. We've searched every nook from +cellar to attic. His toys were littered about and I fancied I heard his +voice everywhere, but no! No--no--and we've been hunting house and +garden for hours----" + +"And the forest?" questioned Uncle Jack, the trapper instinct of former +days suddenly re-awakening. + +"The forest is waist-deep with snow! Besides we beat through the bush +everywhere, and there wasn't a track, nor broken twig, where they could +have passed." His torn clothes bore evidence to the thoroughness of that +search. + +"Nonsense," my uncle burst out, beginning to bluster. "They've been +driven to town without leaving word!" + +"No sleigh was at Chateau Bigot this morning," returned Hamilton. + +"But the road, Eric?" I questioned, recalling how the old manor-house +stood well back in the center of a cleared plateau in the forest. +"Couldn't they have gone down the road to those Indian encampments?" + +"The road is impassable for sleighs, let alone walking, and their winter +wraps are all in the house. For Heaven's sake, men, suggest something! +Don't madden me with these useless questions!" + +But in spite of Eric's entreaty my excitable kinsman subjected the +frenzied man to such a fire of questions as might have sublimated +pre-natal knowledge. And I stood back listening and pieced the +distracted, broken answers into some sort of coherency till the whole +tragic scene at the Chateau on that spring day of the year 1815, became +ineffaceably stamped on my memory. + +Causeless, with neither warning nor the slightest premonition of danger, +the greatest curse which can befall a man came upon my friend Eric +Hamilton. However fond a husband may be, there are things worse for his +wife than death which he may well dread, and it was one of these +tragedies which almost drove poor Hamilton out of his reason and changed +the whole course of my own life. In broad daylight, his young wife and +infant son disappeared as suddenly and completely as if blotted out of +existence. + +That morning, Eric light-heartedly kissed wife and child good-by and +waved them a farewell that was to be the last. He rode down the winding +forest path to Quebec and they stood where the Chateau garden merged +into the forest of Charlesbourg Mountain. At noon, when he returned, for +him there existed neither wife nor child. For any trace of them that +could be found, both might have been supernaturally spirited away. The +great house, that had re-echoed to the boy's prattle, was deathly still; +and neither wife, nor child, answered his call. The nurse was summoned. +She was positive _Madame_ was amusing the boy across the hall, and +reassuringly bustled off to find mother and son in the next room, and +the next, and yet the next; to discover each in succession empty. + +Alarm spread to the Chateau servants. The simple _habitant_ maids were +questioned, but their only response was white-faced, blank amazement. + +_Madame_ not returned! + +_Madame_ not back! + +Mon Dieu! What had happened? And all the superstition of hillside lore +added to the fear on each anxious face. Shortly after Monsieur went to +the city, _Madame_ had taken her little son out as usual for a morning +airing, and had been seen walking up and down the paths tracked through +the garden snow. Had _Monsieur_ examined the clearing between the house +and the forest? _Monsieur_ could see for himself the snow was too deep +and crusty among the trees for _Madame_ to go twenty paces into the +woods. Besides, foot-marks could be traced from the garden to the bush. +He need not fear wild animals. They were receding into the mountains as +spring advanced. Let him take another look about the open; and Hamilton +tore out-doors, followed by the whole household; but from the Chateau in +the center of the glade to the encircling border of snow-laden +evergreens there was no trace of wife or child. + +Then Eric laughed at his own growing fears. Miriam must be in the house. +So the search of the old hall, that had once resounded to the drunken +tread of gay French grandees, began again. From hidden chamber in the +vaulted cellar to attic rooms above, not a corner of the Chateau was +left unexplored. Had any one come and driven her to the city? But that +was impossible. The roads were drifted the height of a horse and there +were no marks of sleigh runners on either side of the riding path. Could +she possibly have ventured a few yards down the main road to an +encampment of Indians, whose squaws after Indian custom made much of the +white baby? Neither did that suggestion bring relief; for the Indians +had broken camp early in the morning and there was only a dirty patch of +littered snow, where the wigwams had been. + +The alarm now became a panic. Hamilton, half-crazed and unable to +believe his own senses, began wondering whether he had nightmare. He +thought he might waken up presently and find the dead weight smothering +his chest had been the boy snuggling close. He was vaguely conscious it +was strange of him to continue sleeping with that noise of shouting men +and whining hounds and snapping branches going on in the forest. The +child's lightest cry generally broke the spell of a nightmare; but the +din of terrified searchers rushing through the woods and of echoes +rolling eerily back from the white hills convinced him this was no +dream-land. Then, the distinct crackle of trampled brushwood and the +scratch of spines across his face called him back to an unendurable +reality. + +"The thing is utterly impossible, Hamilton," I cried, when in short +jerky sentences, as if afraid to give thought rein, he had answered my +uncle's questioning. "Impossible! Utterly impossible!" + +"I would to God it were!" he moaned. + +"It was daylight, Eric?" asked Mr. Jack MacKenzie. + +He nodded moodily. + +"And she couldn't be lost in Charlesbourg forest?" I added, taking up +the interrogations where my uncle left off. + +"No trace--not a footprint!" + +"And you're quite sure she isn't in the house?" replied my relative. + +"Quite!" he answered passionately. + +"And there was an Indian encampment a few yards down the road?" +continued Mr. MacKenzie, undeterred. + +"Oh! What has that to do with it?" he asked petulantly, springing to his +feet. "They'd moved off long before I went back. Besides, Indians don't +run off with white women. Haven't I spent my life among them? I should +know their ways!" + +"But my dear fellow!" responded the elder trader, "so do I know their +ways. If she isn't in the Chateau and isn't in the woods and isn't in +the garden, can't you see, the Indian encampment is the only possible +explanation?" + +The lines on his face deepened. Fire flashed from his gleaming eyes, and +if ever I have seen murder written on the countenance of man, it was on +Hamilton's. + +"What tribe were they, anyway?" I asked, trying to speak indifferently, +for every question was knife-play on a wound. + +"Mongrel curs, neither one thing nor the other, Iroquois canoemen, +French half-breeds intermarried with Sioux squaws! They're all connected +with the North-West Company's crews. The Nor'-Westers leave here for +Fort William when the ice breaks up. This riff-raff will follow in their +own dug-outs!" + +"Know any of them?" persisted my uncle. + +"No, I don't think I--Let me see! By Jove! Yes, Gillespie!" he shouted, +"Le Grand Diable was among them!" + +"What about Diable?" I asked, pinning him down to the subject, for his +mind was lost in angry memories. + +"What about him? He's my one enemy among the Indians," he answered in +tones thick and ominously low. "I thrashed him within an inch of his +life at Isle a la Crosse. Being a Nor'-Wester, he thought it fine game +to pillage the kit of a Hudson's Bay; so he stole a silver-mounted +fowling-piece which my grandfather had at Culloden. By Jove, Gillespie! +The Nor'-Westers have a deal of blood to answer for, stirring up those +Indians against traders; and if they've brought this on me----" + +"Did you get it back?" I interrupted, referring to the fowling-piece, +neither my uncle, nor I, offering any defense for the Nor'-Westers. I +knew there were two sides to this complaint from a Hudson's Bay man. + +"No! That's why I nearly finished him; but the more I clubbed, the more +he jabbered impertinence, '_Cooloo! cooloo! qu' importe!_ It doesn't +matter!' By Jove! I made it matter!" + +"Is that all about Diable, Eric?" continued my uncle. + +He ran his fingers distractedly back through his long, black hair, rose, +and, coming over to me, laid a trembling hand on each shoulder. + +"Gillespie!" he muttered through hard-set teeth. "It isn't all. I didn't +think at the time, but the morning after the row with that red devil I +found a dagger stuck on the outside of my hut-door. The point was +through a fresh sprouted leaflet. A withered twig hung over the blade." + +"Man! Are you mad?" cried Jack MacKenzie. "He must be the very devil +himself. You weren't married then--He couldn't mean----" + +"I thought it was an Indian threat," interjected Hamilton, "that if I +had downed him in the fall, when the branches were bare, he meant to +have his revenge in spring when the leaves were green; but you know I +left the country that fall." + +"You were wrong, Eric!" I blurted out impetuously, the terrible +significance of that threat dawning upon me. "That wasn't the meaning at +all." + +Then I stopped; for Hamilton was like a palsied man, and no one asked +what those tokens of a leaflet pierced by a dagger and an old branch +hanging to the knife might mean. + +Mr. Jack MacKenzie was the first to pull himself together. + +"Come," he shouted. "Gather up your wits! To the camping ground!" and he +threw open the door. + +Thereupon, we three flung through the club-room to the astonishment of +the gossips, who had been waiting outside for developments in the +quarrel with Colonel Adderly. At the outer porch, Hamilton laid a hand +on Mr. MacKenzie's shoulder. + +"Don't come," he begged hurriedly. "There's a storm blowing. It's rough +weather, and a rough road, full of drifts! Make my peace with the man I +struck." + +Then Eric and I whisked out into the blackness of a boisterous, windy +night. A moment later, our horses were dashing over iced cobble-stones +with the clatter of pistol-shots. + +"It will snow," said I, feeling a few flakes driven through the darkness +against my face; but to this remark Hamilton was heedless. + +"It will snow, Eric," I repeated. "The wind's veered north. We must get +out to the camp before all traces are covered. How far by the Beauport +road?" + +"Five miles," said he, and I knew by the sudden scream and plunge of his +horse that spurs were dug into raw sides. We turned down that steep, +break-neck, tortuous street leading from Upper Town to the valley of the +St. Charles. The wet thaw of mid-day had frozen and the road was +slippery as a toboggan slide. We reined our horses in tightly, to +prevent a perilous stumbling of fore-feet, and by zigzagging from side +to side managed to reach the foot of the hill without a single fall. +Here, we again gave them the bit; and we were presently thundering +across the bridge in a way that brought the keeper out cursing and +yelling for his toll. I tossed a coin over my shoulder and we galloped +up the elm-lined avenue leading to that Charlesbourg retreat, where +French Bacchanalians caroused before the British conquest, passed the +thatch-roofed cots of _habitants_ and, turning suddenly to the right, +followed a seldom frequented road, where snow was drifted heavily. Here +we had to slacken pace, our beasts sinking to their haunches and +snorting through the white billows like a modern snow-plow. + +Hamilton had spoken not a word. + +Clouds were massing on the north. Overhead a few stars glittered against +the black, and the angry wind had the most mournful wail I have ever +heard. How the weird undertones came like the cries of a tortured child, +and the loud gusts with the shriek of demons! + +"Gillespie," called Eric's voice tremulous with anguish, +"listen--Rufus--listen! Do you hear anything? Do you hear any one +calling for help? Is that a child crying?" + +"No, Eric, old man," said I, shivering in my saddle. "I hear--I hear +nothing at all but the wind." + +But my hesitancy belied the truth of that answer; for we both heard +sounds, which no one can interpret but he whose well beloved is lost in +the storm. + +And the wind burst upon us again, catching my empty denial and tossing +the words to upper air with eldritch laughter. Then there was a lull, +and I felt rather than heard the choking back of stifled moans and knew +that the man by my side, who had held iron grip of himself before other +eyes, was now giving vent to grief in the blackness of night. + +At last a red light gleamed from the window of a low cot. That was the +signal for us to turn abruptly to the left, entering the forest by a +narrow bridle-path that twisted among the cedars. As if to look down in +pity, the moon shone for a moment above the ragged edge of a storm +cloud, and all the snow-laden evergreens stood out stately, shadowy and +spectral, like mourners for the dead. + +Again the road took to right-about at a sharp angle and the broad +Chateau, with its noble portico and numerous windows all alight, +suddenly loomed up in the center of a forest-clearing on the mountain +side. Where the path to the garden crossed a frozen stream was a small +open space. Here the Indians had been encamped. We hallooed for servants +and by lantern light examined every square inch of the smoked snow and +rubbish heaps. Bits of tin in profusion, stones for the fire, tent +canvas, ends of ropes and tattered rags lay everywhere over the black +patch. Snow was beginning to fall heavily in great flakes that obscured +earth and air. Not a thing had we found to indicate any trace of the +lost woman and child, until I caught sight of a tiny, blue string +beneath a piece of rusty metal. Kicking the tin aside, I caught the +ribbon up. When I saw on the lower end a child's finely beaded moccasin, +I confess I had rather felt the point of Le Grand Diable's dagger at my +own heart than have shown that simple thing to Hamilton. + +Then the snow-storm broke upon us in white billows blotting out +everything. We spread a sheet on the ground to preserve any marks of +the campers, but the drifting wind drove us indoors and we were +compelled to cease searching. All night long Eric and I sat before the +roaring grate fire of the hunting-room, he leaning forward with chin in +his palms and saying few words, I offering futile suggestions and +uttering mad threats, but both utterly at a loss what to do. We knew +enough of Indian character to know what not to do. That was, raise an +outcry, which might hasten the cruelty of Le Grand Diable. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +NOVICE AND EXPERT. + + +Though many years have passed since that dismal storm in the spring of +1815, when Hamilton and I spent a long disconsolate night of enforced +waiting, I still hear the roaring of the northern gale, driving round +the house-corners as if it would wrench all eaves from the roof. It +shrieked across the garden like malignant furies, rushed with the boom +of a sea through the cedars and pines, and tore up the mountain slope +till all the many voices of the forest were echoing back a thousand +tumultuous discords. Again, I see Hamilton gazing at the leaping flames +of the log fire, as if their frenzied motion reflected something of his +own burning grief. Then, the agony of our utter helplessness, as long as +the storm raged, would prove too great for his self-control. Rising, he +would pace back and forward the full length of the hunting-room till his +eye would be caught by some object with which the boy had played. He +would put this carefully away, as one lays aside the belongings of the +dead. Afterwards, lanterns, which we had placed on the oak center table +on coming in, began to smoke and give out a pungent, burning smell, and +each of us involuntarily walked across to a window and drew aside the +curtains to see how daylight was coming on. The white glare of early +morning flooded the room, but the snow-storm had changed to driving +sleet and the panes were iced from corner to corner with frozen +rain-drift. How we dragged through two more days, while the gale raved +with unabated fury, I do not know. Poor Eric was for rushing into the +blinding whirl, that turned earth and air into one white tornado; but he +could not see twice the length of his own arm, and we prevailed on him +to come back. On the third night, the wind fell like a thing that had +fretted out its strength. Morning revealed an ocean of billowy drifts, +crusted over by the frozen sleet and reflecting a white dazzle that made +one's eyes blink. Great icicles hung from the naked branches of the +sheeted pines and snow was wreathed in fantastic forms among the cedars. + +We had laid our plans while we waited. After lifting the canvas from the +camping-ground and seeking in vain for more trace of the fugitives, we +despatched a dozen different search-parties that very morning, Eric +leading those who were to go on the river-side of the Chateau, and I +some well-trained bushrangers picked from the _habitants_ of the +hillside, who could track the forest to every Indian haunt within a +week's march of the city. After putting my men on a trail with +instructions to send back an Indian courier to report each night, I +hunted up an old _habitant_ guide, named Paul Larocque, who had often +helped me to thread the woods of Quebec after big game. Now Paul was +habitually as silent as a dumb animal, and sportsmen had nicknamed him +The Mute; but what he lacked in speech he made up like other wild +creatures in a wonderful acuteness of eye and ear. Indeed, it was +commonly believed among trappers that Paul possessed some nameless sense +by which he could actually _feel_ the presence of an enemy before +ordinary men could either see, or hear. For my part, I would be willing +to pit that "feel" of Paul's against the nose of any hound that +dog-fanciers could back. + +"Paul," said I, as the _habitant_ stood before me licking the short stem +of an inverted clay pipe, "there's an Indian, a bad Indian, an Iroquois, +Paul,"--I was particular in describing the Indian as an Iroquois, for +Paul's wife was a Huron from Lorette--"An Iroquois, who stole a white +woman and a little boy from the Chateau three days ago, in the morning." + +There, I paused to let the facts soak in; for The Mute digested +information in small morsels. Grizzled, stunted and chunky, he was not +at all the picturesque figure which fancy has painted of his class. +Instead of the red toque, which artists place on the heads of +_habitants_, he wore a cloth cap with ear flaps coming down to be tied +under his chin. His jacket was an ill-fitting garment, the cast-off coat +of some well-to-do man, and his trousers slouched in ample folds above +brightly beaded moccasins. When I paused, Paul fixed his eyes on an +invisible spot in the snow and ruminated. Then he hitched the baggy +trousers up, pulled the red scarf, that held them to his waist, +tighter, and, taking his eyes off the snow, looked up for me to go on. + +"That Iroquois, who belongs to the North-West trappers----" + +"_Pays d'En Haut?_" asks Paul, speaking for the first time. + +"Yes," I answered, "and they all disappeared with the woman and the +child the day before the storm." + +The Mute's eyes were back on the snow. + +"Now," said I, "I'll make you a rich man if you take me straight to the +place where he's hiding." + +Paul's eyes looked up with the question of how much. + +"Five pounds a day." This was four more than we paid for the cariboo +hunts. + +Again he stood thinking, then darted off into the forest like a hare; +but I knew his strange, silent ways, and confidently awaited his return. +How he could get two pair of snow-shoes and two poles inside of five +minutes, I do not attempt to explain, unless some of his numerous +half-breed youngsters were at hand in the woods; but he was back again +all equipped for a long tramp, and as soon as I had laced on the +racquets, we were skimming over the drift like a boat on billows. In the +mazy confusion of snow and underbrush, no one but Paul would have found +and kept that tangled, forest path. Where great trunks had fallen across +the way, Paul planted his pole and took the barrier at a bound. Then he +raced on at a gait which was neither a run nor a walk, but an easy trot +common to the _coureurs-des-bois_. The encased branches snapped like +glass when we brushed past, and so heavily were snow and icicles frozen +to the trees we might have been in some grotesque crystal-walled cavern. +The _habitant_ spoke not a word, but on we pressed over the brushwood, +now so packed with snow and crusted ice, our snow-shoes were not once +tripped by loose branches, and we glided from drift to drift. In vain I +tried to discern a trail by the broken thicket on either side, and I +noticed that my guide was keeping his course by following the marks +blazed on trees. At one place we came to a steep, clear slope, where the +earth had fallen sheer away from the hillside and snow had filled the +incline. First prodding forward to feel if the snow-bank were solid, +Paul promptly sat down on the rear end of his snow-shoes, and, quicker +than I can tell it, tobogganed down to the valley. I came leaping +clumsily from point to point with my pole, like a ski-jumping Norwegian, +risking my neck at every bound. Then we coursed along the valley, the +_habitant's_ eyes still on the trees, and once he stopped to emit a +gurgling laugh at a badly hacked trunk, beneath which was a snowed-up +sap trough; but I could not divine whether Paul's mirth were over a +prospect of sugaring-off in the maple-woods, or at some foolish +_habitant_ who had tapped the maple too early. How often had I known my +guide to exhaust city athletes in these swift marches of his! But I had +been schooled to his pace from boyhood and kept up with him at every +step, though we were going so fast I lost all track of my bearings. + +"Where to, Paul?" I asked with a vague suspicion that we were heading +for the Huron village at Lorette. "To Lorette, Paul?" + +But Paul condescended only a grunt and whisked suddenly round a headland +up a narrow gorge, which seemed to lead to the very heart of the +mountains and might have sheltered any number of fugitives. In the gorge +we stopped to take a light meal of gingerbread horses--a cake that is +the peculiar glory of the _habitant_--dried herrings and sea biscuits. +By the sun, I knew it was long past noon and that we had been traveling +northwest. I also vaguely guessed that Paul's object was to intercept +the North-West trappers, if they had planned to slip away from the St. +Lawrence through the bush to the Upper Ottawa, where they could meet +north-bound boats. But not one syllable had my taciturn guide uttered. +Clambering up the steep, snowy banks of the gorge, we found ourselves in +the upper reaches of a mountain, where the trees fell away in scraggy +clumps and the snow stretched up clear and unbroken to the hill-crest. +Paul grunted, licked his pipe-stem significantly and pointed his pole to +the hill-top. The dark peak of a solitary wigwam appeared above the +snow. He pointed again to the fringe of woods below us. A dozen wigwams +were visible among the trees and smoke curled up from a central +camp-fire. + +"_Voila, Monsieur?_" said the _habitant_, which made four words for that +day. + +The Mute then fell to my rear and we first approached the general camp. +The campers were evidently thieves as well as hunters; for frozen pork +hung with venison from the branches of several trees. The sap trough +might also have belonged to them, which would explain Paul's laugh, as +the whole paraphernalia of a sugaring-off was on the outskirts of the +encampment. + +"Not the Indians we're after," said I, noting the signs of permanency; +but Paul Larocque shoved me forward with the end of his pole and a +curious, almost intelligent, expression came on the dull, pock-pitted +face. Strangely enough, as I looked over my shoulder to the guide, I +caught sight of an Indian figure climbing up the bank in our very +tracks. The significance of this incident was to reveal itself later. + +As usual, a pack of savage dogs flew out to announce our coming with +furious barking. But I declare the _habitant_ was so much like any +ragged Indian, the creatures recognized him and left off their vicious +snarl. Only the shrill-voiced children, who rushed from the wigwams; +evinced either surprise or interest in our arrival. Men and women were +haunched about the fire, above which simmered several pots with the +savory odor of cooking meat. I do not think a soul of the company as +much as turned a head on our approach. Though they saw us plainly, they +sat stolid and imperturbable, after the manner of their race, waiting +for us to announce ourselves. Some of the squaws and half-breed women +were heaping bark on the fire. Indians sat straight-backed round the +circle. White men, vagabond trappers from anywhere and everywhere, lay +in all variety of lazy attitudes on buffalo robes and caribou skins. + +I had known, as every one familiar with Quebec's family histories must +know, that the sons of old seigneurs sometimes inherited the adventurous +spirit, which led their ancestors of three centuries ago to exchange the +gayeties of the French court for the wild life of the new world. +I was aware this spirit frequently transformed seigneurs +into bush-rangers and descendants of the royal blood into +_coureurs-des-bois_. But it is one thing to know a fact, another to see +that fact in living embodiment; and in this case, the living embodiment +was Louis Laplante, a school-fellow of Laval, whom, to my amazement, I +now saw, with a beard of some months' growth and clad in buckskin, lying +at full length on his back among that villainous band of nondescript +trappers. Something of the surprise I felt must have shown on my face, +for as Louis recognized me he uttered a shout of laughter. + +"Hullo, Gillespie!" he called with the saucy nonchalance which made him +both a favorite and a torment at the seminary. "Are you among the +prophets?" and he sat up making room for me on his buffalo robe. + +"I'll wager, Louis," said I, shaking his hand heartily and accepting the +proffered seat, "I'll wager it's prophets spelt with an 'f' brings you +here." For the young rake had been one of the most notorious borrowers +at the seminary. + +"Good boy!" laughed he, giving my shoulder a clap. "I see your time was +not wasted with me. Now, what the devil," he asked as I surveyed the +motley throng of fat, coarse-faced squaws and hard-looking men who +surrounded him, "now, what the devil's brought you here?" + +"What's the same, to yourself, Louis lad?" said I. He laughed the merry, +heedless laugh that had been the distraction of the class-room. + +"Do you need to ask with such a galaxy of nut-brown maidens?" and Louis +looked with the assurance of privileged impudence straight across the +fire into the hideous, angry face of a big squaw, who was glaring at me. +The creature was one to command attention. She might have been a great, +bronze statue, a type of some ancient goddess, a symbol of fury, or +cruelty. Her eyes fastened themselves on mine and held me, whether I +would or no, while her whole face darkened. + +"The lady evidently objects to having her place usurped, Louis," I +remarked, for he was watching the silent duel between the native woman's +questioning eyes and mine. + +"The gentleman wants to know if the lady objects to having her place +usurped?" called Louis to the squaw. + +At that the woman flinched and looked to Laplante. Of course, she did +not understand our words; but I think she was suspicious we were +laughing at her. There was a vindictive flash across her face, then the +usual impenetrable expression of the Indian came over her features. I +noticed that her cheeks and forehead were scarred, and a cut had laid +open her upper lip from nose to teeth. + +"You must know that the lady is the daughter of a chief and a fighter," +whispered Louis in my ear. + +I might have known she was above common rank from the extraordinary +number of trinkets she wore. Pendants hung from her ears like the +pendulum of a clock. She had a double necklace of polished bear's claws +and around her waist was a girdle of agates, which to me proclaimed that +she was of a far-western tribe. In the girdle was an ivory-handled +knife, which had doubtless given as many scars as its owner displayed. + +"What tribe, Louis?" I asked. + +"I'll be hanged, now, if I'm not jealous," he began. "You'll stare the +lady out of countenance----" But at this moment the Indian who had come +up the bank behind us came round and interrupted Laplante's merriment by +tossing a piece of bethumbed paper between my comrade's knees. + +"The deuce!" exclaimed Louis, bulging his tongue into one cheek and +glancing at me with a queer, quizzical look as he unfolded and read the +paper. + +If he had not spoken I might not have turned; but having turned I could +not but notice two things. Louis jerked back from me, as if I might try +to read the soiled note in his hand, and in raising the paper displayed +on the back the stamp of the commissariat department from Quebec +Citadel. + +Neither Laplante's suppressed surprise, nor my observations of his +movement, escaped the big squaw. She came quickly round the fire to us +both. + +"Give me that," she commanded, holding out her hand to the French youth. + +"The deuce I will," he returned, twisting the paper up in his clenched +fist. Half in jest, half in earnest, just as Louis used to be punished +at the seminary, she gave him a prompt box on the ear. He took it in +perfect good-nature. And the whole encampment laughed. The squaw went +back to the other side of the fire. Laplante leaned forward and threw +the paper towards the flames; but without his knowledge, he overshot the +mark; and when the trader was looking elsewhere the big squaw stooped, +picked up the coveted note and slipped it into her skirt pocket. + +"Now, Louis, nonsense aside," I began. + +"With all my soul, if I have one," said he, lying back languidly with a +perceptible cooling of the cordiality he had first evinced. + +I told him my errand, and that I wished to search every wigwam for trace +of the lost woman and child. He listened with shut eyes. + +"It isn't," I explained in a low voice, eager to arouse his interest, +"it isn't in the least, Laplante, that we suspect these people; but you +know the kidnappers might have traded the clothing to your people----" + +"Oh! Go ahead!" he interjected impatiently. "Don't beat round the bush! +What do you want of me?" + +"To go through the tents with me and help me. By Jove! Laplante! I +thought at least a spark of the man would suggest that without my +speaking," I broke out hotly. + +He was on his feet with an alacrity that brought old Paul Larocque round +to my side and the squaw to his. + +"Curse you," he cried out roughly, shoving the squaw back. For a moment +I was uncertain whether he were addressing the woman or myself. "You +mind your own business and go to your Indian! Here, Gillespie, I'll do +the tents with you. Get off with you," he muttered at the squaw, +rumbling out a lingo of persuasive expletives; and he led the way to the +first wigwam. + +But the squaw was not to be dismissed; for when I followed the +Frenchman, she closed in behind looking thunder, not at her abuser, but +at me; and The Mute, fearing foul play and pole in hand, loyally brought +up the rear of our strange procession. I shall not retail that search +through robes and skins and blankets and boxes, in foul-smelling, +vermin-infested wigwams. It was fruitless. I only recall the lowering +face of the big squaw looking over my shoulder at every turn, with +heavy brows contracted and gashed lips grinning an evil, malicious +challenge. I thought she kept her hands uncomfortably near the ivory +handle in the agate belt; but Larocque, good fellow, never took his +beady eyes off those same hands and kept a grip of the leaping pole. + +Thus we examined the tents and made a circuit of the people round the +fire, but found nothing to reveal the whereabouts of Miriam and the +child. Laplante and I were on one side of the robe, Larocque and the +squaw on the other. + +"And why is that tent apart from the rest and who is in it?" I asked +Laplante, pointing to the lone tepee on the crest of the hill. + +The fire cracked so loudly I became aware there was ominous silence +among the loungers of the camp. They were listening as well as watching. +Up to this time I had not thought they were paying the slightest +attention to us. Laplante was not answering, and when I faced him +suddenly I found the squaw's eyes fastened on his, holding them whether +he would or no, just as she had mine. + +"Eh! man?" I cried, seizing him fiercely, a nameless suspicion getting +possession of me. "Why don't you answer?" + +The spell was broken. He turned to me nonchalantly, as he used to face +accusers in the school-days of long ago, and spoke almost gently, with +downcast eyes, and a quiet, deprecating smile. + +"You know, Rufus," he answered, using the schoolboy name. "We should +have told you before. But remember we didn't invite you here. We didn't +lead you into it." + +"Well?" I demanded. + +"Well," he replied in a voice too low for any of the listeners but the +squaw to hear, "there's a very bad case of smallpox up in that tent and +we're keeping the man apart till he gets better. That, in fact, is why +we're all here. You must go. It is not safe." + +"Thanks, Laplante," said I. "Good-by." But he did not offer me his hand +when I made to take leave. + +"Come," he said. "I'll go as far as the gorge with you;" and he stood on +the embankment and waved as we passed into the lengthening shadows of +the valley. + +Now, in these days of health officers and vaccination, people can have +no idea of the terrors of a smallpox scourge at the beginning of this +century. The _habitant_ is as indifferent to smallpox as to measles, and +accepts both as dispensations of Providence by exposing his children to +the contagion as early as possible; but I was not so minded, and hurried +down the gorge as fast as my snow-shoes would carry me. Then I +remembered that the Indian population of the north had been reduced to a +skeleton of its former numbers by the pestilence in 1780, and recalled +that my Uncle Jack had said the native's superstitious dread of this +disease knew no bounds. That recollection checked my sudden flight. If +the Indians had such fear, why had this band camped within a mile of +the pest tent? It would be more like Indian character to reverse +Samaritan practises and leave the victim to die. This man might, of +course, be a French-Canadian trapper, but I would take no risks of a +trick, so I ordered Paul to lead me back to that tepee. + +The Mute seemed to understand I had no wish to be seen by the campers. +He skirted round the base of the hill till we were on the side remote +from the tribe. Then he motioned me to remain in the gorge while he +scrambled up the cliff to reconnoitre. I knew he received a surprise as +soon as his head was on a level with the top of the bank; for he curled +himself up behind a snow-pile and gave a low whistle for me. I was +beside him with one bound. We were not twenty pole-lengths from the +wigwam. There was no appearance of life. The tent flaps had been laced +up and a solitary watch-dog was tied to a stake before the entrance. +Down the valley the setting sun shone through the naked trees like a +wall of fire, and dyed all the glistening snow-drifts primrose and opal. +At one place in the forest the red light burst through and struck +against the tent on the hill-top, giving the skins a peculiar appearance +of being streaked with blood. The faintest breath of wind, a mere sigh +of moving air-currents peculiar to snow-padded areas, came up from the +woods with far-away echoes of the trappers' voices. Perhaps this was +heard by the watch-dog, or it may have felt the disturbing presence of +my half-wild _habitant_ guide; for it sat back on its haunches and +throwing up its head, let out the most doleful howlings imaginable. + +"Oh! _Monsieur_," shuddered out the superstitious habitant shivering +like an aspen leaf, "sick man moan,--moan,--moan hard! He die, +_Monsieur_, he die, he die now when dog cry lak dat," and full of fear +he scrambled down into the gorge, making silent gestures for me to +follow. + +For a time--but not long, I must acknowledge--I lay there alone, +watching and listening. Paul's ears might hear the moans of a sick man, +mine could not: nor would I return to the Chateau without ascertaining +for a certainty what was in that wigwam. Slipping off the snow-shoes, I +rose and tip-toed over the snow with the full intention of silencing the +dog with my pole; but I was suddenly arrested by the distinct sound of +pain-racked groaning. Then the brute of a dog detected my approach and +with a furious leaping that almost hung him with his own rope set up a +vicious barking. Suddenly the black head of an Indian, or trapper, +popped through the tent flaps and a voice shouted in perfect +English--"Go away! Go away! The pest! The pest!" + +"Who has smallpox?" I bawled back. + +"A trader, a Nor'-Wester," said he. "If you have anything for him lay it +on the snow and I'll come for it." + +As honor pledged me to serve Hamilton until he found his wife, I was not +particularly anxious to exchange civilities at close range with a man +from a smallpox tent; so I quickly retraced my way to the gorge and +hurried homeward with The Mute. My old school-fellow's sudden change +towards me when he received the letter written on Citadel paper, and the +big squaw's suspicion of my every movement, now came back to me with a +significance I had not felt when I was at the camp. Either intuitions +like those of my _habitant_ guide, which instinctively put out feelers +with the caution of an insect's antennae for the presence of vague, +unknown evil, lay dormant in my own nature and had been aroused by the +incidents at the camp, or else the mind, by the mere fact of holding +information in solution, widens its own knowledge. For now, in addition +to the letter from the Citadel and the squaw's animosity, came the one +missing factor--Adderly. I felt, rather than knew, that Louis Laplante +had deceived me. Had he lied? A lie is the clumsy invention of the +novice. An expert accomplishes his deceit without anything so grossly +and tangibly honest as a lie; and Louis was an expert. Though I had not +a vestige of proof, I could have sworn that Adderly and the squaw and +Louis were leagued against me for some dark purpose. I was indeed +learning the first lessons of the trapper's life: never to open my lips +on my own affairs to another man, and never to believe another man when +he opened his lips to me. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LAUNCHED INTO THE UNKNOWN + + +"You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head off," ejaculated +Mr. Jack MacKenzie, with ferocious emphasis. I had been relating my +experience with the campers; and was recounting how the man put his head +out of the tent and warned me of smallpox. But my uncle was a gentleman +of the old school and had a fine contempt for quarantine. + +"Knocked his head off, knocked his head off, Sir," he continued, +explosively. "Make it a point to knock the head off anything that stands +in your way, Sir----" + +"But you don't suppose," I expostulated, about to voice my own +suspicions. + +"_Suppose!_" he roared out. "I make it a point never to _suppose_ +anything. I act on facts, Sir! You wanted to go into that wigwam; didn't +you? Well then, why the deuce didn't you go, and knock the head off +anything that opposed you?" + +Being highly successful in all his own dealings, Mr. Jack MacKenzie +could not tolerate failure in other people. A month of vigilant +searching had yielded not the slightest inkling of Miriam and the child; +and this fact ignited all the gunpowder of my uncle's fiery +temperament. We had felt so sure Le Grand Diable's band of vagabonds +would hang about till the brigades of the North-West Company's tripmen +set out for the north, all our efforts were spent in a vain search for +some trace of the rascals in the vicinity of Quebec. His gypsy +nondescripts would hardly dare to keep the things taken from Miriam and +the child. These would be traded to other tribes; so day and night, Mr. +MacKenzie, Eric and I, with hired spies, dogged the footsteps of +trappers, who were awaiting the breaking up of the ice; shadowed +_voyageurs_, who passed idle days in the dram-shops of Lower Town, and +scrutinized every native who crossed our path, ever on the alert for a +glimpse of Diable, or his associates. Diligently we tracked all Indian +trails through Charlesbourg forest and examined every wigwam within a +week's march of the city. Le Grand Diable was not likely to be among his +ancestral enemies at Lorette, but his half-breed followers might have +traded with the Hurons; and the lodges at Lorette were also searched. +Watches were set along the St. Lawrence, so no one could approach an +opening before the ice broke up, or launch a canoe after the water had +cleared, without our knowledge. But Le Grand Diable and his band had +vanished as mysteriously as Miriam. It was as impossible to learn where +the Iroquois had gone as to follow the wind. His disappearance was +altogether as unaccountable as the lost woman's, and this, of itself, +confirmed our suspicions. Had he sold, or slain his captives, he would +not have remained in hiding; and the very fruitlessness of the search +redoubled our zeal. + +The conviction that Louis Laplante had, somehow or other, played me +false, stuck in my mind like the depression of a bad dream. Again and +again, I related the circumstances to my uncle; but he "pished," and +"tushed," and "pooh-poohed," the very idea of any kidnappers remaining +so near the city and giving me free run of their wigwams. My reasonless +persistence was beginning to irritate him. Indeed, on one occasion, he +informed me that I had as many vagaries in my head as a "bed-ridden +hag," and with great fervor he "wished to the Lord there was a law in +this land for the ham-stringing of such fool idiots, as that _habitant_ +Mute, who led me such a wild-goose chase." + +In spite of this and many other jeremiades, I once more donned +snow-shoes and with Paul for guide paid a second visit to the campers of +the gorge. And a second time, I was welcomed by Louis and taken through +the wigwams. The smallpox tent was no longer on the crest of the hill; +and when I asked after the patient, Louis without a word pointed +solemnly to a snow-mound, where the man lay buried. But I did not see +the big squaw, nor the face that had emerged from the tent flaps to wave +me off; and when I also inquired after these, Louis' face darkened. He +told me bluntly I was asking too many questions and began to swear in a +mongrel jargon of French and English that my conduct was an insult he +would take from no man. But Louis was ever short of temper. I remembered +that of old. Presently his little flare-up died down, and he told me +that the woman and her husband had gone north through the woods to join +some crews on the Upper Ottawa. From the talk of the others, I gathered +that, having disposed of their hunt to the commissariat department at +the Citadel, they intended to follow the same trail within a few days. I +tried without questioning to learn what crews they were to join; but +whether with purpose, or by chance, the conversation drifted from my +lead and I had to return to the city without satisfaction on that point. + +Meanwhile, Hamilton rested neither night nor day. In the morning with a +few hurried words he would outline the plan for the day. At night he +rode back to the Chateau with such eager questioning in his eyes when +they met mine, I knew he had nothing better to report to me, than I to +him. After a silent meal, he would ride through the dark forest on a +fresh mount. How and where he passed those sleepless nights, I do not +know. Thus had a month slipped away; and we had done everything and +accomplished nothing. Baffled, I had gone to confer with Mr. Jack +MacKenzie and had, as usual, exasperated him with the reiterated +conviction that Adderly and the Citadel writing paper and Louis Laplante +had some connection with the malign influence that was balking our +efforts. + +"Fudge!" exclaims my uncle, stamping about his study and puffing with +indignation. "You should have knocked that blasted quarantine's head +off!" + +"You've said that several times already, Mr. MacKenzie," I put in, +having a touch of his own peppery temper from my mother's side. "What +about Adderly's rage?" + +"Adderly's been in Montreal since the night of the row. For the Lord's +sake, boy, do you expect to find the woman by believing in that bloated +bugaboo?" + +"But the Citadel paper?" I persisted. + +"Of course you've never been told, Rufus Gillespie," he began, choking +down his impatience with the magnitude of my stupidity, "that the +commissariat buys supplies from hunters?" + +"That doesn't explain the big squaw's suspicions and Louis' own +conduct." + +"That Louis!" says my uncle. "Pah! That son of an inflated old seigneur! +A fig for the buck! Not enough brains in his pate to fill a peanut!" + +"But there might be enough evil in his heart to wreck a life," and that +was the first argument to pierce my uncle's scepticism. The keen eyes +glanced out at me as if there might be some hope for my intelligence, +and he took several turns about the room. + +"Hm! If you're of that mind, you'd better go out and excavate the +smallpox," was his sententious conclusion. "And if it's a hoax, you'd +better----" and he puckered his brows in thought. + +"What?" I asked eagerly. + +"Join the traders' crews and track the villains west," he answered with +the promptitude of one who decides quickly and without vacillation. "O +Lord! If I were only young! But to think of a man too stout and old to +buckle on his own snow-shoes hankering for that life again!" And my +uncle heaved a deep sigh. + +Now, no one, who has not lived the wild, free life of the northern +trader, can understand the strange fascinations which for the moment +eclipsed in this courteous and chivalrous old gentleman's mind all +thought of the poor woman, with whom my own fate was interwoven. But I, +who have lived in the lonely fastnesses of the splendid freedom, know +full well what surging recollections of danger and daring, of success +and defeat, of action in which one faces and laughs at death, and calm +in which one sounds the unutterable depths of very infinity--thronged +the old trader's soul. Indeed, when he spoke, it was as if the sentence +of my own life had been pronounced; and my whole being rose up to salute +destiny. I take it, there is in every one some secret and cherished +desire for a chosen vocation to which each looks forward with hope up to +the meridian of life, and to which many look back with regret after the +meridian. Of prophetic instincts and intuitions and impressions and +feelings and much more of the same kind going under a different name, I +say nothing, I only set down as a fact, to be explained how it may, +that all the way out to the gorge, with Paul, The Mute leading for a +third time, I could have sworn there would be no corpse in that +snow-covered grave. For was it not written in my inner consciousness +that destiny had appointed me to the wild, free life of the north? So I +was not surprised when Paul Larocque's spade struck sharply on a box. +Indians sleep their last sleep in the skins of the chase. Nor was I in +the least amazed when that same spade pried up the lid of cached +provisions instead of a coffin. Then I had ocular proof of what I knew +before, that Louis in word and conduct--but chiefly in conduct, which is +the way of the expert had--lied outrageously to me. + +When the ice broke up at the end of April, hunters were off for their +summer retreats and _voyageurs_ set out on the annual trip to the _Pays +d'En Haut_. This year the Hudson's Bay Company had organized a strong +fleet of canoemen under Mr. Colin Robertson, a former Nor'-Wester, to +proceed to Red River settlement by way of the Ottawa and the Sault +instead of entering the fur preserve by the usual route of Hudson Bay +and York Factory. From Le Grand Diable's former association with the +North-West Company it was probable he would be in Robertson's brigade. +Among the _voyageurs_ of both companies there was not a more expert +canoeman than this treacherous, thievish Iroquois. As steersman, he +could take a crew safely through knife-edge rocks with the swift +certainty of arrow flight. In spite of a reputation for embodying the +vices of white man and red--which gave him his unsavory title--it seemed +unlikely that the Hudson's Bay Company, now in the thick of an +aggressive campaign against its great rival, and about to despatch an +important flotilla from Montreal to Athabasca by way of the +Nor'-Westers' route, would dispense with the services of this dexterous +_voyageur_. On the other hand, the Nor'-Westers might bribe the Iroquois +to stay with them. + +Acting on these alternative possibilities, Hamilton and I determined to +track the fugitives north. We could leave hirelings to shadow the +movements of Indian bands about Quebec. Eric could re-engage with the +Hudson's Bay and get passage north with Colin Robertson's brigade, which +was to leave Lachine in a few weeks. My uncle had been a famous +_Bourgeois_ of the great North-West Company in his younger days, and +could secure me an immediate commission in the North-West Company. Thus +we could accompany the _voyageurs_ and runners of both companies. + +Hamilton's arrangements were easily made; and my uncle not only obtained +the commission for me, but, with a hearty clap on my back and a "Bravo, +boy! I knew the fur trader's fever would break out in you yet!" pinned +to the breast of my inner waistcoat the showy gold medallion which the +_Bourgeois_ wore on festive occasions. In very truth I oft had need of +its inspiriting motto: _Fortitude in Distress_. + +Feudal lords of the middle ages never waged more ruthless war on each +other than the two great fur trading companies of the north at the +beginning of the nineteenth century. Pierre de Raddison and Grosselier, +gentlemen adventurers of New France, first followed the waters of the +Outawa (Ottawa) northward, and passed from Lake Superior (the _kelche +gamme_ of Indian lore) to the great unknown fur preserve between Hudson +Bay and the Pacific Ocean; but the fur monopolists of the French court +in Quebec jealously obstructed the explorers' efforts to open up the +vast territory. De Raddison was compelled to carry his project to the +English court, and the English court, with a liberality not unusual in +those days, promptly deeded over the whole domain, the extent, locality +and wealth of which there was utter ignorance, to a fur trading +organization,--the newly formed "Company of Adventurers of England, +trading into Hudson's Bay," incorporated in 1670 with Prince Rupert +named as first governor. If monopolists of New France, through envy, +sacrificed Quebec's first claim to the unknown land, Frontenac made +haste to repair the loss. Father Albanel, a Jesuit, and other +missionaries led the way westward to the _Pays d'En Haut_. De Raddison +twice changed his allegiance, and when Quebec fell into the hands of the +British nearly a century later, the French traders were as active in the +northern fur preserve as their great rivals, the Ancient and Honorable +Hudson's Bay Company; but the Englishmen kept near the bay and the +Frenchmen with their _coureurs-des-bois_ pushed westward along the +chain of water-ays leading from Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg to the +Saskatchewan and Athabasca. Then came the Conquest, with the downfall of +French trade in the north country. But there remained the +_coureurs-des-bois_, or wood-rangers, the _Metis_, or French +half-breeds, the _Bois-Brules_, or plain runners--so called, it is +supposed, from the trapper's custom of blazing his path through the +forest. And on the ruins of French barter grew up a thriving English +trade, organized for the most part by enterprising citizens of Quebec +and Montreal, and absorbing within itself all the cast-off servants of +the old French companies. Such was the origin of the X. Y. and +North-West Companies towards the beginning of the nineteenth century. Of +these the most energetic and powerful--and therefore the most to be +feared by the Ancient and Honorable Hudson's Bay Company--was the +North-West Company, "_Les Bourgeois de la Compagnie du Nord-Ouest_," as +the partners designated themselves. + +From the time that the North-Westers gratuitously poured their secrets +into the ears of Lord Selkirk, and Lord Selkirk shrewdly got control of +the Hudson's Bay Company and began to infuse Nor'-Westers' zeal into the +stagnant workings of the older company, there arose such a feud among +these lords of the north as may be likened only to the pillaging of +robber barons in the middle ages. And this feud was at its height when I +cast in my lot with the North-West Fur Company, Nor'-Westers had reaped +a harvest of profits by leaving the beaten track of trade and pushing +boldly northward into the remote MacKenzie River region. This year the +Hudson's Bay had determined to enter the same area and employed a former +Nor'-Wester, Mr. Colin Robertson, to conduct a flotilla of canoes from +Lachine, Montreal, by way of the Nor'-Westers' route up the Ottawa to +the Saskatchewan and Athabasca. But while the Hudson's Bay Company could +ship their peltries directly to England from the bay, the Nor'-Westers +labored under the disadvantage of many delays and trans-shipments before +their goods reached seaboard at Montreal. Indeed, I have heard my uncle +tell of orders which he sent from the north to England in October. The +things ordered in October would be sent from London in March to reach +Montreal in mid-summer. There they would be re-packed in small +quantities for portaging and despatched from Montreal with the +Nor'-Western _voyageurs_ the following May, and if destined for the far +north would not reach the end of their long trip until October--two +years from the time of the order. Yet, under such conditions had the +Nor'-Westers increased in prosperity, while the Hudson's Bay, with its +annual ships at York Factory and Churchill, declined. + +When Lord Selkirk took hold of the Hudson's Bay there was a change. Once +a feud has begun, I know very well it is impossible to apportion the +blame each side deserves. Whether Selkirk timed his acts of aggression +during the American war of 1812-1814, when the route of the +Nor'-Westers was rendered unsafe--who can say? Whether he brought +colonists into the very heart of the disputed territory for the sake of +the colonists, or to be drilled into an army of defense for The Hudson's +Bay Company--who can say? Whether he induced his company to grant him a +vast area of land at the junction of the Red and Assiniboine +rivers--against which a minority of stockholders protested--for the sake +of these same colonists, or to hold a strategical point past which +North-Westers' cargoes must go--who can say? On these subjects, which +have been so hotly discussed both inside and outside law courts, without +any definite decision that I have ever heard, I refuse to pass judgment. +I can but relate events as I saw them and leave to each the right of a +personal decision. + +In 1815, Nor'-Westers' canoes were to leave Ste. Anne de Beaupre, twenty +miles east of Quebec, instead of Ste. Anne on the Ottawa, the usual +point of departure. We had not our full complement of men. Some of the +Indians and half-breeds had gone northwest overland through the bush to +a point on the Ottawa River north of Chaudiere Falls, where they were +awaiting us, and Hamilton, through the courtesy of my uncle, was able to +come with us in our boats as far as Lachine. + +I was never a grasping trader, but I provided myself before setting out +with every worthless gew-gaw and flashy trifle that could tempt the +native to betray Indian secrets. Lest these should fail, I added to my +stock a dozen as fine new flint-locks as could corrupt the soul of an +Indian, and without consideration for the enemy's scalp also equipped +myself with a box of wicked-looking hunting-knives. These things I +placed in square cases and sat upon them when we were in barges, or +pillowed my head upon them at night, never losing sight of them except +on long portages where Indians conveyed our cargo on their backs. + +A man on a less venturesome quest than mine could hardly have set out +with the brigades of canoemen for the north country and not have been +thrilled like a lad on first escape from school's leading strings. There +we were, twenty craft strong, with clerks, traders, one steersman and +eight willowy, copper-skin paddlers in each long birch canoe. No +oriental prince could be more gorgeously appareled than these gay +_voyageurs_. Flaunting red handkerchiefs banded their foreheads and held +back the lank, black hair. Buckskin smocks, fringed with leather down +the sleeves and beaded lavishly in bright colors, were drawn tight at +the waist by sashes of flaming crimson, green and blue. In addition to +the fringe of leather down the trouser seams, some in our company had +little bells fastened from knee to ankle. It was a strange sight to see +each of these reckless denizens of forest and plain pause reverently +before the chapel of _La Bonne Sainte Anne_, cross himself, invoke her +protection on the voyage and drop some offering in the treasury box +before hurrying to his place in the canoe. One Indian left the miniature +of a carved boat in the hands of the priest at the porch. It was his +votive gift to the saint and may be seen there to this day. + +As we were embarking I noticed Eric had not come down and the canoes +were already gliding about the wharf awaiting the head steersman's +signal. I had last seen him on the church steps and ran back from the +river to learn the cause of his delay. Now Hamilton is not a Catholic; +neither is he a Protestant; but I would not have good people ascribe his +misfortunes to this lack of creed, for a trader in the far north loses +denominational distinctions and a better man I have never known. What, +then, was my surprise to meet him face to face coming out of the chapel +with tears coursing down his cheeks and floor-dust thick upon his knees? +Women know what to do and say in such a case. A man must be dumb, or +blunder; so I could but link my arm through his and lead him silently +down to my own canoe. + +A single wave of the chief steersman's hand, and out swept the paddles +in a perfect harmony of motion. Then someone struck up a _voyageurs'_ +ballad and the canoemen unconsciously kept time with the beat of the +song. The valley seemed filled with the voices of those deep-chested, +strong singers, and the chimes of Ste. Anne clashed out a last sweet +farewell. + +"Cheer up, old man!" said I to Eric, who was sitting with face buried in +his hands. "Cheer up! Do you hear the bells? It's a God-speed for you!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +CIVILIZATION'S VENEER RUBS OFF + + +My uncle accompanied our flotilla as far as Lachine and occupied a place +in my division of canoes. Many were the admonitions he launched out like +thunderbolts whenever his craft and mine chanced to glide abreast. + +"If you lay hands on that skunk," he had said, the malodorous epithet +being his designation for Louis Laplante, "If you lay hands on that +skunk, don't be a simpleton. Skin him, Sir, by the Lord, skin him! Let +him play the ostrich act! Keep your own counsel and work him for all +you're worth! Let him play his deceitful game! By Jove! Give the villain +rope enough to hang himself! Gain your end! Afterwards forget and +forgive if you like; but, by the Lord, remember and don't ignore the +fact, that repentance can't turn a skunk into an innocent, pussy cat!" + +And so Mr. Jack MacKenzie continued to warn me all the way from Quebec +to Montreal, mixing his metaphors as topers mix drinks. But I had long +since learned not to remonstrate against these outbursts of explosive +eloquence--not though all the canons of Laval literati should be +outraged. "What, Sir?" he had roared out when I, in full conceit of new +knowledge, had audaciously ventured to pull him up, once in my student +days. "What, Sir? Don't talk to me of your book-fangled balderdash! Is +language for the use of man, or man for the use of language?" and he +quoted from Hamlet's soliloquy in a way that set me packing my pedant +lore in the unused lumber-room of brain lobes. And so, I say, Mr. Jack +MacKenzie continued to pour instructions into my ear for the venturesome +life on which I had entered. "The lad's a fool, only a fool," he said, +still harping on Louis, "and mind you answer the fool according to his +folly!" + +"Most men are fools first, and then knaves, knaves because they have +been fools," I returned to my uncle, "and I fancy Laplante has graduated +from the fool stage by this time, and is a full diploma knave!" + +"That's all true," he retorted, "but don't you forget there's always +fool enough left in the knave to give you your opportunity, if you're +not a fool. Joint in the armor, lad! Use your cutlass there." + +Apart from the peppery discourses of my kinsman, I remember very little +of the trip up the St. Lawrence from Ste. Anne to Lachine with Eric +sitting dazed and silent opposite me. We, of course, followed the river +channel between the Island of Orleans and the north shore; and whenever +our boats drew near the mainland, came whiffs of crisp, frosty air from +the dank ravines, where snow patches yet lay in the shadow. Then the +fleet would sidle towards the island and there would be the fresh, +spring odor of damp, uncovered mold, with a vague suggestiveness of +violets and May-flowers and ferns bursting with a rush through the black +clods. The purple folds of the mountains, with their wavy outlines +fading in the haze of distance, lay on the north as they lie to-day; and +everywhere on the hills were the white cots of _habitant_ hamlets with +chapel spires pointing above tree-tops. At the western end of the +island, where boats sheer out into mid-current, came the dull, heavy +roar of the cataract and above the north shore rose great, billowy +clouds of foam. With a sweep of our paddles, we were opposite a cleft in +the vertical rock and saw the shimmering, fleecy waters of Montmorency +leap over the dizzy precipice churning up from their own whirling depths +and bound out to the river like a panther after prey. + +Now the Isle of Orleans was vanishing on our rear and the bold heights +of Point Levis had loomed up to the fore; and now we had poked our prows +to the right and the sluggish, muddy tide of the St. Charles lapped our +canoes, while a forest of masts and yard-arms and flapping sails arose +from the harbor of Quebec City. The great walls of modern Quebec did not +then exist; but the rude fortifications, that sloped down from the lofty +Citadel on Cape Diamond and engirt the whole city on the hillside, +seemed imposing enough to us in those days. + +It was late in the afternoon when we passed. The sunlight struck across +the St. Charles, brightening the dull, gray stone of walls and +cathedrals and convents, turning every window on the west to fire and +transforming a multitude of towers and turrets and minarets to +glittering gold. Small wonder, indeed, that all our rough tripmen +stopped paddling and with eyes on the spire of Notre Dame des Victoires +muttered prayers for a prosperous voyage. For some reason or other, I +found my own hat off. So was Mr. Jack MacKenzie's, so was Eric +Hamilton's. Then the _voyageurs_ fell to work again. The canoes spread +out. We rounded Cape Diamond and the lengthening shadow of the high peak +darkened the river before us. Always the broad St. Lawrence seemed to be +winding from headland to headland among the purple hills, in sunlight a +mirror between shadowy, forest banks, at night, molten silver in the +moon-track. Afternoon slipped into night and night to morning, and each +hour of daylight presented some new panorama of forests and hills and +torrents. Here the river widened into a lake. There the lake narrowed to +rapids; and so we came to Lachine--La Chine, named in ridicule of the +gallant explorer, La Salle, who thought these vast waterways would +surely lead him to China. + +At Lachine, Mr. Jack MacKenzie, with much brusque bluster to conceal his +longings for the life he was too old to follow and many cynical +injunctions about "skinning the skunk" and "knocking the head off +anything that stood in my way" and "always profiting from the follies +of other men"--"mind, have none yourself,"--parted from us. Here, too, +Eric gripped my hand a tense, wordless farewell and left our party for +the Hudson's Bay brigade under Colin Robertson. + +It has always been a mystery to me why our rivals sent that brigade to +Athabasca by way of Lachine instead of Hudson Bay, which would have been +two thousand miles nearer. We Nor'-Westers went all the way to and from +Montreal, solely because that was our only point of access to the sea; +but the Hudson's Bay people had their own Hudson Bay for a starting +place. Why, in their slavish imitation of the methods, which brought us +success, they also adopted our disadvantages, I could never understand. +Birch canoes and good tripmen could, of course, as the Hudson's Bay men +say, be most easily obtained in Quebec; but with a good organizer, the +same could have been gathered up two thousand miles nearer York Factory, +on Hudson Bay. Indeed, I have often thought the sole purpose of that +expedition was to get Nor'-Westers' methods by employing discarded +Nor'-Westers as trappers and _voyageurs_. Colin Robertson, the leader, +had himself been a Nor'-Wester; and all the men with him except Eric +Hamilton were renegades, "turn-coat traders," as we called them. But I +must not be unjust; for neither company could possibly exceed the other +in its zeal to entice away old trappers, who would reveal opponents' +secrets. Acting on my uncle's advice, I made shift to pick up a few +crumbs of valuable information. Had the Hudson's Bay known, I suppose +they would have called me a spy. That was the name I gave any of them +who might try such tricks with me. The General Assembly of the +North-West partners was to meet at Fort William, at the head of Lake +Superior. I learned that Robertson's brigade were anxious to slip past +our headquarters at Fort William before the meeting and would set out +that very day. I also heard they had sent forward a messenger to notify +the Hudson's Bay governor at Fort Douglas of their brigade's coming. + +Almost before I realized it, we were speeding up the Ottawa, past a +second and third and fourth Ste. Anne's; for she is the _voyageurs'_ +patron saint and her name dots Canada's map like ink-blots on a boy's +copybook. Wherever a Ste. Anne's is now found, there has the _voyageur_ +of long ago passed and repassed. In places the surface of the river, +gliding to meet us, became oily, almost glassy, as if the wave-current +ran too fast to ripple out to the banks. Then little eddies began +whirling in the corrugated water and our paddlers with labored breath +bent hard to their task. By such signs I learned to know when we were +stemming the tide of some raging waterfall, or swift rapid. There would +follow quick disembarking, hurried portages over land through a tangle +of forest, or up slippery, damp rocks, a noisy launching far above the +torrent and swifter progress when the birch canoes touched water again. +Such was the tireless pace, which made North-West _voyageurs_ famous. +Such was the work the great _Bourgeois_ exacted of their men. A liberal +supply of rum, when stoppages were made, and of bread and meat for each +meal--better fare than was usually given by the trading companies--did +much to encourage the tripmen. Each man was doing his utmost to +out-distance the bold rivals following by our route. The _Bourgeois_ +were to meet at Fort William early in June. At all hazards we were +determined to notify our company of the enemy's invading flotilla; and +without margin for accidents we had but a month to cross half a +continent. + +At nightfall the fourth day from the shrine, after a tiresome nine-mile +traverse past the Chaudiere Falls of the Ottawa, glittering camp-fires +on the river bank ahead showed where a fresh relay of canoemen awaited +us. They were immediately taken into the different crews and +night-shifts of paddlers put to work. It was quite dark, when the new +hands joined us; but in the moonlight, as the chief steersman told off +the men by name, I watched each tawny figure step quickly to his place +in the canoes, with that gliding Indian motion, which scarcely rocked +the light craft. There came to my crew Little Fellow, a short, thick-set +man, with a grinning, good-natured face, who--despite his size--would +solemnly assure people he was equal in force to the sun. With him was La +Robe Noire, of grave aspect and few words, mighty in stature and +shoulder power. There were five or six others, whose names in the +clangor of voices I did not hear. Of these, one was a tall, lithe, +swift-moving man, whose cunning eyes seemed to gleam with the malice of +a serpent. This canoeman silently twisted into sleeping posture directly +behind me. + +The signal was given, and we were in mid-stream again. Wrapping my +blanket about me, half propped by a bale of stuff and breathing deep of +the clear air with frequent resinous whiffs from the forest I drowsed +off. The swish of waters rushing past and the roar of torrents, which I +had seen and heard during the day, still sounded in my ears. The sigh of +the night-wind through the forest came like the lonely moan of a +far-distant sea, and I was sleepily half conscious that cedars, pines +and cliffs were engaged in a mad race past the sides of the canoe. A bed +in which one may not stretch at random is not comfortable. Certainly my +cramped limbs must have caused bad dreams. A dozen times I could have +sworn the Indian behind me had turned into a snake and was winding round +my chest in tight, smothering coils. Starting up, I would shake the +weight off. Once I suddenly opened my eyes to find blanket thrown aside +and pistol belt unstrapped. Lying back eased, I was dozing again when I +distinctly felt a hand crawl stealthily round the pack on which I was +pillowed and steal towards the dagger handle in the loosened belt. I +struck at it viciously only to bruise my fist on my dagger. Now wide +awake, I turned angrily towards the Indian. Not a muscle of the still +figure had changed from the attitude taken when he came into the canoe. +The man was not asleep, but reclined in stolid oblivion of my existence. +His head was thrown back and the steely, unflinching eyes were fixed on +the stars. + +"It may not have been you, my scowling sachem," said I to myself, "but +snakes have fangs. Henceforth I'll take good care you're not at my +back." + +I slept no more that night. Next day I asked the fellow his name and he +poured out such a jumbled mouthful of quick-spoken, Indian syllables, I +was not a whit the wiser. I told him sharply he was to be Tom Jones on +my boat, at which he gave an evil leer. + +Without stay we still pushed forward. The arrowy pace was merciless to +red men and white; but that was the kind of service the great North-West +Company always demanded. Some ten miles from the outlet of Lake +Nipissangue (Nipissing) foul weather threatened delay. The _Bourgeois_ +were for proceeding at any risk; but as the thunder-clouds grew blacker +and the wind more violent, the head steersman lost his temper and +grounded his canoe on the sands at _Point a la Croix_. Springing ashore +he flung down his pole and refused to go on. + +"Sacredie!" he screamed, first pointing to the gathering storm and then +to the crosses that marked the fate of other foolhardy _voyageurs_, +"Allez si vous voulez! Pour moi je n'irai pas; ne voyez pas le danger!" + +A hurricane of wind, snapping the great oaks as a chopper breaks +kindling wood, enforced his words. Canoes were at once beached and +tarpaulins drawn over the bales of provisions. The men struggled to +hoist a tent; but gusts of wind tossed the canvas above their heads, and +before the pegs were driven a great wall of rain-drift drenched every +one to the skin. By sundown the storm had gone southeast and we +unrighteously consoled ourselves that it would probably disorganize the +Hudson's Bay brigade as much as it had ours. Plainly, we were there for +the night. _Point a la Croix_ is too dangerous a spot for navigation +after dark. With much patience we kindled the soaked underbrush and +finally got a pile of logs roaring in the woods and gathered round the +fire. + +The glare in the sky attracted the lake tribes from their lodges. +Indians, half-breeds and shaggy-haired whites--degenerate traders, who +had lost all taste for civilization and retired with their native wives +after the fashion of the north country--came from the Nipissangue +encampments and joined our motley throng. Presently the natives drew off +to a fire by themselves, where there would be no white-man's restraint. +They had either begged or stolen traders' rum, and after the hard trip +from Ste. Anne, were eager for one of their mad _boissons_--a +drinking-bout interspersed with jigs and fights. + +Stretched before our camp, I watched the grotesque figures leaping and +dancing between the firelight and the dusky woods like forest demons. +With the leaves rustling overhead, the water laving the pebbles on the +shore, and the washed pine air stimulating one's blood like an +intoxicant, I began wondering how many years of solitary life it would +take to wear through civilization's veneer and leave one content in the +lodges of forest wilds. Gradually I became aware of my sulky canoeman's +presence on the other side of the camp-fire. The man had not joined the +revels of the other _voyageurs_ but sat on his feet, oriental style, +gazing as intently at the flames as if spellbound by some fire-spirit. + +"What's wrong with that fellow, anyhow?" I asked a veteran trader, who +was taking last pulls at a smoked-out pipe. + +"Sick--home-sick," was the laconic reply. + +"You'd think he was near enough nature here to feel at home! Where's his +tribe?" + +"It ain't his tribe he wants," explained the trader. + +"What, then?" I inquired. + +"His wife, he's mad after her," and the trader took the pipe from his +teeth. + +"Faugh!" I laughed. "The idea of an Indian sentimental and love-sick for +some fat lump of a squaw! Come! Come! Am I to believe that?" + +"Don't matter whether you do, or not," returned the trader. "It's a +fact. His wife's a Sioux chief's daughter. She went north with a gang of +half-breeds and hunters last month; and he's been fractious crazy ever +since." + +"What's his name?" I called, as my informant vanished behind the tent +flaps. + +Again that mouthful of Indian syllables, unintelligible and unspeakable +for me was tumbled forth. Then I turned to the fantastic figures +carousing around the other camp fire. One form, in particular, I seemed +to distinguish from the others. He was gathering the Indians in line for +some native dance and had an easy, rakish sort of grace, quite different +from the serpentine motions of the redskins. By a sudden turn, his +profile was thrown against the fire and I saw that he wore a pointed +beard. He was no Indian; and like a flash came one of those strange, +reasonless intuitions, which precede, or proceed from, the slow motions +of the mind. Was this the _avant-courier_ of the Hudson's Bay, delayed, +like ourselves, by the storm? I had hardly spelled out my own suspicion, +when to the measured beatings of the tom-tom, gradually becoming faster, +and with a low, weird, tuneless chant, like the voices of the forest, +the Indians began to tread a mazy, winding pace, which my slow eyes +could not follow, but which in a strange way brought up memories of +snaky convolutions about the naked body of some Egyptian +serpent-charmer. The drums beat faster. The suppressed voices were +breaking in shrill, wild, exultant strains, and the measured tread had +quickened from a walk to a run and from a swaying run to a swift, +labyrinthine pace, which has no name in English, and which I can only +liken to the wiggling of a green thing under leafy covert. The coiling +and circling and winding of the dancers became bewildering, and in the +centre, laughing, shouting, tossing up his arms and gesticulating like a +maniac, was the white man with the pointed beard. Then the performers +broke from their places and gave themselves with utter abandon to the +wild impulses of wild natures in a wild world; and there was such a +scene of uncurbed, animal hilarity as I never dreamed possible. Savage, +furious, almost ferocious like the frisking of a pack of wolves, that at +any time may fall upon and destroy a weaker one, the boisterous antics +of these children of the forest fascinated me. Filled with the curiosity +that lures many a trader to his undoing, I rose and went across to the +thronging, shouting, shadowy figures. A man darted out of the woods full +tilt against me. 'Twas he of the pointed beard, my _suspect_ of the +Hudson's Bay Company. Quick as thought I thrust out my foot and tripped +him full length on the ground. The light fell on his upturned face. It +was Louis Laplante, that past-master in the art of diplomatic deception. +He snarled out something angrily and came to himself in sitting posture. +Then he recognized me. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" he muttered beneath his breath, momentarily surprised into +a betrayal of astonishment. "You, Gillespie?" he called out, at once +regaining himself and assuming his usual nonchalance. "Pardon, my +solemncholy! I took you for a tree." + +"Granted, your impudence," said I, ignoring the slight but paying him +back in kind. I was determined to follow my uncle's advice and play the +rascal at his own game. "Help you up?" said I, as pleasantly as I could, +extending my hand to give him a lift; and I felt his palm hot and his +arm tremble. Then, I knew that Louis was drunk and this was the fool's +joint in the knave's armor, on which Mr. Jack MacKenzie bade me use my +weapons. + +"Tra-la!" he answered with mincing insult. "Tra-la, old tombstone! +Good-by, my mausoleum! Au revoir, old death's-head! Adieu, grave skull!" +With an absurdly elaborate bow, he reeled back among the dancers. + +"Get up, comrade," I urged, rushing into the tent, where the old trader +I had questioned about my canoeman was now snoring. "Get up, man," and I +shook him. "There's a Hudson's Bay spy!" + +"Spy," he shouted, throwing aside the moose-skin coverlet. "Spy! Who?" + +"It's Louis Laplante, of Quebec." + +"Louis Laplante!" reiterated the trader. "A Frenchman employed by the +Hudson's Bay! Laplante, a trapper, with them! The scoundrel!" And he +ground out oaths that boded ill for Louis. + +"Hold on!" I exclaimed, jerking him back. He was for dashing on Laplante +with a cudgel. "He's playing the trapper game with the lake tribes." + +"I'll trapper him," vowed the trader. "How do you know he's a spy?" + +"I don't _know_, really know," I began, clumsily conscious that I had no +proof for my suspicions, "but it strikes me we'd better not examine this +sort of suspect at too long range. If we're wrong, we can let him go." + +"Bag him, eh?" queried the trader. + +"That's it," I assented. + +"He's a hard one to bag." + +"But he's drunk." + +"Drunk, Oh! Drunk is he?" laughed the man. "He'll be drunker," and the +trader began rummaging through bales of stuff with a noise of bottles +knocking together. He was humming in a low tone, like a grimalkin +purring after a full meal of mice-- + + "Rum for Indians, when they come, + Rum for the beggars, when they go, + That's the trick my grizzled lads + To catch the cash and snare the foe." + +"What's your plan?" I asked with a vague feeling the trader had some +shady purpose in mind. + +"Squeamish? Eh? You'll get over that, boy. I'll trap your trapper and +spy your spy, and Nor'-Wester your H. B. C.! You come down to the sand +between the forest and the beach in about an hour and I'll have news for +you," and he brushed past me with his arms full of something I could not +see in the half-light. + +Then, as a trader, began my first compromise with conscience, and the +enmity which I thereby aroused afterwards punished me for that night's +work. I knew very well my comrade, with the rough-and-ready methods of +traders, had gone out to do what was not right; and I hung back in the +tent, balancing the end against the means, our deeds against Louis' +perfidy, and Nor'-Westers' interests against those of the Hudson's Bay. +It is not pleasant to recall what was done between the cedars and the +shore. I do not attempt to justify our conduct. Does the physician +justify medical experiments on the criminal, or the sacrificial priest +the driving of the scape-goat into the wilderness? Suffice it to say, +when I went down to the shore, Louis Laplante was sitting in the midst +of empty drinking-flasks, and the wily, old Nor'-Wester was tempting the +silly boy to take more by drinking his health with fresh bottles. But +while Louis Laplante gulped down his rum, becoming drunker and more +communicative, the tempter threw glass after glass over his shoulder and +remained sober. The Nor'-Wester motioned me to keep behind the Frenchman +and I heard his drunken lips mumbling my own name. + +"Rufush--prig--stuck-up prig--serve him tam right! +Hamilton's--sh--sh--prig too--sho's his wife. Serve 'em all tam right!" + +"Ask him where she is," I whispered over his head. + +"Where's the gal?" demanded the trader, shoving more liquor over to +Louis. + +"Shioux squaw--Devil's wife--how you say it in English? Lah Grawnd +Deeahble," and he mouthed over our mispronunciation of his own tongue +"Joke, isn't it?" he went on. "That wax-face prig--slave to Shioux +Squaw. Rufush--a fool. Stuffed him to hish--neck. Made him believe +shmall-pox was Hamilton's wife. I mean, Hamilton's wife was shmall-pox. +Calf bellowed with fright--ran home--came back--'tamme,' I say, 'there +he come again' 'shmall-pox in that grave,' say I. Joke--ain't it?" and +he stopped to drain off another pint of rum. + +"Biggest joke out of jail," said the Nor'-Wester dryly, with meaning +which Louis did not grasp. + +"Ask him where she is," I whispered, "quick! He's going to sleep." For +Louis wiped his beard on his sleeve and lay back hopelessly drunk. + +"Here you, waken up," commanded the Nor'-Wester, kicking him and shaking +him roughly. "Where's the gal?" + +"Shioux--_Pays d'En Haut_," drawled the youth. "Take off your boots! +Don't wear boots. _Pays d'En Haut_--moccasins--softer," and he rolled +over in a sodden sleep, which defied all our efforts to shake him into +consciousness. + +"Is that true?" asked the Nor'-Wester, standing above the drunk man and +speaking across to me. "Is that true about the Indian kidnapping a +woman?" + +"True--too terribly true," I whispered back. + +"I'd like to boot him into the next world," said the trader, looking +down at Louis in a manner that might have alarmed that youth for his +safety. "I've bagged H. B. dispatches anyway," he added with +satisfaction. + +"What'll we do with him?" I asked aimlessly. "If he had anything to do +with the stealing of Hamilton's wife----" + +"He hadn't," interrupted the trader. "'Twas Diable did that, so Laplante +says." + +"Then what shall we do with him?" + +"Do--with--him," slowly repeated the Nor'-Wester in a low, vibrating +voice. "Do--with--him?" and again I felt a vague shudder of apprehension +at this silent, uncompromising man's purpose. + +The camp fires were dead. Not a sound came from the men in the woods and +there was a gray light on the water with a vague stirring of birds +through the foliage overhead. Now I would not have any man judge us by +the canons of civilization. Under the ancient rule of the fur companies +over the wilds of the north, 'twas bullets and blades put the fear of +the Lord in evil hearts. As we stooped to gather up the tell-tale +flasks, the drunken knave, who had lightly allowed an innocent white +woman to go into Indian captivity, lay with bared chest not a hand's +length from a knife he had thrown down. Did the Nor'-Wester and I +hesitate, and look from the man to the dagger, and from the dagger to +the man; or is this an evil dream from a black past? Miriam, the +guiltless, was suffering at his hands; should not he, the guilty, suffer +at ours? Surely Sisera was not more unmistakably delivered into the +power of his enemies by the Lord than this man; and Sisera was +discomfited by Barak and Jael. Heber's wife--says the Book--drove a tent +nail--through the temples--of the sleeping man--and slew him! Day was +when I thought the Old Volume recorded too many deeds of bloodshed in +the wilderness for the instruction of our refined generation; but I, +too, have since lived in the wilderness and learned that soft speech is +not the weapon of strong men overmastering savagery. + +I know the trader and I were thinking the same thoughts and reading each +other's thoughts; for we stood silent above the drunk man, neither +moving, neither uttering a word. + +"Well?" I finally questioned in a whisper. + +"Well," said he, and he knelt down and picked up the knife. "'Twould +serve him right." He was speaking in the low, gentle, purring voice he +had used in the tent. "'Twould serve him jolly right," and he knelt over +Louis hesitating. + +My eyes followed his slow, deliberate motions with horror. Terror seemed +to rob me of the power of speech. I felt my blood freeze with the fear +of some impending crime. There was the faintest perceptible fluttering +of leaves; and we both started up as if we had been assassins, glancing +fearfully into the gloom of the forest. All the woods seemed alive with +horrified eyes and whisperings. + +"Stop!" I gasped, "This is madness, the madness of the murderer. What +would you do?" And I was trying to knock the knife out of his hand, +when among the shadowy green of the foliage, an open space suddenly +resolved itself into a human face and there looked out upon us gleaming +eyes like those of a crouching panther. + +"Squeamish fool!" muttered the Nor'-Wester, raising his arm. + +"Stop!" I implored. "We are watched. See!" and I pointed to the face, +that as suddenly vanished into blackness. + +We both leaped into the thicket, pistol in hand, to wreak punishment on +the interloper. There was only an indistinct sound as of something +receding into the darkness. + +"Don't fire," said I, "'twill alarm the camp." + +At imminent risk to our own lives, we poked sticks through the thicket +and felt for our unseen enemy, but found nothing. + +"Let's go back and peg him out on the sand, where the Hudson's Bay will +see him when they come this way," suggested the Nor'-Wester, referring +to Laplante. + +"Yes, or hand-cuff him and take him along prisoner," I added, thinking +Louis might have more information. + +But when we stepped back to the beach, there was no Louis Laplante. + +"He was too drunk to go himself," said I, aghast at the certainty, which +now came home to me, that we had been watched. + +"I wash my hands of the whole affair," declared the trader, in a state +of high indignation, and he strode off to his tent, I, following, with +uncomfortable reflections trooping into my mind. Compunctions rankled in +self-respect. How near we had been to a brutal murder, to crime which +makes men shun the perpetrators. Civilization's veneer was rubbing off +at an alarming rate. This thought stuck, but for obvious reasons was not +pursued. Also I had learned that the worst and best of outlaws +easily justify their acts at the time they commit them; but +afterwards--afterwards is a different matter, for the thing is past +undoing. + +I heard the trader snorting out inarticulate disgust as he tumbled into +his tent; but I stood above the embers of the camp fire thinking. Again +I felt with a creepiness, that set all my flesh quaking, felt, rather +than saw, those maddening, tiger eyes of the dark foliage watching me. +Looking up, I found my morose canoeman on the other side of the fire, +leaning so close to a tree, he was barely visible in the shadows. +Thinking himself unseen by me, he wore such an insolent, amused, +malicious expression, I knew in an instant, who the interloper had been, +and who had carried Louis off. Before I realized that such an act +entails life-long enmity with an Indian, I had bounded over the fire and +struck him with all my strength full in the face. At that, instead of +knifing me as an Indian ordinarily would, he broke into hyena shrieks of +laughter. He, who has heard that sound, need hear it only once to have +the echo ring forever in his ears; and I have heard it oft and know it +well. + +"Spy! Sneak!" I muttered, rushing upon him. But he sprang back into the +forest and vanished. In dodging me, he let fall his fowling-piece, which +went off with a bang into the fire. + +"Hulloo! What's wrong out there?" bawled the trader's voice from the +tent. + +"Nothing--false alarm!" I called reassuringly. Then there caught my eyes +what startled me out of all presence of mind. There, reflecting the +glare of the firelight was the Indian's fowling-piece, richly mounted in +burnished silver and chased in the rare design of Eric Hamilton's family +crest. The morose canoeman was Le Grand Diable. + + * * * * * + +A few hours later, I was in the thick of a confused re-embarking. Le +Grand Diable took a place in another boat; and a fresh hand was assigned +to my canoe. Of that I was glad; I could sleep sounder and he, safer. +The _Bourgeois_ complained that too much rum had been given out. + +"Keep a stiffer hand on your men, boy, or they'll ride over your head," +one of the chief traders remarked to me. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A GIRDLE OF AGATES RECALLED + + +To unravel a ball of yarn, with which kittens have been making cobwebs, +has always seemed to me a much easier task than to unknot the tangled +skein of confused influences, that trip up our feet at every step in +life's path. Here was I, who but a month ago had a supreme contempt for +guile and a lofty confidence in uprightness and downrightness, +transformed into a crafty trader with all the villainous tricks of the +bargain-maker at my finger-tips. We had befooled Louis into a betrayal +of his associates but how much reliance could be placed on that +betrayal? Had he incriminated Diable to save himself? Then, why had +Diable rescued his betrayer? Where was Louis in hiding? Was the Sioux +wife with her white slave really in the north country, or was she near, +and did that explain my morose Iroquois' all-night vigils? We had +cheated Laplante; but had he in turn cheated us? Would I be justified in +taking Diable prisoner, and would my company consent to the +demoralization of their crews by such a step? Ah, if life were only made +up of simple right and simple wrong, instead of half rights and half +wrongs indistinguishably mingled, we could all be righteous! If the +path to the goal of our chosen desire were only as straight as it is +narrow, instead of being dark, mysterious and tortuous, how easily could +we attain high ends! I was launched on the life for which I had longed, +but strange, shadowy forms like the storm-fiends of sailors' lore, +drunkenness, deceit and crime--on whose presence I had not +counted--flitted about my ship's masthead. And there was not one guiding +star, not one redeeming influence, except the utter freedom to be a man. +I was learning, what I suppose everyone learns, that there are things +which sap success of its sweets. + +Such were my thoughts, as our canoes sped across the northern end of +Lake Huron, heading for the Sault. The Nor'-Westers had a wonderful way +of arousing enthusiastic loyalty among their men. Danger fanned this +fealty to white-heat. In the face of powerful opposition, the great +company frequently accomplished the impossible. With half as large a +staff in the service as its rivals boasted, it invaded the +hunting-ground of the Hudson's Bay Company, and outrunning all +competition, extended fur posts from the heart of the continent to the +foot-hills to the Rockies, and from the international boundary to the +Arctic Circle. I had thought no crews could make quicker progress than +ours from Lachine to _Point a la Croix_; but the short delay during the +storm occasioned faster work. More _voyageurs_ were engaged from the +Nipissangue tribes. As soon as one lot fagged fresh shifts came to the +relief. Paddles shot out at the rate of modern piston rods, and the +waters whirled back like wave-wash in the wake of a clipper. Except for +briefest stoppages, speed was not relaxed across the whole northern end +of those inland seas called the Great Lakes. With ample space on the +lakes, the brigades could spread out and the canoes separated, not +halting long enough to come together again till we reached the Sault. +Here, orders were issued for the maintenance of rigid discipline. We +camped at a distance from the lodges of local tribes. No grog was given +out. Camp-fire conviviality was forbidden, and each man kept with his +own crew. We remained in camp but one night; and though I searched every +tent, I could not find Le Grand Diable. This worried and puzzled me. All +night, I lay awake, stretching conscience with doubtful plans to entrap +the knave. + +Rising with first dawn-streak, I was surprised to find Little Fellow and +La Robe Noire, two of my canoemen, setting off for the woods. They had +laid a snare--so they explained--and were going to examine it. Of late I +had grown distrustful of all natives. I suspected these two might be +planning desertion; so I went with them. The way led through a dense +thicket of ferns half the height of a man. Only dim light penetrated the +maze of foliage; and I might easily have lost myself, or been +decoyed--though these possibilities did not occur to me till we were at +least a mile from the beach. Little Fellow was trotting ahead, La Robe +Noire jogging behind, and both glided through the brake without +disturbing a fern branch, while I--after the manner of my race--crunched +flags underfoot and stamped down stalks enough to be tracked by +keen-eyed Indians for a week afterwards. Twice I saw Little Fellow pull +up abruptly and look warily through the cedars on one side. Once he +stooped down and peered among the fern stems. Then he silently signaled +back to La Robe Noire, pointed through the undergrowth and ran ahead +again without explanation. At first I could see nothing, and regretted +being led so far into the woods. I was about to order both Indians back +to the tent, when Little Fellow, with face pricked forward and foot +raised, as if he feared to set it down--for the fourth time came to a +dead stand. Now, I, too, heard a rustle, and saw a vague sinuous +movement distinctly running abreast of us among the ferns. For a moment, +when we stopped, it ceased, then wiggled forward like beast, or serpent +in the underbrush. Little Fellow placed his forefinger on his lips, and +we stood noiseless till by the ripple of the green it seemed to scurry +away. + +"What is it, Little Fellow, a cat?" I asked; but the Indian shook his +head dubiously and turned to the open where the trap had been set. + +Bending over the snare he uttered an Indian word, that I did not +understand, but have since heard traders use, so conclude it was one of +those exclamations, alien races learn quickest from one another, but +which, nevertheless, are not found in dictionaries. The trap had been +rifled of game and completely smashed. + +"Wolverine!" muttered the Indian, making a sweep of his dagger blade at +an imaginary foe. "No wolverine! Bad Indians!" + +Scarcely had he spoken when La Robe Noire leaped into the air like a +wounded rabbit. An arrow whizzed past my face and glanced within a +hair's-breadth of the Indian's head. Both men were dumb with amazement. +Such treachery would have been surprising among the barbarous tribes of +the Athabasca. The Sault was the dividing line between Canada and the +Wilderness, between the east and the west, and there were no hostiles +within a thousand miles of us. Little Fellow would have dragged me +pell-mell back to the beach, but I needed no persuasion. La Robe Noire +tore ahead with the springs of a hunted lynx. Little Fellow loyally kept +between me and a possible pursuer, and we set off at a hard run. That +creature, I fancied, was again coursing along beneath the undergrowth; +for the foliage bent and rose as we ran. Whether it were man or beast, +we were three against one, and could drive it out of hiding. + +"See here, Little Fellow!" I cried, "Let's hunt that thing out!" and I +wheeled about so sharply the chunky little man crashed forward, knocking +me off my feet and sending me a man's length farther on. + +That fall saved my life. A flat spear point hissed through the air +above my head and stuck fast in the bark of an elm tree. Scrambling up, +I promptly let go two or three shots into the fern brake. We scrutinized +the underbrush, but there was no sign of human being, except the fern +stems broken by my shots. I wrenched the stone spear-head from the tree. +It was curiously ornamented with such a multitude of intricate carvings +I could not decipher any design. Then I discovered that the medley of +colors was produced by inlaying the flint with small bits of a bright +stone; and the bright stones had been carved into a rude likeness of +some birds. + +"What are these birds, Little Fellow?" I asked. + +He fingered them closely, and with bulging eyes muttered back, "L'Aigle! +L'Aigle!" + +"Eagles, are they?" I returned, stupidly missing the possible meaning of +his suppressed excitement. "And the stone?" + +"Agate, _Monsieur_." + +Agate! Agate! What picture did agate call back to my mind? A big squaw, +with malicious eyes and gaping upper lip and girdle of agates, watching +Louis Laplante and myself at the encampment in the gorge. + +"Little Fellow!" I shouted, not suppressing my excitement. "Who is Le +Grand Diable's wife?" + +And the Indian answered in a low voice, with a face that showed me he +had already penetrated my discovery, "The daughter of L'Aigle, chief of +the Sioux." + +Then I knew for whom those missiles had been intended and from whom they +had come. It was a clever piece of rascality. Had the assassin +succeeded, punishment would have fallen on my Indians. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LORDS OF THE NORTH IN COUNCIL + + +Beyond the Sault, the fascinations of the west beckoned like a siren. +Vast waterways, where a dozen European kingdoms could be dropped into +one lake without raising a sand-bar, seemed to sweep on forever and call +with the voice of enchantress to the very ends of the earth. With the +purple recesses of the shore on one side and the ocean-expanse of Lake +Superior on the other, all the charms of clean, fresh freedom were +unveiling themselves to me and my blood began to quicken with that +fevered delight, which old lands are pleased to call western enthusiasm. +Lake Huron, with its greenish-blue, shallow, placid waters and calm, +sloping shores, seemed typical of the even, easy life I had left in the +east. How those choppy, blustering, little waves resembled the +jealousies and bickerings and bargainings of the east; but when one came +to Lake Superior, with its great ocean billows and slumbering, giant +rocks and cold, dark, fathomless depths, there was a new life in a hard, +rugged, roomy, new world. We hugged close to the north coast; and the +numerous rocky islands to our left stood guard like a wall of adamant +between us and the heavy surf that flung against the barrier. We were +rapidly approaching the headquarters of our company. When south-bound +brigades, with prisoners in hand-cuffs, began to meet us, I judged we +were near the habitation of man. + +"Bad men?" I asked Little Fellow, pointing to the prisoners, as our +crews exchanged rousing cheers with the Nor'-Westers now bound for +Montreal. + +"_Non, Monsieur!_ Not all bad men," and the Indian gave his shoulders an +expressive shrug, "_Les traitres anglais_." + +To the French _voyageur_, English meant the Hudson's Bay people. The +answer set me wondering to what pass things had come between the two +great companies that they were shipping each other's traders +gratuitously out of the country. I recalled the talk at the Quebec Club +about Governor McDonell of the Hudson's Bay trying to expel Nor'-Westers +and concluded our people could play their own game against the commander +of Red River. + +We arrived in Fort William at sundown, and a flag was flying above the +courtyard. + +"Is that in our honor?" I asked a clerk of the party. + +"Not much it is," he laughed. "We under-strappers aren't oppressed with +honors! It warns the Indians there's no trade one day out of seven." + +"Is this Sunday?" + +I suddenly recollected as far as we were concerned the past month had +been entirely composed of week-days. + +"Out of your reckoning already?" asked the clerk with surprise. "Wonder +how you'll feel when you've had ten years of it." + +Situated on the river bank, near the site of an old French post, Fort +William was a typical traders' stronghold. Wooden palisades twenty feet +high ran round the whole fort and the inner court enclosed at least two +hundred square yards. Heavily built block-houses with guns poking +through window slits gave a military air to the trading post. The +block-houses were apparently to repel attack from the rear and the face +of the fort commanded the river. Stores, halls, warehouses and living +apartments for an army of clerks, were banked against the walls, and the +main building with its spacious assembly-room stood conspicuous in the +centre of the enclosure. As we entered the courtyard, one of the chief +traders was perched on a mortar in the gate. The little magnate +condescended never a smile of welcome till the _Bourgeois_ came up. Then +he fawned loudly over the chiefs and conducted them with noisy +ostentation to the main hall. Indians and half-breed _voyageurs_ quickly +dispersed among the wigwams outside the pickets, while clerks and +traders hurried to the broad-raftered dining-hall. Fatigued from the +trip, I took little notice of the vociferous interchange of news in +passage-way and over door-steps. I remember, after supper I was +strolling about the courtyard, surveying the buildings, when at the +door of a sort of barracks where residents of the fort lived, I caught +sight of the most grateful object my eye had lighted upon since leaving +Quebec. It was a tin basin with a large bar of soap--actual soap. There +must still have been some vestige of civilization in my nature, for +after a delightful half-hour's intimate acquaintance with that soap, I +came round to the groups of men rehabilitated in self-respect. + +"Athabasca, Rocky Mountain and Saskatchewan brigades here to-morrow," +remarked a boyish looking Nor'-Wester, with a mannish beard on his face. +Involuntarily I put my hand to my chin and found a bristling growth +there. That was a land where young men could become suddenly very old; +and many a trader has discovered other signs of age than a beard on his +face when he first looked at a mirror after life in the _Pays d'En +Haut_. + +"I say," blurted out another young clerk. "There's a man here from Red +River, one of the Selkirk settlers. He's come with word if we'll supply +the boats, lots of the colonists are ready to dig out. General +Assembly's going to consider that to-morrow." + +"Oh! Hang the old Assembly if it ships that man out! He's got a pretty +daughter, perfect beauty, and she's here with him!" exclaimed the lad +with the mannish beard. + +"Go to, thou light-head!" declared the other youth, with the air of an +elder in Israel. "Go to! You paraded beneath her window for an hour +to-day and she never once laid eyes on you." + +All the men laughed. + +"Hang it!" said the first speaker. "We don't display our little +amours----" + +"No," broke in the other, "we just display our little contours and get +snubbed, eh?" + +The bearded youth flushed at the sally of laughter. + +"Hang it!" he answered, pulling fiercely at his moustache. "She is a bit +of statuary, so she is, as cold as marble. But there is no law against +looking at a pretty bit of statuary, when it frames itself in a window +in this wilderness." + +To which, every man of the crowd said a hearty amen; and I walked off to +stretch myself full length on a bench, resolving to have out a mirror +from my packing case and get rid of those bristles that offended my +chin. The men began to disperse to their quarters. The tardy twilight of +the long summer evenings, peculiar to the far north, was gathering in +the courtyard. As the night-wind sighed past, I felt the velvet caress +of warm June air on my face and memory reverted to the innocent boyhood +days of Laval. How far away those days seemed! Yet it was not so long +ago. Surely it is knowledge, not time, that ages one, knowledge, that +takes away the trusting innocence resulting from ignorance and gives in +its place the distrustful innocence resulting from wisdom. I thought of +the temptations that had come to me in the few short weeks I had been +adrift, and how feebly I had resisted them. I asked myself if there were +not in the moral compass of men, who wander by land, some guiding star, +as there is for those who wander over sea. I gazed high above the +sloping roofs for some sign of moon, or star. The sky was darkling and +overcast; but in lowering my eyes from heaven to earth, I saw what I had +missed before--a fair, white face framed in a window above the stoop +directly opposite my bench. The face seemed to have a background of +gold; for a wonderful mass of wavy hair clustered down from the +blue-veined brow to the bit of white throat visible, where a gauzy piece +of neck wear had been loosened. Evidently, this was the statuary +described by the whiskered youth. But the statuary breathed. A bloom of +living apple-blossoms was on the cheeks. The brows were black and +arched. The very pose of the head was arch, and in the lips was a +suggestion of archery, too,--Cupid's archery, though the upper lip was +drawn almost too tight for the bow beneath to discharge the little god's +shaft. Why did I do it? I do not know. Ask the young Nor'-Wester, who +had worn a path beneath the selfsame window that very day, or the hosts +of young men, who are still wearing paths beneath windows to this very +day. I coughed and sat bolt upright on the bench with unnecessarily loud +intimations of my presence. The fringe of black lashes did not even +lift. I rose and with great show of indifference paraded solemnly five +times past that window; but, in spite of my pompous indifference, by a +sort of side-signalling, I learned that the owner of the heavy lashes +was unaware of my existence. Thereupon, I sat down again. It _was_ a bit +of statuary and a very pretty bit of statuary. As the youth said, there +was no law against looking at a bit of statuary in this wilderness, and +as the statuary did not know I was looking at it, I sat back to take my +fill of that vision framed in the open window. The statuary, unknown to +itself, had full meed of revenge; for it presently brought such a flood +of longing to my heart, longings, not for this face, but for what this +face represented--the innocence and love and purity of home, that I +bowed dejectedly forward with moist eyes gazing at the ground. + +"Hullo!" whispered a deep voice in my ear. "Are you mooning after the +Little Statue already?" + +When I looked up, the man had passed, but the head in the window was +leaning out and a pair of swimming, lustrous, gray eyes were gazing +forward in a way that made me dizzy. "Ah," they said in a language that +needed no speaking, "there are two of us, very, very home-sick." + +"The guiding star for my moral compass," said I, under my breath. + +Then the statue in a live fashion suddenly drew back into the dark room. +The window-shutter flung to, with a bang, and my vision was gone. I left +the bench, made a shake-down on one of the store counters, and knew +nothing more till the noise of brigades from the far north aroused the +fort at an early hour Monday morning. The arrival of the Athabasca +traders was the signal for tremendous activity. An army returning from +victory could not have been received with greater acclaim. _Bourgeois_ +and clerks tumbled promiscuously from every nook in the fort and rushing +half-dressed towards the gates shouted welcome to the men, who had come +from the outposts of the known world. They were a shaggy, ragged-looking +rabble, those traders from mountain fastnesses and the Arctic circle. +With long white hair, hatless some of them, with beards like oriental +patriarchs, and dressed entirely in skins of the chase, from fringed +coats to gorgeous moccasins, the unkempt monarchs of northern realms had +the imperious bearing of princes. + +"Is it you, really you, looking as old as your great grandfather? By +Gad! So it is," came from one quondam friend. + +"Powers above!" ejaculated another onlooker, "See that old Father +Abraham! It's Tait! As you live, it's Tait! And he only went to the +Athabasca ten years ago. He was thirty then, and now he's a hundred!" + +"That's Wilson," says another. "Looks thin, doesn't he? Slim fare! He's +the only man from Great Slave Lake that escaped being a meal for the +Crees,--year of the famine; and they hadn't time to pick his bones!" + +A running fire of such comments went along the spectators lining each +side of the path. There was a sad side to the clamorous welcomes and +handshakes and surprised recognitions. Had not these men gone north +young and full of hope, as I was going? Now, news of the feud with the +Hudson's Bay brought them out old before their time and more like the +natives with whom they had traded than the white race they had left. +Here and there, strong men would fall in each other's arms and embrace +like school-girls, covering their emotion with rounded oaths instead of +terms of endearment. + +All day the confusion of unloading boats continued. The dull tread of +moccasined feet as Indians carried pack after pack from river bank to +the fort, was ceaseless. Faster than the clerks could sort the furs +great bundles were heaped on the floor. By noon, warehouses were crammed +from basement to attic. Ermine taken in mid-winter, when the fur was +spotlessly white, but for the jet tail-tip, otter cut so deftly scarcely +a tuft of fur had been wasted along the opened seam, silver fox, which +had made the fortune of some lucky hunter--these and other rare furs, +that were to minister to the luxury of kings, passed from tawny carriers +to sorters. Elsewhere, coarse furs, obtained at greater risk, but owing +to the abundance of big game, less valuable for the hunter, were sorted +and valued. With a reckless underestimate of the beaver-skin, their unit +of currency, Indians hung over counters bartering away the season's +hunt. I frankly acknowledge the Company's clerks on such occasions could +do a rushing business selling tawdry stuff at fabulous prices. + +Meanwhile, in the main hall, the _Bourgeois_, or partners, of the great +North-West Company were holding their annual General Assembly behind +closed doors. Clerks lowered their voices when they passed that room, +and well they might; for the rulers inside held despotic sway over a +domain as large as Europe. And what were they decreeing? Who can tell? +The archives of the great fur companies are as jealously guarded as +diplomatic documents, and more remarkable for what they omit than what +they state. Was the policy, that ended so tragically a year afterwards, +adopted at this meeting? Great corporations have a fashion of keeping +their mouths and their council doors tight shut and of leaving the +public to infer that catastrophes come causeless. However that may be, I +know that Duncan Cameron, a fiery Highlander and one of the keenest men +in the North-West service, suddenly flung out of the Assembly room with +a pleased, determined look on his ruddy face. + +"Are ye Rufus Gillespie?" he asked. + +"That's my name, Sir." + +"Then buckle on y'r armor, lad; for ye'll see the thick of the fight. +You're appointed to my department at Red River." And he left us. + +"Lucky dog! I envy you! There'll be rare sport between Cameron and +McDonell, when the two forts up in Red River begin to talk back to each +other," exclaimed a Fort William man to me. + +"Are you Gillespie?" asked a low, mellow, musical voice by my side. I +turned to face a tall, dark, wiry man, with the swarthy complexion and +intensely black eyes of one having strains of native blood. Among the +_voyageurs_, I had become accustomed to the soft-spoken, melodious +speech that betrays Indian parentage; and I believe if I were to +encounter a descendant of the red race in China, or among the Latin +peoples of Southern Europe, I could recognize Indian blood by that +rhythmic trick of the native tongue. + +"I'm Gillespie," I answered my keen-eyed questioner. "Who are you?" + +"Cuthbert Grant, warden of the plains and leader of the _Bois-Brules_," +was his terse response. "You're coming to our department at Fort +Gibraltar, and I want you to give Father Holland a place in your canoes +to come north with us. He's on his way to the Missouri." + +At that instant Duncan Cameron came up to Grant and muttered something. +Both men at once went back to the council hall of the General Assembly. +I heard the courtyard gossips vowing that the Hudson's Bay would cease +its aggressions, now that Cameron and Cuthbert Grant were to lead the +Nor'-Westers; but I made no inquiry. Next to keeping his own counsel and +giving credence to no man, the fur trader learns to gain information +only with ears and eyes, and to ask no questions. The scurrying turmoil +in the fort lasted all day. At dusk, natives were expelled from the +stockades and work stopped. + +Grand was the foregathering around the supper table of the great dining +hall that night. _Bourgeois_, clerks and traders from afar, explorers, +from the four corners of the earth--assembled four hundred strong, +buoyant and unrestrained, enthusiastically loyal to the company, and +tingling with hilarious fellowship over this, the first reunion for +twenty years. Though their manner and clothing be uncouth, men who have +passed a lifetime exploring northern wilds have that to say, which is +worth hearing. So the feast was prolonged till candles sputtered low and +pitch-pine fagots flared out. Indeed, before the gathering broke up, +flagons as well as candles had to be renewed. Lanterns swung from the +black rafters of the ceiling. Tallow candles stood in solemn rows down +the centre of each table, showing that men, not women, had prepared the +banquet. Stuck in iron brackets against the walls were pine torches, +that had been dipped in some resinous mixture and now flamed brightly +with a smell not unlike incense. Tables lined the four walls of the hall +and ran in the form of a cross athwart the middle of the room. Backless +benches were on both sides of every table. At the end, chairs were +placed, the seats of honor for famous _Bourgeois_. British flags had +been draped across windows and colored bunting hung from rafter to +rafter. + +"Ah, mon! Is no this fine? This is worth living for! This is the company +to serve!" Duncan Cameron exclaimed as he sank into one of the chairs at +the head of the centre table. The Scotchman's heart softened before +those platters of venison and wild fowl, and he almost broke into +geniality. "Here, Gillespie, to my right," he called, motioning me to +the edge of the bench at his elbow. "Here, Grant, opposite Gillespie! +Aye! an' is that you, Father Holland?" he cried to the stout, jovial +priest, with shining brow and cheeks wrinkling in laughter, who followed +Grant. "There's a place o' honor for men like you, Sir. Here!" and he +gave the priest a chair beside himself. + +The _Bourgeois_ seated, there was a scramble for the benches. Then the +whole company with great zest and much noisy talk fell upon the viands +with a will. + +"Why, Cameron," began a northern winterer a few places below me, "it's +taken me three months fast travelling to come from McKenzie River to +Fort William. By Jove! Sir, 'twas cold enough to freeze your words solid +as you spoke them, when we left Great Slave Lake. I'll bet if you men +were up there now, you'd hear my voice thawing out and yelling get-epp +to my huskies, and my huskies yelping back! Used a dog train, whole of +March. Tied myself up in bag of buffalo robes at night and made the +huskies lie across it to keep me from freezing. Got so hot, every pore +in my body was a spouting fountain, and in the morning that moisture +would freeze my buckskin stiff. Couldn't stand that; so I tried sleeping +with my head out of the bag and froze my nose six nights out of seven." + +The unfortunate nose corroborated his evidence. + +"Ice was sloppy on the Saskatchewan, and I had to use pack-horses and +take the trail. I was trusting to get provisions at Souris. You can +imagine, then, how we felt towards the Hudson's Bays when we found +they'd plundered our fort. We were without a bite for two days. Why, we +took half a dozen Hudson's Bays in our quarters up north last winter, +and saved them from starvation; and here we were, starving, that they +might plunder and rob. I'm with you, Sir! I'm with you to the hilt +against the thieves! There's a time for peace and there's a time for +war, and I say this is a very good time for war!" + +"Here's confusion to the old H. B. C's! Confusion, short life, no +prosperity, and death to the Hudson's Bay!" yelled the young whiskered +Nor'-Wester, springing to his feet on the bench and waving a +drinking-cup round his head. Some of the youthful clerks were disposed +to take their cue from this fire-eater and began strumming the table and +applauding; but the _Bourgeois_ frowned on forward conduct. + +"Check him, Grant!" growled Cameron in disapproval. + +"Sit down, bumptious babe!" said the priest, tugging the lad's coat. + +"Here, you young show-off," whispered Grant, leaning across the priest, +and he knocked the boy's feet from under him bringing him down to the +bench with a thud. + +"He needs more outdoor life, that young one! It goes to his head mighty +fast," remarked Cameron. "What were you saying about your hard luck?" +and he turned to the northern winterer again. + +"Call that hard luck?" broke in a mountaineer, laughing as if he +considered hardships a joke. "We lived a month last winter on two meals +a day; soup, out of snow-shoe thongs, first course; fried skins, second +go; teaspoonful shredded fish, by way of an entree!" + +The man wore a beaded buckskin suit, and his mellow intonation of words +in the manner of the Indian tongue showed that he had almost lost +English speech along with English customs. His recital caused no +surprise. + +"Been on short, rations myself," returned the northerner. "Don't like +it! Isn't safe! Rips a man's nerves to the raw when Indians glare at him +with hungry eyes eighteen hours out of the twenty-four." + +"What was the matter?" drawled the mountaineer. "Hudson's Bay been +tampering with your Indians? Now if you had a good Indian wife as I +have, you could defy the beggars to turn trade away----" + +"Aye, that's so," agreed the winterer, "I heard of a fellow on the +Athabasca who had to marry a squaw before he could get a pair of +racquets made; but that wasn't my trouble. Game was scarce." + +"Game scarce on MacKenzie River?" A chorus of voices vented their +surprise. To the outside world game is always scarce, reported scarce on +MacKenzie River and everywhere else by the jealous fur traders; but +these deceptions are not kept up among hunters fraternizing at the same +banquet board. + +"Mighty scarce. Some of the tribe died out from starvation. The Hudson's +Bay in our district were in bad plight. We took six of them in--Hadn't +heard of the Souris plunder, you may be sure." + +"More fools they to go into the Athabasca," declared the mountaineer. + +"Bigger fools to send another brigade there this year when they needn't +expect help from us," interjected a third trader. + +"You don't say they're sending another lot of men to the Athabasca!" +exclaimed the winterer. + +"Yes I do--under Colin Robertson," affirmed the third man. + +"Colin Robertson--the Nor'-Wester?" + +"Robertson who used to be a Nor'-Wester! It's Selkirk's work since he +got control of the H. B." + +"Robertson should know better," said the northerner. "He had experience +with us before he resigned. I'll wager he doesn't undertake that sort of +venture! Surely it's a yarn!" + +"You lose your bet," cried the irrepressible Fort William lad. "A runner +came in at six o'clock and reported that the Hudson's Bay brigade from +Lachine would pass here before midnight. They're sooners, they are, are +the H. B. C's.," and the clerk enjoyed the sensation of rolling a big +oath from his boyish lips. + +"Eric Hamilton passing within a stone's throw of the fort!" In +astonishment I leaned forward to catch every word the Fort William lad +might say. + +"To Athabasca by our route--past this fort!" Such temerity amazed the +winterer beyond coherent expression. + +"Good thing for them they're passing in the night," continued the clerk. +"The half-breeds are hot about that Souris affair. There'll be a +collision yet!" The young fellow's importance increased in proportion to +the surprise of the elder men. + +"There'll be a collision anyway when Cameron and Grant reach Red +River--eh, Cuthbert?" and the mountaineer turned to the dark, +sharp-featured warden of the plains. Cuthbert Grant laughed pleasantly. + +"Oh, I hope not--for their sakes!" he said, and went on with the story +of a buffalo hunt. + +The story I missed, for I was deep in my own thoughts. I must see Eric +and let him know what I had learned; but how communicate with the +Hudson's Bay brigade without bringing suspicion of double dealing on +myself? I was turning things over in my mind in a stupid sort of way +like one new at intrigue, when I heard a talker, vowing by all that was +holy that he had seen the rarest of hunter's rarities--a pure white +buffalo. The wonder had appeared in Qu'Appelle Valley. + +"I can cap that story, man," cried the portly Irish priest who was to go +north in my boat. "I saw a white squaw less than two weeks ago!" He +paused for his words to take effect, and I started from my chair as if I +had been struck. + +"What's wrong, young man?" asked the winterer. "We lonely fellows up +north see visions. We leap out of our moccasins at the sound of our own +voices; but you young chaps, with all the world around you"--he waved +towards the crowded hall as though it were the metropolis of the +universe--"shouldn't see ghosts and go jumping mad." + +I sat down abashed. + +"Yes, a white squaw," repeated the jovial priest. "Sure now, white +ladies aren't so many in these regions that I'd be likely to make a +mistake." + +"There's a difference between squaws and white ladies," persisted the +jolly father, all unconscious that he was emphasizing a difference which +many of the traders were spelling out in hard years of experience. + +"I've seen papooses that were white for a day or two after they were +born----" + +"Effect of the christening," interrupted the youth, whose head, between +flattered vanity and the emptied contents of his drinking cup, was very +light indeed. + +"Take that idiot out and put him to bed, somebody," commanded Cameron. + +"For a day or two after they were born," reiterated the priest; "but I +never saw such a white-skinned squaw!" + +"Where did you see her?" I inquired in a voice which was not my own. + +"On Lake Winnipeg. Coming down two weeks ago we camped near a band of +Sioux, and I declare, as I passed a tepee, I saw a woman's face that +looked as white as snow. She was sleeping, and the curtain had blown up. +Her child was in her arms, and I tell you her bare arms were as white as +snow." + +"Must have been the effect of the moonlight," explained some one. + +"Moonlight didn't give the other Indians that complexion," insisted the +priest. + +It was my turn to feel my head suddenly turn giddy, though liquor had +not passed my lips. This information could have only one meaning. I was +close on the track of Miriam, and Eric was near; yet the slightest +blunder on my part might ruin all chance of meeting him and rescuing +her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LITTLE STATUE ANIMATE + + +The men began arguing about the degrees of whiteness in a squaw's skin. +Those, married to native women, averred that differences of complexion +were purely matters of temperament and compared their dusky wives to +Spanish belles. The priest was now talking across the table to Duncan +Cameron, advocating a renewal of North-West trade with the Mandanes on +the Missouri, whither he was bound on his missionary tour. To venture +out of the fort through the Indian encampments, where natives and +outlaws were holding high carnival, and my sleepless foe could have a +free hand, would be to risk all chance of using the information that had +come to me. + +I did not fear death--fear of death was left east of the Sault in those +days. On my preservation depended Miriam's rescue. Besides, if either Le +Grand Diable or myself had to die, I came to the conclusion of other men +similarly situated--that my enemy was the one who should go. + +Violins, flutes and bag-pipes were striking up in different parts of the +hall. Simple ballads, smacking of old delights in an older land, songs, +with which home-sick white men comforted themselves in far-off +lodges--were roared out in strident tones. Feet were beating time to the +rasp of the fiddles. Men rose and danced wild jigs, or deftly executed +some intricate Indian step; and uproarious applause greeted every +performer. The hall throbbed with confused sounds and the din deadened +my thinking faculties. Even now, Eric might be slipping past. In that +deafening tumult I could decide nothing, and when I tried to leave the +table, all the lights swam dizzily. + +"Excuse me, Sir!" I whispered, clutching the priest's elbow. "You're +Father Holland and are to go north in my boats. Come out with me for a +moment." + +Thinking me tipsy, he gave me a droll glance. "'Pon my soul! Strapping +fellows like you shouldn't need last rites----" + +"Please say nothing! Come quickly!" and I gripped his arm. + +"Bless us! It's a touch of the head, or the heart!" and he rose and +followed me from the hall. + +In the fresh air, dizziness left me. Sitting down on the bench, where I +had lain the night before, I told him my perplexing mission. At first, I +am sure he was convinced that I was drunk or raving, but my story had +the directness of truth. He saw at once how easily he could leave the +fort at that late hour without arousing suspicion, and finally offered +to come with me to the river bank, where we might intercept Hamilton. + +"But we must have a boat, a light cockle-shell thing, so we can dart out +whenever the brigade appears," declared the priest, casting about in his +mind for means to forward our object. + +"The canoes are all locked up. Can't you borrow one from the Indians? +Don't you know any of them?" I asked with a sudden sinking of heart. + +"And have the whole pack of them sneaking after us? No--no--that won't +do. Where are your wits, boy! Arrah! Me hearty, but what was that?" + +We both heard the shutter above our heads suddenly thrown open, but +darkness hid anyone who might have been listening. + +"Hm!" said the priest. "Overheard! Fine conspirators we are! Some +eavesdropper!" + +"Hush!" and remembering whose window it was, I held him; for he would +have stalked away. + +"Are you there?" came a clear, gentle voice, that fell from the window +in the breaking ripples of a fountain plash. + +The bit of statuary had become suddenly animate and was not so +marble-cold to mankind as it looked. Thinking we had been taken for an +expected lover, I, too, was moving off, when the voice, that sounded +like the dropping golden notes of a cremona, called out in tones of +vibrating alarm: + +"Don't--don't go! Priest! Priest! Father! It's you I'm speaking to. I've +heard every word!" + +Father Holland and I were too much amazed to do aught but gape from each +other to the dark window. We could now see the outlines of a white face +there. + +"If you'd please put one bench on top of another, and balance a bucket +on that, I think I could get down," pleaded the low, thrilling voice. + +"An' in the name of the seven wonders of creation, what for would you be +getting down?" asked the astonished priest. + +"Oh! Hurry! Are you getting the bench?" coaxed the voice. + +"Faith an' we're not! And we have no thought of doing such a thing!" +began the good man with severity. + +"Then, I'll jump," threatened the voice. + +"And break your pretty neck," answered the ungallant father with +indignation. + +There was a rustling of skirts being gathered across the window sill and +outlines of a white face gave place to the figure of a frail girl +preparing for a leap. + +"Don't!" I cried, genuinely alarmed, with a mental vision of shattered +statuary on the ground. "Don't! I'm getting the benches," and I piled +them up, with a rickety bucket on top. "Wait!" I implored, stepping up +on the bottom bench. "Give me your hand," and as I caught her hands, she +leaped from the window to the bucket, and the bucket to the ground, with +a daintiness, which I thought savored of experience in such escapades. + +"What do you mean, young woman?" demanded Father Holland in anger. "I'll +have none of your frisky nonsense! Do you know, you baggage, that you +are delaying this young man in a matter that is of life-and-death +importance? Tell me this instant, what do you want?" + +"I want to save that woman, Miriam! You're both so slow and stupid! +Come, quick!" and she caught us by the arms. "There's a skiff down among +the rushes in the flats. I can guide you to it. Cross the river in it! +Oh! Quick! Quick! Some of the Hudson's Bay brigades have already +passed!" + +"How do you know?" we both demanded as in one breath. + +"I'm Frances Sutherland. My father is one of the Selkirk settlers and he +had word that they would pass to-night! Oh! Come! Come!" + +This girl, the daughter of a man who was playing double to both +companies! And her service to me would compel me to be loyal to him! +Truly, I was becoming involved in a way that complicated simple duty. +But the girl had darted ahead of us, we following by the flutter of the +white gown, and she led us out of the courtyard by a sally-port to the +rear of a block-house. She paused in the shadow of some shrubbery. + +"Get fagots from the Indians to light us across the flats," she +whispered to Father Holland. "They'll think nothing of your coming. +You're always among them!" + +"Mistress Sutherland!" I began, as the priest hurried forward to the +Indian camp-fires, "I hate to think of you risking yourself in this way +for----" + +"Stop thinking, then," she interrupted abruptly in a voice that somehow +reminded me of my first vision of statuary. + +"I beg your pardon," I blundered on. "Father Holland and I have both +forgotten to apologize for our rudeness about helping you down." + +"Pray don't apologize," answered the marble voice. Then the girl +laughed. "Really you're worse than I thought, when I heard you bungling +over a boat. I didn't mind your rudeness. It was funny." + +"Oh!" said I, abashed. There are situations in which conversation is +impossible. + +"I didn't mind your rudeness," she repeated, "and--and--you mustn't mind +mine. Homesick people aren't--aren't--responsible, you know. Ah! Here +are the torches! Give me one. I thank you--Father Holland--is it not? +Please smother them down till we reach the river, or we'll be followed." + +She was off in a flash, leading us through a high growth of rushes +across the flats. So I was both recognized and remembered from the +previous night. The thought was not displeasing. The wind moaned +dismally through the reeds. I did not know that I had been glancing +nervously behind at every step, with uncomfortable recollections of +arrows and spear-heads, till Father Holland exclaimed: + +"Why, boy! You're timid! What are you scared of?" + +"The devil!" and I spoke truthfully. + +"Faith! There's more than yourself runs from His Majesty; but resist the +devil and he will flee from you." + +"Not the kind of devil that's my enemy," I explained. I told him of the +arrow-shot and spear-head, and all mirth left his manner. + +"I know him, I know him well. There's no greater scoundrel between +Quebec and Athabasca." + +"My devil, or yours?" + +"Yours, lad. Let your laughter be turned to mourning! Beware of him! +I've known more than one murder of his doing. Eh! But he's cunning, so +cunning! We can't trip him up with proofs; and his body's as slippery as +an eel or we might----" + +But a loon flapped up from the rushes, brushing the priest's face with +its wings. + +"Holy Mary save us!" he ejaculated panting to keep up with our guide. +"Faith! I thought 'twas the devil himself!" + +"Do you really mean it? Would it be right to get hold of Le Grand +Diable?" I asked. Frances Sutherland had slackened her pace and we were +all three walking abreast. A dry cane crushed noisily under foot and my +head ducked down as if more arrows had hissed past. + +"Mane it?" he cried, "mane it? If ye knew all the evil he's done ye'd +know whether I mane it." It was his custom when in banter to drop from +English to his native brogue like a merry-andrew. + +"But, Father Holland, I had him in my power. I struck him, but I didn't +kill him, more's the pity!" + +"An' who's talking of killin', ye young cut-throat? I say get howld of +his body and when ye've got howld of his body, I'd further advise +gettin' howld of the butt end of a saplin'----" + +"But, Father, he was my canoeman. I had him in my power." + +Instantly he squared round throwing the torchlight on my face. + +"Had him in your power--knew what he'd done--and--and--didn't?" + +"And didn't," said I. "But you almost make me wish I had. What do you +take traders for?" + +"You're young," said he, "and I take traders for what they are----" + +"But I'm a trader and I didn't----" Though a beginner, I wore the airs +of a veteran. + +"Benedicite!" he cried. "The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall +deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher!" + +"Benedicite!" he repeated. "May ye keep as clean a conscience in this +land as you've brought to it." + +"Amen, Father!" said I. + +"Here we are," exclaimed Frances Sutherland as we emerged from the +reeds to the brink of the river, where a skiff was moored. "Go, be +quick! I'll stay here! 'Twill be better without me. The Hudson's Bay are +keeping close to the far shore!" + +"You can't stay alone," objected Father Holland. + +"I shall stay alone, and I've had my way once already to-night." + +"But we don't wish to lose one woman in finding another," I protested. + +"Go," she commanded with a furious little stamp. "You lose time! +Stupids! Do you think I stay here for nothing? We may have been followed +and I shall stay here and watch! I'll hide in the rushes! Go!" And there +was a second stamp. + +That stamp of a foot no larger than a boy's hand cowed two strong men +and sent us rowing meekly across the river. + +"Did ye ever--did ever ye see such a little termagant, such a +persuasive, commanding little queen of a termagant?" asked the priest +almost breathless with surprise. + +"Queen of courage!" I answered back. + +"Queen of hearts, too, I'm thinking. Arrah! Me hearty, to be young!" + +She must have smothered her torch, for there was no light among the +reeds when I looked back. We crossed the river slowly, listening between +oar-strokes for the paddle-dips of approaching canoes. There was no +sound but the lashing of water against the pebbled shore and we lay in +a little bay ready to dash across the fleet's course, when the boats +should come abreast. + +We had not long to wait. A canoe nose cautiously rounded the headland +coming close to our boat. Instantly I shot our skiff straight across its +path and Father Holland waved the torches overhead. + +"Hist! Hold back there--have a care!" I called. + +"Clear the way!" came an angry order from the dark. "Clear--or we fire!" + +"Fire if you dare, you fools!" I retorted, knowing well they would not +alarm the fort, and we edged nearer the boat. + +"Where's Eric Hamilton?" I demanded. + +"A curse on you! None of your business! Get out of the way! Who are +you?" growled the voice. + +"Answer--quick!" I urged Father Holland, thinking they would respect +holy orders; and I succeeded in bumping my craft against their canoe. + +"Strike him with your paddle, man!" yelled the steersman, who was beyond +reach. + +"Give 'im a bullet!" called another. + +"For shame, ye saucy divils!" shouted the priest, shaking his torch +aloft and displaying his garb. "Shame to ye, threatenin' to shoot a +missionary! Ye'd be much better showin' respect to the Church. Whur's +Eric Hamilton?" he demanded in a fine show of indignation, and he +caught the edge of their craft in his right hand. + +"Let go!" and the steersman threateningly raised a pole that shone +steel-shod. + +"Let go--is ut ye're orderin' me?" thundered the holy man, now in a +towering rage, and he flaunted the torch over the crew. "Howld y'r +imp'dent tongues!" he shouted, shaking the canoe. "Be civil this minute, +or I'll spill ye to the bottom, ye load of cursin' braggarts! Faith an' +ut's a durty meal ye'd make for the fush! Foine answers ye give polite +questions! How d'y' know we're not here to warn ye about the fort? For +shame to ye. Whur's Eric Hamilton, I say?" + +Some of the canoemen recognized the priest. Conciliatory whispers passed +from man to man. + +"Hamilton's far ahead--above the falls now," answered the steersman. + +"Then, as ye hope to save your soul," warned Father Holland not yet +appeased, "deliver this young man's message!" + +"Tell Hamilton," I cried, "that she whom he seeks is held captive by a +band of Sioux on Lake Winnipeg and to make haste. Tell him that and +he'll reward you well!" + +"Vary by one word from the message," added the priest, "and my curses'll +track your soul to the furnace." + +Father Holland relaxed his grasp, the paddles dipped down and the canoe +was lost in the darkness. + +More than once I thought that a shadowy thing like an Indian's boat had +hung on our rear and the craft seemed to be dogging us back to the +flats. Father Holland raised his torch and could see nothing on the +water but the glassy reflection of our own forms. He said it was a +phantom boat I had seen; and, truly, visions of Le Grande Diable had +haunted me so persistently of late, I could scarcely trust my senses. +Frances Sutherland's torch suddenly appeared waving above the flats. I +put muscle to the oar and before we had landed she called out-- + +"An Indian's canoe shot past a moment ago. Did you see it?" + +"No," returned Father Holland. + +"I think we did," said I. + + * * * * * + +"How can I thank you for what you have done?" I was saying to Frances +Sutherland as we entered the fort by the same sally-port. + +"Do you really want to know how?" + +"Do I?" I was prepared to offer dramatic sacrifice. + +"Then never think of it again, nor speak of it again, nor know me any +more than if it hadn't happened----" + +"The conditions are hard." + +"And----" + +"And what?" I asked eagerly. + +"And help me back the way I came down. For if my father--oh! if my +father knew--he would kill me!" + +"Faith! So he ought!" ejaculated the priest. "Risking such precious +treasure among vandals!" + +Again I piled up the benches. From the bench, she stepped to the bucket, +and from the bucket to my shoulder, and as the light weight left my +shoulder for the window sill, unknown to her, I caught the fluffy skirt, +now bedraggled with the night dew, and kissed it gratefully. + +"Oh--ho--and oh-ho and oh-ho," hummed the priest. "Do _I_ scent +matrimony?" + +"Not unless it's in your nose," I returned huffily. "Show me a man of +all the hundreds inside, Father Holland, that wouldn't go on his +marrow-bones to a woman who risks life and reputation, which is dearer +than life, to save another woman!" + +"Bless you, me hearty, if he wouldn't, he'd be a villain," said the +priest. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DECORATING A BIT OF STATUARY + + +I frequently passed that window above the stoop next day. Once I saw a +face looking down on me with such withering scorn, I wondered if the +disgraceful scene with Louis Laplante had become noised about, and I +hastened to take my exercise in another part of the courtyard. +Thereupon, others paid silent homage to the window, but they likewise +soon tired of that parade ground. + +Eastern notions of propriety still clung to me. Of this I had immediate +proof. When our rough crews were preparing to re-embark for the north, I +was shocked beyond measure to see this frail girl come down with her +father to travel in our company. Not counting her father, the priest, +Duncan Cameron, Cuthbert Grant and myself, there were in our party +three-score reckless, uncurbed adventurers, who feared neither God nor +man. I thought it strange of a father to expose his daughter to the bold +gaze, coarse remarks, and perhaps insults of such men. Before the end of +that trip, I was to learn a lesson in western chivalry, which is not +easily explained, or forgotten. As father and daughter were waiting to +take their places in a boat, a shapeless, flat-footed woman, wearing +moccasins--probably the half-breed wife of some trader in the fort--ran +to the water's edge with a parcel of dainties, and kissing the girl on +both cheeks, wished her a fervent God-speed. + +"Oh!" growled the young Nor'-Wester, who had been carried from the +banquet hall, and now wore the sour expression that is the aftermath of +banquets. "Look at that fat lump of a bumblebee distilling honey from +the rose! There are others who would appreciate that sort of thing! This +_is_ the wilderness of lost opportunities!" + +The girl seated herself in a canoe, where the only men were Duncan +Cameron, her father and the native _voyageurs_; and I dare vouch a score +of young traders groaned at the sight of this second lost opportunity. + +"Look, Gillespie! Look!" muttered my comrade of the banquet hall. "The +Little Statue set up at the prow of yon canoe! I'll wager you do +reverence to graven images all the way to Red River!" + +"I'll wager we all do," said I. + +And we did. To change the metaphor--after the style of Mr. Jack +MacKenzie's eloquence--I warrant there was not a young man of the eight +crews, who did not regard that marble-cold face at the prow of the +leading canoe, as his own particular guiding star. And the white face +beneath the broad-brimmed hat, tied down at each side in the fashion of +those days, was as serenely unconscious of us as any star of the +heavenly constellations. If she saw there were objects behind her canoe, +and that the objects were living beings, and the living beings men, she +gave no evidence of it. Nor was the Little Statue--as we had got in the +habit of calling her--heartless. In spite of the fears which she +entertained for her stern father, her filial affection was a thing to +turn the lads of the crews quite mad. Scarcely were we ashore at the +different encampments before father and daughter would stroll off arm in +arm, leaving the whole brigade envious and disconsolate. Was it the +influence of this slip of a girl, I wonder, that a curious change came +over our crews? The men still swore; but they did it under their breath. +Fewer yarns of a quality, which need not be specified, were told; and +certain kinds of jokes were no longer greeted with a loud guffaw. Still +we all thought ourselves mightily ill-used by that diminutive bundle of +independence, and some took to turning the backs of their heads in her +direction when she chanced to come their way. One young spark said +something about the Little Statue being a prig, which we all invited him +to repeat, but he declined. Had she played the coquette under the +innocent mask of sympathy and all other guiles with which gentle slayers +ambush strong hearts, I dare affirm there would have been trouble enough +and to spare. Suicides, fights, insults and worse, I have witnessed when +some fool woman with a fair face came among such men. "Fool" woman, I +say, rather than "false"; for to my mind falsity in a woman may not be +compared to folly for the utter be-deviling of men. + +With our guiding star at the prow of the fore canoe, we continued to +wind among countless islands, through narrow, rocky channels and along +those endless water-ways, that stretch like a tangled, silver chain with +emerald jewels, all the way from the Great Lakes to the plains. +Somewhere along Rainy River, where there is an oasis of rolling, wooded +meadows in a desert of iron rock, we pitched our tents for the night. +The evening air was fragrant with the odor of summer's early flowers. I +could not but marvel at the almost magical growth in these far northern +latitudes. Barely a month had passed since snow enveloped the earth in a +winding sheet, and I have heard old residents say that the winter's +frost penetrated the ground for a depth of four feet. Yet here we were +in a very tropic of growth run riot and the frost, which still lay +beneath the upper soil, was thawing and moistening the succulent roots +of a wilderness of green. The meadow grass, swaying off to the forest +margin in billowy ripples, was already knee-high. The woods were an +impenetrable mass of foliage from the forest of ferns about the broad +trunks to the high tree-tops, nodding and fanning in the night breeze +like coquettish dames in an eastern ball-room. Everywhere--at the river +bank, where our tents stood, above the long grass, and in the +forest--clear, faint and delicate, like the bloom of a fair woman's +cheek, or the pensive theme of some dream fugue, or the sweet notes of +some far-off, floating harmonies, was an odor of hidden flowers. A +trader's nature is, of necessity, rough in the grain, but it is not +corrupt with the fevered joys of the gilded cities. Even we could feel +the call of the wilds to come and seek. It was not surprising, +therefore, that after supper father and daughter should stroll away from +the encampment, arm in arm, as usual. As their figures passed into the +woods, the girl broke away from her father's arm and stooped to the +ground. + +"Pickin' flowers," was the laconic remark of the trader, who had helped +me with Louis Laplante on the beach; and the man lay back full length +against a rising knoll to drink in the delicious freshness of the night. +Every man of us watched the vanishing forms. + +"Smell violets?" asked a heterogeneous combination of sun-brown and +buckskin. + +"This ground's a perfect wheat-field of violets," exclaimed the +whiskered youngster. + +"Lots o' Mayflowers and night-shades in the bush," declared a ragged +man, who was one of the worst gamblers in camp, and was now aimlessly +shuffling a greasy, bethumbed pack of cards. + +"Oh!" came simultaneously from half a dozen. Personally, it struck me +one might pick flowers for a certain purpose in the bush without being +observed. + +"Mayflowers in June!" scoffed the boy. + +"Aye, babe! Mayflowers in June! May is June in these here regions," +asserted the man. "Ladies-and-gentlemen, too, many's you could pick in +the bush!" + +"Ladies-and-gentlemen! Sounds funny in this desert, don't it?" asked the +lad. "What _are_ ladies-and-gentlemen?" + +"Don't you know?" continued the gambler, unfolding a curious lore of +flowers. "Those little potty, white things, split up the middle with a +green head on top--grow under ferns. Come on. Cards are ready! Who's +going to play?" + +"Durn it! Them's Dutchman's breeches!" exclaimed the sun-browned +trapper. "O Goll! If that Little Stature finds any Dutchman's breeches, +she that's so scared of us men! O Goll! Won't she blush? Say, babe, why +don't y'r fill y'r hat with 'em and put 'em in her tent?" and the big +trapper set up a hoarse guffaw which led a general chorus. Then the men +gathered round, to play. + +"Faith, lads!" interrupted the voice of the Irish priest, who had come +upon the group so quietly the gambler scarcely had time to tuck the +tell-tale cards under his buckskin smock, "I'm thinking ye've all +developed a mighty sudden interest in botany. Are there any bleeding +hearts in the bush?" + +"There may be here," suggested the boy. + +"It all comes of the Little Statute!" declared the big trapper. + +"Oh! You and your Stature and Statute! Why can't you say Statue?" asked +the lad with the pompous scorn of youthful knowledge. + +"Because, oh, babe with the chicken-down," answered the man, giving his +corrector a thud with his broad palm and sticking heroically by his slip +of the tongue, "I says the words I means and don't play no prig. She +don't pay more attention to you than if you wuz a stump, that's why +she's a statue, ain't it? And the fellows've got to stretch their necks +to come up to her ideas of what's proper, that's why she's a stature, +ain't it? And not a man of us, if His Reverence'll excuse me for saying +so, dare let out a cuss afore her. That's why she's a statute, ain't +it?" + +And when I walked off to the bush with as great a show of indifference +as I could muster, I heard the priest crying "Bravo!" to the man's +defence. How came it that I was in the woods slushing through damp mold +up to my ankles in black ooze? I no longer had any fear of an ambushed +enemy; for Le Grand Diable, the knave, had forfeited his wages and +deserted at Fort William. He was not seen after the night of the meeting +with the Hudson's Bay canoe off the flats. I drew Father Holland's +attention to this, and the priest was no longer so sceptical about that +phantom boat. But it was not of these things I thought, as I tore a +great strip of bark from the trunk of a birch tree and twisted the piece +into a huge cornucopia. Nor had I the slightest expectation of +encountering father and daughter in the woods. That marble face was too +much in earnest for the vainest of men to suppose its indifference +assumed; and no matter how fair the eyes, no man likes to be looked at, +by eyes that do not see him, or see him only as a blur on the landscape. +Still that marble face stood for much that is dear to the roughest of +hearts and about which men do not talk. So I went on packing damp moss +into the bottom of the bark horn, arranging frail lilies and night +shades about the rim and laying a solid pyramid of violets in the +centre. The mold, through which I was floundering, seemed to merge into +a bog; but the lower reaches were hidden by a thicket of alder bushes +and scrub willows. I mounted a fallen tree and tried to get cautiously +down to some tempting lily-pads. Evidently some one else on the other +side of the brush was after those same bulbs; for I heard the sucking +sound of steps plunging through the mire of water and mud. + +"Why, Gillespie," called a voice, "what in the world are you doing +here?" and the boy emerged through the willows gaping at me in +astonishment. + +"Just what I want to know of you," said I. + +He presented a comical figure. His socks and moccasins had been tied and +slung round his neck. With trousers rolled to his knees, a hatful of +water-lilies in one hand and a sheaf of ferns in the other, he was +wading through the swamp. + +"You see," he began sheepishly. "I thought she couldn't--couldn't +conveniently get these for herself, and it would be kind of nice--kind +of nice--you know--to get some for her----" + +"Don't explain," I blurted out. "I was trying that same racket myself." + +"You know, Gillespie," he continued quite confidentially, "when a man's +been away from his mother and sisters for years and years and years----" + +"Yes, I know, babe; you're an octogenarian," I interrupted. + +"And feels himself going utterly to the bow-wows without any stop-gear +to keep him from bowling clean to the bottom, a person feels like doing +something decent for a girl like the Little Statue," and the youth +plucked half a dozen yellow flowers as well as the coveted white ones. +"Have some for your basket," said he. His face was puckered into +pathetic gravity. "It's so hanged easy to go to the bow-wows out here," +he added. + +"Not so easy as in the towns," I interjected. + +"Ah! but I've been there, gone all through 'em in the towns," he +explained. "That's why the pater packed me off to this wilderness." + +And that, thought I, is why the west gets all the credit for the wild +oats gathered in old lands and sown in the new world. I pulled him up to +the log on which I was balanced, and seating himself he dangled his feet +down and began to souse the mud off his toes. + +"Say!" he exclaimed. "How are you going to get 'em to her?" + +"Take them to the tent." + +"Well, Gillespie, when you take yours up, take mine along, too, will +you? There's a good fellow! Do!" He was drawing on his socks. + +"Not much I will. If there's any proxy, you can take mine," I returned. + +"Say! Do you think Father Holland would take 'em up?" He had tied his +moccasins and was standing. + +"Can't say I think he would." + +"He'd let you hear about it to all eternity, too, wouldn't he?" +reflected the lad. "Come on, then; but you go first." And he followed me +up the log, both of us feeling like shame-faced schoolboys. We stole +into the tent, the one tent of all others that had interest for us that +night, and deposited our burden of flowers on the couch of buffalo +robes. + +"Hurry," whispered my companion. "Stack these ferns round somewhere! +Hurry! She'll be back." And leaving me to do the arranging he bolted for +the tent flaps. "Oh! Open earth and swallow me!" he almost screamed, and +I heard the sound of two persons coming in violent collision at the +entrance. + +"The babe, as I live! The rascally young broth of a babe! Ye rogue, ye!" +burred the deep bass tones of the trader whom I had met over Louis +Laplante. "What are ye doin' here?" + +"Oh, is it only you? Thank fortune!" ejaculated the boy, dodging back. +"What are you doing yourself? Great guns! You scared the wits out of +me! Ho! Here's a lark! Gillespie, my pal, look here!" I turned to see +the sheepish, guilty, smirking faces of the trader, the rough-tongued, +sunburned trapper and the ragged gambler grouped at the entrance, and +each man's arms were full of flowers. + +"Well, I'm durned!" began the rough man. + +"As she's jack-spotted us all," drawled the gentle, liquid tones of the +gambler, "we'd better go ahead and----" + +"And decorate a bit of statuary," shouted the lad with a laugh. + +It was a long tent, like the booth of a fair, with supports at each end, +and we were festooning it from pole to pole with moss and ferns when +somebody rasped at the door. "Mon alive! What's goin' on here?" We +started from our work with the guilty alacrity of burglars. There stood +Frances Sutherland's father, much aghast at the proceedings, and by his +side was a face with cheeks flaming poppy red and lips twitching in +merriment. There was a sudden snow-storm of flowers being tossed down, +and five men brushed past the two spectators and dashed into the hiding +of gathering dusk. At the foot of the knoll I ran against the priest. + +"That," roared Father Holland, shaking with laughter. "That's what I +call good stuff in the rough! Faith, but ye'll give me good stuff in the +rough. I want none o' yer gilded chivalry from the tinsel towns!" + +There was a wreath of night-shades in the Little Statue's hat when the +canoes set out next morning. Mayflowers were at her throat, violets in +her girdle and I know not what in a basket at her feet. The face was +unconscious of us as ever, but about the downcast eyelids played a +tender gentleness which was not there before. Once I caught her glancing +back among us as if she would pick out the culprits; and when her eyes +for a moment rested on me, my heart set up a silly thumping. But she +looked just as pointedly at the others, and I know every man's heart of +them responded; for the boy began such a floundering I thought he would +spill his canoe. A quick trip brought us to the mouth of Red River, +where the Hudson's Bay _voyageurs_ under Colin Robertson were resting. +Here I was surprised to learn that Eric Hamilton had not waited but had +hastened up Red River to Fort Douglas. I could not but connect this +southward move of his with the sudden flight of Le Grand Diable from +Fort William. + +After brief pause at the foot of Lake Winnipeg, our brigade turned +southward and made speed up the Red through the rush-grown sedgy swamps +which over-flood the river bed. Farther south the banks towered high and +smoke curled up from the huts of Lord Selkirk's settlers. Women with +nets in their hands to scare off myriad blackbirds that clouded the air, +and men from the cornfields ran to the river edge and cheered us as we +passed. Here the Sutherlands landed. Some of the traders thought it a +good omen, that Hudson's Bay settlers cheered Nor'-Wester brigades; but +in one bend of the muddy Red, the bastions of Fort Douglas, where +Governor McDonell of the rival company ruled, loomed up and the guns +pointing across the river wore anything but a welcome look. + +We passed Fort Douglas unmolested, followed the Red a mile farther to +its junction with the Assiniboine and here disembarked at Fort +Gibraltar, the headquarters of the Nor'-Westers in Red River. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MORE STUDIES IN STATUARY + + +"So he laughs at our warrant?" exclaimed Duncan Cameron. "Hut-tut! We'll +teach him to respect warrants issued under authority of 43d King George +III.," and the dictator of Fort Gibraltar fussed angrily among the +papers of his desk and beat a threatening tattoo with knuckles and +heels. + +The Assiniboine enters the Red at something like a right angle and in +this angle was the Nor'-Westers' fort, named after an old-world +stronghold, because we imagined our position gave us the same command of +the two waterways by which the _voyageurs_ entered and left the north +country as Gibraltar has of the Mediterranean. Governor McDonell had +thought to outwit us by building the Hudson's Bay fort a mile further +down the current of the Red. It was a sharp trick, for Fort Douglas +could intercept Nor'-West brigades bound from Montreal to Fort +Gibraltar, or from Fort Gibraltar to the Athabasca. Two days after our +arrival, Cuthbert Grant, with a band of _Bois-Brules_, had gone to Fort +Douglas to arrest Captain Miles McDonell for plundering Nor'-West posts. +The doughty governor took Grant's warrant as a joke and scornfully +turned the whole North-West party out of Fort Douglas. On the stockades +outside were proclamations commanding settlers to take up arms in +defense of the Hudson's Bay traders and forbidding natives to sell furs +to any but our rivals. These things added fuel to the hot anger of the +chafing _Bois-Brules_. A curious race were these mongrel plain-rangers, +with all the savage instincts of the wild beast and few of the brutal +impulses of the beastly man. The descendants of French fathers and +Indian mothers, they inherited all the quick, fiery daring of the +Frenchman, all the endurance, craft and courage of the Indian, and all +the indolence of both white man and red. One might cut his enemy's +throat and wash his hands in the life blood, or spend years in +accomplishing revenge; but it is a question if there is a single +instance on record of a _Bois-Brule_ molesting an enemy's family. When +the Frenchman married a native woman, he cast off civilization like an +ill-fitting coat and virtually became an Indian. When the Scotch settler +married a native woman, he educated her up to his own level and if she +did not become entirely civilized, her children did. One was the wild +man, the Ishmaelite of the desert, the other, the tiller of the soil, +the Israelite of the plain. Such were the tameless men, of whom Cuthbert +Grant was the leader, the leader solely from his fitness to lead. + +It was late in the afternoon when the warden returned from Fort Douglas. +I was busy over my desk. Father Holland was still with us awaiting the +departure of traders to the south, and Duncan Cameron was stamping about +the room like a caged lion. There came a quick, angry tramp from the +hall. + +"That's Grant back, and there's no one with him," muttered Cameron with +suppressed anger; and in burst the warden himself, his heavy brows dark +with fury and his eyes flashing like the fire at a pistol point. +Involuntarily I stopped work and the priest glanced across at me with a +look which bespoke expectation of an explosion. Grant did not storm. +That was not his way. He took several turns about the room, mastered +himself, and speaking through his teeth said quietly, "There be some +fools that enjoy playing with gunpowder. I'm not one of them! There be +some idiots that like teasing tigers. 'Tis not sport to my fancy! There +be some pot-valiant braggarts that defy the law. Let them enjoy the +breaking of the law!" + +"What--what--what?" sputtered the Highland governor, springing first on +one side of Grant and then on the other, all the while rumbling out +maledictions on Lord Selkirk, and Governor McDonell and Fort Douglas. +"What do ye say, mon? Do I understand ye clearly, there's no prisoners +with ye?" + +"Laughs at the _Bois-Brules_. The fool laughs at the _Bois-Brules_! I've +seen gophers cock their eye at a wolf, before that same wolf made a +breakfast of gophers! The fool laughs at your warrant, Sir! Scouted it, +Sir! Bundled us out of Fort Douglas like cattle!" The warden went on in +a bitter strain to tell of the effect of the posted proclamations on his +followers. + +"So the lordly Captain Miles McDonell of the Queen's Rangers, +generalissimo of all creation, defies us, does he?" demanded Cameron in +great dudgeon, scarcely crediting his ears. + +"Aye!" answered Grant, "but he can ill afford to be so high and mighty. +We went through the settlement and half the people are with us----" + +"That's good! That's good!" responded Cameron with keen relish. + +"They're heartily sick of the country," continued the warden, "and would +leave to-morrow if we'd supply the boats. Last winter they nearly +starved. The company's generous supply was rancid grease and wormy +flour." + +"Fine way o' colonizing a country," stormed Cameron, "bring men out as +settlers and arm them to fight! We'll spike his guns by shipping a score +more away." + +"We've spiked his guns in a better way," said Grant dryly. "Some of the +friendlies are so afraid he'll take their guns away and leave them +defenceless unless they fight us, they've sent their arms here for +safekeeping. We'll keep them safe, I'll warrant." Grant smiled, showing +his white teeth in a way that was not pleasant to see, and somehow +reminded me of a dog's snarl. + +"Good! Good! Excellent, Grant." Such strategy pleased Cameron. "See +here, mon, Cuthbert, we've the law on our side--we've the warrants to +back the law! We'd better give yon dour fool a lesson. He's broken the +peace. We haven't. Come out, an' I'll talk it over with ye!" + +The two went out, Grant saying as they passed the window--"Let him +tamper with the fur trade among the Indians and I'll not answer for it! +That last order not to sell----" The rest of the remark I lost. + +"'Twould serve him well right if they did," returned Cameron, and both +men walked beyond hearing. + +Father Holland and I were left alone. The fort became ominously still. +There was a distant clatter of receding hoofs; but we were on the south +side of the warehouse and could not see which way the horses were +galloping. + +"I'm afraid--I'm afraid both sides will be rash," observed the priest. + +The sun-dial indicated six o'clock. I closed and locked the office +desks. We had supper in the deserted dining-hall. Afterwards we strolled +to the northeast gate, and looking in the direction of Fort Douglas, +wondered what scheme could be afoot. Here my testimony need not be taken +for, or against, either side. All I saw was Duncan Cameron with the +other white men of the fort standing on a knoll some distance from Fort +Gibraltar, evidently gazing towards Fort Douglas. Against the sky, above +the settlement, there were clouds of rising smoke. + +"Burning hay-ricks?" I questioned. + +"Aye, and houses! 'Tis shameless work leaving the people exposed to the +blasts of next winter! Shameless, shameless work! Y'r company'll gain +nothing by it, Rufus!" + +Across the night came faint, short snappings like a fusillade of shots. + +"Looting the neutrals," said the priest. "God grant there be no blood on +the plains this night! These fool traders don't realize what it means to +rouse blood in an Indian! They'll get a lesson yet! Give the red devils +a taste of blood and there won't be a white unscalped to the Rockies! +I've seen y'r fine, clever rascals play the Indian against rivals, and +the game always ends the same way. The Indian is a weapon that's quick +to cut the hand of the user." + +Little did I realize my part in the terrible fulfilment of that +prophecy. + +"Look alive, lad! Where are y'r wits? What's that?" he cried, suddenly +pointing to the river bank. + +Up from the cliff sprang a form as if by magic. It came leaping straight +to the fort gate. + +"Some frightened half-breed wench," surmised the priest. + +I saw it was a woman with a shawl over her head like a native. + +"_Bon soir!_" said I after the manner of traders with Indian women; but +she rushed blindly on to the gate. + +The fort was deserted. Suspicion of treachery flashed on me. How many +more half-breeds were beneath that cliff? + +"Stop, huzzie!" I ordered, springing forward and catching her so tightly +by the wrist that she swung half-way round before she could check +herself. She wrenched vigorously to get free. "Stop! Be still, you +huzzie!" + +"Be still--you what?" asked a low, amazed voice that broke in ripples +and froze my blood. A shawl fluttered to the ground, and there stood +before us the apparition of a marble face. + +"The Little Statue!" I gasped in sheer horror at what I had done. + +"The little--what?" asked the rippling voice, that sounded like cold +water flowing under ice, and a pair of eyes looked angrily down at the +hand with which I was still unconsciously gripping her arm. + +"I'd thank you, Sir," she began, with a mock courtesy to the priest, +"I'd thank you, Sir, to call off your mastiff." + +"Let her go, boy!" roared the priest with a hammering blow across my +forearm that brought me to my senses and convinced me she was no wraith. + +Mastiff! That epithet stung to the quick. I flung her wrist from me as +if it had been hot coals. Now, a woman may tread upon a man--also stamp +upon him if she has a mind to--but she must trip it daintily. Otherwise +even a worm may turn against its tormentor. To have idolized that marble +creature by day and night, to have laid our votive offerings on its +shrine, to have hungered for the sound of a woman's lips for weeks, and +to hear those lips cuttingly call me a dog--were more than I could +stand. + +"Ten thousand pardons, Mistress Sutherland!" I said with a pompous +stiffness which I intended should be mighty crushing. "But when ladies +deck themselves out as squaws and climb in and out of windows,"--that +was brutal of me; she had done it for Miriam and me--"and announce +themselves in unexpected ways, they need not hope to be recognized." + +And did she flare back at me? Not at all. + +"You waste time with your long speeches," she said, turning from me to +Father Holland. + +Thereupon I strode off angrily to the river bank. + +"Oh, Father Holland," I heard her say as I walked away, "I must go to +Pembina! I'm in such trouble! There's a Frenchman----" + +Trouble, thought I; she is in trouble and I have been thinking only of +my own dignity. And I stood above the river, torn between desire to rush +back and wounded pride, that bade me stick it out. Over the plains came +the shout of returning plunderers. I could hear the throb, throb of +galloping hoofs beating nearer and nearer over the turf, and reflected +that I might make the danger from returning _Bois-Brules_ the occasion +of a reconciliation. + +"Come here, lad!" called Father Holland. I needed no urging. "Ye must +rig up in tam-o'-shanter and tartan, like a Highland settler, and take +Mistress Sutherland back to Fort Douglas. She's going to Pembina to meet +her father, lad, when I go south to the Missouri. And, lad," the priest +hesitated, glancing doubtfully from Miss Sutherland to me, "I'm thinking +there's a service ye might do her." + +The Little Statue was looking straight at me now, and there were +tear-marks about the heavy lashes. Now, I do not pretend to explain the +power, or witchery, a gentle slip of a girl can wield with a pair of +gray eyes; but when I met the furtive glance and saw the white, veined +forehead, the arched brows, the tremulous lips, the rounded chin, and +the whole face glorified by that wonderful mass of hair, I only know, +without weapon or design, she dealt me a wound which I bear to this day. +What a ruffian I had been! I was ashamed, and my eyes fell before hers. +If a libation of blushes could appease an offended goddess, I was livid +evidence of repentance. I felt myself flooded in a sudden heat of shame. +She must have read my confusion, for she turned away her head to hide +mantling forgiveness. + +"There's a crafty Frenchman in the fort has been troubling the lassie. +I'm thinking, if ye worked off some o' your anger on him, it moight be +for the young man's edification. Be quick! I hear the breeds returning!" + +"But I have a message," she said in choking tones. + +"From whom?" I asked aimlessly enough. + +"Eric Hamilton!" she answered. + +"Eric Hamilton!" both the priest and I shouted. + +"Yes--why? What--what--is it? He's wounded, and he wants a Rufus +Gillespie, who's with the Nor'-Westers. The _Bois-Brules_ fired on the +fort. Where _is_ Rufus Gillespie?" + +"Bless you, lassie! Here--here--here he is!" The holy father thumped my +back at every word. "Here he is, crazy as a March hare for news of +Hamilton!" + +"You--Rufus--Gillespie!" So she did not even know my name. Evidently, if +she troubled my thoughts, I did not trouble hers. + +"He's told me so much about you," she went on, with a little pant of +astonishment. "How brave and good----" + +"Pshaw!" I interrupted roughly. "What's the message?" + +"Mr. Hamilton wishes to see you at once," she answered coldly. + +"Then kill two birds with one stone! Take her home and see Hamilton--and +hurry!" urged the priest. + +The half-breeds were now very near. + +"Put it over your head!" and Father Holland clapped the shawl about +Frances Sutherland after the fashion of the half-breed women. + +She stood demurely behind him while I ran up-stairs in the warehouse to +disguise myself in tartan plaid. When I came out, Duncan Cameron was in +the gateway welcoming Cuthbert Grant and the _Bois-Brules_, as if +pillaging defenceless settlers were heroic. Victors from war may be +inspiring, but a half-breed rabble, red-handed from deeds of violence, +is not a sight to edify any man. + +"What's this ye have, Father?" bawled one impudent fellow, and he +pointed sneeringly at the figure in the folds of the shawl. + +"Let the wench be!" was the priest's reply, and the half-breed lounged +past with a laugh. + +I was about to offer Frances Sutherland my arm to escort her from the +mob, when I felt Father Holland's hard knuckles dig viciously into my +ribs. + +"Ye fool ye! Ye blundering idiot!" he whispered, "she's a half-breed. +Och! But's time y'r eastern greenness was tannin' a good western russet! +Let her follow with bowed head, or you'll have the whole pack on y'r +heels!" + +With that admonition I strode boldly out, she behind, humble, with +downcast eyes like a half-breed girl. + +We ran down the river path through the willows and jumping into a canoe +swiftly rounded the forks of the Assiniboine and Red. There we left the +canoe and fled along a trail beneath the cliff till the shouting of the +half-breeds could be no longer heard. At once I turned to offer her my +arm. She must have bruised her feet through the thin moccasins, for the +way was very rough. I saw that she was trembling from fatigue. + +"Permit me," I said, offering my arm as formally as if she had been +some grand lady in an eastern drawing-room. + +"Thank you--I'm afraid I must," and she reluctantly placed a light hand +on my sleeve. + +I did not like that condescending compulsion, and now out of danger, I +became strangely embarrassed and angry in her presence. The "mastiff" +epithet stuck like a barb in my boyish chivalry. Was it the wind, or a +low sigh, or a silent weeping, that I heard? I longed to know, but would +not turn my head, and my companion was lagging just a step behind. I +slackened speed, so did she. Then a voice so low and soft and golden it +might have melted a heart of stone--but what is a heart of stone +compared to the wounded pride of a young man?--said, "Do you know, I +think I rather like mastiffs?" + +"Indeed," said I icily, in no mood for raillery. + +"Like _them_ for friends, not enemies, to be protected by _them_, +not--not bitten," the voice continued with a provoking emphasis of the +plural "_them_." + +"Yes," said I, with equal emphasis of the obnoxious plural. "Ladies find +_them_ useful at times." + +That fling silenced her and I felt a shiver run down the arm on my +sleeve. + +"Why, you're shivering," I blundered out. "You must let me put this +round you," and I pulled off the plaid and would have placed it on her +shoulders, but she resisted. + +"I am not in the least cold," she answered frigidly--which is the only +untruth I ever heard her tell--"and you shall not say '_must_' to me," +and she took her hand from my arm. She spoke with a tremor that warned +me not to insist. Then I knew why she had shivered. + +"Please forgive, Miss Sutherland," I begged. "I'm such a maladroit +animal." + +"I quite agree with you, a maladroit mastiff with teeth!" + +Mastiff! That insult again! I did not reproffer my arm. We strode +forward once more, she with her face turned sideways remote from me, I +with my face sideways remote from her, and the plaid trailing from my +hand by way of showing her she could have it if she wished. We must have +paced along in this amiable, post-matrimonial fashion for quite a +quarter of the mile we had to go, and I was awkwardly conscious of +suppressed laughing from her side. It was the rippling voice, that +always seemed to me like fountain splash in the sunshine, which broke +silence again. + +"Really," said the low, thrilling, musical witchery by my side, "really, +it's the most wonderful story I have ever heard!" + +"Story?" I queried, stopping stock still and gaping at her. + +"Perfectly wonderful! So intensely interesting and delightful." + +"Interesting and delightful?" I interrogated in sheer amazement. This +girl utterly dumfounded me, and in the conceit of youth I thought it +strange that any girl could dumfound me. + +"What an interesting life you have had, to be sure!" + +"I have had?" + +"Yes, don't you know you've been talking in torrents for the past ten +minutes? No? Do you forget?" and she laughed tremulously either from +embarrassment, or cold. + +"Well!" said I, befooled into good-humor and laughing back. "If you give +me a day's warning, I'll try to keep up with you." + +"Ah! There! I've put you through the ice at last! It's been such hard +work!" + +"And I come up badly doused!" + +"Stimulated too! You're doing well already!" + +"My thanks to my instructor," and catching the spirit of her mockery, I +swept her a courtly bow. + +"There! There!" she cried, dropping raillery as soon as I took it up. +"You were cross at the window. I was cross on the flats. You nearly +wrenched my hand off----" + +"Can you blame me?" I asked. "And to pay me back you turned my head and +stole my heart----" + +"Hush!" she interrupted. "Let's clean the slate and begin again." + +"With all my heart, if you'll wear this tartan and stop shivering." I +was not ready to consent to an unconditional surrender. + +"I hate your 'ifs' and 'buts' and so-much-given-for-so-much-got," she +exclaimed with an impatient, little stamp, "but--but--" she added +inconsistently, "if--if--you'll keep one end of the plaid for yourself, +I'll take the other." + +"Ho--ho! I like 'ifs' and 'buts.' Have you more of that kind?" I +laughed, whisking the fold about us both. Drawing her hand into mine, I +kept it there. + +"It isn't so cold as--as that, is it?" asked the voice under the plaid. + +"Quite," I returned valiantly, tightening my clasp. She laughed a low, +mellow laugh that set my heart beating to the tune of a trip-hammer. I +felt a great intoxication of strength that might have razed Fort Douglas +to the ground and conquered the whole world, which, I dare say, other +young men have felt when the same kind of weight hung upon their +protection. + +"Oh! Little Statue! Why have you been so hard on us?" I began. + +"_Us?_" she asked. + +"Me--then," and I gulped down my embarrassment. + +"Because----" + +"Because what?" + +"No _what_. Just because!" She was astonished that her decisive reason +did not satisfy. + +"Because! A woman's reason!" I scoffed. + +"Because! It's the best and wisest and most wholesome reason ever +invented. Think what it avoids saying and what wisdom may be behind +it!" + +"Only wisdom?" + +"You be careful! There'll be another cold plunge! Tell me about your +friend's wife, Miriam," she answered, changing the subject. + +And when I related my strange mission and she murmured, "How +noble," I became a very Samson of strength, ready to vanquish +an army of Philistine admirers with the jawbone of my inflated +self-confidence--provided, always, one queen of the combat were looking +on. + +"Are you cold, now?" I asked, though the trembling had ceased. + +No, she was not cold. She was quite comfortable, and the answer came in +vibrant tones which were as wine to a young man's heart. + +"Are you tired, Frances?" and the "No" was accompanied by a little +laugh, which spurred more questioning for no other purpose than to hear +the music of her voice. Now, what was there in those replies to cause +happiness? Why have inane answers to inane, timorous questions +transformed earth into paradise and mortals into angels? + +"Do you find the way very far--Frances?" The flavor of some names tempts +repeated tasting. + +"Very far?" came the response in an amused voice, "find it very far? Yes +I do, quite far--oh! No--I don't. Oh! I don't know!" She broke into a +joyous laugh at her own confusion, gaining more self-possession as I +lost mine; and out she slipped from the plaid. + +"I wish it were a thousand times farther," and I gazed ruefully at the +folds that trailed empty. + +What other absurd things I might have said, I cannot tell; but we were +at the fort and I had to wrap the tartan disguise about myself. +Stooping, I picked a bunch of dog-roses growing by the path, then felt +foolish, for I had not the courage to give them to her, and dropped them +without her knowledge. She gave the password at the gate. I was taken +for a Selkirk Highlander and we easily gained entrance. + +A man brushed past us in the gloom of the courtyard. He looked +impudently down into her face. It was Laplante, and my whole frame +filled with a furious resentment which I had not guessed could be +possible with me. + +"That Frenchman," she whispered, but his figure vanished among the +buildings. She showed me the council hall where Eric could be found. + +"And where do you go?" I asked stupidly. + +She indicated the quarters where the settlers had taken refuge. I led +her to the door. + +"Are you sure you'll be safe?" + +"Oh! Yes, quite, as long as the settlers are here; and you, you will let +me know when the priest sets out for Pembina?" + +I vowed more emphatically than the case required that she should know. + +"Are there no dark halls in there, unsafe for you?" I questioned. + +"None," and she went up the first step of the doorway. + +"Are you sure you're safe?" I also mounted a step. + +"Yes, quite, thank you," and she retreated farther, "and you, have you +forgotten you came to see Mr. Hamilton?" + +"Why--so I did," I stammered out absently. + +She was on the top step, pulling the latch-string of the great door. + +"Stop! Frances--dear!" I cried. + +She stood motionless and I felt that this last rashness of an unruly +tongue--too frank by far--had finished me. + +"What? Can I do anything to repay you for your trouble in bringing me +here?" + +"I've been repaid," I answered, "but indeed, indeed, long live the +Queen! May it please Her Majesty to grant a token to her leal and +devoted knight----" + +"What is thy request?" she asked laughingly. "What token doth the knight +covet?" + +"The token that goes with _good-nights_," and I ventured a pace up the +stairs. + +"There, Sir Knight," she returned, hastily putting out her hand, which +was not what I wanted, but to which I gratefully paid my devoir. "Art +satisfied?" she asked. + +"Till the Queen deigns more," and I paused for a reply. + +She lingered on the threshold as if she meant to come down to me, then +with a quick turn vanished behind the gloomy doors, taking all the +light of my world with her; but I heard a voice, as of some happy bird +in springtime, trilling from the hall where she had gone, and a new song +made music in my own heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +A SHUFFLING OF ALLEGIANCE + + +Time was when Fort Douglas rang as loudly with mirth of assembled +traders as ever Fort William's council hall. Often have I heard veterans +of the Hudson's Bay service relate how the master of revels used to fill +an ample jar with corn and quaff a beaker of liquor for every grain in +the drinker's hour-glass. + +"How stands the hour-glass?" the governor of the feast, who was +frequently also the governor of the company, would roar out in +stentorian tones, that made themselves heard above the drunken brawl. + +"High, Your Honor, high," some flunkey of the drinking bout would bawl +back. + +Thereupon, another grain was picked from the jar, another flagon tossed +down and the revel went on. This was a usual occurrence before and after +the conflict with the Nor'-Westers. But the night that I climbed the +stairs of the main warehouse and, mustering up assurance, stepped into +the hall as if I belonged to the fort, or the fort belonged to me, there +was a different scene. A wounded man lay on a litter at the end of the +long, low room; and the traders sitting on the benches against the +walls, or standing aimlessly about, were talking in suppressed tones. +Scotchmen, driven from their farms by the _Bois-Brules_, hung around in +anxious groups. The lanterns, suspended on iron hooks from mid-rafter, +gave but a dusky light, and I vainly scanned many faces for Eric +Hamilton. That he was wounded, I knew. I was stealing stealthily towards +the stretcher at the far end of the place, when a deep voice burred +rough salutation in my ear. + +"Hoo are ye, gillie?" It was a shaggy-browed, bluff Scotchman, who +evidently took me in my tartan disguise for a Highland lad. Whether he +meant, "How are you," or "Who are you," I was not certain. Afraid my +tongue might betray me, I muttered back an indistinct response. The Scot +was either suspicious, or offended by my churlishness. I slipped off +quickly to a dark corner, but I saw him eying me closely. A youth +brushed past humming a ditty, which seemed strangely out of place in +those surroundings. He stood an elbow's length from me and kicked +moccasined heels against the floor in the way of light-headed lads. Both +the air and figure of the young fellow vaguely recalled somebody, but +his back was towards me. I was measuring my comrade, wondering if I +might inquire where Hamilton could be found, when the lad turned, and I +was face to face with the whiskered babe of Fort William. He gave a +long, low whistle. + +"Gad!" he gasped. "Do my eyes tell lies? As I live, 'tis your very self! +Hang it, now, I thought you were one of those solid bodies wouldn't do +any turn-coating----" + +"Turn-coating!" I repeated in amazement. + +"One of those dray-horse, old reliables, wouldn't kick over the traces, +not if the boss pumped his arms off licking you! Hang it! I'm not that +sort! By gad, I'm not! I've got too many oats! I can't stand being jawed +and gee-hawed by Dunc. Cameron; so when the old Gov. threatened to dock +me for being full, I just kicked up my heels and came. But say! I didn't +think you would, Gillespie!" + +"No?" said I, keeping my own counsel and waiting for the Nor'-West +deserter to proceed. + +"What 'd y' do it for, Gillespie? You're as sober as cold water! Was it +old Cameron?" + +"You're not talking straight, babe," said I. "You know Cameron doesn't +nag his men. What did _you_ do it for?" + +"Eh?" and the lad gave a laugh over my challenge of his veracity. "See +here, old pal, I'll tell you if you tell me." + +"Go ahead with your end of the contract!" + +"Well, then, look here. We're not in this wilderness for glory. I knock +down to the highest bidder----" + +"Hudson's Bay is _not_ the highest bidder." + +"Not unless you happen to have information they want." + +"Oh! That's the way of it, is it?" So the boy was selling Nor'-Westers' +secrets. + +"You can bet your last beaver-skin it is! Do you think I was old +Cam's private secretary for nothin'? Not I! I say--get your wares +as you may and sell 'em to the highest bidder. So here I am, snugly +berthed, with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs, all through +judicious--distribution--of--information." And the boy gurgled with +pleasure over his own cleverness. "And say, Gillespie, I'm in regular +clover! The Little Statue's here, all alone! Dad's gone to Pembina to +the buffalo hunt. I've got ahead of all you fellows. I'm going to +introduce a French-chap, a friend of mine." + +"You'd much better break his bones," was my advice. It needed no great +speculation to guess who the Frenchman was; and in the hands of that +crafty rake this prattling babe would be as putty. + +"Pah! You're jealous, Gillespie! We're right on the inside track!" + +"Lots of confidential talks with her, I suppose?" + +"Talks! Pah! You gross fatty! Why, Gillespie, what do you know of such +things? Laplante can win a girl by just looking at her--French way, you +know--he can pose better than a poem!" + +"Blockhead," I ground out between my teeth, a feeling taking possession +of me, which is designated "indignation" in the first person but +jealousy in the second and third. "You stupid simpleton, that Laplante +is a villain who will turn your addled pate and work you as an old wife +kneads dough." + +"What do you know about Laplante?" he demanded hotly. + +"I know he is an accomplished blackguard," I answered quietly, "and if +you want to spoil your chances with the Little Statue, just prance round +in his company." + +The lad was too much surprised to speak. + +"Where's Hamilton?" I asked. + +"Find him for yourself," said he, going off in a huff. + +I edged cautiously near enough the wounded man to see that he was not +Hamilton. Near the litter was a group of clerks. + +"They're fools," one clerk was informing the others. "Cameron sent word +he'd have McDonell dead or alive. If he doesn't give himself up, this +fort'll go and the whole settlement be massacred." + +"Been altogether too high-handed anyway," answered another. "I'm loyal +to my company; but Lord Selkirk can't set up a military despotism here. +Been altogether better if we'd left the Nor'-Westers alone." + +"It's all the fault of that cocky little martinet," declared a third. + +"I say," exclaimed a man joining the group, "d' y' hear the news? All +the chiefs in there--" jerking his thumb towards a side door--"are +advising Captain McDonell to give himself up and save the fort." + +"Good thing. Who'll miss him? He'll only get a free trip to Montreal," +remarked one of the aggressives in this group. "I tell you, men, both +companies have gone a deal too far in this little slap-back game to be +keen for legal investigation. Why, at Souris, everybody knows----" + +He lowered his voice and I unconsciously moved from my dark corner to +hear the rest. + +"Hoo are ye, gillie?" said the burly Scot in my ear. + +Turning, I found the canny swain had followed me on an investigating +tour. Again I gave him an inarticulate reply and lost myself among other +coteries. Was the man spying on me? I reflected that if "the chiefs"--as +the Hudson's Bay man had called them--were in the side room, Eric +Hamilton would be among these conferring with the governor. As I +approached the door, I noticed my Scotch friend had taken some one into +his confidence and two men were now on my tracks. Lifting the latch, I +gave a gentle, cautious push and the hinges swung so quietly I had +slipped into the room before those inside or out could prevent me. I +found myself in the middle of a long apartment with low, sloping +ceiling, and deep window recesses. It had evidently been partitioned off +from the main hall; for the wall, ceiling and floor made an exact +triangle. At one end of the place was a table. Round this was a group of +men deeply engrossed in some sort of conference. Sitting on the window +sills and lounging round the box stove behind the table were others of +our rival's service. I saw at once it would be difficult to have access +to Hamilton. He was lying on a stretcher within talking range of the +table and had one arm in a sling. Now, I hold it is harder for the +unpractised man to play the spy with everything in his favor, than for +the adept to act that role against the impossible. One is without the +art that foils detection. The other can defy detection. So I stood +inside with my hand on the door lest the click of the closing latch +should rouse attention, but had no thought of prying into Hudson's Bay +secrets. + +"Your Honor," began Hamilton in a lifeless manner, which told me his +search had been bootless, and he turned languidly towards a puffy, +crusty, military gentleman, whom, from the respect shown him, I judged +to be Governor McDonell. "Duncan Cameron's warrant for the arrest is +perfectly legal. If Your Honor should surrender yourself, you will save +Fort Douglas for the Hudson's Bay Company. Besides, the whole arrest +will prove a farce. The law in Lower Canada provides no machinery for +the trial of cases occurring----" Here Hamilton came to a blank and +unexpected stop, for his eyes suddenly alighted on me with a look that +forbade recognition, and fled furtively back to the group it the table. +I understood and kept silent. + +"For the trial of cases occurring?" asked the governor sharply. + +"Occurring--here," added Hamilton, shooting out the last word as if his +arm had given him a sudden twinge. "And so I say, Your Honor will lose +nothing by giving yourself up to the Nor'-Westers, and will save Fort +Douglas for the Hudson's Bay." + +"The doctor tells me it's a compound fracture. You'll find it painful, +Mr. Hamilton," said Governor McDonell sympathetically, and he turned to +the papers over which the group were conferring. "I'm no great hand in +winning victories by showing the white flag," began the gallant captain, +"but if a free trip from here to Montreal satisfies those fools, I'll +go." + +"Well said! Bravo! Your Honor," exclaimed a shaggy member of the +council, bringing his fist down on the table with a thud. "I call that +diplomacy, outmanoeuvring the enemy! Your Honor sets an example for +abiding by the law; you obey the warrant. They must follow the example +and leave Fort Douglas alone." + +"Besides, I can let His Lordship know from Montreal just what +reinforcements are needed here," continued Captain McDonell, with a +curious disregard for the law which he professed to be obeying, and a +faithful zeal for Lord Selkirk. + +Hamilton was looking anxiously at me with an expression of warning which +I could not fully read. Then I felt, what every one must have felt at +some time, that a third person was watching us both. Following Eric's +glance to a dark window recess directly opposite the door where I stood, +I was horrified and riveted by the beady, glistening, insolent eyes of +Louis Laplante, gazing out of the dusk with an expression of rakish +amusement, the amusement of a spider when a fly walks into its web. +Taken unawares I have ever been more or less of what Mr. Jack MacKenzie +was wont to call "a stupid loon!" On discovering Laplante I promptly +sustained my reputation by letting the door fly to with a sharp click +that startled the whole room-full. Whereat Louis Laplante gave a low, +soft laugh. + +"What do you want here, man?" demanded Governor McDonell's sharp voice. + +Jerking off my cap, I saluted. + +"My man, Your Honor," interjected Eric quietly. "Come here, Rufus," he +commanded, motioning me to his side with the hauteur of a master towards +a servant. And Louis Laplante rose and tip-toed after me with a tigerish +malice that recalled the surly squaw. + +"Oh, Eric!" I cried out eagerly. "Are you hurt, and at such a time?" +Unconsciously I was playing into Louis' hands, for he stood by the +stove, laughing nonchalantly. + +Thereupon Eric ground out some imprecation at my stupidity. + +"There's been a shuffling of allegiance, I hear," he said with a queer +misleading look straight at Laplante. "We've recruits from Fort +Gibraltar." + +Eric's words, curiously enough, banished triumph from Laplante's face +and the Frenchman's expression was one of puzzled suspicion. From Eric's +impassive features, he could read nothing. What Hamilton was driving at, +I should presently learn; but to find out I would no more take my eyes +from Laplante's than from a tiger about to spring. At once, to get my +attention, Hamilton brought a stick down on my toes with a sharpness +that made me leap. By all the codes of nudges and kicks and such +signaling, it is a principle that a blow at one end of human anatomy +drives through the density of the other extremity. It dawned on me that +Eric was trying to persuade Laplante I had deserted Nor'-Westers for the +Hudson's Bay. The ethics of his attempt I do not defend. It was after +the facile fashion of an intriguing era. A sharper weapon was presently +given us against Louis Laplante; for when I grasped Eric's stick to stay +the raps against my feet, I felt the handle rough with carving. + +"What are these carvings, may I inquire, Sir?" I asked, assuming the +strangeness, which Eric's signals had directed, but never moving my eyes +from Laplante. The villain who had befooled me in the gorge and eluded +me in the forest, and now tormented Frances Sutherland, winced under my +watchfulness. + +"The carvings!" answered Eric, annoyed that I did not return his plain +signals and determined to get my eye. "Pray look for yourself! Where are +your eyes?" + +"I can't see in this poor light, Sir; but I also have a strangely carved +thing--a spear-head. Now if this head has no handle and this handle has +no head--they might fit," I went on watching Laplante, whose saucy +assurance was deserting him. + +"Spear-head!" exclaimed Hamilton, beginning to understand I too had my +design. "Where did you find it?" + +"Trying to bury itself in my head." I returned. At this, Laplante, the +knave, smiled graciously in my very face. + +"But it didn't succeed?" asked Hamilton. + +"No--it mistook me for a tree, missed the mark and went into the tree; +just as another friend of mine mistook me for a tree, hit the mark and +ran into me," and I smiled back at Laplante. His face clouded. That +reference to the scene on the beach, where his Hudson's Bay despatches +were stolen, was too much for his hot blood. "Here it is," I continued, +pulling the spear-head out of my plaid. I had brought it to Hamilton, +hoping to identify our enemy, and we did. "Please see if they fit, Sir? +We might identify our--friends!" and I searched the furtive, guilty eyes +of the Frenchman. + +"Dat frien'," muttered Louis with a threatening look at me, "dat frien' +of Mister Hamilton he spike good English for Scot' youth." + +Now Louis, as I remembered from Laval days, never mixed his English and +French, except when he was in passion furious beyond all control. + +"Fit!" cried Hamilton. "They're a perfect fit, and both carved the same, +too." + +"With what?" + +"Eagles," answered Eric, puzzled at my drift, and Louis Laplante wore +the last look of the tiger before it springs. + +"And eagles," said I, defying the spring, "signify that both the +spear-head and the spear-handle belong to the Sioux chief whose +daughter"--and I lowered my voice to a whisper which only Laplante and +Hamilton could hear--"is married--to Le--Grand--Diable!" + +"What!" came Hamilton's low cry of agony. Forgetting the fractured arm, +he sprang erect. + +And Louis Laplante staggered back in the dark as if we had struck him. + +"Laplante! Laplante! Where's that Frenchman? Bring him up here!" called +Governor McDonell's fussy, angry tones. + +Coming when it did, this demand was to Louis a bolt of judgment; and he +joined the conference with a face as gray as ashes. + +"Now about those stolen despatches! We want to know the truth! Were you +drunk, or were you not? Who has them?" Captain McDonell arraigned the +Frenchman with a fire of questions that would have confused any other +culprit but Louis. + +"Eric," I whispered, taking advantage of the respite offered by Louis' +examination. "We found Laplante at _Pointe a la Croix_. He was drunk. He +confessed Miriam is held by Diable's squaw. Then we discovered someone +was listening to the confession and pursued the eavesdropper into the +bush. When we came back, Laplante had been carried off. I found one of +my canoemen had your lost fowling-piece, and it was he who had listened +and carried off the drunk sot and tried to send that spear-head into me +at the Sault. 'Twas Diable, Eric! Father Holland, a priest in our +company, told me of the white woman on Lake Winnipeg. Did you find +this--" indicating the spear handle--"there?" + +Eric, cold, white and trembling, only whispered an affirmative. + +"Was that all?" + +"All," he answered, a strange, fierce look coming over his face, as the +full import of my news forced home on him. "Was--was--Laplante--in +that?" he asked, gripping my arm in his unwounded hand with foreboding +force. + +"Not that we know of. Only Diable. But Louis is friendly with the Sioux, +and if we only keep him in sight we may track them." + +"I'll--keep--him--in sight," muttered Hamilton in low, slow words. + +"Hush, Eric!" I whispered. "If we harm him, he may mislead us. Let us +watch him and track him!" + +"He's asking leave to go trapping in the Sioux country. Can you go as +trader for your people? To the buffalo hunt first, then, south? I'll +watch here, if he stays; you, there, if he goes, and he shall tell us +all he knows or--" + +"Hush, man," I urged. "Listen!" + +"Where," Governor McDonell was thundering at Laplante, "where are the +parties that stole those despatches?" + +The question brought both Hamilton and myself to the table. We went +forward where we could see Laplante's face without being seen by his +questioners. + +"If I answer, Your Honor," began the Frenchman, taking the captain's +bluster for what it was worth and holding out doggedly for his own +rights, "I'll be given leave to trap with the Sioux?" + +"Certainly, man. Speak out." + +"The parties--that stole--those despatches," Laplante was answering +slowly. At this stage he looked at his interlocutor as if to question +the sincerity of the guarantee and he saw me standing screwing the +spear-head on the tell-tale handle. I patted the spear-head, smiled +blandly back, and with my eyes dared him to go on. He paused, bit his +lip and flushed. + +"No lies, no roguery, or I'll have you at the whipping-post," roared the +governor. "Speak up. Where are the parties?" + +"Near about here," stammered Louis, "and you may ask your new +turn-coat." + +I was betrayed! Betrayed and trapped; but he should not go free! I would +have shouted out, but Hamilton's hand silenced me. + +"Here!" exclaimed the astounded governor. "Go call that young +Nor'-Wester! If _he_ backs up y'r story, _he_ was Cameron's secretary, +you can go to the buffalo hunt." + +That response upset Louis' bearings. He had expected the governor would +refer to me; but the command let him out of an awkward place and he +darted from the room, as Hamilton and I supposed,--simpletons that we +were with that rogue!--to find the young Nor'-Wester. This turn of +affairs gave me my chance. If the young Nor'-Wester and Laplante came +together, my disguise as Highlander and turn-coat would be stripped from +me and I should be trapped indeed. + +"Good-by, old boy!" and I gripped Hamilton's hand. "If he stays, he's +your game. When he goes, he's mine. Good luck to us both! You'll come +south when you're better." + +Then I bolted through the main hall thinking to elude the canny Scots, +but saw both men in the stairway waiting to intercept me. When I ran +down a flight of side stairs, they dashed to trap me at the gate. At the +doorway a man lounged against me. The lantern light fell on a pointed +beard. It was Laplante, leaning against the wall for support and shaking +with laughter. + +"You again, old tombstone! Whither away so fast?" and he made to hold +me. "I'm in a hurry myself! My last night under a roof, ha! ha! Wait +till I make my grand farewell! We both did well, did the grand, ho! ho! +But I must leave a fair demoiselle!" + +"Let go," and I threw him off. + +"Take that, you ramping donkey, you Anglo-Saxon animal," and he aimed a +kick in my direction. Though I could ill spare the time to do it, I +turned. All the pent-up strength, from the walk with Frances Sutherland +rushed into my clenched fist and Louis Laplante went down with a thud +across the doorway. There was the sish-rip of a knife being thrust +through my boot, but the blade broke and I rushed past the prostrate +form. + +Certain of waylaying me, the Scots were dodging about the gate; but by +running in the shadow of the warehouse to the rear of the court, I gave +both the slip. I had no chance to reconnoitre, but dug my hunting-knife +into the stockade, hoisted myself up the wooden wall, got a grip of the +top and threw myself over, escaping with no greater loss than boots +pulled off before climbing the palisade, and the Highland cap which +stuck fast to a picket as I alighted below. At dawn, bootless and +hatless, I came in sight of Fort Gibraltar and Father Holland, who was +scanning the prairie for my return, came running to greet me. + +"The tip-top o' the mornin' to the renegade! I thought ye'd been +scalped--and so ye have been--nearly--only they mistook y'r hat for the +wool o' y'r crown. Boots gone too! Out wid your midnight pranks." + +A succession of welcoming thuds accompanied the tirade. As breath +returned, I gasped out a brief account of the night. + +"And now," he exclaimed triumphantly, "I have news to translate ye to a +sivinth hiven! Och! But it's clane cracked ye'll be when ye hear it. +Now, who's appointed to trade with the buffalo hunters but y'r very +self?" + +It was with difficulty I refrained from embracing the bearer of such +good tidings. + +"Be easy," he commanded. "Ye'll need these demonstrations, I'm +thinkin'--huntin' one lass and losin' y'r heart to another." + +We arranged he should go to Fort Douglas for Frances Sutherland and I +was to set out later. They were to ride along the river-path south of +the forks where I could join them. I, myself, picked out and paid for +two extra horses, one a quiet little cayuse with ambling action, the +other, a muscular broncho. I had the satisfaction of seeing Father +Holland mounted on the latter setting out for Fort Douglas, while the +Indian pony wearing an empty side-saddle trotted along in tow. + +The information I brought back from Fort Douglas delayed any more +hostile demonstrations against the Hudson's Bay. That very morning, +before I had finished breakfast, Governor McDonell rode over to Fort +Gibraltar, and on condition that Fort Douglas be left unmolested gave +himself up to the Nor'-Westers. At noon, when I was riding off to the +buffalo hunt and the Missouri, I saw the captain, smiling and debonair, +embarking--or rather being embarked--with North-West brigades, to be +sent on a free trip two thousand five hundred miles to Montreal. + +"A safe voyage to ye," said Duncan Cameron, commander of Nor'-Westers, +as the ex-governor of Red River settled himself in a canoe. "A safe +voyage to ye, mon!" + +"And a prosperous return," was the ironical answer of the dauntless +ruler over the Hudson's Bay. + +"Sure now, Rufus," said Father Holland to me a year afterwards, "'twas a +prosperous return he had!" + +Fortunately, I had my choice of scouts, and, by dangling the prospects +of a buffalo hunt before La Robe Noire and Little Fellow, tempted them +to come with me. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +HOW A YOUTH BECAME A KING + + +When the prima-donna of some vauntful city trills her bird-song above +the foot-lights, or the cremona moans out the sigh of night-winds +through the forest, artificial townsfolk applaud. Yet a nesting-tree, a +thousand leagues from city discords, gives forth better music with +deeper meaning and higher message--albeit the songster sings only from +love of song. The fretted folk of the great cities cannot understand the +witching fascinations of a wild life in a wild, free, tameless land, +where God's own hand ministers to eye and ear. To fare sumptuously, to +dress with the faultless distinction that marks wealth, to see and above +all to be seen--these are the empty ends for which city men engage in a +mad, feverish pursuit of wealth, trample one another down in a strife +more ruthless than war and gamble away gifts of mind and soul. These are +the things for which they barter all freedom but the name. Where one +succeeds a thousand fail. Those with higher aims count themselves happy, +indeed, to possess a few square feet of canvas, that truly represents +the beauty dear to them, before weeds had undermined and overgrown and +choked the temple of the soul. That any one should exchange gilded +chains for freedom to give manhood shoulder swing, to be and to +do--without infringing on the liberty of others to be and to do--is to +such folk a matter of no small wonderment. For my part, I know I was +counted mad by old associates of Quebec when I chose the wild life of +the north country. + +But each to his taste, say I; and all this is only the opinion of an old +trader, who loved the work of nature more than the work of man. Other +voices may speak to other men and teach them what the waterways and +forests, the plains and mountains, were teaching me. If "ologies" and +"ics," the lore of school and market, comfort their souls--be it so. As +for me, it was only when half a continent away from the jangle of +learning and gain that I began to stir like a living thing and to know +that I existed. The awakening began on the westward journey; but the new +life hardly gained full possession before that cloudless summer day on +the prairie, when I followed the winding river trail south of the forks. +The Indian scouts were far to the fore. Rank grass, high as the +saddle-bow, swished past the horse's sides and rippled away in an +unbroken ocean of green to the encircling horizon. Of course allowance +must be made for a man in love. Other men have discovered a worldful of +beauty, when in love; but I do not see what difference two figures on +horseback against the southern sky-line could possibly make to the +shimmer of purple above the plains, or the fragrance of prairie-roses +lining the trail. It seems to me the lonely call of the meadow-lark high +overhead--a mote in a sea of blue--or the drumming and chirruping of +feathered creatures through the green, could not have sounded less +musical, if I had not been a lover. But that, too, is only an opinion; +for one glimpse of the forms before me brought peace into the whole +world. + +Father Holland evidently saw me, for he turned and waved. The other +rider gave no sign of recognition. A touch of the spur to my horse and I +was abreast of them, Frances Sutherland curveting her cayuse from the +trail to give me middle place. + +"Arrah, me hearty, here ye are at last! Och, but ye're a skulkin' +wight," called the priest as I saluted both. "What d'y' say for y'rself, +ye belated rascal, comin' so tardy when ye're headed for Gretna +Green--Och! 'Twas a _lapsus linguae_! 'Tis Pembina--not Gretna +Green--that I mean." + +Had it been half a century later, when a little place called Gretna +sprang up on this very trail, Frances Sutherland and I need not have +flinched at this reference to an old-world Mecca for run-away lovers. +But there was no Gretna on the Pembina trail in those days and the +Little Statue's cheeks were suddenly tinged deep red, while I completely +lost my tongue. + +"Not a word for y'rself?" continued the priest, giving me full benefit +of the mischievous spirit working in him. "He, who bearded the foe in +his den, now meeker than a lambkin, mild as a turtle-dove, timid as a +pigeon, pensive as a whimpering-robin that's lost his mate----" + +"There ought to be a law against the jokes of the clergy, Sir," I +interrupted tartly. "The jokes aren't funny and one daren't hit back." + +"There ought to be a law against lovers, me hearty," laughed he. +"They're always funny, and they can't stand a crack." + +"Against all men," ventured Frances Sutherland with that instinctive, +womanly tact, which whips recalcitrant talkers into line like a deft +driver reining up kicking colts. "All men should be warranted safe, not +to go off." + +"Unless there's a fair target," and the priest looked us over +significantly and laughed. If he felt a gentle pull on the rein, he +yielded not a jot. Unluckily there are no curb-bits for hard-mouthed +talkers. + +"Rufus, I don't see that ye wear a ticket warranting ye'll not go off," +he added merrily. Red became redder on two faces, and hot, hotter with +at least one temper. + +"And womankind?" I managed to blurt out, trying to second her efforts +against our tormentor. "What guarantee against dangers from them? The +pulpit silenced--though that's a big contract--mankind labeled, what for +women?" + +"Libeled," she retorted. "Men say we don't hit straight enough to be +dangerous." + +"The very reason ye are dangerous," the priest broke in. "Ye aim at a +head and hit a heart! Then away ye go to Gretna Green--och! It's +Pembina, I mean! Marry, my children----" and he paused. + +"Marry!--What?" I shouted. Thereupon Frances Sutherland broke into peals +of laughter, in which I could see no reason, and Father Holland winked. + +"What's wrong with ye?" asked the priest solemnly. "Faith, 'tis no +advice I'm giving; but as I was remarking, marry, my children, I'd +sooner stand before a man not warranted safe than a woman, who might +take to shying pretty charms at my head! Faith, me lambs, ye'll learn +that I speak true." + +As Mr. Jack MacKenzie used to put it in his peppery reproof, I always +did have a knack of tumbling head first the instant an opportunity +offered. This time I had gone in heels and all, and now came up in as +fine a confusion as any bashful bumpkin ever displayed before his lady. +Frances Sutherland had regained her composure and came to my rescue with +another attempt to take the lead from the loquacious churchman. + +"I'm so grateful to you for arranging this trip," and she turned +directly to me. + +"Hm-m," blurted Father Holland with unutterable merriment, before I +could get a word in, "he's grateful to himself for that same thing. +Faith! He's been thankin' the stars, especially Venus, ever since he got +marching orders!" + +"How did you reach Fort Gibraltar?" she persisted. + +"Sans boots and cap," I promptly replied, determined to be ahead of the +interloper. + +"Sans heart, too," and the priest flicked my broncho with his whip and +knocked the ready-made speech, with which I had hoped to silence him, +clean out of my head. Frances Sutherland took to examining remote +objects on the horizon. Hers was a nature not to be beaten. + +"Let us ride faster," she suddenly proposed with a glance that boded +roguery for the priest's portly form. She was off like a shaft from a +bow-string, causing a stampede of our horses. That was effective. A hard +gallop against a stiff prairie wind will stop a stout man's eloquence. + +"Ho youngsters!" exclaimed the priest, coming abreast of us as we reined +up behind the scouts. "If ye set me that gait--whew--I'll not be left +for Gretna Green--Faith--it's Pembina, I mean," and he puffed like a +cargo boat doing itself proud among the great liners. + +He was breathless, therefore safe. Frances Sutherland was not disposed +to break the accumulating silence, and I, for the life of me, could not +think of a single remark appropriate for a party of three. The ordinary +commonplaces, that stop-gap conversation, refused to come forth. I +rehearsed a multitude of impossible speeches; but they stuck behind +sealed lips. + +"Silence is getting heavy, Rufus," he observed, enjoying our +embarrassment. + +Thus we jogged forward for a mile or more. + +"Troth, me pet lambs," he remarked, as breath returned, "ye'll both +bleat better without me!" + +Forthwith, away he rode fifty yards ahead, keeping that distance beyond +us for the rest of the day and only calling over his shoulder +occasionally. + +"Och! But y'r bronchos are slow! Don't be telling me y'r bronchos are +not slow! Arrah, me hearties, be making good use o' the honeymoon,--I +mean afternoon, not honeymoon. Marry, me children, but y'r bronchos are +bog-spavined and spring-halted. Jiggle-joggle faster, with ye, ye +rascals! Faith, I see ye out o' the tail o' my eye. Those bronchos are +nosing a bit too close, I'm thinkin'! I'm going to turn! I warn ye +fair--ready! One--shy-off there! Two--have a care! Three--I'm coming! +Four--prepare!" + +And he would glance back with shouts of droll laughter. "Get epp! We +mustn't disturb them! Get epp!" This to his own horse and off he would +go, humming some ditty to the lazy hobble of his nag. + +"Old angel!" said I, under my breath, and I fell to wondering what +earthly reason any man had for becoming a priest. + +He was right. Talk no longer lagged, whatever our bronchos did; but, +indeed, all we said was better heard by two than three. Why that was, I +cannot tell, for like beads of a rosary our words were strung together +on things commonplace enough; and fond hearts, as well as mystics, have +a key to unlock a world of meaning from meaningless words. Tufts of +poplars, wood islands on the prairie, skulking coyotes, that prowled to +the top of some earth mound and uttered their weird cries, mud-colored +badgers, hulking clumsily away to their treacherous holes, gophers, sly +fellows, propped on midget tails pointing fore-paws at us--these and +other common things stole the hours away. The sun, dipping close to the +sky-line, shone distorted through the warm haze like a huge blood +shield. Far ahead our scouts were pitching tents on ground well back +from the river to avoid the mosquitoes swarming above the water. It was +time to encamp for the night. + +Those long June nights in the far north with fire glowing in the track +of a vanished sun and stillness brooding over infinite space--have a +glory, that is peculiarly their own. Only a sort of half-darkness lies +between the lingering sunset and the early sun-dawn. At nine o'clock the +sun-rim is still above the western prairie. At ten, one may read by +daylight, and, if the sky is clear, forget for another hour that night +has begun. After supper, Father Holland sat at a distance from the tents +with his back carefully turned towards us, a precaution on his part for +which I was not ungrateful. Frances Sutherland was throned on the boxes +of our quondam table, and I was reclining against saddle-blankets at her +feet. + +"Oh! To be so forever," she exclaimed, gazing at the globe of solid gold +against the opal-green sky. "To have the light always clear, just +ahead, nothing between us and the light, peace all about, no care, no +weariness, just quiet and beauty like this forever." + +"Like this forever! I ask nothing better," said I with great heartiness; +but neither her eyes nor her thoughts were for me. Would the eyes +looking so intently at the sinking sun, I wondered, condescend to look +at a spot against the sun. In desperation I meditated standing up. 'Tis +all very well to talk of storming the citadel of a closed heart, but +unless telepathic implements of war are perfected to the same extent as +modern armaments, permitting attack at long range, one must first get +within shooting distance. Apparently I was so far outside the defences, +even my design was unknown. + +"I think," she began in low, hesitating words, so clear and thrilling, +they set my heart beating wildly with a vague expectation, "I think +heaven must be very, very near on nights like this, don't--you--Rufus?" + +I wasn't thinking of heaven at all, at least, not the heaven she had in +mind; but if there is one thing to make a man swear white is black and +black white and to bring him to instantaneous agreement with any +statement whatsoever, it is to hear his Christian name so spoken for the +first time. I sat up in an electrified way that brought the fringe of +lashes down to hide those gray eyes. + +"Very near? Well rather! I've been in heaven all day," I vowed. "I've +been getting glimpses of paradise all the way from Fort William----" + +"Don't," she interrupted with a flash of the imperious nature, which I +knew. "Please don't, Mr. Gillespie." + +"Please don't Mister Gillespie me," said I, piqued by a return to the +formal. "If you picked up Rufus by mistake from the priest, he sets a +good example. Don't drop a good habit!" + +That was my first step inside the outworks. + +"Rufus," she answered so gently I felt she might disarm and slay me if +she would, "Rufus Gillespie"--that was a return of the old spirit, a +compromise between her will and mine--"please don't begin saying that +sort of thing--there's a whole day before us----" + +"And you think I can't keep it up?" + +"You haven't given any sign of failing. You know, Rufus," she added +consolingly, "you really must not say those things, or something will be +hurt! You'll make me hurt it." + +"Something is hurt and needs mending, Miss Sutherland----" + +"Don't Miss Sutherland me," she broke in with a laugh, "call me Frances; +and if something is hurt and needs mending, I'm not a tinker, though my +father and the priest--yes and you, too--sometimes think so. But sisters +do mending, don't they?" and she laughed my earnestness off as one would +puff out a candle. + +"No--no--no--not sisters--not that," I protested. "I have no sisters, +Little Statue. I wouldn't know how to act with a sister, unless she +were somebody else's sister, you know. I can't stand the sisterly +business, Frances----" + +"Have you suffered much from the sisterly?" she asked with a merry +twinkle. + +"No," I hastened to explain, "I don't know how to play the sisterly +touch-and-go at all, but the men tell me it doesn't work--dead failure, +always ends the same. Sister proposes, or is proposed to----" + +"Oh!" cried the Little Statue with the faintest note of alarm, and she +moved back from me on the boxes. "I think we'd better play at being very +matter-of-fact friends for the rest of the trip." + +"No, thank you, Miss Sutherland--Frances, I mean," said I. "I'm not the +fool to pretend that----" + +"Then pretend anything you like," and there was a sudden coldness in her +voice, which showed me she regarded my refusal and the slip in her name +as a rebuff. "Pretend anything you like, only don't say things." + +That was a throwing down of armor which I had not expected. + +"Then pretend that a pilgrim was lost in the dark, lost where men's +souls slip down steep places to hell, and that one as radiant as an +angel from heaven shone through the blackness and guided him back to +safe ground," I cried, taking quick advantage of my fair antagonist's +sudden abandon and casting aside all banter. + +"Children! children!" cried the priest. "Children! Sun's down! Time to +go to your trundles, my babes!" + +"Yes, yes," I shouted. "Wait till I hear the rest of this story." + +At my words she had started up with a little gasp of fright. A look of +awe came into her gray eyes, which I have seen on the faces of those who +find themselves for the first time beside the abyss of a precipice. And +I have climbed many lofty peaks, but never one without passing these +places with the fearful possibilities of destruction. Always the novice +has looked with the same unspeakable fear into the yawning depths, with +the same unspeakable yearning towards the jewel-crowned heights beyond. +This, or something of this, was in the startled attitude of the +trembling figure, whose eyes met mine without flinching or favor. + +"Or pretend that a traveler had lost his compass, and though he was +without merit, God gave him a star." + +"Is it a pretty story, Rufus?" called the priest. + +"Very," I cried out impatiently. "Don't interrupt." + +"Or pretend that a poor fool with no merit but his love of purity and +truth and honor lost his way to paradise, and God gave him an angel for +a guide." + +"Is it a long story, Rufus?" called the priest. + +"It's to be continued," I shouted, leaping to my feet and approaching +her. + +"And pretend that the pilgrim and the traveler and the fool, asked no +other privilege but to give each his heart's love, his life's devotion +to her who had come between him and the darkness----" + +"Rufus!" roared the priest. "I declare I'll take a stick to you. Come +away! D' y' hear? She's tired." + +"Good-night," she answered, in a broken whisper, so cold it stabbed me +like steel; and she put out her hand in the mechanical way of the +well-bred woman in every land. + +"Is that all?" I asked, holding the hand as if it had been a galvanic +battery, though the priest was coming straight towards us. + +"All?" she returned, the lashes falling over the misty, gray eyes. "Ah, +Rufus! Are we playing jest is earnest, or earnest is jest?" and she +turned quickly and went to her tent. + +How long I stood in reverie, I do not know. The priest's broad hand +presently came down on my shoulder with a savage thud. + +"Ye blunder-busticus, ye, what have ye been doing?" he asked. "The +Little Statue was crying when she went to her tent." + +"Crying?" + +"Yes, ye idiot. I'll stay by her to-morrow." + +And he did. Nor could he have contrived severer punishment for the +unfortunate effect of my words. Fool, that I was! I should keep myself +in hand henceforth. How many men have made that vow regarding the woman +they love? Those that have kept it, I trow, could be counted easily +enough. But I had no opportunity to break my vow; for the priest rode +with Frances Sutherland the whole of the second day, and not once did he +let loose his scorpion wit. She had breakfast alone in her tent next +morning, the priest carrying tea and toast to her; and when she came +out, she leaped to her saddle so quickly I lost the expected favor of +placing that imperious foot in the stirrup. We set out three abreast, +and I had no courage to read my fate from the cold, marble face. The +ground became rougher. We were forced to follow long detours round +sloughs, and I gladly fell to the rear where I was unobserved. Clumps of +willows alone broke the endless dip of the plain. Glassy creeks +glittered silver through the green, and ever the trail, like a narrow +ribbon of many loops, fled before us to the dim sky-line. + +When we halted for our nooning, Frances Sutherland had slipped from her +saddle and gone off picking prairie roses before either the priest or I +noticed her absence. + +"If you go off, you nuisance, you," said the priest rubbing his bald +pate, and gazing after her in a puzzled way, when we had the meal ready, +"I think she'll come back and eat." + +I promptly took myself off and had the glum pleasure of hearing her chat +in high spirits over the dinner table of packing boxes; but she was on +her cayuse and off with the scouts long before Father Holland and I had +mounted. + +"Rufus," said the priest with a comical, quizzical look, as we set off +together. "Rufus, I think y'r a fool." + +"I've thought that several hundred thousand times myself, this morning." + +"Have ye as much as got a glint of her eye to-day?" + +"No. I can't compete against the Church with women. Any fool knows that, +even as big a fool as I." + +"Tush, youngster! Don't take to licking your raw tongue up and down the +cynic's saw edge! Put a spur to your broncho there and ride ahead with +her." + +"Having offended a goddess, I don't wish to be struck dead by inviting +her wrath." + +"Pah! I've no patience with y'r ramrod independence! Bend a stiff neck, +or you'll break a sore heart! Ride ahead, I tell you, you young mule!" +and he brought a smart flick across my broncho. + +"Father Holland," I made answer with the dignity of a bishop and my nose +mighty high in the air, "will you permit me to suggest that people know +their own affairs best----" + +"Tush, no! I'll permit you to do nothing of the kind," said he, driving +a fly from his horse's ear. "Don't you know, you young idiot, that +between a man surrendering his love, and a woman surrendering hers, +there's difference enough to account for tears? A man gives his and gets +it back with compound interest in coin that's pure gold compared to his +copper. A woman gives hers and gets back----" the priest stopped. + +"What?" I asked, interest getting the better of wounded pride. + +"Not much that's worth having from idiots like you," said he; by which +the priest proved he could deal honestly by a friend, without any +mincing palliatives. + +His answer set me thinking for the best part of the afternoon; and I +warrant if any man sets out with the priest's premises and thinks hard +for an afternoon he will come to the same conclusion that I did. + +"Let's both poke along a little faster," said I, after long silence. + +"Oho! With all my heart!" And we caught up with Frances Sutherland and +for the first time that day I dared to look at her face. If there were +tear marks about the wondrous eyes, they were the marks of the shower +after a sun-burst, the laughing gladness of life in golden light, the +joyous calm of washed air when a storm has cleared away turbulence. Why +did she evade me and turn altogether to the priest at her right? Had I +been of an analytical turn of mind, I might, perhaps, have made a very +careful study of an emotion commonly called jealousy; but, when one's +heart beats fast, one's thoughts throng too swiftly for introspection. +Was I a part of the new happiness? I did not understand human nature +then as I understand it now, else would I have known that fair eyes +turn away to hide what they dare not reveal. I prided myself that I was +now well in hand. I should take the first opportunity to undo my folly +of the night before. + + * * * * * + +It was after supper. Father Holland had gone to his tent. Frances +Sutherland was arranging a bunch of flowers in her lap; and I took my +place directly behind her lest my face should tell truth while my tongue +uttered lies. + +"Speaking of stars, you know Miss Sutherland," I began, remembering that +I had said something about stars that must be unsaid. + +"Don't call me _Miss_ Sutherland, Rufus," she said, and that gentle +answer knocked my grand resolution clean to the four winds. + +"I beg your pardon, Frances----" Chaos and I were one. Whatever was it I +was to say about stars? + +"Well?" There was a waiting in the voice. + +"Yes--you know--Frances." I tried to call up something coherent; but +somehow the thumping of my heart set up a rattling in my head. + +"No--Rufus. As a matter of fact, I don't know. You were going to tell me +something." + +"Bother my stupidity, Miss--Miss--Frances, but the mastiff's forgotten +what it was going to bow-wow about!" + +"Not the moon this time," she laughed. "Speaking of stars," and she gave +me back my own words. + +"Oh! Yes! Speaking of stars! Do you know I think a lot of the men +coming up from Fort William got to regarding the star above the leading +canoe as their own particular star." + +I thought that speech a masterpiece. It would convince her she was the +star of all the men, not mine particularly. That was true enough to +appease conscience, a half-truth like Louis Laplante's words. So I would +rob my foolish avowal of its personal element. A flush suffused the +snowy white below her hair. + +"Oh! I didn't notice any particular star above the leading canoe. There +were so very, very many splendid stars, I used to watch them half the +night!" + +That answer threw me as far down as her manner had elated me. + +"Well! What of the stars?" asked the silvery voice. + +I was dumb. She flung the flowers aside as though she would leave; but +Father Holland suddenly emerged from the tent fanning himself with his +hat. + +"Babes!" said he. "You're a pair of fools! Oh! To be young and throw our +opportunities helter-skelter like flowers of which we're tired," and he +looked at the upset lapful. "Children! children! _Carpe Diem! Carpe +Diem!_ Pluck the flowers; for the days are swifter than arrows," and he +walked away from us engrossed in his own thoughts, muttering over and +over the advice of the Latin poet, "_Carpe Diem! Carpe Diem!_" + +"What is _Carpe Diem_?" asked Frances Sutherland, gazing after the +priest in sheer wonder. + +"I wasn't strong on classics at Laval and I haven't my crib." + +"Go on!" she commanded. "You're only apologizing for my ignorance. You +know very well." + +"It means just what he says--as if each day were a flower, you know, had +its joys to be plucked, that can never come again." + +"Flowers! Oh! I know! The kind you all picked for me coming up from Fort +William. And do you know, Rufus, I never could thank you all? Were those +_Carpe Diem_ flowers?" + +"No--not exactly the kind Father Holland means we should pick." + +"What then?" and she turned suddenly to find her face not a hand's +length from mine. + +"This kind," I whispered, bending in terrified joy over her shoulder; +and I plucked a blossom straight from her lips and another and yet +another, till there came into the deep, gray eyes what I cannot +transcribe, but what sent me away the king of all men--for had I not +found my Queen? + +And that was the way I carried out my grand resolution and kept myself +in hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE BUFFALO HUNT + + +I question if Norse heroes of the sea could boast more thrilling +adventure than the wild buffalo hunts of American plain-rangers. A +cavalcade of six hundred men mounted on mettlesome horses eager for the +furious dash through a forest of tossing buffalo-horns was quite as +imposing as any clash between warring Vikings. Squaws, children and a +horde of ragged camp-followers straggled in long lines far to the +hunters' rear. Altogether, the host behind the flag numbered not less +than two thousand souls. Like any martial column, our squad had captain, +color-bearer and chaplain. Luckily, all three were known to me, as I +discovered when I reached Pembina. The truce, patched up between +Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers after Governor McDonell's surrender, left +Cuthbert Grant free to join the buffalo hunt. Pursuing big game across +the prairie was more to his taste than leading the half-breeds during +peace. The warden of the plains came hot-foot after us, and was promptly +elected captain of the chase. Father Holland was with us too. Our course +lay directly on his way to the Missouri and a jolly chaplain he made. In +Grant's company came Pierre, the rhymster, bubbling over with jingling +minstrelsy, that was the delight of every half-breed camp on the plains. +Bareheaded, with a red handkerchief banding back his lank hair, and clad +in fringed buckskin from the bright neck-cloth to the beaded moccasins, +he was as wild a figure as any one of the savage rabble. Yet this was +the poet of the plain-rangers, who caught the song of bird, the burr of +cataract through the rocks, the throb of stampeding buffalo, the moan of +the wind across the prairie, and tuned his rude minstrelsy to wild +nature's fugitive music. Viking heroes, I know, chanted their deeds in +songs that have come down to us; but with the exception of the Eskimo, +descendants of North American races have never been credited with a +taste for harmony. Once I asked Pierre how he acquired his art of +verse-making. With a laugh of scorn, he demanded if the wind and the +waterfalls and the birds learned music from beardless boys and +draggle-coated dominies with armfuls of books. However, it may have been +with his Pegasus, his mount for the hunt was no laggard. He rode a +knob-jointed, muscular brute, that carried him like poetic inspiration +wherever it pleased. Though Pierre's right hand was busied upholding the +hunters' flag, and he had but one arm to bow-string the broncho's +arching neck, the half-breed poet kept his seat with the easy grace of +the plainsman born and bred in the saddle. + +"Faith, man, 'tis the fate of genius to ride a fractious steed," said +Father Holland, when the bronchos of priest and poet had come into +violent collision with angry squeals for the third time in ten minutes. + +"And what are the capers of this, my beast, compared to the antics of +fate, Sir Priest?" asked Pierre with grave dignity. + +The wind caught his long hair and blew it about his face till he became +an equestrian personification of the frenzied muse. I had become +acquainted with his trick of setting words to the music of quaint +rhymes; but Father Holland was taken aback. + +"By the saints," he exclaimed, "I've no mind to run amuck of Pegasus! +I'll get out of your way. Faith, 'tis the first time I've seen poetry in +buckskin of this particular binding," and he wheeled his broncho out, +leaving me abreast of the rhymster. + +Pierre's lips began to frame some answer to the churchman. + +"Have a care, Father," I warned. "You've escaped the broncho; but look +out for the poet." + +"Save us! What's coming now?" gasped the priest. + +"Ha! I have it!" and Pierre turned triumphantly to Father Holland. + + "The Lord be praised that poetry's free, + Or you'd bottle it up like a saint's thumb-bone, + That beauty's beauty for eyes that see + Without regard to a priestly gown----" + +"Hold on," interrupted Father Holland. "Hold on, Pierre!" + + "'Your double-quick Peg + Has a limp of one leg!' + +"'Bone' and 'gown' don't fit, Mr. Rhymster." + +"Upon my honor! You turned poet, too, Father Holland!" said I. "We might +be on a pilgrimage to Helicon." + +"To where?" says Grant, whose knowledge of classics was less than my +own, which was precious little indeed. + +"Helicon." + +At that Father Holland burst in such roars of laughter, the rhymster +took personal offense, dug his moccasins against the horse's sides and +rode ahead. His fringed leggings were braced straight out in the +stirrups as if he anticipated his broncho transforming the concave into +the convex,--known in the vernacular as "bucking." + +"Mad as a hatter," said Grant, inferring the joke was on Pierre. "Let +him be! Let him be! He'll get over it! He's working up his rhymes for +the feast after the buffalo hunt." + +And we afterwards got the benefit of those rhymes. + +The tenth day west from Pembina our scouts found some herd's footprints +on soggy ground. At once word was sent back to pitch camp on rolling +land. A cordon of carts with shafts turned outward encircled the camping +ground. At one end the animals were tethered, at the other the hunter's +tents were huddled together. All night mongrel curs, tearing about the +enclosure in packs, kept noisy watch. Twice Grant and I went out to +reconnoitre. We saw only a whitish wolf scurrying through the long +grass. Grant thought this had disturbed the dogs; but I was not so sure. +Indeed, I felt prepared to trace features of Le Grand Diable under every +elk-hide, or wolf-skin in which a cunning Indian could be disguised. I +deemed it wise to have a stronger guard and engaged two runners, Ringing +Thunder and Burnt Earth, giving them horses and ordering them to keep +within call during the thick of the hunt. + +At daybreak all tents were a beehive of activity. The horses, with +almost human intelligence, were wild to be off. Riders could scarcely +gain saddles, and before feet were well in the stirrups, the bronchos +had reared and bolted away, only to be reined sharply in and brought +back to the ranks. The dogs, too, were mad, tearing after make-believe +enemies and worrying one another till there were several curs less for +the hunt. Inside the cart circle, men were shouting last orders to +women, squaws scolding half-naked urchins, that scampered in the way, +and the whole encampment setting up a din that might have scared any +buffalo herd into endless flight. Grant gave the word. Pierre hoisted +the flag, and the camp turmoil was left behind. The _Bois-Brules_ kept +well within the lines and observed good order; but the Indian rabble +lashed their half-broken horses into a fury of excitement, that +threatened confusion to all discipline. The camp was strongly guarded. +Father Holland remained with the campers, but in spite of his holy +calling, I am sure he longed to be among the hunters. + +Scouts ahead, we followed the course of a half-dried slough where +buffalo tracks were visible. Some two miles from camp, the out-runners +returned with word that the herds were browsing a short distance ahead, +and that the marsh-bed widened to a banked ravine. The buffalo could not +have been found in a better place; for there was a fine slope from the +upper land to our game. We at once ascended the embankment and coursed +cautiously along the cliff's summit. Suddenly we rounded an abrupt +headland and gained full view of the buffalo. The flag was lowered, +stopping the march, and up rose our captain in his stirrups to survey +the herd. A light mist screened us and a deep growth of the leathery +grass, common to marsh lands, half hid a multitude of broad, humped, +furry backs, moving aimlessly in the valley. Coal-black noses poked +through the green stalks sniffing the air suspiciously and the curved +horns tossed broken stems off in savage contempt. + +From the headland beneath us to the rolling prairie at the mouth of the +valley, the earth swayed with giant forms. The great creatures were +restless as caged tigers and already on the rove for the day's march. I +suppose the vast flocks of wild geese, that used to darken the sky and +fill the air with their shrill "hunk, hunk," when I first went to the +north, numbered as many living beings in one mass as that herd; but men +no more attempted to count the creatures in flock or herd, than to +estimate the pebbles of a shore. + +Protruding eyes glared savagely sideways. Great, thick necks hulked +forward in impatient jerks; and those dagger-pointed horns, sharper than +a pruning hook, promised no boy's sport for our company. The buffalo +sees best laterally on the level, and as long as we were quiet we +remained undiscovered. At the prospect, some of the hunters grew +excitedly profane. Others were timorous, fearing a stampede in our +direction. Being above, we could come down on the rear of the buffaloes +and they would be driven to the open. + +Grant scouted the counseled caution. The hunters loaded guns, filled +their mouths with balls to reload on the gallop and awaited the +captain's order. Wheeling his horse to the fore, the warden gave one +quick signal. With a storm-burst of galloping hoofs, we charged down the +slope. At sound of our whirlwind advance, the bulls tossed up their +heads and began pawing the ground angrily. From the hunters there was no +shouting till close on the herd, then a wild halloo with unearthly +screams from the Indians broke from our company. The buffaloes started +up, turned panic-stricken, and with bellowings, that roared down the +valley, tore for the open prairie. The ravine rocked with the plunging +monsters, and reechoed to the crash of six-hundred guns and a +thunderous tread. Firing was at close range. In a moment there was a +battle royal between dexterous savages, swift as tigers, and these +leviathans of the prairie with their brute strength. + +A quick fearless horse was now invaluable; for the swiftest riders +darted towards the large buffaloes and rode within a few yards before +taking aim. Instantly, the ravine was ablaze with shots. Showers of +arrows from the Indian hunters sung through the air overhead. Men +unhorsed, ponies thrown from their feet, buffaloes wounded--or +dead--were scattered everywhere. One angry bull gored furiously at his +assailant, ripping his horse from shoulder to flank, then, maddened by +the creature's blood, and before a shot from a second hunter brought him +down, caught the rider on its upturned horns and tossed him high. By +keeping deftly to the fore, where the buffalo could not see, and +swerving alternately from side to side as the enraged animals struck +forward, trained horses avoided side thrusts. The saddle-girths of one +hunter, heading a buffalo from the herd, gave way as he was leaning over +to send a final ball into the brute's head. Down he went, shoulders +foremost under its nose, while the horse, with a deft leap cleared the +vicious drive of horns. Strange to say, the buffalo did not see where he +fell and galloped onward. Carcasses were mowed down like felled trees; +but still we plunged on and on, pursuing the racing herd; while the +ground shook in an earthquake under stampeding hoofs. + +I had forgotten time, place, danger--everything in the mad chase and was +hard after a savage old warrior that outraced my horse. Gradually I +rounded him closer to the embankment. My broncho was blowing, almost +wind-spent, but still I dug the spurs into him, and was only a few +lengths behind the buffalo, when the wily beast turned. With head down, +eyes on fire and nostrils blood-red, he bore straight upon me. My +broncho reared, then sprang aside. Leaning over to take sure aim, I +fired, but a side jerk unbalanced me. I lost my stirrup and sprawled in +the dust. When I got to my feet, the buffalo lay dead and my broncho was +trotting back. Hunters were still tearing after the disappearing herd. +Riderless horses, mad with the smell of blood and snorting at every +flash of powder, kept up with the wild race. Little Fellow, La Robe +Noire, Burnt Earth, and Ringing Thunder, had evidently been left in the +rear; for look where I might I could not see one of my four Indians. +Near me two half-breeds were righting their saddles. I also was +tightening the girths, which was not an easy matter with my excited +broncho prancing round in a circle. Suddenly there was the whistle of +something through the air overhead, like a catapult stone, or recoiling +whip-lash. The same instant one of the half-breeds gave an upward toss +of both arms and, with a piercing shriek, fell to the ground. The fellow +caught at his throat and from his bared chest protruded an arrow shaft. + +I heard his terrified comrade shout, "The Sioux! the Sioux!" Then he +fled in a panic of fear, not knowing where he was going and staggering +as he ran; and I saw him pitch forward face downwards. I had barely +realized what had happened and what it all meant, before an exultant +shout broke from the high grass above the embankment. At that my horse +gave a plunge and, wrenching the rein from my grasp, galloped off +leaving me to face the hostiles. Half a score of Indians scrambled down +the cliff and ran to secure the scalps of the dead. Evidently I had not +been seen; but if I ran I should certainly be discovered and a Sioux's +arrow can overtake the swiftest runner. I was looking hopelessly about +for some place of concealment, when like a demon from the earth a +horseman, scarlet in war-paint appeared not a hundred yards away. +Brandishing his battle-axe, he came towards me at furious speed. With +weapons in hand I crouched as his horse approached; and the fool mistook +my action for fear. White teeth glistened and he shrieked with derisive +laughter. I knew that sound. Back came memory of Le Grand Diable +standing among the shadows of a forest camp-fire, laughing as I struck +him. + +The Indian swung his club aloft. I dodged abreast of his horse to avoid +the blow. With a jerk he pulled the animal back on its haunches. Quick, +when it rose, I sent a bullet to its heart. It lurched sideways, reared +straight up and fell backwards with Le Grand Diable under. The fall +knocked battle-axe and club from his grasp; and when his horse rolled +over in a final spasm, two men were instantly locked in a death clutch. +The evil eyes of the Indian glared with a fixed look of uncowed hatred +and the hands of the other tightened on the redman's throat. Diable was +snatching at a knife in his belt, when the cries of my Indians rang out +close at hand. Their coming seemed to renew his strength; for with the +full weight of an antagonist hanging from his neck, the willowy form +squirmed first on his knees, then to his feet. But my men dashed up, +knocked his feet from under him and pinioned him to the ground. La Robe +Noire, with the blood-lust of his race, had a knife unsheathed and would +have finished Diable's career for good and all; but Little Fellow struck +the blade from his hand. That murderous attempt cost poor La Robe Noire +dearly enough in the end. + +Hare-skin thongs of triple ply were wound about Diable's crossed arms +from wrists to elbows. Burnt Earth gagged the knave with his own +moccasin, while Ringing Thunder and Little Fellow quickly roped him neck +and ankles to the fore and hind shanks of the dead buffalo. This time my +wily foe should remain in my power till I had rescued Miriam. + +"_Monsieur! Monsieur!_" gasped Little Fellow as he rose from putting a +last knot to our prisoner's cords. "The Sioux!" and he pointed in alarm +to the cliff. + +True, in my sudden conflict, I had forgotten about the marauding Sioux; +but the fellows had disappeared from the field of the buffalo hunt and +it was to the embankment that my Indians were anxiously looking. Three +thin smoke lines were rising from the prairie. I knew enough of Indian +lore to recognize this tribal signal as a warning to the Sioux band of +some misfortune. Was Miriam within range of those smoke signals? Now was +my opportunity. I could offer Diable in exchange for the Sioux captives. +Meanwhile, we had him secure. He would not be found till the hunt was +over and the carts came for the skins. + +Mounting the broncho, which Little Fellow had caught and brought back, I +ordered the Indians to get their horses and follow; and I rode up to the +level prairie. Against the southern horizon shone the yellow birch of a +wigwam. Vague movements were apparent through the long grass, from which +we conjectured the raiders were hastening back with news of Diable's +capture. We must reach the Sioux camp before these messengers caused +another mysterious disappearing of this fugitive tribe. + +We whipped our horses to a gallop. Again thin smoke lines arose from the +prairie and simultaneously the wigwam began to vanish. I had almost +concluded the tepee was one of those delusive mirages which lead prairie +riders on fools' errands, when I descried figures mounting ponies where +the peaked camp had stood. At this we lashed our horses to faster pace. +The Sioux galloped off and more smoke lines were rising. + +"What do those mean, Little Fellow?" I asked; for there was smoke in a +dozen places ahead. + +"The prairie's on fire, _Monsieur_! The Sioux have put burnt stick in +dry grass! The wind--it blow--it come hard--fast--fast this way!" and +all four Indians reined up their horses as if they would turn. + +"Coward Indians," I cried. "Go on! Who's put off the trail by the fire +of a fool Sioux? Get through the fire before it grows big, or it will +catch you all and burn you to a crisp." + +The gathering smoke was obscuring the fugitives and my Indians still +hung back. Where the Indian refuses to be coerced, he may be won by +reward, or spurred by praise of bravery. + +"Ten horses to the brave who catches a Sioux!" I shouted. "Come on, +Indians! Who follows? Is the Indian less brave than the pale face?" and +we all dashed forward, spurring our hard-ridden horses without mercy. +Each Indian gave his horse the bit. Beating them over the head, they +craned flat over the horses' necks to lessen resistance to the air. A +boisterous wind was fanning the burning grass to a great tide of fire +that rolled forward in forked tongues; but beyond the flames were +figures of receding riders; and we pressed on. Cinders rained on us like +liquid fire, scorching and maddening our horses; but we never paused. +The billowy clouds of smoke that rolled to meet us were blinding, and +the very atmosphere, livid and quivering with heat, seemed to become a +fiery fluid that enveloped and tortured us. Involuntarily, as we drew +nearer and nearer the angry fire-tide, my hand was across my mouth to +shut out the hot burning air; but a man must breathe, and the next +intake of breath blistered one's chest like live coals on raw flesh. +Little wonder our poor beasts uttered that pitiful scream against pain, +which is the horse's one protest of suffering. Presently, they became +wildly unmanageable; and when we dismounted to blindfold them and muffle +their heads in our jackets, they crowded and trembled against us in a +frenzy of terror. Then we tied strips torn from our clothing across our +own mouths and, remounting, beat the frantic creatures forward. I have +often marveled at the courage of those four Indians. For me, there was +incentive enough to dare everything to the death. For them, what motive +but to vindicate their bravery? But even bravery in its perfection has +the limitation of physical endurance; and we had now reached the limit +of what we could endure and live. The fire wave was crackling and +licking up everything within a few paces of us. Live brands fell thick +as a rain of fire. The flames were not crawling in the insidious line of +the prairie fire when there is no wind, but the very heat of the air +seemed to generate a hurricane and the red wave came forward in leaps +and bounds, reaching out cloven fangs that hissed at us like an army of +serpents. I remember wondering in a half delirium whether parts of +Dante's hell could be worse. With the instinctive cry to heaven for +help, of human-kind world over, I looked above; but there was only a +great pitchy dome with glowing clouds rolling and heaving and tossing +and blackening the firmament. Then I knew we must choose one of three +things, a long detour round the fire-wave, one dash through the +flames--or death. I shouted to the men to save themselves; but Burnt +Earth and Ringing Thunder had already gone off to skirt the near end of +the fire-line. Little Fellow and La Robe Noire stuck staunchly by me. We +all three paused, facing death; and the Indians' horses trembled close +to my broncho till I felt the burn of hot stirrups against both ankles. +Our buckskin was smoking in a dozen places. There was a lull of the +wind, and I said to myself, "The calm before the end; the next hurricane +burst and those red demon claws will have us." But in the momentary +lull, a place appeared through the trough of smoke billows, where the +grass was green and the fire-barrier breached. With a shout and heads +down, we dashed towards this and vaulted across the flaming wall, our +horses snorting and screaming with pain as we landed on the smoking turf +of the other side. I gulped a great breath of the fresh air into my +suffocating lungs, tore the buckskin covering from my broncho's head and +we raced on in a swirl of smoke, always following the dust which +revealed the tracks of the retreating Sioux. There was a whiff of singed +hair, as if one of the horses had been burnt, and Little Fellow gave a +shout. Looking back I saw his horse sinking on the blackened patch; but +La Robe Noire and I rode on. The fugitives were ascending rising ground +to the south. They were beating their horses in a rage of cruelty; but +we gained at every pace. I counted twenty riders. A woman seemed to be +strapped to one horse. Was this Miriam? We were on moist grass and I +urged La Robe Noire to ride faster and drove spurs in my own beast, +though I felt him weakening under me. The Sioux had now reached the +crest of the hill. Our horses were nigh done, and to jade the fagged +creatures up rising ground was useless. + +When we finally reached the height, the Sioux were far down in the +valley. It was utterly hopeless to try to overtake them. Ah! It is easy +to face death and to struggle and to fight and to triumph! But the +hardest of all hard things is to surrender, to yield to the inevitable, +to turn back just when the goal looms through obscurity! + +I still had Diable in my power. We headed about and crawled slowly back +by unburnt land towards the buffalo hunters. + +Little Fellow, we overtook limping homeward afoot. Burnt Earth and +Ringing Thunder awaited us near the ravine. The carts were already out +gathering hides, tallow, flesh and tongues. We made what poor speed we +could among the buffalo carcasses to the spot where we had left Le Grand +Diable. It was Little Fellow, who was hobbling ahead, and the Indian +suddenly turned with such a cry of baffled rage, I knew it boded +misfortune. Running forward, I could hardly believe my eyes. Fools that +we were to leave the captive unguarded! The great buffalo lay +unmolested; but there was no Le Grand Diable. A third time had he +vanished as if in league with the powers of the air. Closer examination +explained his disappearance. A wet, tattered moccasin, with the +appearance of having been chewed, lay on the turf. He had evidently +bitten through his gag, raised his arms to his mouth, eaten away the +hare thongs, and so, without the help of the Sioux raiders, freed his +hands, untied himself and escaped. + +Dumfounded and baffled, I returned to the encampment and took counsel +with Father Holland. We arranged to set out for the Mandanes on the +Missouri. Diable's tribe had certainly gone south to Sioux territory. +The Sioux and the Mandanes were friendly enough neighbors this year. +Living with the Mandanes south of the Sioux country, we might keep track +of the enemy without exposing ourselves to Sioux vengeance. + +Forebodings of terrible suffering for Miriam haunted me. I could not +close my eyes without seeing her subjected to Indian torture; and I had +no heart to take part in the jubilation of the hunters over their great +success. The savory smell of roasting meat whiffed into my tent and I +heard the shrill laughter of the squaws preparing the hunters' feast. +With hard-wood axles squeaking loudly under the unusual burden, the +last cart rumbled into the camp enclosure with its load of meat and +skins. The clamor of the people subsided; and I knew every one was +busily gorging to repletion, too intent on the satisfaction of animal +greed to indulge in the Saxon habit of talking over a meal. Well might +they gorge; for this was the one great annual feast. There would follow +a winter of stint and hardship and hunger; and every soul in the camp +was laying up store against famine. Even the dogs were happy, for they +were either roving over the field of the hunt, or lying disabled from +gluttony at their masters' tents. + +Father Holland remained in the tepee with me talking over our plans and +plastering Indian ointment on my numerous burns. By and by, the voices +of the feasters began again and we heard Pierre, the rhymester, chanting +the song of the buffalo hunt: + + Now list to the song of the buffalo hunt, + Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, chant of the brave! + We are _Bois-Brules_, Freemen of the plains, + We choose our chief! We are no man's slave! + + Up, riders, up, ere the early mist + Ascends to salute the rising sun! + Up, rangers, up, ere the buffalo herds + Sniff morning air for the hunter's gun! + + They lie in their lairs of dank spear-grass, + Down in the gorge, where the prairie dips. + We've followed their tracks through the sucking ooze, + Where our bronchos sank to their steaming hips. + + We've followed their tracks from the rolling plain + Through slime-green sloughs to a sedgy ravine, + Where the cat-tail spikes of the marsh-grown flags + Stand half as high as the billowy green. + + The spear-grass touched our saddle-bows, + The blade-points pricked to the broncho's neck; + But we followed the tracks like hounds on scent + Till our horses reared with a sudden check. + + The scouts dart back with a shout, "They are found!" + Great fur-maned heads are thrust through reeds, + A forest of horns, a crunching of stems, + Reined sheer on their haunches are terrified steeds! + + Get you gone to the squaws at the tents, old men, + The cart-lines safely encircle the camp! + Now, braves of the plain, brace your saddle-girths! + Quick! Load guns, for our horses champ! + + A tossing of horns, a pawing of hoofs, + But the hunters utter never a word, + As the stealthy panther creeps on his prey, + So move we in silence against the herd. + + With arrows ready and triggers cocked, + We round them nearer the valley bank; + They pause in defiance, then start with alarm + At the ominous sound of a gun-barrel's clank. + + A wave from our captain, out bursts a wild shout, + A crash of shots from our breaking ranks, + And the herd stampedes with a thunderous boom + While we drive our spurs into quivering flanks. + + The arrows hiss like a shower of snakes, + The bullets puff in a smoky gust, + Out fly loose reins from the bronchos' bits + And hunters ride on in a whirl of dust. + + The bellowing bulls rush blind with fear + Through river and marsh, while the trampled dead + Soon bridge safe ford for the plunging herd; + Earth rocks like a sea 'neath the mighty tread. + + A rip of the sharp-curved sickle-horns, + A hunter falls to the blood-soaked ground! + He is gored and tossed and trampled down, + On dashes the furious beast with a bound, + + When over sky-line hulks the last great form + And the rumbling thunder of their hoofs' beat, beat, + Dies like an echo in distant hills, + Back ride the hunters chanting their feat. + + Now, old men and squaws, come you out with the carts! + There's meat against hunger and fur against cold! + Gather full store for the pemmican bags, + Garner the booty of warriors bold. + + So list ye the song of the _Bois-Brules_, + Of their glorious deeds in the days of old, + And this is the tale of the buffalo hunt + Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, have proudly told. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +IN SLIPPERY PLACES + + +A more desolate existence than the life of a fur-trading winterer in the +far north can scarcely be imagined. Penned in some miserable lodge a +thousand miles from human companionship, only the wild orgies of the +savages varied the monotony of dull days and long nights. The winter I +spent with the Mandanes was my first in the north. I had not yet learned +to take events as the rock takes wave-blows, and was still at that +mawkish age when a man is easily filled with profound pity for himself. +A month after our arrival, Father Holland left the Mandane village. Eric +Hamilton had not yet come; so I felt much like the man whom a gloomy +poet describes as earth's last habitant. I had accompanied the priest +half-way to the river forks. Here, he was to get passage in an Indian +canoe to the tribes of the upper Missouri. After an affectionate +farewell, I stood on a knoll of treeless land and watched the +broad-brimmed hat and black robe receding from me. + +"Good-by, boy! God bless you!" he had said in broken voice. "Don't fall +to brooding when you're alone, or you'll lose your wits. Now mind +yourself! Don't mope!" + +For my part, I could not answer a word, but keeping hold of his hand +walked on with him a pace. + +"Get away with you! Go home, youngster!" he ordered, roughly shaking me +off and flourishing his staff. + +Then he strode swiftly forward without once looking back, while I would +have given all I possessed for one last wave. As he plunged into the +sombre forest, where the early autumn frost of that north land had +already tinged the maple woods with the hectic flush of coming death, so +poignant was this last wresting from human fellowship, I could scarcely +resist the impulse to desert my station and follow him. Poorer than the +poorest of the tribes to whom he ministered, alone and armed only with +his faith, this man was ready to conquer the world for his Master. +"Would that I had half the courage for my quest," I mused, and walked +slowly back to the solitary lodge. + +Black Cat, Chief of the Mandane village, in a noisy harangue, adopted me +as his son and his brother and his father and his mother and I know not +what; but apart from trade with his people, I responded coldly to these +warm overtures. From Father Holland's leave-taking to Hamilton's coming, +was a desolately lonesome interval. Daily I went to the north hill and +strained my eyes for figures against the horizon. Sometimes horsemen +would gradually loom into view, head first, then arms and horse, like +the peak of a ship preceding appearance of full canvas and hull over +sea. Thereupon I would hurriedly saddle my own horse and ride furiously +forward, feeling confident that Hamilton had at last come, only to find +the horsemen some company of Indian riders. What could be keeping him? I +conjectured a thousand possibilities; but in truth there was no need for +any conjectures. 'Twas I, who felt the days drag like years. Hamilton +was not behind his appointed time. He came at last, walking in on me one +night when I least expected him and was sitting moodily before my +untouched supper. He had nothing to tell except that he had wasted many +weeks following false clues, till our buffalo hunters returned with news +of the Sioux attack, Diable's escape and our bootless pursuit. At once +he had left Fort Douglas for the Missouri, pausing often to send scouts +scouring the country for news of Diable's band; but not a trace of the +rascals had been found; and his search seemed on the whole more barren +of results than mine. Laplante, he reported, had never been seen the +night after he left the council hall to find the young Nor'-Wester. In +my own mind, I had no doubt the villain had been in that company we +pursued through the prairie fire. Altogether, I think Hamilton's coming +made matters worse rather than better. That I had failed after so nearly +effecting a rescue seemed to embitter him unspeakably. + +Out of deference to the rival companies employing us, we occupied +different lodges. Indeed, I fear poor Eric did but a sorry business for +the Hudson's Bay that winter. I verily believe he would have forgotten +to eat, let alone barter for furs, had I not been there to lug him +forcibly across to my lodge, where meals were prepared for us both. +Often when I saw the Indian trappers gathering before his door with +piles of peltries, I would go across and help him to value the furs. At +first the Indian rogues were inclined to take advantage of his +abstraction and palm off one miserable beaver skin, where they should +have given five for a new hatchet; and I began to understand why they +crowded to his lodge, though he did nothing to attract them, while they +avoided mine. Then I took a hand in Hudson's Bay trade and equalized +values. First, I would pick over the whole pile, which the Indians had +thrown on the floor, putting spoiled skins to one side, and peltries of +the same kind in classified heaps. + +"Lynx, buffalo, musk-ox, marten, beaver, silver fox, black bear, +raccoon! Want them all, Eric?" I would ask, while the Indians eyed me +with suspicious resentment. + +"Certainly, certainly, take everything," Eric would answer, without +knowing a word of what I had said, and at once throwing away his +opportunity to drive a good bargain. + +Picking over the goods of Hamilton's packet, the Mandanes would choose +what they wanted. Then began a strange, silent haggling over prices. +Unlike Oriental races, the Indian maintains stolid silence, compelling +the white man to do the talking. + +"Eric, Running Deer wants a gun," I would begin. + +"For goodness' sake, give it to him, and don't bother me," Eric would +urge, and the faintest gleam of amused triumph would shoot from the +beady eyes of Running Deer. Running Deer's peltries would be spread out, +and after a half hour of silent consideration on his part and trader's +talk on mine, furs to the value of so many beaver skins would be passed +across for the coveted gun. I remember it was a wretched old squaw with +a toothless, leathery, much-bewrinkled face and a reputation for +knowledge of Indian medicines, who first opened my eyes to the sort of +trade the Indians had been driving with Hamilton. The old creature was +bent almost double over her stout oak staff and came hobbling in with a +bag of roots, which she flung on the floor. After thawing out her frozen +moccasins before the lodge fire and taking off bandages of skins about +her ankles, she turned to us for trade. We were ready to make +concessions that might induce the old body to hurry away; but she +demanded red flannel, tea and tobacco enough to supply a whole family of +grandchildren, and sat down on the bag of roots prepared to out-siege +us. + +"What's this, Eric?" I asked, knowing no more of roots than the old +woman did of values. + +"Seneca for drugs. For goodness' sake, buy it quick and don't haggle." + +"But she wants your whole kit, man," I objected. + +"She'll have the whole kit and the shanty, too, if you don't get her +out," said Hamilton, opening the lodge door; and the old squaw presently +limped off with an armful of flannel, one tea packet and a parcel of +tobacco, already torn open. Such was the character of Hamilton's +bartering up to the time I elected myself his first lieutenant; but as +his abstractions became almost trance-like, I think the superstition of +the Indians was touched. To them, a maniac is a messenger of the Great +Spirit; and Hamilton's strange ways must have impressed them, for they +no longer put exorbitant values on their peltries. + +After the day's trading Eric would come to my hut. Pacing the cramped +place for hours, wild-eyed and silent, he would abruptly dash into the +darkness of the night like one on the verge of madness. Thereupon, the +taciturn, grave-faced La Robe Noire, tapping his forehead significantly, +would look with meaning towards Little Fellow; and I would slip out some +distance behind to see that Hamilton did himself no harm while the +paroxysm lasted. So absorbed was he in his own gloom, for days he would +not utter a syllable. The storm that had gathered would then discharge +its strength in an outburst of incoherent ravings, which usually ended +in Hamilton's illness and my watching over him night and day, keeping +firearms out of reach. I have never seen--and hope I never may--any +other being age so swiftly and perceptibly. I had attributed his worn +appearance in Fort Douglas to the cannon accident and trusted the +natural robustness of his constitution would throw off the apparent +languor; but as autumn wore into winter, there were more gray hairs on +his temple, deeper lines furrowed his face and the erect shoulders began +to bow. + +When days slipped into weeks and weeks into months without the slightest +inkling of Miriam's whereabouts to set at rest the fear that my rash +pursuit had caused her death, I myself grew utterly despondent. Like all +who embark on daring ventures, I had not counted on continuous +frustration. The idea that I might waste a lifetime in the wilderness +without accomplishing anything had never entered my mind. Week after +week, the scouts dispatched in every direction came back without one +word of the fugitives, and I began to imagine my association with +Hamilton had been unfortunate for us both. This added to despair the +bitterness of regret. + +The winter was unusually mild, and less game came to the Missouri from +the mountains and bad lands than in severe seasons. By February, we were +on short rations. Two meals a day, with cat-fish for meat and dried +skins in soup by way of variety, made up our regular fare for +mid-winter. The frequent absence of my two Indians, scouring the region +for the Sioux, left me to do my own fishing; and fishing with bare hands +in frosty weather is not pleasant employment for a youth of soft +up-bringing. Protracted bachelordom was also losing its charms; but +that may have resulted from a new influence, which came into my life and +seemed ever present. + +At Christmas, Hamilton was threatened with violent insanity. As the +Mandanes' provisions dwindled, the Indians grew surlier toward us; and I +was as deep in despondency as a man could sink. Frequently, I wondered +whether Father Holland would find us alive in the spring, and I +sometimes feared ours would be the fate of Athabasca traders whose +bodies satisfied the hunger of famishing Crees. + +How often in those darkest hours did a presence, which defied time and +space, come silently to me, breathing inspiration that may not be +spoken, healing the madness of despair and leaving to me in the midst of +anxiety a peace which was wholly unaccountable! In the lambent flame of +the rough stone fireplace, in the darkness between Hamilton's hut and +mine, through which I often stole, dreading what I might +find--everywhere, I felt and saw, or seemed to see, those gray eyes with +the look of a startled soul opening its virgin beauty and revealing its +inmost secrets. + +A bleak, howling wind, with great piles of storm-scud overhead, raved +all the day before Christmas. It was one of those afternoons when the +sombre atmosphere seems weighted with gloom and weariness. On Christmas +eve Hamilton's brooding brought on acute delirium. He had been more +depressed than usual, and at night when we sat down to a cheerless +supper of hare-skin soup and pemmican, he began to talk very fast and +quite irrationally. + +"See here, old boy," said I, "you'd better bunk here to-night. You're +not well." + +"Bunk!" said he icily, in the grand manner he sometimes assumed at the +Quebec Club for the benefit of a too familiar member. "And pray, Sir, +what might 'bunk' mean?" + +"Go to bed, Eric," I coaxed, getting tight hold of his hands. "You're +not well, old man; come to bed!" + +"Bed!" he exclaimed with indignation. "Bed! You're a madman, Sir! I'm to +meet Miriam on the St. Foye road." (It was here that Miriam lived in +Quebec, before they were married.) "On the St. Foye road! See the lights +glitter, dearest, in Lower Town," and he laughed aloud. Then followed +such an outpouring of wild ravings I wept from very pity and +helplessness. + +"Rufus! Rufus, lad!" he cried, staring at me and clutching at his +forehead as lucid intervals broke the current of his madness. +"Gillespie, man, what's wrong? I don't seem able to think. +Who--are--you? Who--in the world--are you? Gillespie! O Gillespie! I'm +going mad! Am I going mad? Help me, Rufus! Why can't you help me? It's +coming after me! See it! The hideous thing!" Tears started from his +burning eyes and his brow was knotted hard as whipcord. + +"Look! It's there!" he screamed, pointing to the fire, and he darted to +the door, where I caught him. He fought off my grasp with maniacal +strength, and succeeded in flinging open the door. Then I forgot this +man was more than brother to me, and threw myself upon him as against an +enemy, determined to have the mastery. The bleak wind roared through the +open blackness of the doorway, and on the ground outside were shadows of +two struggling, furious men. I saw the terrified faces of Little Fellow +and La Robe Noire peering through the dark, and felt wet beads start +from every pore in my body. Both of us were panting like fagged racers. +One of us was fighting blindly, raining down aimless blows, I know not +which, but I think it must have been Hamilton, for he presently sank in +my arms, limp and helpless as a sick child. + +Somehow I got him between the robes of my floor mattress. Drawing a box +to the bedside I again took his hands between mine and prepared for a +night's watch. + +He raved in a low, indistinct tone, muttering Miriam's name again and +again, and tossing his head restlessly from side to side. Then he fell +into a troubled sleep. The supper lay untouched. Torches had burned +black out. One tallow candle, that I had extravagantly put among some +evergreens--our poor decorations for Christmas Eve--sputtered low and +threw ghostly, branching shadows across the lodge. I slipped from the +sick man's side, heaped more logs on the fire and stretched out between +robes before the hearth. In the play of the flame Hamilton's face seemed +suddenly and strangely calm. Was it the dim light, I wonder. The +furrowed lines of sorrow seemed to fade, leaving the peaceful, +transparent purity of the dead. I could not but associate the branched +shadows on the wall with legends of death keeping guard over the dying. +The shadow by his pillow gradually assumed vague, awesome shape. I sat +up and rubbed my eyes. Was this an illusion, or was I, too, going mad? +The filmy thing distinctly wavered and receded a little into the dark. + +An unspeakable fear chilled my veins. Then I could have laughed defiance +and challenged death. Death! Curse death! What had we to fear from +dying? Had we not more to fear from living? At that came thought of my +love and the tumult against life was quieted. I, too, like other +mortals, had reason, the best of reason, to fear death. What matter if a +lonely one like myself went out alone to the great dark? But when +thought of my love came, a desolating sense of separation--separation +not to be bridged by love or reason--overwhelmed me, and I, too, shrank +back. + +Again I peered forward. The shadow fluttered, moved, and came out of the +gloom, a tender presence with massy, golden hair, white-veined brow, and +gray eyes, speaking unutterable things. + +"My beloved!" I cried. "Oh, my beloved!" and I sprang towards her; but +she had glided back among the spectral branches. + +The candle tumbled to the floor, extinguishing all light, and I was +alone with the sick man breathing heavily in the darkness. A log broke +over the fire. The flames burst up again; but I was still alone. Had I, +too, lost grip of reality; or was she in distress calling for me? +Neither suggestion satisfied; for the mean lodge was suddenly filled +with a great calm, and my whole being was flooded and thrilled with the +trancing ecstasy of an ethereal presence. + +If I remember rightly--and to be perfectly frank, I do--though I was in +as desperate straits as a man could be, I lay before the hearth that +Christmas Eve filled with gratitude to heaven--God knows such a gift +must have come from heaven!--for the love with which I had been dowered. + +How it might have been with other men I know not. For myself, I could +not have come through that dreary winter unscathed without the influence +of her, who would have been the first to disclaim such power. Among the +velvet cushions of the east one may criticise the lapse of white man to +barbarity; but in the wilderness human voice is as grateful to the ear +as rain patter in a drouth. There, men deal with facts, not arguments. +Natives break the loneliness of an isolated life by not unwelcomed +visits. Comes a time when they tarry over long in the white man's lodge. +Other men, who have scouted the possibility of sinking to savagery, have +forsaken the ways of their youth. Who can say that I might not have +departed from the path called rectitude? + +Religion may keep a holy man upright in slippery places; but for common +mortals, devotion to a being, whom, in one period of their worship men +rank with angels, does much to steady wavering feet. Hers was the +influence that aroused loathing for the drunken debauches, the cheating, +the depraved living of the Indian lodges: hers, the influence that kept +the loathing from slipping into indifference, the indifference from +becoming participation. Indeed, I could wish a young man no better +talisman against the world, the flesh and the devil, than love for a +pure woman. + +How we dragged through the hours of that night, of Christmas and the +days that followed, I do not attempt to set down here. Hamilton's +illness lasted a month. What with trading and keeping our scouts on the +search for Miriam and waiting on the sick man, I had enough to busy me +without brooding over my own woes. Hard as my life was, it was fortunate +I had no time for thoughts of self and so escaped the melancholy apathy +that so often benumbs the lonely man's activities. And when Eric became +convalescent, I had enough to do finding diversion for his mind. Keeping +record of our doings on birch-bark sheets, playing quoits with the +Mandanes and polo with a few fearless riders, helped to pass the long +weary days. + +So the dismal winter wore away and spring was drizzling into summer. +Within a few weeks we should be turning our faces northward for the +forks of the Red and Assiniboine. The prospect of movement after long +stagnation cheered Hamilton and fanned what neither of us would +acknowledge--a faint hope that Miriam might yet be alive in the north. I +verily believe Eric would have started northward with restored courage +had not our plans been thwarted by the sinister handiwork of Le Grand +Diable. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GOOD WHITE FATHER + + +For a week Hamilton and I had been busy in our respective lodges getting +peltries and personal belongings into shape for return to Red River. On +Saturday night, at least I counted it Saturday from the notches on my +doorpost, though Eric, grown morose and contradictory, maintained that +it was Sunday--we sat talking before the fire of my lodge. A dreary +raindrip pattered through the leaky roof and the soaked parchment tacked +across the window opening flapped monotonously against the pine logs. + +Unfastening the moon-shaped medallion, which my uncle had given me, I +slowly spelled out the Nor'-Westers' motto--"Fortitude in Distress." + +"For-ti-tude in Dis-tress," I repeated idly. "By Jove, Hamilton, we need +it, don't we?" + +Eric's lips curled in scorn. Without answering, he impatiently kicked a +fallen brand back to the live coals. I know old saws are poor comfort to +people in distress, being chiefly applicable when they are not needed. + +"What in the world can be keeping Father Holland?" I asked, leading off +on another tack. "Here we are almost into the summer, and never a sight +of him." + +"Did you really expect him back alive from the Bloods?" sneered +Hamilton. He had unconsciously acquired a habit of expecting the worst. + +"Certainly," I returned. "He's been among them before." + +"Then all I have to say is, you're a fool!" + +Poor Eric! He had informed me I was a fool so often in his ravings I had +grown quite used to the insult. He glared savagely at the fire, and if I +had not understood this bitterness towards the missionary, the next +remark was of a nature to enlighten me. + +"I don't see why any man in his senses wants to save the soul of an +Indian," he broke out. "Let them go where they belong! Souls! They +haven't any souls, or if they have, it's the soul of a fiend----" + +"By the bye, Eric," I interrupted, for this petulant ill-humor, that saw +naught but evil in everything, was becoming too frequent and always +ended in the same way--a night of semi-delirium, "by the bye, did you +see those fellows turning up soil for corn with a buffalo shoulder-blade +as a hoe?" + +"I wish every damn Red a thousand feet under the soil, deeper than that, +if the temperature increases." + +It was impossible to talk to Hamilton without provoking a quarrel. +Leaning back with hands clasped behind my head, I watched through +half-closed eyes his sad face darkling under stormy moods. + +At last the rain succeeded in soaking through the parchment across the +window and the wind drove through a great split in chilling gusts that +added to the cabin's discomfort. I got up and jammed an old hat into the +hole. At the window I heard the shouting of Indians having a hilarious +night among the lodges and was amazed at the sound of discharging +firearms above the huzzas, for ammunition was scarce among the Mandanes. +The hubbub seemed to be coming towards our hut. I could see nothing +through the window slit, and lighting a pine fagot, shot back the +latch-bolt and threw open the door. A multitude of tawny, joyous, +upturned faces thronged to the steps. The crowd was surging about some +newcomer, and Chief Black Cat was prancing around in an ecstasy of +delight, firing away all his gunpowder in joyous demonstration. I lifted +my torch. The Indians fell back and forth strode Father Holland, his +face shining wet and abeam with pleasure. The Indians had been welcoming +"their good white father." As he dismissed his Mandane children we drew +him in and placed his soaked over-garments before the fire. Then we +proffered him all the delicacies of bachelors' quarters, and filled and +refilled his bowl with soup, and did not stop pouring out our lye-black +tea till he had drained the dregs of it. + +Having satisfied his inner-man, we gave him the best stump-tree seat in +the cabin and sat back to listen. There was the awkward pause of +reunion, when friends have not had time to gather up the loose threads +of a parted past and weave them anew into stronger bands of comradeship. +Hamilton and the priest were strangers; but if the latter were as +overcome by the meeting after half a year's isolation as I was, the +silence was not surprising. To me it seemed the genial face was +unusually grave, and I noticed a long, horizontal scar across his +forehead. + +"What's that, Father?" I asked, indicating the mark on his brow. + +"Tush, youngster! Nothing! Nothing at all! Sampled scalping-knife on me; +thought better of it, kept me out of the martyr's crown." + +"And left you your own!" cried Hamilton astonished at the priest's +careless stoicism. + +"Left me my own," responded Father Holland. + +"Do you mean to say the murderous----" I began. + +"Tush, youngster! Be quiet!" said he. "Haven't many brethren come from +the same tribe more like warped branches than men? What am I, that I +should escape? Never speak of it again," and he continued his silent +study of the flames' play. + +"Where are your Indians?" he asked abruptly. + +"In the lodges. Shall I whistle for them?" + +He did not answer, but leaned forward with elbows on his knees, rubbing +his chin vigorously first with one hand, then the other, still studying +the fire. + +"How strong are the Mandanes?" he asked. + +"Weak, weak," I answered. "Few hundred. It hasn't been worth while for +traders to come here for years." + +"Was it worth while this year?" + +"Not for trade." + +"For anything else?" and he looked at Eric's dejected face. + +"Nothing else," I put in hastily, fearing one of Hamilton's outbreaks. +"We've been completely off the track, might better have stayed in the +north----" + +"No, you mightn't, not by any means," was his sharp retort. "I've been +in the Sioux lodges for three weeks." + +With an inarticulate cry, Hamilton sprang to his feet. He was trembling +from head to foot and caught Father Holland roughly by the shoulder. + +"Speak out, Sir! What of Miriam?" he demanded in dry, hard, rasping +tones. + +"Well, well, safe and inviolate. So's the boy, a big boy now! May ye +have them both in y'r arms soon--soon--soon!" and again he fell to +studying the fire with an unhurried deliberation, that was torture to +Hamilton. + +"Are they with you? Are they with you?" shouted Hamilton, hope bounding +up elastically to the wildest heights after his long depression. "Don't +keep me in suspense! I cannot bear it. Tell me where they are," he +pleaded. "Are they with you?" and his eyes burned into the priest's like +live coals. "Are--they--with--you?" + +"No--Lord--no!" roared Father Holland, alarmed at Hamilton's violent +condition. "But," he added, seeing Eric reel dizzily, "but they're all +right! Now you keep quiet and don't scare the wits out of a body! +They're all right, I tell you, and I've come straight from them for the +ransom price." + +"Get it, Rufus, get it!" shouted Hamilton to me, throwing his hands +distractedly to his head, a habit too common with him of late. "Get it! +Get it!" he kept calling, utterly beside himself. + +"Sit down, will you?" thundered the priest, as if Eric's sitting down +would calm all agitation. "Sit down! Behave! Keep quiet, both of you, or +my tongue'll forget holy orders and give ye some good Irish eloquence! +What d' y' mane, scarin' the breath out of a body and blowing his ideas +to limbo? Keep quiet, now, and listen!" + +"And did they," I cried, in spite of the injunction, "did they do that +to you?" pointing to the scar on his brow. + +"Yes, they did." + +"Because they saw you with me?" + +"No, that's a brand for the faith, you conceited whelp, you--they +stopped their tortures because they saw you with me. Now, swell out, +Rufus, and gloat over your importance! I tell you it was the devil, +himself, snatched my martyr's crown." + +"Le Grand Diable?" + +"Le Grand Diable's own minion. I saw his devilish eyes leering from the +back o' the crowd, when I was tied to a stake. 'Bring that Indian to +me,' sez I, transfixing him with my gaze; for--you understand--I +couldn't point, my hands being tied. Troth! But ye should 'a' seen their +looks of amazement at me boldness! There was I, roped to that tree, like +a pig for the boiling pot, and sez I, 'Bring--that Indian--to me!' just +as though I was managing the execution," and the priest paused to enjoy +the recollection of the effects of his boldness. + +"A squaw up with an old clout," he continued, "and slashed it across my +face, saying, 'Take that, pale face! Take that, man with a woman's +skirts on!' and 'Take that!' howled a young buck, fetching the flat of +his dagger across me forehead, close-cropped hair giving no grip for +scalping, not to mention a pate as bald as mine," and the priest roared +at his own joke, patting his bare crown affectionately. + +"Though the blood was boilin' in me enraged veins and dribblin' down my +face like the rain to-night, by the help o' the Lord, I felt no pain. +Never flinchin' nor takin' heed o' that bold baste of a squaw, I bawled +like a bull of Bashan, 'Bring--that Indian--to me, coward-hearted +Sioux--d' y' fear an Iroquois? Bring him to me and I'll make him enrich +your tribe!' + +"Faith! Their eyes grew big as a harvest moon and they brought Le Grand +Diable to me. Knowing his covetous heart, I told him if he still had the +woman and the child, I'd get him a big ransom. At that they all jangled +a bit, the old squaw clouting me with her filthy rag as if she wanted +to slap me to a peak. At length they let Le Grand Diable unfasten the +bands. With my hands tied behind my back, I was taken to his lodge. +Miriam and the boy were kept in a place behind the Sioux squaw's hut. +Once when the skin tied between blew up, I caught a glimpse of her poor +white face. The boy was playing round her feet. I was in a corner of the +lodge but was so grimed with grease and dirt, if she saw me she thought +I was some Indian captive and turned away her head. I told Le Grand +Diable in _habitant_ French--which the rascal understands--that I could +obtain a good ransom for his prisoners. He left me alone in the lodge +for some hours, I think to spy upon me and learn if I tried to speak to +Miriam; but I lay still as a log and pretended to sleep. When he came +back, he began bartering for the price; but I could make him no promises +as to the amount or time of payment, for I was not sure you were here, +and would not have him know where you are. + +"He kept me hanging on for his answer during the whole week, and many a +time Miriam brushed past so close her skirts touched me; but that +she-male devil of his--may the Lord give them both a warm, front +seat!--was always watching and I could not speak. Miriam's face was +hidden under her shawl and she looked neither to the right, nor to the +left. I don't think she ever saw me. On condition you stay in your camp +and don't go to meet her, but send your two Indians alone for her with +your offer, he let me go. Here I am! Now, Rufus, where are your men? Off +with them bearing more gifts than the Queen of Sheba carried to +Solomon!" + + * * * * * + +From the hour that La Robe Noire and Little Fellow, laden with gaudy +trinkets and hunting outfits, departed for the Sioux lodges, Hamilton +was positively a madman. In the first place, he had been determined to +disguise himself as an Indian and go instead of La Robe Noire, whose +figure he resembled. To this, we would not listen. Le Grand Diable was +not the man to be tricked and there was no sense in ransoming Miriam for +a captive husband. Then, he persisted in riding part of the way with our +messengers, which necessitated my doing likewise. I had to snatch his +horse's bridle, wheel both our horses round and head homeward at a +gallop, before he would listen to reason and come back. + +Round the lodges he was a ramping tiger. Twenty times a day he went from +our hut to the height of land commanding the north country, keeping me +on the run at his heels; and all night he beat around the cramped shack +as if it had been a cage. On the fourth day from the messengers' +departure, chains could not bind him. If all went well, they should be +with us at night. In defiance of Le Grand Diable's conditions, which an +arrow from an unseen marksman might enforce, Eric saddled his mare and +rode out to meet the men. + +Of course Father Holland and I peltered after him; but it was only +because gathering darkness prevented travel that we prevailed on him to +dismount and await the Indians' coming at the edge of the village. + +At last came the clank, clank of shod hoofs in the valley. The natives +used only unshod animals, so we recognized our men. Hamilton darted away +like a hare racing for cover. + +"The Lord have mercy upon us!" groaned Father Holland. "Listen, lad! +There's only one horse!" + +I threw myself to the earth and laying my ear to the turf strained for +every sound. The thud, thud of a single horse, fore and hind feet +striking the beaten trail in quick gallop, came distinctly up from the +valley. + +"It may not be our men," said I, with sickening forebodings tugging at +throat and heart. + +"I mistrusted them! I mistrusted the villains!" repeated the priest. "If +only you had enough Mandanes to ride down on them, but you're too weak. +There are at least two thousand Sioux." + +Hamilton and Little Fellow, talking loudly and gesticulating, rode +crashing through the furze. + +"I knew it! I knew it!" shouted Hamilton fiercely, "One of us should +have gone." + +"What's wrong?" came from Father Holland in a voice so low and +unnaturally calm, I knew he feared the worst. + +"Wrong!" yelled Hamilton, "They hold La Robe Noire as hostage and +demand five hundred pounds of ammunition, twenty guns and ten horses. Of +course, I should have gone----" + +"And would it have mended matters if you'd been held hostage too?" I +demanded, utterly out of patience and at that stage when a little strain +makes a man strike his best friends. "You know very well, the men were +only sent to make an offer. You'd no right to expect everything on one +trip without any bargaining----" + +"Shut up, boy!" exclaimed Father Holland. "Just when ye both need all +y'r wits, y'r scattering them to the four winds. Now, mind yourselves! I +don't like these terms! 'Tis the devil's own doing! Let's talk this +over!" + +With a vast deal of the wordy eloquence that characterizes Indian +diplomacy, the tenor of Le Grand Diable's message was "His shot pouch +was light and his pipe cold; he hung down his head and the pipe of peace +had not been in the council; the Sioux were strangers and the whites +were their enemies; the pale-faces had been in their power and they had +always conveyed them on their journey with glad hearts and something to +eat." Finally, the Master of Life, likewise Earth, Air, Water, and Fire +were called on to witness that if the white men delivered five hundred +rounds of ammunition, twenty guns and ten horses, the white woman and +her child, likewise the two messengers, would be sent safely back to the +Mandane lodge; none but these two messengers would be permitted in the +Sioux camp; also, the Sioux would not answer for the lives of the white +men if they left the Mandane lodges. Let the white men, therefore, send +back the full ransom by the hands of the same messenger. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +LE GRAND DIABLE SENDS BACK OUR MESSENGER + + +Father Holland advised caution and consideration before acting. A policy +of bargaining was his counsel. + +"I don't like those terms, at all," he said, "too much like giving your +weapons to the enemy. I don't like all this." + +He would temporize and rely on Le Grand Diable's covetous disposition +bringing him to our terms; but Hamilton would hear of neither caution +nor delay. + +The ransom price was at once collected. Next morning, Little Fellow, on +a fresh mount with a string of laden horses on each side, went post +haste back to the Sioux. + +In all conscience, Hamilton had been wild enough during the first +parley. His excitement now exceeded all bounds. The first two days, when +there was no possibility of Miriam's coming and Little Fellow could not +yet have reached the Sioux, I tore after Eric so often I lost count of +the races between our lodge and the north hill. The performance began +again on the third day, and I broke out with a piece of my mind, which +surprised him mightily. + +"Look you here, Hamilton!" I exclaimed, rounding him back from the hill, +"Can't you stop this nonsense and sit still for only two days more, or +must I tie you up? You've tried to put me crazy all winter and, by Jove, +if you don't stop this, you'll finish the job----" + +He gazed at me with the dumb look of a wounded animal and was too amazed +for words. Leaving me in mid-road, feeling myself a brute, he went +straight to his own hut. After that incident, he gave us no further +anxiety and kept an iron grip on his impatience. With me, anger had +given place to contrition. He remained much by himself until the night, +when our messengers were expected. Then he came across to my quarters, +where Father Holland and I were keyed up to the highest pitch. Putting +out his hand he said-- + +"Is it all right with us again, Rufus, old man?" + +That speech nigh snapped the strained cords. + +"Of course," said I, gripping the extended hand, and I immediately +coughed hard, to explain away the undue moisture welling into my eyes. + +We all three sat as still and silent as a death-watch, Father Holland +fumbling and pretending to pore over some holy volume, Eric with fingers +tightly interlaced and upper teeth biting through lower lip, and I with +clenched fists dug into jacket pockets and a thousand imaginary sounds +singing wild tunes in my ears. + +How the seconds crawled, and the minutes barely moved, and the hours +seemed to heap up in a blockade and crush us with their leaden weight! +Twice I sought relief for pent emotion by piling wood on the fire, +though the night was mild, and by breaking the glowing embers into a +shower of sparks. The soft, moccasined tread of Mandanes past our door +startled Father Holland so that his book fell to the floor, while I +shook like a leaf. Strange to say, Hamilton would not allow himself the +luxury of a single movement, though the lowered brows tightened and +teeth cut deeper into the under lip. + +Dogs set up a barking at the other end of the village--a common enough +occurrence where half-starved curs roved in packs--but I could not +refrain from lounging with a show of indifference to the doorway, where +I peered through the moon-silvered dusk. As usual, the Indians with +shrill cry flew at the dogs to silence them. The noise seemed to be +annoying my companions and was certainly unnerving me, so I shut the +door and walked back to the fire. + +The howl of dogs and squaws increased. I heard the angry undertone of +men's voices. A hoarse roar broke from the Mandane lodges and rolled +through the village like the sweep of coming hurricane. There was a +fleet rush, a swift pattering of something pursued running round the +rear of our lodge, with a shrieking mob of men and squaws after it. The +dogs were barking furiously and snapping at the heels of the thing, +whatever it was. + +"A hostile!" exclaimed Hamilton, leaping up. + +Hardly knowing what I did, I bounded towards the door and shot forward +the bolt, with a vague fear that blood might be spilled on our +threshold. + +"For shame, man!" cried Father Holland, making to undo the latch. + +But the words had not passed his lips when the parchment flap of the +window lifted. A voice screamed through the opening and in hurtled a +round, nameless, blood-soaked horror, rolling over and over in a red +trail, till it stopped with upturned, dead, glaring eyes and hideous, +gaping mouth, at the very feet of Hamilton. + +It was the scalpless head of La Robe Noire. Our Indian had paid the +price of his own blood-lust and Diable's enmity. + +Before the full enormity of the treachery--messengers murdered and +mutilated, ransom stolen and captives kept--had dawned on me, Father +Holland had broken open the door. He was rushing through the night +screaming for the Mandanes to catch the miscreant Sioux. When I turned +back, not daring to look at that awful object, Hamilton had fallen to +the hut floor in a dead faint. + + * * * * * + +And now may I be spared recalling what occurred on that terrible night! + +Women luxuriate and men traffic in the wealth of the great west, but how +many give one languid thought to the years of bloody deeds by which the +west was won? + + * * * * * + +Before restoring Hamilton, it was necessary to remove that which was +unseemly; also to wash out certain stains on the hearth-stones; and +those things would have tried the courage of more iron-nerved men than +myself. + +I should not have been surprised if Eric had come out of that faint, a +gibbering maniac; but I toiled over him with the courage of blank +hopelessness, pumping his arms up and down, forcing liquor between the +clenched teeth, splashing the cold, clammy face with water, and laving +his forehead. At last he opened his eyes wearily. Like a man ill at ease +with life, moaning, he turned his face to the wall. + +Outside, it was as if the unleashed furies of hell fought to quench +their thirst in human blood. The clamor of those red demons was in my +ears and I was still working over Hamilton, loosening his jacket collar, +under-pillowing his chest, fanning him, and doing everything else I +could think of, to ease his labored breathing, when Father Holland burst +into the lodge, utterly unmanned and sobbing like a child. + +"For the Lord's sake, Rufus," he cried, "for the Lord's sake, come and +help! They're murdering him! They're murdering him! 'Twas I who set them +on him, and I can't stop them! I can't stop them!" + +"Let them murder him!" I returned, unconsciously demonstrating that the +civilized heart differs only in degree from the barbarian. + +"Come, Rufus," he pleaded, "come, for the love of Frances, or your hands +will not be clean. There'll be blood on your hands when you go back to +her. Come, come!" + +Out we rushed through the thronging Mandanes, now riotous with the lust +of blood. A ring of young bucks had been formed round the Sioux to keep +the crowd off. Naked, with arms pinioned, the victim stood motionless +and without fear. + +"Good white father, he no understand," said the Mandanes, jostling the +weeping priest back from the circle of the young men. "Good white +father, he go home!" In spite of protest by word and act they roughly +shoved us to our lodge, the doomed man's death chant ringing in our ears +as they pushed us inside and clashed our door. In vain we had argued +they would incur the vengeance of the Sioux nation. Our voices were +drowned in the shout for blood--for blood! + +The sigh of the wind brought mournful strains of the victim's dirge to +our lodge. I fastened the door, with robes against it to keep the sound +out. Then a smell of burning drifted through the window, and I +stop-gapped that, too, with more robes. + + * * * * * + +That the Sioux would wreak swift vengeance could not be doubted. As soon +as the murderous work was over, guides were with difficulty engaged. +Having fitted up a sort of prop in which I could tie Hamilton to the +saddle, I saw both Father Holland and Eric set out for Red River before +daybreak. + +It was best they should go and I remain. If Miriam were still in the +country, stay I would, till she were safe; but I had no mind to see Eric +go mad or die before the rescue could be accomplished. + +As they were leaving I took a piece of birch bark. On it I wrote with a +charred stick:-- + + "Greetings to my own dear love from her ever loyal and devoted + knight." + +This, Father Holland bore to Frances Sutherland from me. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE PRICE OF BLOOD + + +How many shapeless terrors can spring from the mind of man I never knew +till Eric and the priest left me alone in the Mandane village. Ever, on +closing my eyes, there rolled and rolled past, endlessly, without going +one pace beyond my sight, something too horrible to be contemplated. +When I looked about to assure myself the thing was not there--could not +possibly be there--memory flashed back the whole dreadful scene. Up +started glazed eyes from the hearth, the floor, and every dim nook in +the lodge. Thereupon I would rush into the village road, where the +shamefaced greetings of guilty Indians recalled another horror. + +If I ventured into Le Grand Diable's power a fate worse than La Robe +Noire's awaited me. That there would be a hostile demonstration over the +Sioux messenger's death I was certain. Nothing that I offered could +induce any of the Indians to act as scouts or to reconnoiter the enemy's +encampment. I had, of my own will, chosen to remain, and now I found +myself with tied hands, fuming and gnashing against fate, conjuring up +all sorts of projects for the rescue of Miriam, and butting my head +against the impossible at every turn. Thus three weary days dragged +past. + +Having reflected on the consequences of their outrage, the Mandanes +exhibited repentance of a characteristically human form--resentment +against the cause of their trouble. Unfortunately, I was the cause. From +the black looks of the young men I half suspected, if the Sioux chief +would accept me in lieu of material gifts, I might be presented as a +peace-offering. This would certainly not forward my quest, and prudence, +or cowardice--two things easily confused when one is in peril--counseled +discretion, and discretion seemed to counsel flight. + +"Discretion! Discretion to perdition!" I cried, springing up from a +midnight reverie in my hut. Every selfish argument for my own safety had +passed in review before my mind, and something so akin to judicious +caution, which we trappers in plain language called "cowardice," was +insidiously assailing my better self, I cast logic's sophistries to the +winds, and dared death or torture to drive me from my post. Whence comes +this sublime, reasonless _abandon_ of imperiled human beings, which +casts off fear and caution and prudence and forethought and all that +goes to make success in the common walks of life, and at one blind leap +mounts the Sinai of duty? To me, the impulse upwards is as mysterious as +the impulse downwards, and I do not wonder that pagans ascribe one to +Ormuzd, the other to Ahriman. 'Tis ours to yield or resist, and I +yielded with the vehemence of a passionate nature, vowing in the +darkness of the hut--"Here, before God, I stay!" + +Swift came test of my oath. While the words were yet on my lips, +stealthy steps suddenly glided round the lodge. A shuffling stopped at +the door, while a chilling fear took possession of me lest the mutilated +form of my other Indian should next be hurled through the window. I had +not time to shoot the door-bolt to its catch before a sharp click told +of lifted latch. The hinge creaked, and there, distinct in the +starlight, that smote through the open, stood Little Fellow, himself, +haggard and almost naked. + +"Little Fellow! Good boy!" I shouted, pulling him in. "Where did you +come from? How did you get away? Is it you or your ghost?" + +Down he squatted with a grunt on one of the robes, answering never a +word. The gaunt look of the man declared his needs, so I prepared to +feed him back to speech. This task kept me busy till daybreak, for the +filling capacity of a famishing Indian may not be likened to any other +hungry thing on earth without doing the red man grave injustice. + +"Hoohoo! Hoohoo! But I be sick man to-morrow!" and he rubbed himself +down with a satisfied air of distension, declining to have his plate +reloaded for the tenth time. I noticed the poor wretch's skin was cut to +the bone round wrists and ankles. Chafed bandage marks encircled the +flesh of his neck. + +"What did this, Little Fellow?" and I pointed to the scars. + +A grim look of Indian gratitude for my interest came into the stolid +face. + +"Bad Indians," was the terse response. + +"Did they torture you?" + +He grunted a ferocious negative. + +"You got away too quick for them?" + +An affirmative grunt. + +"Le Grand Diable--did you see him?" + +At that name, his white teeth snapped shut, and from the depths of the +Indian's throat came the vicious snarl of an enraged wolf. + +"Come," I coaxed, "tell me. How long since you left the Sioux?" + +"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one sleep," and rising, he enacted a hobbling +gait across the cabin in unison with the rhythmic utterance of his +words. + +"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one." + +"Traveled at night!" I interrupted. "Two nights! You couldn't do it in +two nights!" + +"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one sleep," he repeated. + +"Three nights!" + +Four times he hobbled across the floor, which meant he had come afoot +the whole distance, traveling only at night. + +Sitting down, he began in a low monotone relating how he had returned to +La Robe Noire with the additional ransom demanded by Le Grand Diable. +The "pig Sioux, more gluttonous than the wolverine, more treacherous +than the mountain cat," had come out to receive them with hootings. The +plunder was taken, "as a dead enemy is picked by carrion buzzards." He, +himself, was dragged from his horse and bound like a slave squaw. La +Robe Noire had been stripped naked, and young men began piercing his +chest with lances, shouting, "Take that, man who would scalp the +Iroquois! Take that, enemy to the Sioux! Take that, dog that's friend to +the white man!" Then had La Robe Noire, whose hands were bound, sprung +upon his torturers and as the trapped badger snaps the hand of the +hunter so had he buried his teeth in the face of a boasting Sioux. + +Here, Little Fellow's teeth clenched shut in savage imitation. Then was +Le Grand Diable's knife unsheathed. More, my messenger could not see; +for a Sioux bandaged his eyes. Another tied a rope round his neck. Thus, +like a dead stag, was he pulled over the ground to a wigwam. Here he lay +for many "sleeps," knowing not when the great sun rose and when he sank. +Once, the lodges became very still, like many waters, when the wind +slumbers and only the little waves lap. Then came one with the soft, +small fingers of a white woman and gently, scarcely touching him, as the +spirits rustle through the forest of a dark night, had these hands cut +the rope around his neck, and unbound him. A whisper in the English +tongue, "Go--run--for your life! Hide by day! Run at night!" + +The skin of the tent wall was lifted by the same hands. He rolled out. +He tore the blind from his eyes. It was dark. The spirits had quenched +their star torches. No souls of dead warriors danced on the fire plain +of the northern sky! The father of winds let loose a blast to drown all +sound and help good Indian against the pig Sioux! He ran like a hare. He +leaped like a deer. He came as the arrows from the bow of the great +hunter. Thus had he escaped from the Sioux! + +Little Fellow ceased speaking, wrapped himself in robes and fell asleep. + +I could not doubt whose were the liberator's hands, and I marveled that +she had not come with him. Had she known of our efforts at all? It +seemed unlikely. Else, with the liberty she had, to come to Little +Fellow, surely she would have tried to escape. On the other hand, her +immunity from torture might depend on never attempting to regain +freedom. + +Now I knew what to expect if I were captured by the Sioux. Yet, given +another stormy night, if Little Fellow and I were near the Sioux with +fleet horses, could not Miriam be rescued in the same way he had +escaped? Until Little Fellow had eaten and slept back to his normal +condition of courage, it would be useless to propose such a hazardous +plan. Indeed, I decided to send him to some point on the northern trail, +where I could join him and go alone to the Sioux camp. This would be +better than sitting still to be given as a hostage to the Sioux. If the +worst happened and I were captured, had I the courage to endure Indian +tortures? A man endures what he must endure, whether he will, or not; +and I certainly had not courage to leave the country without one blow +for Miriam's freedom. + +With these thoughts, I gathered my belongings in preparation for secret +departure from the Mandanes that night. Then I prepared breakfast, saw +Little Fellow lie back in a dead sleep, and strolled out among the +lodges. + +Four days had passed without the coming of the avengers. The villagers +were disposed to forget their guilt and treat me less sulkily. As I +sauntered towards the north hill, pleasant words greeted me from the +lodges. + +"Be not afraid, my son," exhorted Chief Black Cat. "Lend a deaf ear to +bad talk! No harm shall befall the white man! Be not afraid!" + +"Afraid!" I flouted back. "Who's afraid, Black Cat? Only white-livered +cowards fear the Sioux! Surely no Mandane brave fears the Sioux--ugh! +The cowardly Sioux!" + +My vaunting pleased the old chief mightily; for the Indian is nothing if +not a boaster. At once Black Cat would have broken out in loud tirade on +his friendship for me and contempt for the Sioux, but I cut him short +and moved towards the hill, that overlooked the enemy's territory. A +great cloud of dust whirled up from the northern horizon. + +"A tornado the next thing!" I exclaimed with disgust. "The fates are +against me! A fig for my plans!" + +I stooped. With ear to the ground I could hear a rumbling clatter as of +a buffalo stampede. + +"What is it, my son?" asked the voice of the chief, and I saw that Black +Cat had followed me to the hill. + +"Are those buffalo, Black Cat?" and I pointed to the north. + +As he peered forward, distinguishing clearly what my civilized eyes +could not see, his face darkened. + +"The Sioux!" he muttered with a black look at me. Turning, he would have +hurried away without further protests of friendship, but I kept pace +with him. + +"Pooh!" said I, with a lofty contempt, which I was far from feeling. +"Pooh! Black Cat! Who's afraid of the Sioux? Let the women run from the +Sioux!" + +He gave me a sidelong glance to penetrate my sincerity and slackened his +flight to the proud gait of a fearless Indian. All the same, alarm was +spread among the lodges, and every woman and child of the Mandanes were +hidden behind barricaded doors. The men mounted quickly and rode out to +gain the vantage ground of the north hill before the enemy's arrival. + +Another cross current to my purposes! Fool that I was, to have +dilly-dallied three whole days away like a helpless old squaw wringing +her hands, when I should have dared everything and ridden to Miriam's +rescue! Now, if I had been near the Sioux encampment, when all the +warriors were away, how easily could I have liberated Miriam and her +child! + + * * * * * + +Always, it is the course we have not followed, which would have led on +to the success we have failed to grasp in our chosen path. So we salve +wounded mistrust of self and still, in spite of manifest proof to the +contrary, retain a magnificent conceit. + +I cursed my blunders with a vehemence usually reserved for other men's +errors, and at once decided to make the best of the present, letting +past and future each take care of itself, a course which will save a man +gray hairs over to-morrow and give him a well-provisioned to-day. + +Arming myself, I resolved to be among the bargain-makers of the Mandanes +rather than be bargained by the Sioux. Wakening Little Fellow, I told +him my plan and ordered him to slip away north while the two tribes were +parleying and to await me a day's march from the Sioux camp. He told me +of a wooded valley, where he could rest with his horses concealed, and +after seeing him off, I rode straight for the band of assembled Mandanes +and surprised them beyond all measure by taking a place in the forefront +of Black Cat's special guard. The Sioux warriors swept towards us in a +tornado. Ascending the slope at a gallop, whooping and beating their +drums, they charged past us, and down at full speed through the village, +displaying a thousand dexterities of horsemanship and prowess to strike +terror to the Mandanes. Then they dashed back and reined up on the +hillside beneath our forces. The men were naked to the waist and their +faces were blackened. Porcupine quills, beavers' claws, hooked bones, +and bears' claws stained red hung round their necks in ringlets, or +adorned gorgeous belts. Feathered crests and broad-shielded mats of +willow switches, on the left arm, completed their war dress. The leaders +had their buckskin leggings strung from hip to ankle with small bells, +and carried firearms, as well as arrows and stone lances; but the +majority had only Indian weapons. In that respect--though we were not +one third their number--we had the advantage. All the Mandanes carried +firearms; but I do not believe there was enough ammunition to average +five rounds a man. Luckily, this was unknown to the Sioux. I scanned +every face. Diable was not there. + +Scarcely were the ranks in position, when both Sioux and Mandane chiefs +rode forward, and there opened such a harangue as I have never heard +since, and hope I never may. + +"Our young man has been killed," lamented the Sioux. "He was a good +warrior. His friends sorrow. Our hearts are no longer glad. Till now our +hands have been white, and our hearts clean. But the young man has been +slain and we are grieved. Of the scalps of the enemy, he brought many. +We hang our heads. The pipe of peace has not been in our council. The +whites are our enemies. Now, the young man is dead. Tell us if we are +to be friends or enemies. We have no fear. We are many and strong. Our +bows are good. Our arrows are pointed with flint and our lances with +stone. Our shot-pouches are not light. But we love peace. Tell us, what +doth the Mandane offer for the blood of the young man? Is it to be peace +or war? Shall we be friends or enemies? Do you raise the tomahawk, or +pipe of peace? Say, great chief of the Mandanes, what is thy answer?" + +This and more did the Sioux chief vauntingly declaim, brandishing his +war club and addressing the four points of the compass, also the sun, as +he shouted out his defiance. To which Black Cat, in louder voice, made +reply. + +"Say, great chief of the Sioux, our dead was brought into the camp. The +body was yet warm. It was thrown at our feet. Never before did it enter +the heart of a Missouri to seek the blood of a Sioux! Our messengers +went to your camp smoking the sacred calumet of peace. They were sons of +the Mandanes. They were friends of the white men. The white man is like +magic. He comes from afar. He knows much. He has given guns to our +warriors. His shot bags are full and his guns many. But his men, ye +slew. We are for peace, but if ye are for war, we warn you to leave our +camp before the warriors hidden where ye see them not, break forth. We +cannot answer for the white man's magic," and I heard my power over +darkness and light, life and death, magnified in a way to terrify my own +dreams; but Black Cat cunningly wound up his bold declamation by asking +what the Sioux chief would have of the white man for the death of the +messenger. + +A clamor of voices arose from the warriors, each claiming some +relationship and attributing extravagant virtues to the dead Sioux. + +"I am the afflicted father of the youth ye killed," called an old +warrior, putting in prior claim for any forthcoming compensation and +enhancing its value by adding, "and he had many feathers in his cap." + +"He, who was killed, I desired for a nephew," shouted another, "and an +ivory wand he carried in his hand." + +"He who was killed was my brother," cried a third, "and he had a new gun +and much powder." + +"He was braver than the buffalo," declared another. + +"He had three wounds!" "He had scars!" "He wore many scalps!" came the +voices of others. + +"Many bells and beads were on his leggings!" + +"He had garnished moccasins!" + +"He slew a bear with his own hands!" + +"His knife had a handle of ivory!" + +"His arrows had barbs of beavers' claws!" + +If the noisy claimants kept on, they would presently make the dead man a +god. I begged Black Cat to cut the parley short and demand exactly what +gift would compensate the Sioux for the loss of so great a warrior. +After another half-hour's jangling, in which I took an animated part, +beating down their exorbitant request for two hundred guns with beads +and bells enough to outfit the whole Sioux tribe, we came to terms. +Indeed, the grasping rascals well-nigh cleared out all that was left of +my trading stock; but when I saw they had no intention of fighting, I +held back at the last and demanded the surrender of Le Grand Diable, +Miriam and the child in compensation for La Robe Noire. + +Then, they swore by everything, from the sun and the moon to the cow in +the meadow, that they were not responsible for the doings of Le Grand +Diable, who was an Iroquois. Moreover, they vowed he had hurriedly taken +his departure for the north four days before, carrying with him the +Sioux wife, the strange woman and the white child. As I had no object in +arousing their resentment, I heard their words without voicing my own +suspicions and giving over the booty, whiffed pipes with them. But I had +no intention of being tricked by the rascally Sioux, and while they and +the Mandanes celebrated the peace treaty, I saddled my horse and spurred +off for their encampment, glad to see the last of a region where I had +suffered much and gained nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +LAPLANTE AND I RENEW ACQUAINTANCE + + +The warriors had spoken truth to the Mandanes. Le Grand Diable was not +in the Sioux lodges. I had been at the encampment for almost a week, +daily expecting the warriors' return, before I could persuade the people +to grant me the right of search through the wigwams. In the end, I +succeeded only through artifice. Indeed, I was becoming too proficient +in craft for the maintenance of self-respect. A child--I explained to +the surly old men who barred my way--had been confused with the Sioux +slaves. If it were among their lodges, I was willing to pay well for its +redemption. The old squaws, eying me distrustfully, averred I had come +to steal one of their naked brats, who swarmed on my tracks with as +tantalizing persistence as the vicious dogs. The jealous mothers would +not hear of my searching the tents. Then I was compelled to make friends +with the bevies of young squaws, who ogle newcomers to the Indian camps. +Presently, I gained the run of all the lodges. Indeed, I needed not a +little diplomacy to keep from being adopted as son-in-law by one +pertinacious old fellow--a kind of embarrassment not wholly confined to +trappers in the wilds. But not a trace of Diable and his captives did I +find. + +I had hobbled my horses--a string of six--in a valley some distance from +the camp and directly on the trail, where Little Fellow was awaiting me. +Returning from a look at their condition one evening, I heard a band of +hunters had come from the Upper Missouri. I was sitting with a group of +men squatted before my fatherly Indian's lodge, when somebody walked up +behind us and gave a long, low whistle. + +"Mon Dieu! Mine frien', the enemy! Sacredie! 'Tis he! Thou cock-brained +idiot! Ho--ho! Alone among the Sioux!" came the astonished, +half-breathless exclamation of Louis Laplante, mixing his English and +French as he was wont, when off guard. + +Need I say the voice brought me to my feet at one leap? Well I +remembered how I had left him lying with a snarl between his teeth in +the doorway of Fort Douglas! Now was his chance to score off that +grudge! I should not have been surprised if he had paid me with a stab +in the back. + +"What for--come you--here?" he slowly demanded, facing me with a +revengeful gleam in his eyes. His English was still mixed. There was +none of the usual light and airy impudence of his manner. + +"You know very well, Louis," I returned without quailing. "Who should +know better than you? For the sake of the old days, Louis, help to undo +the wrong you allowed? Help me and before Heaven you shall command your +own price. Set her free! Afterwards torture me to the death and take +your full pleasure!" + +"I'll have it, anyway," retorted Louis with a hard, dry, mirthless +laugh. "Know they--what for--you come?" He pointed to the Indians, who +understood not a word of our talk; and we walked a pace off from the +lodges. + +"No! I'm not always a fool, Louis," said I, "though you cheated me in +the gorge!" + +"See those stones?" There was a pile of rock on the edge of the ravine. + +"I do. What of them?" + +"All of your Indian--left after the dogs--it lie there!" His eye +questioned mine; but there was not a vestige of fear in me towards that +boaster. This, I set down not vauntingly, but fully realizing what I owe +to Heaven. + +"Poor fellow," said I. "That was cruel work." + +"Your other man--he fool them----" + +"All the better," I interrupted. + +"They not be cheated once more again! No--no--mine frien'! To come here, +alone! Ha--ha! Stupid Anglo-Saxon ox!" + +"Don't waste your breath, Louis," I quietly remarked. "Your names have +no more terror for me now than at Laval! However big a knave you are, +Louis, you're not a fool. Why don't you make something out of this? I +can reward you. Hold _me_, if you like! Scalp me and skin me and put me +under a stone-pile for revenge! Will it make your revenge any sweeter +to torture a helpless, white woman?" + +Louis winced. 'Twas the first sign of goodness I had seen in the knave, +and I credited it wholly to his French ancestors. + +"I never torture white woman," he vehemently declared, with a sudden +flare-up of his proud temper. "The son of a seigneur----" + +"The son of a seigneur," I broke in, "let an innocent woman go into +captivity by lying to me!" + +"Don't harp on that!" said Louis with a scornful laugh--a laugh that is +ever the refuge of the cornered liar. "You pay me back by stealing +despatches." + +"Don't harp on that, Louis!" and I returned his insolence in full +measure. "I didn't steal your despatches, though I know the thief. And +you paid me back by almost trapping me at Fort Douglas." + +"But I didn't succeed," exclaimed Laplante. "Mon Dieu! If I had only +known you were a spy!" + +"I wasn't. I came to see Hamilton." + +"And you pay me back as if I had succeed," continued Louis, "by kicking +me--me--the son of a seigneur--kicking me in the stomach like a pig, +which is no fit treatment for a gentleman!" + +"And you paid me back by sticking your knife in my boot----" + +"And didn't succeed," broke in Louis regretfully. + +At that, we both laughed in spite of ourselves, laughed as comrades. +And the laugh brought back memories of old Laval days, when we used to +thrash each other in the schoolyard, but always united in defensive +league, when we were disciplined inside the class-room. + +"See here, old crony," I cried, taking quick advantage of his sudden +softening and again playing suppliant to my adversary. "I own up! You +owe me two scores, one for the despatches I saw taken from you, one for +knocking you down in Fort Douglas; for your knife broke and did not cut +me a whit. Pay those scores with compound interest, if you like, the way +you used to pummel me black and blue at Laval; but help me now as we +used to help each other out of scrapes at school! Afterwards, do as you +wish! I give you full leave. As the son of a seigneur, as a gentleman, +Louis, help me to free the woman!" + +"Pah!" cried Louis with mingled contempt and surrender. "I not punish +you here with two thousand against one! Louis Laplante is a +gentleman--even to his enemy!" + +"Bravo, comrade!" I shouted out, full of gratitude, and I thrust forward +my hand. + +"No--no--thanks much," and Laplante drew himself up proudly, "not till I +pay you well, richly,--generous always to mine enemy!" + +"Very good! Pay when and where you will." + +"Pay how I like," snapped Louis. + +With that strange contract, his embarrassment seemed to vanish and his +English came back fluently. + +"You'd better leave before the warriors return," he said. "They come +home to-morrow!" + +"Is Diable among them?" + +"No." + +"Is Diable here?" + +"No." His face clouded as I questioned. + +"Do you know where he is?" + +"No." + +"Will he be back?" + +"Dammie! How do I know? He will if he wants to! I don't tell tales on a +man who saved my life." + +His answer set me to wondering if Diable had seen me hold back the +trader's murderous hand, when Louis lay drunk, and if the Frenchman's +knowledge of that incident explained his strange generosity now. + +"I'll stay here in spite of all the Sioux warriors on earth, till I find +out about that knave of an Indian and his captives," I vowed. + +Louis looked at me queerly and gave another whistle. + +"You always were a pig-head," said he. "I can keep them from harming +you; but remember, I pay you back in your own coin. And look out for the +daughter of L'Aigle, curse her! She is the only thing I ever fear! Keep +you in my tent! If Le Grand Diable see you----" and Louis touched his +knife-handle significantly. + +"Then Diable _is_ here!" + +"I not say so," but he flushed at the slip of his tongue and moved +quickly towards what appeared to be his quarters. + +"He is coming?" I questioned, suspicious of Louis' veracity. + +"Dolt!" said Louis. "Why else do I hide you in my tent? But remember I +pay you back in your own coin afterwards! Ha! There they come!" + +A shout of returning hunters arose from the ravine, at which Louis +bounded for the tent on a run, dashing inside breathlessly, I following +close behind. + +"Stay you here, inside, mind! Mon Dieu! If you but show your face; 'tis +two white men under one stone-pile! Louis Laplante is a fool--dammie--a +fool--to help you, his enemy, or any other man at his own risk." + +With these enigmatical words, the Frenchman hurried out, fastening the +tent flap after him and leaving me to reflect on the wild impulses of +his wayward nature. Was his strange, unwilling generosity the result of +animosity to the big squaw, who seemed to exercise some subtle and +commanding influence over him; or of gratitude to me? Was the noble +blood that coursed in his veins, directing him in spite of his +degenerate tendencies; or had the man's heart been touched by the sight +of a white woman's suffering? If his alarm at the sound of returning +hunters had not been so palpably genuine--for he turned pale to the +lips--I might have suspected treachery. But there was no mistaking the +motive of fear that hurried him to the tent; and with Le Grand Diable +among the hunters, Louis might well fear to be seen in my company. There +was a hubbub of trappers returning to the lodges. I heard horses turned +free and tent-poles clattering to the ground; but Laplante did not come +back till it was late and the Indians had separated for the night. + +"I can take you to her!" he whispered, his voice thrilling with +suppressed emotion. "Le Grand Diable and the squaw have gone to the +valley to set snares! And when I whistle, come out quickly! Mon Dieu! If +you're caught, both our scalps go! Dammie! Louis is a fool. I take you +to her; but I pay you back all the same!" + +"To whom?" The question throbbed with a rush to my lips. + +"Stupid dolt!" snarled Louis. "Follow me! Keep your ears open for my +whistle--one--they return--two--come you out of the tent--three, we are +caught, save yourself!" + +I followed the Frenchman in silence. It was a hazy summer night with +just enough light from the sickle moon for us to pick our way past the +lodges to a large newly-erected wigwam with a small white tent behind. + +"This way," whispered Louis, leading through the first to an opening +hidden by a hanging robe. Raising the skin, he shoved me forward and +hastened out to keep guard. + +The figure of a woman with a child in her arms was silhouetted against +the white tent wall. She was sitting on some robes, crooning in a low +voice to the child, and was unaware of my presence. + +"And was my little Eric at the hunt, and did he shoot an arrow all by +himself?" she asked, fondling the face that snuggled against her +shoulder. + +The boy gurgled back a low, happy laugh and lisped some childish reply, +which only a mother could translate. + +"And he will grow big, big and be a great warrior and fight--fight for +his poor mother," she whispered, lowering her voice and caressing the +child's curls. + +The little fellow sat up of a sudden facing his mother and struck out +squarely with both fists, not uttering a word. + +"My brave, brave little Eric! My only one, all that God has left to me!" +she sobbed hiding her weeping face on the child's neck. "O my God, let +me but keep my little one! Thou hast given him to me and I have +treasured him as a jewel from Thine own crown! O my God, let me but keep +my darling, keep him as Thy gift--and--and--O my God!--Thy--Thy--Thy +will be done!" + +The words broke in a moan and the child began to cry. + +"Hush, dearie! The birds never cry, nor the beavers, nor the great, bold +eagle! My own little warrior must never cry! All the birds and the +beasts and the warriors are asleep! What does Eric say before he goes to +sleep?" + +A pair of chubby arms were flung about her neck and passionate, childish +kisses pressed her forehead and her cheeks and her lips. Then he slipped +to his knees and put his face in her lap. + +"God bless my papa--and keep my mamma--and make little Eric brave and +good--for Jesus' sake----" the child hesitated. + +"Amen," prompted the gentle voice of the mother. + +"And keep little Eric for my mamma so she won't cry," added the child, +"for Jesus' sake--Amen," and he scrambled to his feet. + +A low, piercing whistle cut the night air like the flight of an +arrow-shaft. It was Louis Laplante's signal that Diable and the squaw +were coming back. At the sound, mother and child started up in alarm. +Then they saw me standing in the open way. A gasp of fright came from +the white woman's lips. I could tell from her voice that she was all +a-tremble, and the little one began to whimper in a smothered, +suppressed way. + +I whispered one word--"Miriam!" + +With a faint cry of anguish, she leaped forward. "Is it you, Eric? O +Eric! is it you?" she asked. + +"No--no, Miriam, not Eric, but Eric's friend, Rufus Gillespie." + +She tottered as if I had struck her. I caught her in my arms and helped +her to the couch of robes. + +Then I took up my station facing the tent entrance; for I realized the +significance of Laplante's warning. + +"We have hunted for more than a year for you," I whispered, bending over +her, "but the Sioux murdered our messenger and the other you yourself +let out of the tent!" + +"That--your messenger for me?" she asked in sheer amazement, proving +what I had suspected, that she was kept in ignorance of our efforts. + +"I have been here for a week, searching the lodges. My horses are in the +valley, and we must dare all in one attempt." + +"I have given my word I will not try," she hastily interrupted, +beginning to pluck at her red shawl in the frenzied way of delirious +fever patients. "If we are caught, they will torture us, torture the +child before my eyes. They treat him well now and leave me alone as long +as I do not try to break away. What can you, one man, do against two +thousand Sioux?" and she began to weep, choking back the anguished sobs, +that shook her slender frame, and picking feverishly at the red shawl +fringe. + +To look at that agonized face would have been sacrilege, and in a +helpless, nonplussed way, I kept gazing at the painful workings of the +thin, frail fingers. That plucking of the wasted, trembling hands haunts +me to this day; and never do I see the fingers of a nervous, sensitive +woman working in that delirious, aimless fashion but it sets me +wondering to what painful treatment from a brutalized nature she has +been subjected, that her hands take on the tricks of one in the last +stages of disease. It may be only the fancy of an old trader; but I dare +avow, if any sympathetic observer takes note of this simple trick of +nervous fingers, it will raise the veil on more domestic tragedies and +heart-burnings than any father-confessor hears in a year. + +"Miriam," said I, in answer to her timid protest, "Eric has risked his +life seeking you. Won't you try all for Eric's sake? There'll be little +risk! We'll wait for a dark, boisterous, stormy night, and you will roll +out of your tent the way you thrust my Indian out. I'll have my horses +ready. I'll creep up behind and whisper through the tent." + +"Where _is_ Eric?" she asked, beginning to waver. + +Two shrill, sharp whistles came from Louis Laplante, commanding me to +come out of the tent. + +"That's my signal! I must go. Quick, Miriam, will you try?" + +"I will do what you wish," she answered, so low, I had to kneel to catch +the words. + +"A stormy night our signal, then," I cried. + +Three, sharp, terrified whistles, signifying, "We are caught, save +yourself," came from Laplante, and I flung myself on the ground behind +Miriam. + +"Spread out your arms, Miriam! Quick!" I urged. "Talk to the boy, or +we're trapped." + +With her shawl spread out full and her elbows sticking akimbo, she +caught the lad in her arms and began dandling him to right, and left, +humming some nursery ditty. At the same moment there loomed in the tent +entrance the great, statuesque figure of the Sioux squaw, whom I had +seen in the gorge. I kicked my feet under the canvas wall, while +Miriam's swaying shawl completely concealed me from the Sioux woman and +thus I crawled out backwards. Then I lay outside the tent and listened, +listened with my hand on my pistol, for what might not that monster of +fury attempt with the tender, white woman? + +"There were words in the tepee," declared the angry tones of the Indian +woman. "The pale face was talking! Where is the messenger from the +Mandanes?" + +At that, the little child set up a bitter crying. + +"Cry not, my little warrior! Hush, dearie! 'Twas only a hunter +whistling, or the night hawk, or the raccoon! Hush, little Eric! +Warriors never cry! Hush! Hush! Or the great bear will laugh at you and +tell his cubs he's found a coward!" crooned Miriam, making as though she +neither heard, nor saw the squaw; but Eric opened his mouth and roared +lustily. And the little lad unconsciously foiled the squaw; for she +presently took herself off, evidently thinking the voices had been those +of mother and son. + +I skirted cautiously around the rear of the lodges to avoid encountering +Diable, or his squaw. The form of a man hulked against me in the dark. +'Twas Louis. + +"Mon Dieu, Gillespie, I thought one scalp was gone," he gasped. + +"What are you here for? You don't want to be seen with me," I protested, +grateful and alarmed for his foolhardiness in coming to meet me. + +"Sacredie! The dogs! They make pretty music at your shins without me," +and Louis struck boldly across the open for his tent. "Fool to stay so +long!" he muttered. "I no more ever help you once again! Mon Dieu! No! I +no promise my scalp too! They found your horses in the valley! They--how +you say it?--think for some Mandane is here and fear. They rode back +fast on your horses. 'Twas why I whistle for, twice so quick! They ride +north in the morning. I go too, with the devil and his wife! I be gone +to the devil this many a while! But I must go, or they suspect and knife +me. That vampire! Ha! she would drink my gore! I no more have nothing to +do with you. Before morning, you must do your own do alone! Sacredie! Do +not forget, I pay you back yet!" + +So he rattled on, ever keeping between me and the lodges. By his +confused words, I knew he was in great trepidation. + +"Why, there are my horses!" I exclaimed, seeing all six standing before +Diable's lodge. + +"You do your do before morning! Take one of my saddles!" said Louis. + +Sure enough, all my saddles were piled before the Iroquois' wigwam; and +there stood my enemy and the Sioux squaw, talking loudly, pointing to +the horses and gesticulating with violence. + +"Mon Dieu! Prenez garde! Get you in!" muttered Louis. We were at his +tent door, and I was looking back at my horses. "If they see you, all is +lost," he warned. + +And the warning came just in time. With that animal instinct of +nearness, which is neither sight, nor smell, my favorite broncho put +forward his ears and whinnied sharply. Both Diable and the squaw noted +the act and turned; but Louis had knocked me forward face down into the +tent. + +With an oath, he threw himself on his couch. "Take my saddle," he said. +"I steal another. Do your do before morning. I no more have nothing to +do with you, till I pay you back all the same!" + +And he was presently fast asleep, or pretending to be. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +WHEREIN LOUIS INTRIGUES + + +Next morning Le Grand Diable would set out for the north. This night, +then, was my last chance to rescue Miriam. "Do your do before morning!" +How Laplante's words echoed in my ears! I had told Miriam a stormy night +was to be the signal for our attempt; and now the rising moon was +dispelling any vague haziness that might have helped to conceal us. In +an hour, the whole camp would be bright as day in clear, silver light. +Presently, the clatter of the lodges ceased. Only an occasional snarl +from the dogs, or the angry squeals of my bronchos kicking the Indian +ponies, broke the utter stillness. There was not even a wind to drown +foot-treads, and every lodge of the camp was reflected across the ground +in elongated shadows as distinct as a crayon figure on white paper. What +if some watchful Indian should discover our moving shadows? La Robe +Noire's fate flashed back and I shuddered. + +Flinging up impatiently from the robes, I looked from the tent way. Some +dog of the pack gave the short, sharp bark of a fox. Then, but for the +crunching of my horses over the turf some yards away, there was +silence. I could hear the heavy breathing of people in near-by lodges. +Up from the wooded valley came the far-off purr of a stream over stony +bottom and the low washing sound only accentuated the stillness. The +shrill cry of some lonely night-bird stabbed the atmosphere with a throb +of pain. Again the dog snapped out a bark and again there was utter +quiet. + +"One chance in a thousand," said I to myself, "only one in a thousand; +but I'll take it!" And I stepped from the tent. This time the wakeful +dog let out a mouthful of quick barkings. Jerking off my boots--I had +not yet taken to the native custom of moccasins--I dodged across the +roadway into the exaggerated shadow of some Indian camp truckery. Here I +fell flat to the ground so that no reflection should betray my +movements. Then I remembered I had forgotten Louis Laplante's saddle. +Rising, I dived back to the tepee for it and waited for the dogs to +quiet before coming out again. That alert canine had set up a duet with +a neighboring brute of like restless instincts and the two seemed to +promise an endless chorus. As I live, I could have sworn that Louis +Laplante laughed in his sleep at my dilemma; but Louis was of the sort +to laugh in the face of death itself. A man flew from a lodge and +dealing out stout blows quickly silenced the vicious curs; but I had to +let time lapse for the man to go to sleep before I could venture out. + +Once more, chirp of cricket, croak of frog and the rush of waters +through the valley were the only sounds, and I darted across to the camp +shadow. Lying flat, I began to crawl cautiously and laboriously towards +my horses. One gave a startled snort as I approached and this set the +dogs going again. I lay motionless in the grass till all was quiet and +then crept gently round to the far side of my favorite horse and caught +his halter strap lest he should whinny, or start away. I drew erect +directly opposite his shoulders, so that I could not be seen from the +lodges and unhobbling his feet, led him into the concealment of a group +of ponies and had the saddle on in a trice. To get the horse to the rear +of Miriam's tent was no easy matter. I paced my steps so deftly with the +broncho's and let him munch grass so often, the most watchful Indian +could not have detected a man on the far side of the horse, directing +every move. Behind the Sioux lodge, the earth sloped abruptly away, bare +and precipitous; and I left the horse below and clambered up the steep +to the white wall of Miriam's tent. Once the dogs threatened to create a +disturbance, but a man quieted them, and with gratitude I recognized the +voice of Laplante. + +Three times I tapped on the canvas but there was no response. I put my +arm under the tent and rapped on the ground. Why did she not signal? Was +the Sioux squaw from the other lodge listening? I could hear nothing but +the tossings of the child. + +"Miriam," I called, shoving my arm forward and feeling out blindly. + +Thereupon, a woman's hand grasped mine and thrust it out, while a voice +so low it might have been the night breeze, came to my ear--"We are +watched." + +Watched? What did it matter if we were? Had I not dared all? Must not +she do the same? This was the last chance. We must not be foiled. My +horse, I knew, could outrace any cayuse of the Sioux band. + +"Miriam," I whispered back, lifting the canvas, "they will take you away +to-morrow--my horse is here! Come! We must risk all!" + +And I shoved myself bodily in under the tent wall. She was not a hand's +length away, sitting with her face to the entrance of Diable's lodge, +her figure rigid and tense with fear. In the half light I could discern +the great, powerful, angular form of a giantess in the opening. 'Twas +the Sioux squaw. Miriam leaned forward to cover the child with a motion +intended to conceal me, and I drew quickly out. + +I thought I had not been detected; but the situation was perilous +enough, in all conscience, to inspire caution, and I was backing away, +when suddenly the shadows of two men coming from opposite sides appeared +on the white tent, and something sprang upon me with tigerish fury. +There was the swish of an unsheathing blade, and I felt rather than saw +Le Grand Diable and Louis Laplante contesting over me. + +"Never! He's mine, my captive! He stole my saddle! He's mine, I tell +you," ground out the Frenchman, throwing off my assailant. "Keep him for +the warriors and let him be tortured," urged Louis, snatching at the +Indian's arm. + +I sprang up. It was Louis, who tripped my feet from under me, and we two +tumbled to the bottom of the cliff, while the Indian stood above +snarling out something in the Sioux tongue. + +"Idiot! Anglo-Saxon ox!" muttered Louis, grappling with me as we fell. +"Do but act it out, or two scalps go! I no promise mine when I say I +help you, bah----" + +That was the last I recall; for I went down head backwards, and the blow +knocked me senseless. + +When I came to, with an aching neck and a humming in my ears, there was +the gray light of a waning moon, and I found myself lying bound in +Miriam's tent. Her child was whimpering timidly and she was hurriedly +gathering her belongings into a small bundle. + +"Miriam, what has happened?" I asked. Then the whole struggle and +failure came back to me with an overwhelming realization that torture +and death would be our portion. + +"Try no more," she whispered, brushing past me and making as though she +were gathering things where I lay. "Never try, for my sake, never try! +They will torture you. I shall die soon. Only save the child! For +myself, I am past caring. Good-by forever!" and she dashed to the other +side of the tent. + +At that, with a deal of noisy mirth, in burst Laplante and the Sioux +squaw. + +"Ho-ho! My knight-errant has opened his eyes! Great sport for the +braves, say I! Fine mouse-play for the cat, ho-ho!" and Louis looked +down at me with laughing insolence, that sent a chill through my veins. +'Twas to save his own scalp the rascal was acting and would have me act +too; but I had no wish to betray him. Striking at her captives and +rudely ordering them out, the Sioux led the way and left Louis to bring +up the rear. + +"Leave this, lady," said Louis with an air that might have been +impudence or gallantry; and he grabbed the bundle from Miriam's hand and +threw it over his shoulder at me. This was greeted with a roar of +laughter from the Sioux woman and one look of unspeakable reproach from +Miriam. Whistling gaily and turning back to wink at me, the Frenchman +disappeared in Diable's lodge. For my part, I was puzzled. Did Louis act +from the love of acting and trickery and intrigue? Was he befooling the +daughter of L'Aigle, or me? + +They tore down Diable's tepee, stringing the poles on the bronchos +stolen from me and leaving Miriam's white tent with the Sioux. I saw +them mount with my horses to the fore, and they set out at a sharp trot. +From the hoof-beats, I should judge they had not gone many paces, when +one rider seemed to turn back, and Louis ran into the tent where I lay. +I did not utter one word of pleading; but as he stooped for Miriam's +bundle, he whisked out a jack-knife and my heart bounded with a great +hope. I suppose, involuntarily, I must have lifted my arms to have the +bonds severed; for Laplante shook his head. + +"No--mine frien'--not now--I not scalp Louis Laplante for your +sake,--no, never. Use your teeth--so!" said he, laying the blade of the +knife in his own teeth to show me how; and he slipped the thing into +hiding under my armpits. "The warriors--they come back to-day," he +warned. "You wait till we are far, then cut quick, or they do worse to +you than to La Robe Noire! I leave one horse for you in the valley +beyond the beaver-dam. Tra-la, comrade, but not forget you. I pay you +back yet all the same," and with a whistle, he had vanished. + +I hung upon the Frenchman's words as a drowning sailor to a life-line, +and heard the hoof-beats grow fainter and fainter in the distance, +hardly daring to realize the fearful peril in which I lay. By the light +at the tent opening, I knew it was daybreak. Already the Sioux were +stirring in their lodges and naked urchins came to the entrance to hoot +and pelt mud. Somehow, I got into sitting posture, with my head bowed +forward on my arms, so I could use the knife without being seen. At +that, the impertinent brats became bolder and swarming into the tent +began poking sticks. I held my arm closer to my side, and felt the hard +steel's pressure with a pleasure not to be marred by that tantalizing +horde. There seemed to be a gathering hubbub outside. Indians, squaws +and children were rushing in the direction of the trail to the Mandanes. +The children in my tent forgot me and dashed out with the rest. I could +not doubt the cause of the clamor. This was the morning of the warriors' +return; and getting the knife in my teeth, I began filing furiously at +the ropes about my wrists. Man is not a rodent; but under stress of +necessity and with instruments of his own designing, he can do something +to remedy his human helplessness. To the din of clamoring voices outside +were added the shouts of approaching warriors, the galloping of a +multitude of horses and the whining yells of countless dogs. + +While all the Sioux were on the outskirts of the encampment, I might yet +escape unobserved, but the returning braves were very near. Putting all +my strength in my wrists, I burst the half-cut bonds; and the rest was +easy. A slash of the knife and my feet were free and I had rolled down +the cliff and was running with breathless haste over fallen logs, under +leafy coverts, across noisy creeks, through the wooded valley to the +beaver dam. How long, or how far, I ran in this desperate, heedless +fashion, I do not know. The branches, that reached out like the bands of +pursuers, caught and ripped my clothing to shreds. I had been bootless, +when I started; but my feet were now bare and bleeding. A gleam of +water flashed through the green foliage. This must be the river, with +the beaver-dam, and to my eager eyes, the stream already appeared muddy +and sluggish as if obstructed. My heart was beating with a sensation of +painful, bursting blows. There was a roaring in my ears, and at every +step I took, the landscape swam black before me and the trees racing +into the back ground staggered on each side like drunken men. Then I +knew that I had reached the limit of my strength and with the domed +mud-tops of the beaver-dam in sight half a mile to the fore, I sank down +to rest. The river was marshy, weed-grown and brown; but I gulped down a +drink and felt breath returning and the labored pulse easing. Not daring +to pause long, I went forward at a slackened rate, knowing I must +husband my strength to swim or wade across the river. Was it the +apprehension of fear, or the buzzing in my ears, that suggested the +faint, far-away echo of a clamoring multitude? I stopped and listened. +There was no sound but the lapping of water, or rush of wind through the +leaves. I went on again at hastened pace, and distinctly down the valley +came echo of the Sioux war-whoop. + +I was pursued. There was no mistaking that fact, and with a thrill, +which I have no hesitancy in confessing was the most intense fear I have +ever experienced in my life, I broke into a terrified, panic-stricken +run. The river grew dark, sluggish and treacherous-looking. By the +blood flowing from my feet, Indian scouts could track me for leagues. I +looked to the river with the vague hope of running along the water bed +to throw my pursuers off the trail; but the water was deep and I had not +strength to swim. The beaver-dam was huddled close to the clay bank of +the far side and on the side, where I ran, the current spread out in a +flaggy marsh. Hoping to elude the Sioux, I plunged in and floundered +blindly forward. But blood trails marked the pond behind and the soft +ooze snared my feet. + +I was now opposite the beaver-dam and saw with horror there were +branches enough floating in mid-stream to entangle the strongest +swimmer. The shouts of my pursuers sounded nearer. They could not have +known how close they were upon me, else had they ambushed me in silence +after Indian custom, shouting only when they sighted their quarry. The +river was not tempting for a fagged, breathless swimmer, whose dive must +be short and sorry. I had nigh counted my earthly course run, when I +caught sight of a hollow, punky tree-trunk standing high above the bank. +I could hear the swiftest runners behind splashing through the marsh +bed. Now the thick willow-bush screened me, but in a few moments they +would be on my very heels. With the supernatural strength of a last +desperate effort, I bounded to the empty trunk and like some hounded, +treed creature, clambered up inside, digging my wounded feet into the +soft, wet wood-rot and burrowing naked fingers through the punk of the +rounded sides till I was twice the height of a man above the blackened +opening at the base. Then a piece of wood crumbled in my right hand. +Daylight broke through the trunk and I found that I had grasped the edge +of a rotted knot-hole. + +Bracing my feet across beneath me like tie beams of raftered +scaffolding, I craned up till my eye was on a level with the knot-hole +and peered down through my lofty lookout. Either the shouting of the +Sioux warriors had ceased, which indicated they had found my tracks and +knew they were close upon me, or my shelter shut out the sound of +approaching foes. I broke more bark from the hole and gained full view +of the scene below. + +A crested savage ran out from the tangled foliage of the river bank, saw +the turgid settlings of the rippling marsh, where I had been +floundering, and darted past my hiding-place with a shrill yell of +triumph. Instantaneously the woods were ringing, echoing and re-echoing +with the hoarse, wild war-cries of the Sioux. Band after band burst from +the leafy covert of forest and marsh willows, and dashed in full pursuit +after the leading Indian. Some of the braves still wore the buckskin +toggery of their visit to the Mandanes; but the swiftest runners had +cast off all clothing and tore forward unimpeded. The last coppery form +disappeared among the trees of the river bank and the shoutings were +growing fainter, when, suddenly, there was such an ominous calm, I knew +they were foiled. + +Would they return to the last marks of my trail? That thought sent the +blood from my head with a rush that left me dizzy, weak and shivering. I +looked to the river. The floating branches turned lazily over and over +to the lapping of the sluggish current, and the green slime oozing from +the clustered beaver lodges of the far side might hide either a miry +bottom, or a treacherous hole. + +A naked Indian came pattering back through the brush, looking into every +hollow log, under fallen trees, through clumps of shrub growth, where a +man might hide, and into the swampy river bed. It was only a matter of +time when he would reach my hiding-place. Should I wait to be smoked out +of my hole, like a badger, or a raccoon? Again I looked hopelessly to +the river. A choice of deaths seemed my only fate. Torture, burning, or +the cool wash of a black wave gurgling over one's head? + +A broad-girthed log lay in the swamp and stretched out over mid-stream +in a way that would give a quick diver at least a good, clean, clear +leap. A score more savages had emerged from the woods and were eagerly +searching, from the limbs of trees above, where I might be perched, to +the black river-bed below. However much I may vacillate between two +courses, once my decision is taken, I have ever been swift to act; and I +slipped down the tree-trunk with the bound of a bullet through a +gun-barrel, took one last look from the opening, which revealed pursuers +not fifty yards away, plunged through the marsh, dashed to the fallen +log and made a rush to the end. + +A score of brazen throats screeched out their baffled rage. There was a +twanging of bow-strings. The humming of arrow flight sung about my head. +I heard the crash of some savage blazing away with his old flintlock. A +deep-drawn breath, and I was cleaving the air. Then the murky, greenish +waters splashed in my face, opened wide and closed over me. + +A tangle of green was at the soft, muddy bottom. Something living, +slippery, silky and furry, that was neither fish, nor water snake, got +between my feet; but countless arrows, I knew, were aimed and ready for +me, when I came to the surface. So I held down for what seemed an +interminable time, though it was only a few seconds, struck for the far +shore, and presently felt the green slime of the upper water matting in +my hair. + +Every swimmer knows that rich, sweet, full intake of life-giving air +after a long dive. I drew in deep, fresh breaths and tried to blink the +slime from my eyes and get my bearings. There were the howlings of +baffled wolves from what was now the far side of the river bank; but +domed clay mounds, mossy, floating branches and a world of willows +shrubs were about my head. Then I knew what the furry thing among the +tangle at the river bottom was, and realized that I had come up among +the beaver lodges. The dam must have been an old one; for the clay +houses were all overgrown with moss and water-weeds. A perfect network +of willow growth interlaced the different lodges. + +I heard the splash as of a diver from the opposite side. Was it a +beaver, or my Indian pursuers? Then I could distinctly make out the +strokes of some one swimming and splashing about. My foes were +determined to have me, dead, or alive. I ducked under, found shallow, +soft bottom, half paddled, half waded, a pace more shoreward, and came +up with my head in utter darkness. + +Where was I? I drew breath. Yes, assuredly, I was above water; but the +air was fetid with heavy, animal breath and teeth snarled shut in my +very face. Somehow, I had come up through the broken bottom of an old +beaver lodge and was now in the lair of the living creatures. What was +inside, I cannot record; for to my eyes the blackness was positively +thick. I felt blindly out through the palpable darkness and caught tight +hold of a pole, that seemed to reach from side to side. This gave me +leverage and I hoisted myself upon it, bringing my crown a mighty sharp +crack as I mounted the perch; for the beaver lodge sloped down like an +egg shell. + +I must have seemed some water monster to the poor beaver; for there was +a scurrying, scampering and gurgling off into the river. Then my own +breathing and the drip of my clothes were all that disturbed the lodge. + +Time, say certain philosophers, is the measure of a man's ideas +marching along in uniform procession. But I hold they are wrong. Time is +nothing of the sort; else had time stopped as I hung panting over the +pole in the beaver lodge; for one idea and one only, beat and beat and +beat to the pulsing of the blood that throbbed through my brain--"I am +safe--I am safe--I am safe!" + +How can I tell how long I hung there? To me it seemed a century. I do +not even know whether I lost consciousness. I am sure I repeatedly +awakened with a jerk back from some hazy, far-off, oblivious realm, shut +off even in memory from the things of this life. I am sure I tried to +burrow my hand through the clammy moss-wall of the beaver lodge to let +in fresh air; but my spirit would be suddenly rapt away to that other +region. I am sure I felt the waters washing over my head and sweeping me +away from this world to another life. Then I would lose grip of the pole +and come to myself clutching at it with wild terror; and again the +drowse of life's borderland would overpower me. And all the time I was +saying over and over, "I am safe! I am safe!" + +How many of the things called hours slipped past, I do not know. As I +said before, it seemed to me a century. Whether it was mid-day, or +twilight, when I let myself down from the pole and crawled like a +bedraggled water-rat to the shore, I do not know. Whether it was +morning, or night, when I dragged myself under the fern-brake and fell +into a death-like sleep, I do not know. When I awakened, the forest was +a labyrinth of shafted moonlight and sombre shadows. All that had +happened in the past twenty-four hours came back to me with vivid +reality. I remembered Laplante's promise to leave a horse for me in the +valley beyond the beaver dam. With this hope in my heart I crawled +cautiously down through the silent shadows of the night. + +At daybreak I found Louis had made good his promise, and I was speeding +on horseback towards the trail, where Little Fellow awaited me. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +PLOTS AND COUNTER-PLOTS + + +He who would hear that paradox of impossibilities--silence become +vocal--must traverse the vast wastes of the prairie by night. As a +mother quiets a fretful child, so the illimitable calm lulls tumultuous +thoughts. The wind moving through empty solitudes comes with a sigh of +unutterable loneliness. Unconsciously, men listen for some faint +rustling from the gauzy, wavering streamers that fire northern skies. +The dullest ear can almost fancy sounds from the noiseless wheeling of +planets through the overspanning vaulted blue; and human speech seems +sacrilege. + +Though the language of the prairie be not in words, some message is +surely uttered; for the people of the plains wear the far-away look of +communion with the unseen and the unheard. The fine sensibility of the +white woman, perhaps, shows the impress of the vast solitudes most +readily, and the gravely repressed nature of the Indian least; but all +plain-dwellers have learned to catch the voice of the prairie. I, +myself, know the message well, though I may no more put it into words +than the song love sings in one's heart. Love, says the poet, is +infinite. So is the space of the prairie. That, I suppose, is why both +are too boundless for the limitation of speech. + +Night after night, with only a grassy swish and deadened tread over the +turf breaking stillness, we journeyed northward. Occasionally, like the +chirp of cricket in a dry well, life sounded through emptiness. Skulking +coyotes, seeking prey among earth mounds, or night hawks, lilting +solitarily in vaulted mid-heaven, uttered cries that pierced the vast +blue. Owls flapped stupidly up from our horses' feet. Hungry kites +wheeled above lonely Indian graves, or perched on the scaffolding, where +the dead lay swathed in skins. + +Reflecting on my experiences with the Mandanes and the Sioux, I was +disposed to upbraid fate as a senseless thing with no thread of purpose +through life's hopeless jumble. Now, something in the calm of the +plains, or the certainty of our unerring star-guides, quieted my unrest. +Besides, was I not returning to one who was peerless? That hope speedily +eclipsed all interests. That was purpose enough for my life. Forthwith, +I began comparing lustrous gray eyes to the stars, and tracing a woman's +figure in the diaphanous northern lights. One face ever gleamed through +the dusk at my horse's head and beckoned northward. I do not think her +presence left me for an instant on that homeward journey. But, indeed, I +should not set down these extravagances, which each may recall in his +own case, only I would have others judge whether she influenced me, or +I, her. + +Thus we traveled northward, journeying by night as long as we were in +the Sioux territory. Once in the land of the Assiniboines, we rode day +and night to the limit of our horses' endurance. Remembering the +Hudson's Bay outrage at the Souris, and having also heard from Mandane +runners of a raid planned by our rivals against the North-West fort at +Pembina, I steered wide of both places, following the old Missouri trail +midway between the Red and Souris rivers. It may have been because we +traveled at night, but I did not encounter a single person, native or +white, till we came close to the Red and were less than a day's journey +from Fort Gibraltar. On the river trail, we overtook some Hudson's Bay +trappers. The fellows would not answer a single question about events +during the year and scampered away from us as if we carried smallpox, +which had thinned the population a few years before. + +"That's bad!" said I aloud, as the men fled down the river bank, where +we could not follow. Little Fellow looked as solemn as a grave-stone. He +shook his head with ominous wisdom that foresees all evil but refuses to +prophesy. + +"Bother to you, Little Fellow!" I exclaimed. "What do you mean? What's +up?" + +Again the Indian shook his head with dark mutterings, looking mighty +solemn, but he would not share his foreknowledge. We met more Hudson's +Bay men, and their conduct was unmistakably suspicious. On a sudden +seeing us, they reined up their horses, wheeled and galloped off without +a word. + +"I don't like that! I emphatically don't!" I piloted my broncho to a +slight roll of the prairie, where we could reconnoitre. Distinctly there +was the spot where the two rivers met. Intervening shrubbery confused my +bearings. I rose in my stirrups, while Little Fellow stood erect on his +horse's back. + +"Little Fellow!" I cried, exasperated with myself, "Where's Fort +Gibraltar? I see where it ought to be, where the towers ought to be +higher than that brush, but where's the fort?" + +The Indian screened his eyes and gazed forward. Then he came down with a +thud, abruptly re-straddling his horse, and uttered one explosive +word--"Smoke." + +"Smoke? I don't see smoke! Where's the fort?" + +"No fort," said he. + +"You're daft!" I informed him, with the engaging frankness of a master +for a servant. "There--is--a fort, and you know it--we're both +lost--that's more! A fine Indian you are, to get lost!" + +Little Fellow scrambled with alacrity to the ground. Picking up two +small switches, he propped them against each other. + +"Fort!" he said, laconically, pointing to the switches. + +"L'anglais!" he cried, thrusting out his foot, which signified Hudson's +Bay. + +"No fort!" he shouted, kicking the switches into the air. "No fort!" and +he looked with speechless disgust at the vacancy. + +Now I knew what he meant. Fort Gibraltar had been destroyed by Hudson's +Bay men. We had no alternative but to strike west along the Assiniboine, +on the chance of meeting some Nor'-Westers before reaching the company's +quarters at the Portage. That post, too, might be destroyed; but where +were Hamilton and Father Holland? Danger, or no danger, I must learn +more of the doings in Red River. Also, there were reasons why I wished +to visit the settlers of Fort Douglas. We camped on the south side of +the Assiniboine a few miles from the Red, and Little Fellow went to some +neighboring half-breeds for a canoe. + +And a strange story he brought back! A great man, second only to the +king--so the half-breeds said--had come from England to rule over +Assiniboia. He boasted the shock of his power would be felt from +Montreal to Athabasca. He would drive out all Nor'-Westers. This +personage, I afterwards learned, was the amiable Governor Semple, who +succeeded Captain Miles McDonell. Already, as a hunter chases a deer, +had the great governor chased Nor'-Westers from Red River. Did Little +Fellow doubt their word? Where was Fort Gibraltar? Let Little Fellow +look and see for himself if aught but masonry and charred walls stood +where Fort Gibraltar had been! Let him seek the rafters of the +Nor-Westers' fort in the new walls of Fort Douglas! Pembina, too, had +fallen before the Hudson's Bay men. Since the coming of the great +governor, nothing could stand before the English. + +But wait! It was not all over! The war drum was beating in the tents of +all the _Bois-Brules_! The great governor should be taught that even the +king's arms could not prevail against the _Bois-Brules_! Was there smoke +of battle? The _Bois-Brules_ would be there! The _Bois-Brules_ had +wrongs to avenge. They would not be turned out of their forts for +nothing! Knives would be unsheathed. There were full powder-bags! There +was a grand gathering of _Bois-Brules_ at the Portage. They, themselves, +were on the way there. Let Little Fellow and the white trader join them! +Let them be wary; for the English were watchful! Great things were to be +done by the _Bois-Brules_ before another moon--and Little Fellow's eyes +snapped fire as he related their vauntings. + +I was inclined to regard the report as a fairy tale. If the half-breeds +were arming and the English watchful, the distrust of the Hudson's Bay +men was explained. A nomad, himself, the Indian may be willing enough to +share running rights over the land of his fathers; but when the newcomer +not only usurps possession, but imposes the yoke of laws on the native, +the resentment of the dusky race is easily fanned to that point which +civilized men call rebellion. I could readily understand how the +Hudson's Bay proclamations forbidding the sale of furs to rivals, when +these rivals were friends by marriage and treaty with the natives, +roused all the bloodthirsty fury of the Indian nature. Nor'-Westers' +forts were being plundered. Why should the _Bois-Brules_ not pillage +Hudson's Bay posts? Each company was stealing the cargo of its rival, as +boats passed and repassed the different forts. Why should the half-breed +not have his share of the booty? The most peace-loving dog can be set +a-fighting; and the fight-loving Indian finds it very difficult indeed, +to keep the peace. This, the great fur companies had not yet realized; +and the lesson was to be driven home to them with irresistible force. + +The half-breeds also had news of a priest bringing a delirious man to +Fort Douglas. The description seemed to fit Hamilton and Father Holland. +Whatever truth might be in the rumors of an uprising, I must ascertain +whether or not Frances Sutherland would be safe. Leaving Little Fellow +to guard our horses, at sundown I pushed my canoe into the Assiniboine +just east of the rapids. Paddling swiftly with the current, I kept close +to the south bank, where overhanging willows concealed one side of the +river. + +As I swung out into the Red, true to the _Bois-Brules'_ report, I saw +only blackened chimneys and ruined walls on the site of Fort Gibraltar. +Heading towards the right bank, I hugged the naked cliff on the side +opposite Fort Douglas, and trusted the rising mist to conceal me. Thus, +I slipped past cannon, pointing threateningly from the Hudson's Bay +post, recrossed to the wooded west bank again, and paddled on till I +caught a glimpse of a little, square, whitewashed house in a grove of +fine old trees. This I knew, from Frances Sutherland's description, was +her father's place. + +Mooring among the shrubbery I had no patience to hunt for beaten path; +but digging my feet into soft clay and catching branches with both +hands, I clambered up the cliff and found myself in a thicket not a +stone's throw from the door. The house was in darkness. My heart sank at +a possibility which hardly framed itself to a thought. Was the +apparition in the Mandane lodge some portent? Had I not read, or heard, +of departed spirits hovering near loved ones? I had no courage to think +more. + +Suddenly the door flung open. Involuntarily, I slipped behind the +bushes, but dusk hid the approaching figure. Whoever it was made no +noise. I felt, rather than heard, her coming, and knew no man could walk +so silently. It must be a woman. Then my chest stifled and I heard my +own heart-beats. Garments fluttered past the branches of my +hiding-place. She of whom I had dreamed by night and thought by day and +hoped whether sleeping, or waking, paused, not an arm's length away. + +Toying with the tip of the branch, which I was gripping for dear life, +she looked languorously through the foliage towards the river. At first +I thought myself the victim of another hallucination, but would not stir +lest the vision should vanish. She sighed audibly, and I knew this was +no spectre. Then I trembled all the more, for my sudden appearance might +alarm her. + +I should wait until she went back to the house--another of my brave vows +to keep myself in hand!--then walk up noisily, giving due warning, and +knock at the door. The keeping of that resolution demanded all my +strength of will; for she was so near I could have clasped her in my +arms without an effort. Indeed, it took a very great effort to refrain +from doing so. + +"Heigh-ho," said a low voice with the ripple of a sunny brook tinkling +over pebbles, "but it's a long day--and a long, long week--and a long, +long, long month--and oh!--a century of years since----" and the voice +broke in a sigh. + +I think--though I would not set this down as a fact--that a certain +small foot, which once stamped two strong men into obedience, now vented +its impatience at a twig on the grass. By the code of eastern +proprieties, I may not say that the dainty toe-tip first kicked the +offensive little branch and then crunched it deep in the turf. + +"I hate this lonely country," said the voice, with the vim of water-fret +against an obstinate stone. "Wonder what it's like in the Mandane land! +I'm sure it's nicer there." + +Now I affirm there is not a youth living who would not at some time give +his right hand to know a woman's exact interpretation of that word +"nicer." For my part, it set me clutching the branch with such ferocity, +off snapped the thing with the sharp splintering of a breaking stick. +The voice gave a gasp and she jumped aside with nervous trepidation. + +"Whatever--was that? I am--not frightened." No one was accusing her. "I +won't go in! I won't let myself be frightened! There! The very idea!" +And three or four sharp stamps followed in quick succession; but she was +shivering. + +"I declare the house is so lonely, a ghost would be live company." And +she looked doubtfully from the dark house to the quivering poplars. "I'd +rather be out here with the tree-toads and owls and bats than in there +alone, even if they do frighten me! Anyway, I'm not frightened! It's +just some stupid hop-and-go-spring thing at the base of our brains that +makes us jump at mice and rats." But the hands interlocking at her back +twitched and clasped and unclasped in a way that showed the automatic +brain-spring was still active. + +"It's getting worse every day. I can't stand it much longer, looking and +looking till I'm half blind and no one but Indian riders all day long. +Why doesn't he come? Oh! I know something is wrong." + +"Afraid of the Metis," thought I, "and expecting her father. A fine +father to leave his daughter alone in the house with the half-breeds +threatening a raid. She needs some one else to take care of her." This, +on after thought, I know was unjust to her father; for pioneers obey +necessity first and chivalry second. + +"If he would only come!" she repeated in a half whisper. + +"Hope he doesn't," thought I. + +"For a week I've been dreaming such fearful things! I see him sinking in +green water, stretching his hands to me and I can't reach out to save +him. On Sunday he seemed to be running along a black, awful precipice. I +caught him in my arms to hold him back, but he dragged me over and I +screamed myself awake. Sometimes, he is in a black cave and I can't find +any door to let him out. Or he lies bound in some dungeon, and when I +stoop to cut the cords, he begins to sink down, down, down through the +dark, where I can't follow. I leap after him and always waken with such +a dizzy start. Oh! I know he has been in trouble. Something is wrong! +His thoughts are reaching out to me and I am so gross and stupid I can't +hear what his spirit says. If I could only get away from things, the +clatter of everyday things that dull one's inner hearing, perhaps I +might know! I feel as if he spoke in a foreign language, but the words +he uses I can't make out. All to-day, he has seemed so near! Why does he +not come home to me?" + +"Mighty fond daughter," thought I, with a jealous pang. She was fumbling +among the intricate draperies, where women conceal pockets, and +presently brought out something in the palm of her hand. + +"I wouldn't have him know how foolish I am," and she laid the thing +gently against her cheek. + +Now I had never given Frances Sutherland a gift of any sort whatever; +and my heart was pierced with anguish that cannot be described. I was, +indeed, falling over a precipice and her arms were not holding me back +but dragging me over. Would that I, like the dreamer, could awaken with +a start. In all conscience, I was dizzy enough; and every pressure of +that hateful object to her face bound me faster in a dungeon of utter +hopelessness. My sweet day-dreams and midnight rhapsodies trooped back +to mock at me. I felt that I must bow broken under anguish or else steel +myself and shout back cynical derision to the whole wan troop of +torturing regrets. And all the time, she was caressing that thing in her +hand and looking down at it with a fondness, which I--poor fool--thought +that I alone could inspire. I suppose if I could have crept away +unobserved, I would have gone from her presence hardened and embittered; +but I must play out the hateful part of eavesdropper to the end. + +She opened the hand to feast her eyes on the treasure, and I craned +forward, playing the sneak without a pang of shame, but the dusk foiled +me. + +Then the low, mellow, vibrant tones, whose very music would have +intoxicated duller fools than I--'tis ever a comfort to know there are +greater fools--broke in melody: "To my own dear love from her ever +loyal and devoted knight," and she held her opened hand high. 'Twas my +birch-bark message which Father Holland had carried north. I suddenly +went insane with a great overcharge of joy, that paralyzed all motion. + +"Dear love--wherever are you?" asked a voice that throbbed with longing. + +Can any man blame me for breaking through the thicket and my resolution +and discretion and all? + +"Here--beloved!" I sprang from the bush. + +She gave a cry of affright and would have fallen, but my arms were about +her and my lips giving silent proof that I was no wraith. + +What next we said I do not remember. With her head on my shoulder and I +doing the only thing a man could do to stem her tears, I completely lost +track of the order of things. I do not believe either of us was calm +enough for words for some time after the meeting. It was she who +regained mental poise first. + +"Rufus!" she exclaimed, breaking away from me, "You're not a sensible +man at all." + +"Never said I was," I returned. + +"If you do _that_," she answered, ignoring my remark and receding +farther, "I'll never stop crying." + +"Then cry on forever!" + +With womanly ingratitude, she promptly called me "a goose" and other +irrelevant names. + +The rest of our talk that evening I do not intend to set down. In the +first place, it was best understood by only two. In the second, it could +not be transcribed; and in the third, it was all a deal too sacred. + +We did, however, become impersonal for short intervals. + +"I feel as if there were some storm in the air," said Frances +Sutherland. "The half-breeds are excited. They are riding past the +settlement in scores every day. O, Rufus, I know something is wrong." + +"So do I," was my rejoinder. I was thinking of the strange gossip of the +Assiniboine encampment. + +"Do you think the _Bois-Brules_ would plunder your boats?" she asked +innocently, ignorant that the malcontents were Nor'-Westers. + +"No," said I. "What boats?" + +"Why, Nor'-West boats, of course, coming up Red River from Fort William +to go up the Assiniboine for the winter's supplies. They're coming in a +few days. My father told me so." + +"Is Mr. Sutherland an H. B. C. or Nor'-Wester?" I asked in the slang of +the company talk. + +"I don't know," she answered. "I don't think he knows himself. He says +there are numbers of men like that, and they all know there is to be a +raid. Why, Rufus, there are men down the river every day watching for +the Nor'-Westers' Fort William express." "Where do the men come from?" I +questioned, vainly trying to patch some connection between plots for a +raid on North-West boats and plots for a fight by Nor'-West followers. + +"From Fort Douglas, of course." + +"H. B. C.'s, my dear. You must go to Fort Douglas at once. There will be +a fight. You must go to-morrow with your father, or with me to-night," I +urged, thinking I should take myself off and notify my company of the +intended pillaging. + +"With you?" she laughed. "Father will be home in an hour. Are you sure +about a fight!" + +"Quite," said I, trembling for her safety. This certainty of mine has +been quoted to prove premeditation on the Nor'-Westers' part; but I +meant nothing of the sort. I only felt there was unrest on both sides, +and that she must be out of harm's way. + +Truly, I have seldom had a harder duty to perform than to leave Frances +alone in that dark house to go and inform my company of the plot. + +Many times I said good-by before going to the canoe and times unnumbered +ran back from the river to repeat some warning and necessitate another +farewell. + +"Rufus, dear," she said, "this is about the twentieth time. You mustn't +come back again." + +"Then good-by for the twenty-first," said I, and came away feeling like +a young priest anointed for some holy purpose. + + * * * * * + +I declare now, as I declared before the courts of the land, that in +hastening to the Portage with news of the Hudson's Bay's intention to +intercept the Nor'-Westers' express from Fort William, I had no other +thought but the faithful serving of my company. I knew what suffering +the destruction of Souris had entailed in Athabasca, and was determined +our brave fellows should not starve in the coming winter through my +negligence. + +Could I foresee that simple act of mine was to let loose all the +punishment the Hudson's Bay had been heaping up against the day of +judgment? + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +LOUIS PAYS ME BACK + + +What tempted me to moor opposite the ruins of Fort Gibraltar? What +tempts the fly into the spider's web and the fish with a wide ocean for +play-ground into one small net? I know there is a consoling fashion of +ascribing our blunders to the inscrutable wisdom of a long-suffering +Providence; but common-sense forbids I should call evil good, deify my +errors, and give thanks for what befalls me solely through my own fault. + +Bare posts hacked to the ground were all that remained of Fort +Gibraltar's old wall. I had not gone many paces across the former +courtyard, when voices sounded from the gravel-pit that had once done +duty as a cellar. The next thing I noticed was the shaggy face of Louis +Laplante bobbing above the ground. With other vagabond wanderers, the +Frenchman had evidently been rummaging old Nor'-West vaults. + +"Tra-la, comrade," he shouted, leaping out of the cellar as soon as he +saw me. "I, Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, am resurrecting. I was a +Plante! Now I'm a _Louis d'or_, fresh coined from the golden vein of +dazzling wit. Once we were men, but they drowned us in a wine-barrel +like your lucky dog of an English prince. Now we're earth-goblins +re-incarnate! Behold gnomes of the mine! Knaves of the nethermost +depths, tra-la! Vampires that suck the blood of whisky-cellars and float +to the skies with dusky wings and dizzy heads! Laugh with us, old +solemncholy! See the ground spin! Laugh, I say, or be a hitching-post, +and we'll dance the May-pole round you! We're vampires, comrade, and +you're our cousin, for you're a bat," and Louis applauded his joke with +loud, tipsy laughter and staggered up to me drunk as a lord. His heavy +breath and bloodshot eyes testified what he had found under the rubbish +heaps of Fort Gibraltar's cellar. Embracing me with the affection of a +long-lost brother, he rattled on with a befuddled, meaningless jargon. + +"So the knife cut well, did it? And the Sioux did not eat you by inches, +beginning with your thumbs? Ha! Tres bien! Very good taste! You were not +meant for feasts, my solemncholy? Some men are monuments. That's you, +mine frien'! Some are champagne bottles that uncork, zip, fizz, froth, +stars dancing round your head! That's me! 'Tis I, Louis Laplante, son of +a seigneur, am that champagne bottle!" + +Pausing for breath, he drew himself erect with ridiculous pomposity. Now +there are times when the bravest and wisest thing a brave and wise man +can do is take to his heels. I have heard my Uncle Jack MacKenzie say +that vice and liquor and folly are best frustrated by flight; and all +three seemed to be embodied in Louis Laplante that night. A stupid sort +of curiosity made me dally with the mischief brewing in him, just as the +fly plays with the spider-web, or the fish with a baited hook. + +"There's a fountain-spout in Nor'-West vaults for those who know where +to tap the spigot, eh, Louis?" I asked. + +"I'm a Hudson's Bay man and to the conqueror comes the tribute," +returned Louis, sweeping me a courtly bow. + +"I hope such a generous conqueror draws all the tribute he deserves. Do +you remember how you saved my life twice from the Sioux, Louis?" + +"Generous," shouted the Frenchman, drawing himself up proudly, "generous +to mine enemy, always magnificent, grand, superb, as becomes the son of +a seigneur! Now I pay you back, rich, well, generous." + +"Nonsense, Louis," I expostulated. "'Tis I who am in your debt. I owe +you my life twice over. How shall I pay you?" and I made to go down to +my canoe. + +"Pay me?" demanded Louis, thrusting himself across my path in a menacing +attitude. "Stand and pay me like a man!" + +"I am standing," I laughed. "Now, how shall I pay you?" + +"Strike!" ordered Louis, launching out a blow which I barely missed. +"Strike, I say, for kicking me, the son of a seigneur, like a pig!" + +At that, half a dozen more drunken vagabonds of the Hudson's Bay service +reeled up from the cellar pit; and I began to understand I was in for as +much mischief as a young man could desire. The fellows were about us in +a circle, and now, that it was too late, I was quite prepared like the +fly and the fish to seek safety in flight. + +"Sink his canoe," suggested one; and I saw that borrowed craft swamped. + +"Strike! _Sacredie!_ I pay you back generous," roared Louis. "How can I, +Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, strike a man who won't hit back?" + +"And how can I strike a man who saved my life?" I urged, trying to +mollify him. "See here, Louis, I'm on a message for my company to-night. +I can't wait. Some other day you can pay me all you like--not to-night, +some-other-time----" + +"Some-oder-time! No--never! Some-oder-time--'tis the way I pay my own +debts, always some-oder-time, and I never not pay at all. You no +some-oder-time me, comrade! Louis knows some-oder-time too well! He quit +his cups some-oder-time and he never quit, not at all! He quit wild +Indian some-oder-time, and he never quit, not at all! And he go home and +say his confess to the cure some-oder-time, and he never go, not at all! +And he settle down with a wife and become a grand seigneur +some-oder-time, and he never settle down at all!" + +"Good night, Laplante! I have business for the company. I must go," I +interrupted, trying to brush through the group that surrounded us. + +"So have we business for the company, the Hudson's Bay Company, and you +can't go," chimed in one of the least intoxicated of the rival trappers; +and they closed about me so that I had not striking room. + +"Are you men looking for trouble?" I asked, involuntarily fingering my +pistol belt. + +"No--we're looking for the Nor'-West brigade billed to pass from Fort +William to Athabasca," jeered the boldest of the crowd, a red-faced, +middle-aged man with blear eyes. "We're looking for the Nor'-Westers' +express," and he laughed insolently. + +"You don't expect to find our brigades in Fort Gibraltar's cellar," said +I, backing away from them and piecing this latest information to what I +had already heard of plots and conspiracies. + +Forthwith I felt strong hands gripping both my arms like a vise and the +coils of a rope were about me with the swiftness of a lasso. My first +impulse was to struggle against the outrage; but I was beginning to +learn the service of open ears and a closed mouth was often more +valuable than a fighter's blows. Already I had ascertained from their +own lips that the Hudson's Bay intended to molest our north-bound +brigade. + +"Well," said I, with a laugh, which surprised the rascals mightily, "now +you've captured your elephant, what do you propose to do with him?" + +Without answering, the men shambled down to the landing place of the +fort, jostling me along between the red-faced man and Louis Laplante. + +"I consider this a scurvy trick, Louis," said I. "You've let me into a +pretty scrape with your idiotic heroics about paying back a fancied +grudge. To save a mouse from the tigers, Louis, and then feed him to +your cats! Fie, man! I like your son-of-a-seigneur ideas of honor!" + +"Ingrate! Low-born ingrate," snapped the Frenchman, preparing to strike +one of his dramatic attitudes, "if I were not the son of a seigneur, and +you a man with bound arms, you should swallow those words," and he +squared up to me for a second time. "If you won't fight, you shan't run +away----" + +"Off with your French brag," ordered the soberest of the Hudson's Bay +men, catching Louis by the scruff of his coat and spinning him out of +the way. "There'll be neither fighting nor running away. It is to Fort +Douglas we'll take our fine spy." + +The words stung, but I muffled my indignation. + +"I'll go with pleasure," I returned, thinking that Frances Sutherland +and Hamilton and Father Holland were good enough company to compensate +for any captivity. "With pleasure, and 'tis not the first time I'll have +found friends in the Hudson's Bay fort." + +At that speech, the red-faced man, who seemed to be the ringleader, eyed +me narrowly. We all embarked on a rickety raft, that would, I declare, +have drowned any six sober men who risked their lives on it; but drunk +men and children seem to do what sober, grown folk may not are. + +How Louis Laplante was for fighting a duel _en route_ with the man, who +spoke of "French brag" and was only dissuaded from his purpose by the +raft suddenly teetering at an angle of forty-five degrees with the +water, which threatened to toboggan us all into mid-river; how I was +then stationed in the centre and the other men distributed equally on +each side of the raft to maintain balance; how we swung out into the +Red, rocking with each shifting of the crew and were treated to a volley +of objurgations from the red-faced man--I do not intend to relate. This +sort of melodrama may be seen wherever there are drunken men, a raft and +a river. The men poled only fitfully, and we were driven solely by the +current. It was dark long before we had neared Fort Douglas and the +waters swished past with an inky, glassy sheen that vividly recalled the +murky pool about the beaver-dam. And yet I had no fear, but drifted +along utterly indifferent to the termination of the freakish escapade in +which I had become involved. Nature mercifully sets a limit to human +capacity for suffering; and I felt I had reached that limit. Nothing +worse could happen than had happened, at least, so I told myself, and I +awaited with cynical curiosity what might take place inside the Hudson's +Bay fort. Then a shaft of lantern light pierced the dark, striking +aslant the river, and the men began poling hard for Fort Douglas wharf. +We struck the landing with a bump, disembarked, passed the sentinel at +the gate and were at the entrance to the main building. + +"You kick me here," said Louis. "I pay you back here!" + +"What are you going to do with him?" asked the soberest man of the +red-faced leader. + +"Hand him over to Governor Semple for a spy." + +"The governor's abed. Besides, they don't want him about to hear H. B. +secrets when the Nor'-West brigade's a-coming! You'd better get sobered +up, yez hed! That's my advice to yez, before going to Governor Semple," +and the prudent trapper led the way inside. To the fore was the main +stairway, on the right the closed store, and on the left a small +apartment which the governor had fitted up as a private office. For some +unaccountable reason--the same reason, I suppose, that mischief is +always awaiting the mischief-maker--the door to this office had been +left ajar and a light burned inside. 'Twas Louis, ever alert, when +mischief was abroad, who tip-toed over to the open door, poked his head +in and motioned his drunken companions across the sacred precincts of +Governor Semple's private room. I was loath to be a party to this mad +nonsense, but the fly and the fish should have thought of results before +venturing too near strange coils. The red-faced fellow gave me a push. +The sober man muttered, "Better come, or they'll raise a row," and we +were all within the forbidden place, the door shut and bolted. + +To city folk, used to the luxuries of the east, I dare say that office +would have seemed mean enough. But the men had been so long away from +leather chairs, hair-cloth sofa, wall mirror, wine decanter and other +odds and ends which furnish a gentleman's living apartments that the +very memory of such things had faded, and that small room, with its +old-country air, seemed the vestibule to another world. + +"Sump--too--uss--ain't it?" asked the sober man with bated breath and +obvious distrust of his tongue. + +"Mag--nee--feque! M. Louis Laplante, look you there," cried the +Frenchman, catching sight of his full figure in the mirror and instantly +striking a pose of admiration. Then he twirled fiercely at both ends of +his mustache till it stood out with the wire finish of a Parisian dandy. + +The red-faced fellow had permitted me, with arms still tied, to walk +across the room and sit on the hair-cloth sofa. He was lolling back in +the governor's armchair, playing the lord and puffing one of Mr. +Semple's fine pipes. + +"We are gentlemen adventurers of the ancient and honorable Hudson's Bay +Company, gentlemen adventurers," he roared, bringing his fist down with +a thud on the desk. "We hereby decree that the Fort William brigade be +captured, that the whisky be freely given to every dry-throated lad in +the Hudson's Bay Company, that the Nor'-Westers be sent down the Red on +a raft, that this meeting raftify this dissolution, afterwards +moving--seconding--and unanimously amending----" + +"Adjourning--you mean," interrupted one of the orator's audience. + +"I say," called one, who had been dazed by the splendor, "how do you +tell which is the lookin' glass and which is the window?" And he looked +from the window on one side to its exact reflection, length and width, +directly opposite. + +The puzzle was left unsolved; for just then Louis Laplante found a flask +of liquor and speedily divided its contents among the crowd--which was +not calculated to clear up mysteries of windows and mirrors among those +addle-pates. Dull wit may be sport for drunken men, but it is mighty +flat to an onlooker, and I was out of patience with their carousal. + +"The governor will be back here presently, Louis," said I. + +"Tired of being a tombstone, ha--ha! Better be a champagne bottle!" he +laughed with slightly thickened articulation and increased unsteadiness +in his gait. + +"If you don't hide that bottle in your hand, there'll be a big head and +a sore head for you men to-morrow morning." I rose to try and get them +out of the office; but a sober man with tied arms among a drunken crew +is at a disadvantage. + +"Ha--old--wise--sh--head! To--be--sh--shure! Whur--d'--y'--hide--it?" + +"Throw it out of the window," said I, without the slightest idea of +leading him into mischief. + +"Whish--whish--ish--the window, Rufush?" asked Louis imploringly. + +The last potion had done its work and Louis was passing from the jovial +to the pensive stage. He would presently reach a mood which might be +ugly enough for a companion in bonds. Was it this prospect, I wonder, or +the mischievous spirit pervading the very air from the time I reached +the ruins that suggested a way out of my dilemma? + +"Throw it out of the window," said I, ignoring his question and shoving +him off. + +"Whish--ish--the window--dammie?" he asked, holding the bottle +irresolutely and looking in befuddled distraction from side to side of +the room. + +"Thur--both--windows--fur as I see," said the man, who had been sober, +but was no longer so. + +"Throw it through the back window! Folks comin' in at the door won't see +it." + +The red-faced man got up to investigate, and all faith in my plan died +within me; but the lantern light was dusky and the red-faced man could +no longer navigate a course from window to mirror. + +"There's a winder there," said he, scratching his head and looking at +the window reflected in perfect proportion on the mirrored surface. + +"And there's a winder there," he declared, pointing at the real window. +"They're both winders and they're both lookin'-glasses, for I see us all +in both of them. This place is haunted. Lem-me out!" + +"Take thish, then," cried Louis, shoving the bottle towards him and +floundering across to the door to bar the way. "Take thish, or tell me +whish--ish--the window." + +"Both winders, I tell you, and both lookin'-glasses," vowed the man. The +other four fellows declined to express an opinion for the very good +reason that two were asleep and two befuddled beyond questioning. + +"See here, Louis," I exclaimed, "there's only one way to tell where to +throw that bottle." + +"Yesh, Rufush," and he came to me as if I were his only friend on earth. + +"The bottle will go through the window and it won't go through the +mirror," I began. + +"Dammie--I knew that," he snapped out, ready to weep. + +"Well--you undo these things," nodding to the ropes about my arms, "and +I'll find out which opens, and the one that opens is the window, and you +can throw out the bottle." + +"The very thing, Rufush, wise--sh--head--old--old--ol' solemncholy," and +he ripped the ropes off me. + +Now I offer no excuse for what I did. I could have opened that window +and let myself out some distance ahead of the bottle, without involving +Louis and his gang in greater mischief. What I did was not out of spite +to the governor of a rival company; but mischief, as I said, was in the +very air. Besides, the knaves had delayed me far into midnight, and I +had no scruples about giving each twenty-four hours in the fort +guardroom. I took a precautionary inspection of the window-sash. Yes, I +was sure I could leap through, carrying out sash and all. + +"Hurry--ol' tombshtone--governor--sh-comin'," urged Louis. + +I made towards the window and fumbled at the sash. + +"This doesn't open," said I, which was quite true, for I did not try to +budge it. Then I went across to the mirror. "Neither does this," said I. + +"Wha'--wha'--'ll--we do--Rufush?" + +"I'll tell you. You can jump through a window but not through a glass. +Now you count--one two--three,"--this to the red-faced man--"and when +you say 'three' I'll give a run and jump. If I fall back, you'll know +it's the mirror, and fling the bottle quick through the other. Ready, +count!" + +"One," said the red-faced man. + +Louis raised his arm and I prepared for a dash. + +"Two!" + +Louis brought back his arm to gain stronger sweep. + +"Three!" + +I gave a leap and made as though I had fallen back. There was the +pistol-shot splintering of bottle and mirror crashing down to the floor. +The window frame gave with a burst, and I was outside rushing past the +sleepy sentinel, who poured out a volley of curses after me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A DAY OF RECKONING + + +As well play pussy-wants-a-corner with a tiger as make-believe war with +an Indian. In both cases the fun may become ghastly earnest with no time +for cry-quits. So it was with the great fur-trading companies at the +beginning of this century. Each held the Indian in subjection and +thought to use him with daring impunity against its rival. And each was +caught in the meshes of its own merry game. + +I, as a Nor'-Wester, of course, consider that the lawless acts of the +Hudson's Bay had been for three years educating the natives up to the +tragedy of June 19, 1816. But this is wholly a partisan, opinion. +Certainly both companies have lied outrageously about the results of +their quarrels. The truth is Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers were playing +war with the Indian. Consequences having exceeded all calculation, both +companies would fain free themselves of blame. + +For instance, it has been said the Hudson's Bay people had no intention +of intercepting the North-West brigade bound up the Red and Assiniboine +for the interior--this assertion despite the fact our rivals had +pillaged every North-West fort that could be attacked. Now I +acknowledge the Nor'-Westers disclaim hostile purpose in the rally of +three hundred _Bois-Brules_ to the Portage; but this sits not well with +the warlike appearance of these armed plain rangers, who sallied forth +to protect the Fort William express. Nor does it agree with the +expectations of the Indian rabble, who flocked on our rear like carrion +birds keen for the spoils of battle. Both companies had--as it +were--leveled and cocked their weapon. To send it off needed but a +spark, and a slight misunderstanding ignited that spark. + +My arrival at the Portage had the instantaneous effect of sending two +strong battalions of _Bois-Brules_ hot-foot across country to meet the +Fort William express before it could reach Fort Douglas. They were to +convoy it overland to a point on the Assiniboine where it could be +reshipped. To the second of these parties, I attached myself. I was +anxious to attempt a visit to Hamilton. There was some one else whom I +hoped to find at Fort Douglas; so I refused to rest at the Portage, +though I had been in my saddle almost constantly for twenty days. + +When we set out, I confess I did not like the look of things. Those +Indians smeared with paint and decked out with the feathered war-cap +kept increasing to our rear. There were the eagles! Where was the +carcass? The presence of these sinister fellows, hot with the lust of +blood, had ominous significance. Among the half-breeds there was +unconcealed excitement. + +Shortly before we struck off the Assiniboine trail northward for the +Red, in order to meet the expected brigade beyond Fort Douglas, some of +our people slipped back to the Indian rabble. When they reappeared, they +were togged out in native war-gear with too many tomahawks and pistols +for the good of those who might interfere with our mission. There was no +misunderstanding the ugly temper of the men. Here, I wish to testify +that explicit orders were given for the forces to avoid passing near +Fort Douglas, or in any way provoking conflict. There was placed in +charge of our division the most powerful plain-ranger in the service of +the company, the one person of all others, who might control the natives +in case of an outbreak--and that man was Cuthbert Grant. Pierre, the +minstrel, and six clerks were also in the party; but what could a +handful of moderate men do with a horde of Indians and Metis wrought up +to a fury of revenge? + +"Now, deuce take those rascals! What are they doing?" exclaimed Grant +angrily, as we left the river trail and skirted round a slough of Frog +Plains on the side remote from Fort Douglas. Our forces were following +in straggling disorder. The first battalions of the _Bois-Brules_, which +had already rounded the marsh, were now in the settlement on Red River +bank. It was to them that Grant referred. Commanding a halt and raising +his spy-glass, he took an anxious survey of the foreground. + +"There's something seriously wrong," he said. "Strikes me we're near a +powder mine! Here, Gillespie, you look!" He handed the field-glass to +me. + +A great commotion was visible among the settlers. Ox-carts packed with +people were jolting in hurried confusion towards Fort Douglas. Behind, +tore a motley throng of men, women and children, running like a +frightened flock of sheep. Whatever the cause of alarm, our men were not +molesting them; for I watched the horsemen proceeding leisurely to the +appointed rendezvous, till the last rider disappeared among the woods of +the river path. + +"Scared! Badly scared! That's all, Grant," said I. "You've no idea what +wild stories are going the rounds of the settlement about the +_Bois-Brules_!" + +"And you've no idea, young man, what wild stories are going the rounds +of the _Bois-Brules_ about the settlement," was Grant's moody reply. + +My chance acquaintance with the Assiniboine encampment had given me some +idea, but I did not tell Grant so. + +"Perhaps they've taken a few old fellows prisoners to ensure the fort's +good behavior, while we save our bacon," I suggested. + +"If they have, those Highlanders will go to Fort Douglas shining bald as +a red ball," answered the plain-ranger. + +In this, Grant did his people injustice; for of those prisoners taken by +the advance guard, not a hair of their heads was injured. The warden +was nervously apprehensive. This was unusual with him; and I have since +wondered if his dark forebodings arose from better knowledge of the +_Bois-Brules_ than I possessed, or from some premonition. + +"There'd be some reason for uneasiness, if you weren't here to control +them, Grant," said I, nodding towards the Indians and Metis. + +"One man against a host! What can I do?" he asked gloomily. + +"Good gracious, man! Do! Why, do what you came to do! Whatever's the +matter with you?" + +The swarthy face had turned a ghastly, yellowish tint and he did not +answer. + +"'Pon my honor," I exclaimed. "Are you ill, man?" + +"'Tisn't that! When I went to sleep, last night, there were--corpses all +round me. I thought I was in a charnel house and----" + +"Good gracious, Grant!" I shuddered out. "Don't you go off your head +next! Leave that for us green chaps! Besides, the Indians were raising +stench enough with a dog-stew to fill any brain with fumes. For +goodness' sake, let's go on, meet those fellows with the brigade, secure +that express and get off this 'powder mine'--as you call it." + +"By all means!" Grant responded, giving the order, and we moved forward +but only at snail pace; for I think he wanted to give the settlers +plenty of time to reach the fort. + +By five o'clock in the afternoon we had almost rounded the slough and +were gradually closing towards the wooded ground of the river bank. We +were within ear-shot of the settlers. They were flying past with +terrified cries of "The half-breeds! The half-breeds!" when I heard +Grant groan from sheer alarm and mutter-- + +"Look! Look! The lambs coming to meet the wolves!" + +To this day I cannot account for the madness of the thing. There, some +twenty, or thirty Hudson's Bay men--mere youths most of them--were +coming with all speed to head us off from the river path, at a wooded +point called Seven Oaks. What this pigmy band thought it could do +against our armed men, I do not know. The blunder on their part was so +unexpected and inexcusable, it never dawned on us the panic-stricken +settlers had spread a report of raid, and these poor valiant defenders +had come out to protect the colony. If that be the true explanation of +their rash conduct in tempting conflict, what were they thinking about +to leave the walls of their fort during danger? My own opinion is that +with Lord Selkirk's presumptuous claims to exclusive possession in Red +River and the recent high-handed success of the Hudson's Bay, the men of +Fort Douglas were so flushed with pride they did not realize the risk of +a brush with the _Bois-Brules_. Much, too, may be attributed to Governor +Semple's inexperience; but it was very evident the purpose of the force +deliberately blocking our path was not peaceable. If the Hudson's Bay +blundered in coming out to challenge us, so did we, I frankly admit; for +we regarded the advance as an audacious trick to hold us back till the +Fort William express could be captured. + +Now that the thing he feared had come, all hesitancy vanished from +Grant's manner. Steeled and cool like the leader he was, he sternly +commanded the surging Metis to keep back. Straggling Indians and +half-breeds dashed to our fore-ranks with the rush of a tempest and +chafed hotly against the warden. At a word from Grant, the men swung +across the enemy's course sickle-shape; but they were furious at this +disciplined restraint. From horn to horn of the crescent, rode the +plain-ranger, lashing horses back to the circle and shaking his fist in +the quailing face of many a bold rebel. + +Both sides advanced within a short distance of each other. We could see +that Governor Semple, himself, was leading the Hudson's Bay men. +Immediately, Boucher, a North-West clerk, was sent forward to parley. +Now, I hold the Nor'-Westers would not have done that if their purpose +had been hostile; but Boucher rode out waving his hand and calling-- + +"What do you want? What do you want?" + +"What do you want, yourself?" came Governor Semple's reply with some +heat and not a little insolence. + +"We want our fort," demanded Boucher, slightly taken aback, but +thoroughly angered. His horse was prancing restively within pistol range +of the governor. + +"Go to your fort, then! Go to your fort!" returned Semple with stinging +contempt in manner and voice. + +He might as well have told us to go to Gehenna; for the fort was +scattered to the four winds. + +"The fool!" muttered Grant. "The fool! Let him answer for the +consequences. Their blood be on their own heads." + +Whether the _Bois-Brules_, who had lashed their horses into a lather of +foam and were cursing out threats in the ominous undertone that precedes +a storm-burst, now encroached upon the neutral ground in spite of Grant, +or were led gradually forward by the warden as the Hudson's Bay +governor's hostility increased, I did not in the excitement of the +moment observe. One thing is certain, while the quarrel between the +Hudson's Bay governor and the North-West clerk was becoming more +furious, our surging cohorts were closing in on the little band like an +irresistible tidal wave. I could make out several Hudson's Bay faces, +that seemed to remind me of my Fort Douglas visit; but of the rabble of +Nor'-Westers and _Bois-Brules_ disguised in hideous war-gear, I dare +avow not twenty of us were recognizable. + +"Miserable rogue!" Boucher was shouting, utterly beside himself with +rage and flourishing his gun directly over the governor's head, +"Miserable rogue! Why have you destroyed our fort?" + +"Call him off, Grant! Call him off, or it's all up!" I begged, seeing +the parley go from bad to worse; but Grant was busy with the +_Bois-Brules_ and did not hear. + +"Wretch!" Governor Semple exclaimed in a loud voice. "Dare you to speak +so to me!" and he caught Boucher's bridle, throwing the horse back on +its haunches. + +Boucher, agile as a cat, slipped to the ground. + +"Arrest him, men!" commanded the governor. "Arrest him at once!" + +But the clerk was around the other side of the horse, with his gun +leveled across its back. + +Whether, when Boucher jumped down, our bloodthirsty knaves thought him +shot and broke from Grant's control to be avenged, or whether Lieutenant +Holt of the Hudson's Bay at that unfortunate juncture discharged his +weapon by accident, will never be known. + +Instantaneously, as if by signal, our men with a yell burst from the +ranks, leaped from their saddles and using horses as breast-work, fired +volley after volley into the governor's party. The neighing and plunging +of the frenzied horses added to the tumult. The Hudson's Bay men were +shouting out incoherent protest; but what they said was drowned in the +shrill war-cry of the Indians. Just for an instant, I thought I +recognized one particular voice in that shrieking babel, which flashed +back memory of loud, derisive laughter over a camp fire and at the +buffalo hunt; but all else was forgotten in the terrible consciousness +that our men's murderous onslaught was deluging the prairie with +innocent blood. + +Throwing himself between the _Bois-Brules_ and the retreating band, the +warden implored his followers to grant truce. As well plead with wild +beasts. The half-breeds were deaf to commands, and in vain their leader +argued with blows. The shooting had been of a blind sort, and few shots +did more than wound; but the natives were venting the pent-up hate of +three years and would give no quarter. From musketry volleys the fight +had become hand-to-hand butchery. + +I had dismounted and was beating the scoundrels back with the butt end +of my gun, begging, commanding, abjuring them to desist, when a Hudson's +Bay youth swayed forward and fell wounded at my feet. There was the +baffled, anguished scream of some poor wounded fellow driven to bay, and +I saw Laplante across the field, covered with blood, reeling and +staggering back from a dozen red-skin furies, who pressed upon their +fagged victim, snatching at his throat like hounds at the neck of a +beaten stag. With a bound across the prostrate form of the youth, I ran +to the Frenchman's aid. Louis saw me coming and struck out so valiantly, +the wretched cowards darted back just as I have seen a miserable pack of +open-mouthed curs dodge the last desperate sweep of antlered head. That +gave me my chance, and I fell on their rear with all the might I could +put in my muscle, bringing the flat of my gun down with a crash on +crested head-toggery, and striking right and left at Louis' assailants. + +"Ah--_mon Dieu_--comrade," sobbed Louis, falling in my arms from sheer +exhaustion, while the tears trickled down in a white furrow over his +blood-splashed cheeks, "_mon Dieu_--comrade, but you pay me back +generous!" + +"Tutts, man, this is no time for settling old scores and playing the +grand! Run for your life. Run to the woods and swim the river!" With +that, I flung him from me; for I heard the main body of our force +approaching. "Run," I urged, giving the Frenchman a push. + +"The run--ha--ha--my old spark," laughed Louis with a tearful, lack-life +sort of mirth, "the run--it has all run out," and with a pitiful reel +down he fell in a heap. + +I caught him under the armpits, hoisted him to my shoulders, and made +with all speed for the wooded river bank. My pace was a tumble more than +a run down the river cliff, but I left the man at the very water's edge, +where he could presently strike out for the far side and regain Fort +Douglas by swimming across again. Then I hurried to the battle-field in +search of the wounded youth whom I had left. As I bent above him, the +poor lad rolled over, gazing up piteously with the death-look on his +face; and I recognized the young Nor'-Wester who had picked flowers with +me for Frances Sutherland and afterwards deserted to the Hudson's Bay. +The boy moaned and moved his lips as if speaking, but I heard no sound. +Stooping on one knee, I took his head on the other and bent to listen; +but he swooned away. Afraid to leave him--for the savages were wreaking +indescribable barbarities on the fallen--I picked him up. His arms and +head fell back limply as if he were dead, and holding him thus, I again +dashed for the fringe of woods. Rogers of the Hudson's Bay staggered +against me wounded, with both hands thrown up ready to surrender. He was +pleading in broken French for mercy; but two half-breeds, one with +cocked pistol, the other with knife, rushed upon him. I turned away that +I might not see; but the man's unavailing entreaties yet ring in my +ears. Farther on, Governor Semple lay, with lacerated arm and broken +thigh. He was calling to Grant, "I'm not mortally wounded! If you could +get me conveyed to the fort I think I would live!" + +Then I got away from the field and laid my charge in the woods. Poor +lad! The pallor of death was on every feature. Tearing open his coat and +taking letters from an inner pocket to send to relatives, I saw a +knife-stab in his chest, which no mortal could survive. Battle is +pitiless. I hurriedly left the dying boy and went back to the living, +ordering a French half-breed to guard him. + +"See that no one mutilates this body," said I, "and I'll reward you." + +My shout seemed to recall the lad's consciousness. Whether he fully +understood the terrible significance of my words, I could not tell; but +he opened his eyes with a reproachful glazed stare; and that was the +last I saw of him. + +Knowing Grant would have difficulty in obtaining carriers for Governor +Semple, and only too anxious to gain access to Fort Douglas, I ran with +haste towards the recumbent form of the fallen leader. Grant was at some +distance scouring the field for reliable men, and while I was yet twenty +or thirty yards away an Indian glided up. + +"Dog!" he hissed in the prostrate man's face. "You have caused all this! +You shall not live! Dog that you are!" + +Then something caught my feet. I stumbled and fell. There was the flare +of a pistol shot in Governor Semple's face and a slight cry. The next +moment I was by his side. The shot had taken effect in the breast. The +body was yet hot with life; but there was neither breath, nor heart +beat. + +A few of the Hudson's Bay band gained hiding in the shrubbery and +escaped by swimming across to the east bank of the Red, but the remnant +tried to reach the fort across the plain. Calling me, Grant, now utterly +distracted, directed his efforts to this quarter. I with difficulty +captured my horse and galloped off to join the warden. Our riders were +circling round something not far from the fort walls and Grant was +tearing over the prairie, commanding them to retire. It seems, when +Governor Semple discovered the strength of our forces, he sent some of +his men back to Fort Douglas for a field-piece. Poor Semple with his +European ideas of Indian warfare! The _Bois-Brules_ did not wait for +that field-piece. The messengers had trundled it out only a short +distance from the gateway, when they met the fugitives flying back with +news of the massacre. Under protection of the cannon, the men made a +plucky retreat to the fort, though the _Bois-Brules_ harassed them to +the very walls. This disappearance--or rather extermination--of the +enemy, as well as the presence of the field-gun, which was a new terror +to the Indians, gave Grant his opportunity. He at once rounded the men +up and led them off to Frog Plains, on the other side of the swamp. Here +we encamped for the night, and were subsequently joined by the first +division of _Bois-Brules_. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE IROQUOIS PLAYS HIS LAST CARD + + +The _Bois-Brules_ and Indian marauders, who gathered to our camp, were +drunk with the most intoxicating of all stimulants--human blood. This +flush of victory excited the redskins' vanity to a boastful frenzy. +There was wild talk of wiping the pale-face out of existence; and if a +weaker man than Grant had been at the head of the forces, not a white in +the settlement would have escaped massacre. In spite of the bitterness +to which the slaughter at Seven Oaks gave rise, I think all fair-minded +people have acknowledged that the settlers owed their lives to the +warden's efforts. + +That night pandemonium itself could not have presented a more hideous +scene than our encampment. The lust of blood is abhorrent enough in +civilized races, but in Indian tribes, whose unrestrained, hard life +abnormally develops the instincts of the tiger, it is a thing that may +not be portrayed. Let us not, with the depreciatory hypocrisy, +characteristic of our age, befool ourselves into any belief that +barbaric practices were more humane than customs which are the flower of +civilized centuries. Let us be truthful. Scientific cruelty may do its +worst with intricate armaments; but the blood-thirst of the Indian +assumed the ghastly earnest of victors drinking the warm life-blood of +dying enemies and of torturers laving hands in a stream yet hot from +pulsing hearts. + +Decked out in red-stained trophies with scalps dangling from their +waists, the natives darted about like blood-whetted beasts; and the +half-breeds were little better, except that they thirsted more for booty +than life. There was loud vaunting over the triumph, the ignorant rabble +imagining their warriors heroes of a great battle, instead of the +murderous plunderers they were. Pierre, the rhymester, according to his +wont, broke out in jubilant celebration of the half-breeds' feat:[A] + + Ho-ho! List you now to a tale of truth + Which I, Pierre, the rhymester, proudly sing, + Of the _Bois-Brules_, whose deeds dismay + The hearts of the soldiers serving the king! + + Swift o'er the plain rode our warriors brave + To meet the gay voyageurs come from the sea. + Out came the bold band that had pillaged our land, + And we taught them the plain is the home of the free. + + We were passing along to the landing-place, + Three hostile whites we bound on the trail. + The enemy came with a shout of acclaim, + We flung back their taunts with the shriek of a gale. + + "They have come to attack us," our people cry. + Our cohorts spread out in a crescent horn, + Their path we bar in a steel scimitar, + And their empty threats we flout with scorn. + + They halt in the face of a dauntless foe, + They spit out their venom of baffled rage! + Honor, our breath to the very death! + So we proffer them peace, or a battle-gage. + + The governor shouts to his soldiers, "Draw!" + 'Tis the enemy strikes the first, fateful blow! + Our men break from line, for the battle-wine + Of a fighting race has a fiery glow. + + The governor thought himself mighty in power. + The shock of his strength--Ha-ha!--should be known + From the land of the sea to the prairie free + And all free men should be overthrown![B] + + But naked and dead on the plain lies he, + Where the carrion hawk, and the sly coyote + Greedily feast on the great and the least, + Without respect for a lord of note. + + The governor thought himself mighty in power. + He thought to enslave the _Bois-Brules_, + "Ha-ha," laughed the hawk. Ho-ho! Let him mock. + "Plain rangers ride forth to slay, to slay." + + Whose cry outpierces the night-bird's note? + Whose voice mourns sadly through sighing trees? + What spirits wail to the prairie gale? + Who tells his woes to the evening breeze? + + Ha-ha! We know, though we tell it not. + We fought with them till none remained. + The coyote knew, and his hungry crew + Licked clean the grass where the turf was stained. + + Ho-ho! List you all to my tale of truth. + 'Tis I, Pierre, the rhymester, this glory tell + Of freedom saved and brave hands laved + In the blood of tyrants who fought and fell! + +The whole scene was repugnant beyond endurance. My ears were so filled +with the death cries heard in the afternoon, I had no relish for +Pierre's crude recital of what seemed to him a glorious conquest. I +could not rid my mind of that dying boy's sad face. Many half-breeds +were preparing to pillage the settlement. Intending to protect the +Sutherland home and seek the dead lad's body, I borrowed a fresh horse +and left the tumult of the camp. + +I made a detour of the battle-field in order to reach the Sutherland +homestead before night. I might have saved myself the trouble; for every +movable object--to the doors and window sashes--had been taken from the +little house, whether by father and daughter before going to the fort, +or by the marauders, I did not know. + +It was unsafe to return by the wooded river trail after dark and I +struck directly to the clearing and followed the path parallel to the +bush. When I reached Seven Oaks, I was first apprised of my whereabouts +by my horse pricking forward his ears and sniffing the air uncannily. I +tightened rein and touched him with the spur, but he snorted and jumped +sideways with a suddenness that almost unseated me, then came to a +stand, shaking as if with chill. Something skulked across the trail and +gained cover in the woods. With a reassuring pat, I urged my horse back +towards the road, for the prairie was pitted with badger and gopher +holes; but the beast reared, baulked and absolutely refused to be either +driven, or coaxed. + +"Wise when men are fools!" said I, dismounting. Bringing the reins over +his head, I tried to pull him forward; but he planted all fours and +jerked back, almost dragging me off my feet. + +"Are you possessed?" I exclaimed, for if ever horror were plainly +expressed by an animal, it was by that horse. Legs rigid, head bent +down, eyes starting forward and nostrils blowing in and out, he was a +picture of terror. + +Something wriggled in the thicket. The horse rose on his hind legs, +wrenched the rein from my hand and scampered across the plain. I sent a +shot into the bush. There was a snarl and a scurrying through the +underbrush. + +"Pretty bold wolf! Never saw a broncho act that way over a coyote +before!" + +I might as well find the body of the English lad before trying to catch +my horse, so I walked on. Suddenly, in the silver-white of a starry sky, +I saw what had terrified the animal. Close to the shrubbery lay the +stark form of a white man, knees drawn upwards and arms spread out like +the bars of a cross. Was that the lad I had known? I rushed towards the +corpse--but as quickly turned away. From downright lack of courage, I +could not look at it; for the body was mutilated beyond semblance to +humanity. Would that I had strength and skill to paint that dead figure +as it was! Then would those, who glory in the shedding of blood, glory +to their shame; and the pageant of war be stripped of all its false +toggery revealing carnage and slaughter in their revolting nakedness. + +I could not look back to know if that were the lad, but ran aimlessly +towards the scene of the Seven Oaks fray. As I approached, there was a +great flapping of wings. Up rose buzzards, scolding in angry discord at +my interruption. A pack of wolves skulked a few feet off and eyed me +impatiently, boldly waiting to return when I left. The impudence of the +brutes enraged me and I let go half a dozen charges, which sent them to +a more respectful distance. Here were more bodies like the first. I +counted eight within a stone's throw, and there were twice as many +between Seven Oaks and the fort. Where they lay, I could tell very well; +for hawks wheeled with harsh cries overhead and there was a vague +movement of wolfish shapes along the ground. + +What possessed me to hover about that dreadful scene, I cannot imagine, +unless the fear of those creatures returning; but I did not carry a +thing with which I could bury the dead. Involuntarily, I sought out +Rogers and Governor Semple; for I had seen the death of each. It was +when seeking these, that I thought I distinguished the faintest motion +of one figure still clothed and lying apart from the others. + +The sight riveted me to the spot. + +Surely it was a mistake! The form could not have moved! It must have +been some error of vision, or trick of the shadowy starlight; but I +could not take my eyes from the prostrate form. Again the body +moved--distinctly moved--beyond possibility of fancy, the chest heaving +up and sinking like a man struggling but unable to rise. With the +ghastly dead and the ravening wolves all about, the movement of that +wounded man was strangely terrifying and my knees knocked with fear, as +I ran to his aid. + +The man was an Indian, but his face I could not see; for one hand +staunched a wound in his head and the other gripped a knife with which +he had been defending himself. My first thought was that he must be a +Nor'-Wester, or his body would not have escaped the common fate; but if +a Nor'-Wester, why had he been left on the field? So I concluded he was +one of the camp-followers, who had joined our forces for plunder and +come to a merited end. Still he was a man; and I stooped to examine him +with a view to getting him on my horse and taking him back to the camp. + +At first he was unconscious of my presence. Gently I tried to remove the +left hand from his forehead, but at the touch, out struck the right +hand in vicious thrusts of the hunting-knife, one blind cut barely +missing my arm. + +"Hold, man!" I cried, "I'm no foe, but a friend!" and I caught the right +arm tightly. + +At the sound of my voice, the left hand swung out revealing a frightful +gash; and the next thing I knew, his left arm had encircled my neck like +the coil of a strangler, five fingers were digging into the flesh of my +throat and Le Grand Diable was making frantic efforts to free his right +hand and plunge that dagger into me. The shock of the discovery threw me +off guard, and for a moment there was a struggle, but only for a moment. +Then the wounded man fell back, writhing in pain, his face contorted +with agony and hate. I do not think he could see me. He must have been +blind from that wound. I stood back, but his knife still cut the air. + +"Le Grand Diable! Fool!" I said, "I will not harm you! I give you the +white man's word, I will not hurt you!" + +The right arm fell limp and still. Had I, by some strange irony, been +led to this spot that I might witness the death of my foe? Was this the +end of that long career of evil? + +"Le Grand Diable!" I cried, going a pace nearer, which seemed to bring +back the ebbing life. "Le Grand Diable! You cannot stay here among the +wolves. Tell me whereto find Miriam and I'll take you back to the camp! +Tell me and no one shall harm you! I will save you!" + +The thin lips moved. He was saying, or trying to say, something. + +"Speak louder!" and I bent over him. "Speak the truth and I take you to +the camp!" + +The lips were still moving, but I could not hear a sound. + +"Speak louder!" I shouted. "Where is Miriam? Where is the white woman?" +I put my ear to his lips, fearful that life might slip away before I +could hear. + +There was a snarl through the glistening set teeth. The prostrate body +gave an upward lurch. With one swift, treacherous thrust, he drove his +knife into my coat-sleeve, grazing my forearm. The effort cost him his +life. He sank down with a groan. The sightless, bloodshot eyes opened. +Le Grand Diable would never more feign death. + +I jerked the knife from my coat, hurled it from me, sprang up and fled +from the field as if it had been infected with a pest, or I pursued by +gends. Never looking back and with superstitious dread of the dead +Indian's evil spirit, I tore on and on till, breath-spent and exhausted, +I threw myself down with the North-West camp-fires in sight. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] It should scarcely be necessary for the author to state that these +are the sentiments of the Indian poet expressing the views of the savage +towards the white man, and not the white man towards the savage. The +poem is as close a translation of the original ballad sung by Pierre in +Metis dialect the night of the massacre, as could be given. The Indian +nature is more in harmony with the hawk and the coyote than with the +white man; hence the references. Other thoughts embodied in this crude +lay are taken directly from the refrains of the trappers chanted at that +time. + +[B] Governor Semple unadvisedly boasted that the shock of his power +would be felt from Montreal to Athabasca. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +FORT DOUGLAS CHANGES MASTERS + + +I suppose there are times in the life of every one, even the +strongest--and I am not that--when a feather's weight added to a burden +may snap power of endurance. I had reached that stage before +encountering Le Grand Diable on the field of massacre at Seven Oaks. +With the events in the Mandane country, the long, hard ride northward +and this latest terrible culmination of strife between Nor'-Westers and +Hudson's Bay, the past month had been altogether too hard packed for my +well-being. The madness of northern traders no longer amazed me. + +An old nurse of my young days, whom I remember chiefly by her ramrod +back and sharp tongue, used to say, "Nerves! nerves! nothing but +nerves!" She thanked God she was born before the doctors had discovered +nerves. Though neurotic theories had not been sufficiently elaborated +for me to ascribe my state to the most refined of modern ills--nervous +prostration--I was aware, as I dragged over the prairie with the horse +at the end of a trailing bridle rein, that something was seriously out +of tune. It was daylight before I caught the frightened broncho and no +knock-kneed coward ever shook more, as I vainly tried to vault into the +saddle, and after a dozen false plunges at the stirrup, gave up the +attempt and footed it back to camp. There was a daze between my eyes, +which the over-weary know well, and in the brain-whirl, I could +distinguish only two thoughts, Where was Miriam--and Father Holland's +prediction--"Benedicite! The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall +deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher." + +Thus, I reached the camp, picketed the horse, threw myself down in the +tent and slept without a break from the morning of the 20th till mid-day +of the 21st. I was awakened by the _Bois-Brules_ returning from a +demonstration before the gateway of Fort Douglas. Going to the tent +door, I saw that Pritchard, one of the captive Hudson's Bay men, had +been brought back from a conference with the enemy. From his account, +the Hudson's Bay people seemed to be holding out against us; but the +settlers, realizing the danger of Indian warfare, to a man favored +surrender. Had it not been for Grant, there would have been no farther +parley; but on news that settlers were pressing for capitulation, the +warden again despatched Pritchard to the Hudson's Bay post. In the hope +of gaining access to Frances Sutherland and Eric Hamilton I accompanied +him. Such was the terror prevailing within the walls, in spite of +Pritchard's assurance regarding my friendly purpose, admission was +flatly denied me. I contented myself with verbal messages that Hamilton +and Father Holland must remain. I could guarantee their safety. The same +offer I made to Frances, but told her to do what was best for herself +and her father. When Pritchard came out, I knew from his face that Fort +Douglas was ours. Hamilton and Father Holland would stay, he reported; +but Mistress Sutherland bade him say that after Seven Oaks her father +had no friendly feeling for Nor'-Westers, and she could not let him go +forth alone. Terms were stipulated between the two companies with due +advantage to our side from the recent victory and the formal surrender +of Fort Douglas took place the following day. + +"What are you going to do with the settlers, Cuthbert?" I asked of the +warden before the capitulation. + +"Aye! That's a question," was the grim response. + +"Why not leave them in the fort till things quiet down?" + +"With all the Indians of Red River in possession of that fort?" asked +Grant, sarcastically. "Were a few Nor'-Westers so successful in holding +back the Metis at Seven Oaks, you'd like to see that experiment +repeated?" + +"'Twill be worse, Grant, if you let them go back to their farms." + +"They'll not do that, if I'm warden of the plains," he declared with +great determination. "We'll have to send them down the Red to the lake +till that fool of a Scotch nobleman decides what to do with his fine +colonists." + +"But, Grant, you don't mean to send them up north in this cold country. +They may not reach Hudson's Bay in time to catch the company ship to +Scotland! Why, man, it's sheer murder to expose those people to a winter +up there without a thing to shelter them!" + +"To my mind, freezing is not quite so bad as a massacre. If they won't +take our boats to the States, or Canada, what else can Nor'-Westers do?" + +And what else, indeed? I could not answer Grant's question, though I +know every effort we made to induce those people to go south instead of +north has been misrepresented as an infamous attempt to expel Selkirk +settlers from Red River. Truly, I hope I may never see a sadder sight +than the going forth of those colonists to the shelterless plain. It was +disastrous enough for them to be driven from their native heath; but to +be lured away to this far country for the purpose of becoming buffers +between rival fur-traders, who would stop at nothing, and to be +sacrificed as victims for their company's criminal policy--I speak as a +Nor'-Wester--was immeasurably cruel. + +Grant was, of course, on hand for the surrender, and he wisely kept the +plain-rangers at a safe distance. Clerks lined each side of the path to +the gate, and I pressed forward for a glimpse of Frances Sutherland. +There was the jar of a heavy bolt shot back. Confused noises sounded +from the courtyard. The gates swung open, and out marched the sheriff of +Assiniboia, bearing in one hand a pole with a white sheet tacked to the +end for a flag of truce, and in the other the fort keys. Behind, sullen +and dejected, followed a band of Hudson's Bay men. Grant stepped up to +meet the sheriff. The terms of capitulation were again stated, and there +was some signing of paper. Of those things my recollection is +indistinct; for I was straining my eyes towards the groups of settlers +inside the walls. When I looked back to the conferring leaders the +silence was so intense a pinfall could have been heard. The keys of the +fort were being handed to the Nor'-Westers and the Hudson's Bay men had +turned away their faces that they might not see. The vanquished then +passed quickly to the barges at the river. Each of the six drunken +fellows, whom I had last seen in the late Governor Semple's office, the +Highlanders who had spied upon me when I visited Fort Douglas but a year +before, the clerks whom I had heard talking that night in the great +hall, and many others with whom I had but a chance acquaintance, filed +down to the river. Seeing all ready, with a North-West clerk at the prow +of each boat to warn away marauders, the men came back for settlers and +wounded comrades. I would have proffered my assistance to some of the +burdened people on the chance of a word with Frances Sutherland, but the +colonists proudly resented any kind offices from a Nor'-Wester. I saw +Louis Laplante come limping out, leaning on the arm of the red-faced +man, whose eye quailed when it met mine. Poor Louis looked sadly +battered, with his head in a white bandage, one arm in a sling, and a +dejected stoop to his shoulders that was unusual with him. + +"This is too bad, Louis," said I, hurrying forward. "I forgot to send +word about you. You might as well have stayed in the fort till your +wounds healed. Won't you come back?" + +Louis stole a furtive, sheepish glance at me, hung his head and looked +away with a suspicion of moisture about his eyes. + +"You always were a brute to fight at Laval! I might trick you at first, +but you always ended by giving me the throw," he answered +disconsolately. + +"Nonsense, Louis." I was astounded at the note of reproach in his voice. +"We're even now--let by-gones be by-gones! You helped me, I helped you. +You trapped me into the fort, I tricked you into breaking a mirror and +laying up a peck of trouble for yourself. Surely you don't treasure any +grudge yet?" + +He shook his head without looking at me. + +"I don't understand. Let us begin over again. Come, forget old scores, +come back to the fort till you're well." + +"Pah!" said Louis with a sudden, strange impatience which I could not +fathom. "You understand some day and turn upon me and strike and give +me more throw." + +"All right, comrade, treasure your wrath! Only I thought two men, who +had saved each other's lives, might be friends and bury old quarrels." + +"You not know," he blurted out in a broken voice. + +"Not know what?" I asked impatiently. "I tell you I forgive all and I +had thought you might do as much----" + +"Do as much!" he interrupted fiercely. "_O mon Dieu!_" he cried, with a +sob that shook his frame. "Take me away! Take me away!" he begged the +man on whose arm he was leaning; and with those enigmatical words he +passed to the nearest boat. + +While I was yet gazing in mute amazement after Louis Laplante, wondering +whether his strange emotion were revenge, or remorse, the women and +children marched forth with the men protecting each side. The empty +threats of half-breeds to butcher every settler in Red River had +evidently reached the ears of the women. Some trembled so they could +scarcely walk and others stared at us with the reproach of murder in +their eyes, gazing in horror at our guilty hands. At last I caught sight +of Frances Sutherland. She was well to the rear of the sad procession, +leaning on the arm of a tall, sturdy, erect man whom I recognized as her +father. I would have forced my way to her side at once, but a swift +glance forbade me. A gleam of love flashed to the gray eyes for an +instant, then father and daughter had passed. + +"Little did I think," the harsh, rasping voice of the father was saying, +"that daughter of mine would give her heart to a murderer. Which of +these cut-throats may I claim for a son?" + +"Hush, father," she whispered. "Remember he warned us to the fort and +took me to Pembina." She was as pale as death. + +"Aye! Aye! We're under obligations to strange benefactors when times go +awry!" he returned bitterly. + +"O father! Don't! You'll think differently when you know----" but a +hulking lout stumbled between us, and I missed the rest. + +They were at the boats and an old Highlander was causing a blockade by +his inability to lift a great bale into the barge. + +"Let me give you a lift," said I, stepping forward and taking hold of +the thing. + +"Friend, or foe?" asked the Scot, before he would accept my aid. + +"Friend, of course," and I braced myself to give the package a hoist. + +"Hudson's Bay, or Nor'-Wester?" pursued the settler, determined to take +no help from the hated enemy. + +"Nor'-Wester, but what does that matter? A friend all the same! Yo +heave! Up with it!" + +"Neffer!" roared the man in a towering passion, and he gave me a push +that sent me knocking into the crowd on the landing. Involuntarily, I +threw out my arm to save a fall and caught a woman's outstretched hand. +It was Frances Sutherland's and I thrilled with the message she could +not speak. + +"I beg your pardon, Mistress Sutherland," said I, as soon as I could +find speech, and I stepped back tingling with embarrassment and delight. + +"A civil-tongued young man, indeed," remarked the father, sarcastically, +with a severe scrutiny of my retreating person. "A civil-tongued young +man to know your name so readily, Frances! Pray, who is he?" + +"Oh! Some Nor'-Wester," answered Frances, the white cheeks blushing red, +and she stepped quickly forward to the gang-plank. "Some Nor'-Wester, I +suppose!" she repeated unconcernedly, but the flush had suffused her +neck and was not unnoticed by the father's keen eyes. + +Then they seated themselves at the prow beside the Nor'-Wester appointed +to accompany the boat; and I saw that Louis Laplante was sitting +directly opposite Frances Sutherland, with his eyes fixed on her face in +a bold gaze, that instantly quenched any kindness I may have felt +towards him. How I regretted my thoughtlessness in not having +forestalled myself in the Sutherlands' barge. The next best thing was to +go along with Grant, who was preparing to ride on the river bank and +escort the company beyond all danger. + +"You coming too?" asked Grant sharply, as I joined him. + +"If you don't mind." + +"Think two are necessary?" + +"Not when one of the two is Grant," I answered, which pleased him, "but +as my heart goes down the lake with those barges----" + +"Hut-tutt--man," interrupted Grant. "War's bad enough without love; but +come if you like." + +As the boats sheered off from the wharf, Grant and I rode along the +river trail. I saw Frances looking after me with surprise, and I think +she must have known my purpose, though she did not respond when I +signalled to her. + +"Stop that!" commanded Grant peremptorily. "You did that very slyly, +Rufus, but if they see you, there'll be all sorts of suspicion about +collusion." + +The river path ran into the bush, winding in and out of woods, so we +caught only occasional glimpses of the boats; but I fancied her eyes +were ever towards the bank where we rode, and I could distinctly see +that the Frenchman's face was buried in his arms above one of the +squarish packets opposite the Sutherlands. + +"Is it the same lass," asked Grant, after we had been riding for more +than an hour, "is it the same lass that was disguised as an Indian girl +at Fort Gibraltar?" + +His question astonished me. I thought her disguise too complete even for +his sharp penetration; but I was learning that nothing escaped the +warden's notice. Indeed, I have found it not unusual for young people at +a certain stage of their careers to imagine all the rest of the world +blind. + +"The same," I answered, wondering much. + +"You took her back to Fort Douglas. Did you hear anything special in the +fort that night?" + +"Nothing but that McDonell was likely to surrender. How did you know I +was there?" + +"Spies," he answered laconically. "The old _voyageurs_ don't change +masters often for nothing. If you hadn't been stuck off in the Mandane +country, you'd have learned a bit of our methods. Her father used to +favor the Nor'-Westers. What has changed him?" + +"Seven Oaks changed him," I returned tersely. + +"Aye! Aye! That was terrible," and his face darkened. "Terrible! +Terrible! It will change many," and the rest of his talk was full of +gloomy portents and forebodings of blame likely to fall upon him for the +massacre; but I think history has cleared and justified Grant's part in +that awful work. Suddenly he turned to me. + +"There's pleasure in this ride for you. There's none for me. Will ye +follow the boats alone and see that no harm comes to them?" + +"Certainly," said I, and the warden wheeled his horse and galloped back +towards Fort Douglas. + +For an hour after he left, the trail was among the woods, and when I +finally reached a clearing and could see the boats, there was cause +enough for regret that the warden had gone. A great outcry came from +the Sutherlands' boat and Louis Laplante was on his feet gesticulating +excitedly and talking in loud tones to the rowers. + +"Hullo, there!" I shouted, riding to the very water's edge and +flourishing my pistol. "Stop your nonsense, there! What's wrong?" + +"There's a French papist demands to have speech wi' ye," called Mr. +Sutherland. + +"Bring him ashore," I returned. + +The boat headed about and approached the bank. Then the rowers ceased +pulling; for the water was shallow, and we were within speaking +distance. + +"Now, Louis, what do you mean by this nonsense?" I began. + +In answer, the Frenchman leaped out of the boat and waded ashore. + +"Let them go on," he said, scrambling up the cliff in a staggering, +faint fashion. + +"If you meant to stay at the fort, why didn't you decide sooner?" I +demanded roughly. + +"I didn't." This doggedly and with downcast eyes. + +"Then you go down the lake with the rest and no skulking!" + +"Gillespie," answered Louis in a low tone, "there's strength of an ox in +you, but not the wit. Let them go on! Simpleton, I tell you of Miriam." + +His words recalled the real reason of my presence in the north country; +for my quest had indeed been eclipsed by the fearful events of the past +week. I signalled the rowers to go without him, waved a last farewell to +Frances Sutherland, and turned to see Louis Laplante throw himself on +the grass and cry like a schoolboy. Dismounting I knelt beside him. + +"Cheer up, old boy," said I, with the usual vacuity of thought and +stupidity of expression at such times. "Cheer up! Seven Oaks has knocked +you out. I knew you shouldn't make this trip till you were strong again. +Why, man, you have enough cuts to undo the pluck of a giant-killer!" + +Louis was not paying the slightest attention to me. He was mumbling to +himself and I wondered if he were in a fever. + +"The priest, the Irish priest in the fort, he say to me: 'Wicked fellow, +you be tortured forever and ever in the furnace, if you not undo what +you did in the gorge!' What care Louis Laplante for the fire? Pah! What +care Louis for wounds and cuts and threats? Pah! The fire not half so +hot as the hell inside! The cuts not half so sharp as the thinks that +prick and sting and lash from morn'g to night, night to morn'g! Pah! +Something inside say: 'Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, a dog! A cur! +Toad! Reptile!' Then I try stand up straight and give the lie, but it +say: 'Pah! Louis Laplante!' The Irish priest, he say, 'You repent!' What +care Louis for repents? Pah! But her eyes, they look and look and look +like two steel-gray stars! Sometime they caress and he want to pray! +Sometime they stab and he shiver; but they always shine like stars of +heaven and the priest, he say, 'You be shut out of heaven!' If the angel +all have stars, steel glittering stars, for eyes, heaven worth for +trying! The priest, he say, 'You go to abode of torture!' Torture! Pah! +More torture than 'nough here. Angels with stars in their heads, more +better. But the stars stab through--through--through----" + +"Bother the stars," said I to myself. "What of Miriam?" I asked, +interrupting his penitential confidences. + +His references to steel-gray eyes and stars and angels somehow put me in +no good mood, for a reason with which most men, but few women, will +sympathize. + +"Stupid ox!" He spat out the words with unspeakable impatience at my +obtuseness. "What of Miriam! Why the priest and the starry eyes and the +something inside, they all say, 'Go and get Miriam! Where's the white +woman? You lied! You let her go! Get her--get her--get her!' What of +Miriam? Pah!" + +After that angry outburst, the fountains of his sorrow seemed to dry up +and he became more the old, nonchalant Louis whom I knew. + +"Where is Miriam?" I asked. + +He ignored my question and went on reasoning with himself. + +"No more peace--no more quiet--no more sing and rollick till he get +Miriam!" + +Was the fellow really delirious? The boats were disappearing from view. +I could wait no longer. + +"Louis," said I, "if you have anything to say, say it quick! I can't +wait longer." + +"You know I lie to you in the gorge?" and he looked straight at me. + +"Certainly," I answered, "and I punished you pretty well for it twice." + +"You know what that lie mean"--and he hesitated--"mean to her--to +Miriam?" + +"Yes, Louis, I know." + +"And you forgive all? Call all even?" + +"As far as I'm concerned--yes--Louis! God Almighty alone can forgive the +suffering you have caused her." + +Then Louis Laplante leaped up and, catching my hand, looked long and +steadily into my eyes. + +"I go and find her," he muttered in a low, tense voice. "I follow their +trail--I keep her from suffer--I bring them all back--back here in the +bush on this river--I bring her back, or I kill Louis Laplante!" + +"Old comrade--you were always generous," I began; but the words choked +in my throat. + +"I know not where they are, but I find them! I know not how +soon--perhaps a year--but I bring them back! Go on with the boats," and +he dropped my hand. + +"I can't leave you here," I protested. + +"You come back this way," he said. "May be you find me." + +Poor Louis! His tongue tripped in its old evasive ways even at the +moment of his penitence, which goes to prove--I suppose--that we are all +the sum total of the thing called habit, that even spontaneous acts are +evidences of the summed result of past years. I did not expect to find +him when I came back, and I did not. He had vanished into the woods like +the wild creature that he was; but I was placing a strange, reasonless +reliance on his promise to find Miriam. + +When I caught up with the boats, the river was widening so that attack +would be impossible, and I did not ride far. Heading my horse about, I +spurred back to Fort Douglas. Passing Seven Oaks, I saw some of the +Hudson's Bay men, who had remained burying the dead--not removing them. +That was impossible after the wolves and three days of a blistering sun. + +I told Hamilton of neither Le Grand Diable's death, nor Louis Laplante's +promise. He had suffered disappointments enough and could ill stand any +sort of excitement. I found him walking about in the up-stairs hall, but +his own grief had deadened him to the fortunes of the warring companies. + +"Confound you, boy! Tell me the truth!" said Father Holland to me +afterwards in the courtyard. + +Le Grand Diable's death and Louis Laplante's promise seemed to make a +great impression on the priest. + +"I tell you the Lord delivered that evil one into the hands of the +punisher; and of the innocent, the Lord, Himself, is the defender. +Await His purpose! Await His time!" + +"Mighty long time," said I, with the bitter impatience of youth. + +"Quiet, youngster! I tell you she shall be delivered!" + + * * * * * + +At last the Nor-Westers' Fort William brigade with its sixty men and +numerous well-loaded canoes--whose cargoes had been the bone of +contention between Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers at Seven Oaks--arrived +at Fort Douglas. The newcomers were surprised to find us in possession +of the enemy's fort. The last news they had heard was of wanton and +successful aggression on the part of Lord Selkirk's Company; and I think +the extra crews sent north were quite as much for purposes of defence as +swift travel. But the gravity of affairs startled the men from Fort +William; for they, themselves, had astounding news. Lord Selkirk was on +his way north with munitions of war and an army of mercenaries formerly +of the De Meurons' regiment, numbering two hundred, some said three or +four hundred men; but this was an exaggeration. For what was he coming +to Red River in this warlike fashion? His purpose would probably show +itself. Also, if his intent were hostile, would not Seven Oaks massacre +afford him the very pretence he wanted for chastising Nor'-Westers out +of the country? The canoemen had met the ejected settlers bound up the +lake; and with them, whom did they see but the bellicose Captain Miles +McDonell, given free passage but a year before to Montreal and now on +"the prosperous return," which he, himself, had prophesied? + +The settlers' news of Seven Oaks sent the brave captain hurrying +southward to inform Lord Selkirk of the massacre. + +We had had a victory; but how long would it last? Truly the sky was +darkening and few of us felt hopeful about the bursting of the storm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +HIS LORDSHIP TO THE RESCUE + + +Even at the hour of our triumph, we Nor'-Westers knew that we had yet to +reckon with Lord Selkirk; and a speedy reckoning the indomitable +nobleman brought about. The massacre at Seven Oaks afforded our rivals +the very pretext they desired. Clothed with the authority of an officer +of the law, Lord Selkirk hurried northward; and a personage of his +importance could not venture into the wilderness without a strong +body-guard. At least, that was the excuse given for the retinue of two +or three hundred mercenaries decked out in all the regimentals of war, +whom Lord Selkirk brought with him to the north. A more rascally, daring +crew of ragamuffins could not have been found to defend Selkirk's side +of the gentlemen adventurers' feud. The men were the offscourings of +European armies engaged in the Napoleonic wars, and came directly from +the old De Meurons' regiment. The information which the Fort William +brigade brought of Selkirk's approach, also explained why that same +brigade hastened back to the defence of Nor'-West quarters on Lake +Superior; and their help was needed. News of events at Fort William +came to us in the Red River department tardily. First, there was a vague +rumor among the Indian _voyageurs_, who were ever gliding back and +forward on the labyrinthine waters of that north land like the birds of +passage overhead. Then came definite reports from freemen who had been +expelled from Fort William; and we could no longer doubt that Nor'-West +headquarters, with all the wealth of furs and provisions therein had +fallen into the hands of the Hudson's Bay forces. Afterwards came +warning from our _Bourgeois_, driven out of Fort William, for Fort +Douglas to be prepared. Lord Selkirk would only rest long enough at Fort +William to take possession of everything worth possessing, in the name +of the law--for was he not a justice of the peace?--and in the name of +the law would he move with like intent against Fort Douglas. To the +earl's credit, be it said, that his victories were bloodless; but they +were bloodless because the Nor'-Westers had no mind to unleash those +redskin bloodhounds a second time, preferring to suffer loss rather than +resort to violence. Nevertheless, we called in every available hand of +the Nor'-West staff to man Fort Douglas against attack. But summer +dragged into autumn and autumn into winter, and no Lord Selkirk. Then we +began to think ourselves secure; for the streams were frozen to a depth +of four feet like adamant, and unless Selkirk were a madman, he would +not attempt to bring his soldiers north by dog-train during the bitter +cold of mid-winter. But 'tis ever the policy of the astute madman to +discount the enemy's calculations; and Selkirk utterly discounted ours +by sending his hardy, dare-devil De Meurons across country under the +leadership of that prince of braggarts, Captain D'Orsonnens. Indeed, we +had only heard the rumor of their coming, when we awakened one morning +after an obscure, stormy night to find them encamped at St. James, +westward on the Assiniboine River. Day after day the menacing force +remained quiet and inoffensive, and we began to look upon these +notorious ruffians as harmless. For our part, vigilance was not lacking. +Sentinels were posted in the towers day and night. Nor'-West spies +shadowed every movement of the enemy; and it was seriously considered +whether we should not open communication with D'Orsonnens to ascertain +what he wanted; but, truth to say, we knew very well what he wanted, and +had had such a surfeit of blood, we were not anxious to re-open +hostilities. + +As for Hamilton, I can hardly call his life at Fort Douglas anything +more than a mere existence. A blow stuns, but one may recover. Repeated +failure gradually benumbs hope and willpower and effort, like some +ghoulish vampire sucking away a man's life-blood till he faint and die +from very inanition. The blow, poor Eric had suffered, when he lost +Miriam; the repeated failure, when we could not restore her; and I saw +this strong, athletic man slowly succumb as to some insidious, +paralyzing disease. The thought of effort seemed to burden him. He +would silently mope by the hour in some dark corner of Fort Douglas, or +wander aimlessly about the courtyard, muttering and talking to himself. +He was weary and fatigued without a stroke of work; and what little +sleep he snatched from wakeful vigils seemed to give him no rest. His +food, he thrust from him with the petulance of a child; and at every +suggestion I could make, he sneered with a quiet, gentle insistence that +was utterly discomfiting. To be sure, I had Father Holland's boisterous +good cheer as a counter-irritant; for the priest had remained at Fort +Douglas, and was ministering to the tribes of the Red and Assiniboine. +But it was on her, who had been my guiding star and hope and inspiration +from the first, that I mainly depended. As hard, merciless winter closed +in, I could not think of those shelterless colonists driven to the lake, +without shuddering at the distress I knew they must suffer; and I +despatched a runner, urging them to return to Red River, and giving +personal guarantee for their safety. Among those, who came back, were +the Sutherlands; and if my quest had entailed far greater hardship than +it did, that quiet interval with leisure to spend much time at the +Selkirk settlement would have repaid all suffering. After sundown, I was +free from fort duties. Tying on snow-shoes after the manner of the +natives, I would speed over the whitened drifts of billowy snow. The +surface, melted by the sun-glare of mid-day and encrusted with brittle, +glistening ice, never gave under my weight; and, oddly enough, my way +always led to the Sutherland homestead. After the coming of the De +Meurons, Frances used to expostulate against what she called my +foolhardiness in making these evening visits; but their presence made no +difference to me. + +"I don't believe those drones intend doing anything very dreadful, after +all, sir," I remarked one night to Frances Sutherland's father, +referring to the soldiers. + +Following his daughter's directions I had been coming very early, also +very often, with the object of accustoming the dour Scotchman to my +staying late; and he had softened enough towards me to take part in +occasional argument. + +"Don't believe they intend doing a thing, sir," I reiterated. + +Pushing his spectacles up on his forehead, he closed the book of +sermons, which he had been reading, and puckered his brows as if he were +compromising a hard point with conscience, which, indeed, I afterwards +knew, was exactly what he had been doing. + +"Aye," said he, "aye, aye, young man. But I'm thinking ye'll no do y'r +company ony harm by speerin' after the designs o' fightin' men who make +ladders." + +"Oh!" I cried, all alert for information. "Have they been making +ladders?" + +He pulled the spectacles down on his nose and deliberately reopened the +book of sermons. + +"Of that, I canna say," he replied. + +Only once again did he emerge from his readings. I had risen to go. +Frances usually accompanied me to the outer door, where I tied my +snow-shoes and took a farewell unobserved by the father; but when I +opened the door, such a blast of wind and snow drove in, I instantly +clapped it shut again and began tying the racquets on inside. + +"O Rufus!" exclaimed Frances, "you can't go back to Fort Douglas in that +storm!" + +Then we both noticed for the first time that a hurricane of wind was +rocking the little house to its foundations. + +"Did that spring up all of a sudden?" I cried. "I never saw a blizzard +do that before." + +"I'm afraid, Rufus, we were not noticing." + +"No, we were otherwise interested," said I, innocently enough; but she +laughed. + +"You can't go," she declared. + +"The wind will be on my back," I assured her. "I'll be all right," and I +went on lacing the snow-shoe thongs about my ankle. + +The book of sermons shut with a snap and the father turned towards us. + +"Let no one say any man left the Sutherland hearth on such a night! Put +by those senseless things," and he pointed to the snow-shoes. + +"But those ladders," I interposed. "Let no one say when the enemy came +Rufus Gillespie was absent from his citadel!" + +The wind roared round the house corners like a storm at sea; and the +father looked down at me with a strange, quizzical expression. + +"Ye're a headstrong young man, Rufus Gillespie," said the hard-set +mouth. "Ye maun knock a hole in the head, or the wall! Will ye go?" + +"Knock the hole in the wall," I laughed back. "Of course I go." + +"Then, tak' the dogs," said he, with a sparkle of kindliness in the cold +eyes. So it came that I set out in the Sutherlands' dog-sled with a +supply of robes to defy biting frost. + +And I needed them every one. Old settlers, describing winter storms, +have been accused of an imagination as expansive as the prairie; but I +affirm no man could exaggerate the fury of a blizzard on the unbroken +prairie. To one thing only may it be likened--a hurricane at sea. People +in lands boxed off at short compass by mountain ridges forget with what +violence a wind sweeping half a continent can disport itself. In the +boisterous roar of the gale, my shouts to the dogs were a feeble whisper +caught from my lips and lost in the shrieking wind. The fine snowy +particles were a powdered ice that drove through seams of clothing and +cut one's skin like a whip lash. Without the fringe of woods along the +river bank to guide me, it would have been madness to set out by day, +and worse than madness by night; but I kept the dogs close to the woods. +The trees broke the wind and prevented me losing all sense of direction +in the tornado whirl of open prairie. Not enough snow had fallen on the +hard-crusted drifts to impede the dogs. They scarcely sank and with the +wind on their backs dashed ahead till the woods were passed and we were +on the bare plains. No light could be seen through the storm, but I knew +I was within a short distance of the fort gate and wheeled the dogs +toward the river flats of the left. The creatures seemed to scent human +presence. They leaped forward and brought the sleigh against the wall +with a knock that rolled me out. + +"Good fellows;" I cried, springing up, uncertain where I was. + +The huskies crouched around my feet almost tripping me and I felt +through the snowy darkness against the stockades, stake by stake. + +Ah! There was a post! Here were close-fitted boards--here, +iron-lining--this must be the gate; but where was the lantern that hung +behind? A gust of wind might have extinguished the light; so I drubbed +loudly on the gate and shouted to the sentry, who should have been +inside. + +The wind lulled for a moment and up burst wild shouting from the +courtyard intermingled with the jeers of Frenchmen and cries of terror +from our people. Then I knew judgment had come for the deeds at Seven +Oaks. The gale broke again with a hissing of serpents, or red irons, and +the howling wind rose in shrill, angry bursts. Hugging the wall, while +the dogs whined behind, I ran towards the rear. Men jostled through the +snowy dark, and I was among the De Meurons. They were too busy scaling +the stockade on the ladders of which I had heard to notice an intruder. +Taking advantage of the storm, I mounted a ladder, vaulted over the +pickets and alighted in the courtyard. Here all was noise, flight, +pursuit and confusion. I made for the main hall, where valuable papers +were kept, and at the door, cannoned against one of our men, who +shrieked with fright and begged for mercy. + +"Coward!" said I, giving him a cuff. "What has happened?" + +A flare fell on us both, and he recognized me. + +"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!" + +I left him bawling out his fear and rushed inside. + +"What has happened?" I asked, tripping up a clerk who was flying through +the hallway. + +"The De Meurons!" he gasped. "The De Meurons!" + +"Stop!" I commanded, grasping the lap of his coat. +"What--_has_--happened?" + +"The De Meurons!" This was fairly screamed. + +I shook him till he sputtered something more. + +"They've captured the fort--our people didn't want to shed blood----" + +"And threw down their guns," I interjected, disgusted beyond word. + +"Threw down their guns," he repeated, as though that were a praiseworthy +action. "The s-s-sentinels--saw the court--full--full--full of +s-soldiers!" + +"Full of soldiers!" I thundered. "There are not a hundred in the gang." + +Thereupon I gave the caitiff a toss that sent him reeling against the +wall, and dashed up-stairs for the papers. All was darkness, and I nigh +broke my neck over a coffin-shaped rough box made for one of the +trappers, who had died in the fort. Why was the thing lying there, +anyway? The man should have been put into it and buried at once without +any drinking bout and dead wake, I reflected with some sharpness, as I +rubbed my bruised shins and shoved the box aside. Shouts rang up from +the courtyard. Heavy feet trampled in the hall below. Hamilton, as a +Hudson's Bay man, and Father Holland, I knew, were perfectly safe. But I +was far from safe. Why were they not there to help me, I wondered, with +the sort of rage we all vent on our friends when we are cornered and +they at ease. I fumbled across the apartment, found the right desk, +pried the drawer open with my knife, and was in the very act of seizing +the documents when I saw my own shadow on the floor. Lantern light burst +with a glare through the gloom of the doorway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +FATHER HOLLAND AND I IN THE TOILS + + +Behind the lantern was a face with terrified eyes and gaping mouth. It +was the priest, his genial countenance a very picture of fear. + +"What's wrong, Father?" I asked. "You needn't be alarmed; you're all +right." + +"But I am alarmed, for you're all wrong! Lord, boy, why didn't ye stay +with that peppery Scotchman? What did Frances mane by lettin' you out +to-night?" and he shaded the light of the lantern with his hand. + +"I wanted these things," I explained. + +"Ye want a broad thumpin', I'm thinkin', ye rattle-pate, to risk y'r +precious noodle here to-night," he whispered, coming forward and fussing +about me with all the maternal anxiety of a hen over her only chicken. + +"Listen," said I. "The whole mob's coming in." + +"Go!" he urged, pushing me from the desk over which I still fumbled. + +"Run for those dogs of mercenaries!" I protested. + +"Ye swash-buckler! Ye stiff-necked braggart!" bawled the priest. "Out +wid y'r nonsense, and what good are y' thinkin' ye'll do--? Stir your +stumps, y' stoopid spalpeen!" + +"Listen," I urged, undisturbed by the tongue-thrashing that stormed +about my ears. In the babel of voices I thought I had heard some one +call my name. + +"Run, Rufus! Run for y'r life, boy!" urged Father Holland, apparently +thinking the ruffians had come solely for me. + +"Run yourself, Father; run yourself, and see how you like it," and I +tucked the documents inside my coat. + +"Divil a bit I'll run," returned the priest. + +"Hark!" + +The De Meurons' leaders were shouting orders to their men. Above the +screams of people fleeing in terror through passage-ways, came a shrill +bugle-call. + +"Go--go--go--Rufus!" begged Father Holland in a paroxysm of fear. "Go!" +he pleaded, pushing me towards the door. + +"I won't!" and I jerked away from him. "There, now." I caught up a club +and loaded pistol. + +The Nor'-Westers had no time to defend themselves. Almost before my +stubborn defiance was uttered, the building was filled with a mob of +intoxicated De Meurons. Rushing everywhere with fixed bayonets and +cursing at the top of their voices, they threatened death to all +Nor'-Westers. There was a loud scuffling of men forcing their way +through the defended hall downstairs. + +"Go, Rufus, go! Think of Frances! Save yourself," urged the priest. + +It was too late. I could not escape by the hall. Noisy feet were already +trampling up the stairs and the clank of armed men filled every passage. + +"Jee-les-pee! Jee-les-pee! Seven Oaks!" bawled a French voice from the +half-way landing, and a multitude of men with torches dashed up the +stairs. I took a stand to defend myself; for I thought I might be +charged with implication in the massacre. + +"Jee-les-pee," roared the voices. "Where is Gillespie?" thundered a +leader. + +"That's you, Rufus, lad! Down with you!" muttered the priest. Before I +knew his purpose, he had tripped my feet from under me and knocked me +flat on the floor. Overturning the empty coffin-box, he clapped it above +my whole length, imprisoning me with the snap and celerity of a +mouse-trap. Then I heard the thud of two hundred avoirdupois seating +itself on top of the case. The man above my person had whisked out a +book of prayers, and with lantern on the desk was conning over +devotions, which, I am sure, must have been read with the manual upside +down; for bits of the _pater noster_, service of the mass, and vesper +psalms were uttered in a disconnected jumble, though I could not but +apply the words to my own case. + +"_Libera nos a malo--ora pro nobis, peccatoribus--ab hoste maligno +defende me--ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me--peccator videbit et +irascetur--desiderium peccatorum peribit_----" came from the priest with +torrent speed. + +"Jee-les-pee! Jee-les-pee!" roared a dozen throats above the half-way +landing. Then came the stamp of many feet to the door. + +"Wait, men!" Hamilton's voice commanded. "I'll see if he's here!" + +"_Simulacra gentium argentum et aurum, opera manuum hominum_," like +hailstones rattled the Latin words down on my prison. + +"One moment, men," came Eric's voice; but he could not hold them back. +In burst the door with a rush, and immediately the room was crowded with +vociferating French soldiers. + +"_Manus habent, et non palpabunt; pedes_----" + +"Is Gillespie here?" interrupted Hamilton, without the slightest +recognition of the priest in his tones. + +"_Pedes habent et non ambulabunt; non clamabunt in gutture suo_," +muttered the priest, finishing his verse; then to the men with a +stiffness which I did not think Father Holland could ever assume-- + +"How often must I be disturbed by men seeking that young scoundrel? Look +at this place, fairly topsy-turvy with their hunt! Faith! The room is +before you. Look and see!" and with a great indifference he went on with +his devotions. + +"_Similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea_----" + +"Some one here before us?" interrupted an Englishman with some +suspicion. + +"Two parties here before ye," answered the priest, icily, as if these +repeated questions rumpled ecclesiastical dignity, and he gabbled on +with the psalm, "_similes illis fiant qui faciunt ea, et omnes_----" + +"If we lifted that box," interrupted the persistent Englishman, "what +might there be?" + +"If ye lift that box," answered Father Holland with massive +solemnity--and I confess every hair on my body bristled as he rose--"If +ye lift that box there might be a powr--dead--body," which was very +true; for I still held the cocked pistol in hand and would have shot the +first man daring to molest me. + +But the priest's indifference was not so great as it appeared. I could +tell from a tremor in his voice that he was greatly disturbed; and he +certainly lost his place altogether in the vesper psalm. + +"_Requiescat in pace_," were his next words, uttered in funereal +gravity. Singularly enough, they seemed to fit the situation. + +Father Holland's prompt offer to have the rough box examined satisfied +the searchers, and there were no further demands. + +"Oh," said the Englishman, taken aback, "I beg your pardon, sir! No +offence meant." + +"No offence," replied the priest, reseating himself. "_Benedicite_----" + +"Sittin' on the coffin!" blurted out the voice of an English youth as +the weight of the priest again came down heavily on my prison; and again +I breathed easily. + +"Come on, men!" shouted Hamilton, apprehensive of more curiosity. "We're +wasting time! He may be escaping by the basement window!" + +"_Jam hiems transiit, imber abiit et recessit; surge, amica mea, et +veni!_" droned the priest, and the whole company clattered downstairs. + +"Quick!--Out with you!" commanded Father Holland. "Speed to y'r heels, +and blessing on the last o' ye!" + +I dashed down the stairs and was bolting through the doorway when some +one shouted, "There he is!" + +"Run, Gillespie!" cried some one else--one of our men, I suppose--and I +had plunged into the storm and raced for the ladders at the rear +stockades with a pack of pursuers at my heels. The snow drifts were in +my favor, for with my moccasins, I leaped lightly forward, while the +booted soldiers floundered deep. I eluded my pursuers and was half-way +up a ladder when a soldier's head suddenly appeared above the wall on +the other side. Then a bayonet prodded me in the chest and I fell +heavily backwards to the ground. + + * * * * * + +I was captured. + +That is all there is to say. No man dilates with pleasure over that part +of his life when he was vanquished. It is not pleasant to have weapons +of defence wrested from one's hands, to feel soldiers standing upon +one's wrists and rifling pockets. + +It is hard to feel every inch the man on the horizontal. + +In truth, when the soldiers picked me up without ceremony, or +gentleness, and bundling me up the stairs of the main hall, flung me +into a miserable pen, with windows iron-barred to mid-sash, I was but a +sorry hero. My tormentors did not shackle me; I was spared that +humiliation. + +"There!" exclaimed a Hudson's Bay man, throwing lantern-light across the +dismal low roof as I fell sprawling into the room. "That'll cool the +young hot-head," and all the French soldiers laughed at my discomfiture. + +They chained and locked the door on the outside. I heard the soldiers' +steps reverberating through the empty passages, and was alone in a sort +of prison-room, used during the regime of the petty tyrant McDonell. It +was cold enough to cool any hot-head, and mine was very hot indeed. I +knew the apartment well. Nor'-Westers had used it as a fur storeroom. +The wind came through the crevices of the board walls and piled +miniature drifts on the floor-cracks, all the while rattling loose +timbers like a saw-mill. The roof was but a few feet high, and I crept +to the window, finding all the small panes coated with two inches of +hoar-frost. Whether the iron bars outside ran across, or up and down, I +could not remember; but the fact would make a difference to a man +trying to escape. Much as I disliked to break the glass letting in more +cold, there was only one way of finding out about those bars. I raised +my foot for an outward kick, but remembering I wore only the moccasins +with which I had been snowshoeing, I struck my fist through instead, and +shattered the whole upper half of the window. I broke away cross-pieces +that might obstruct outward passage, and leaning down put my hand on the +sharp points of upright spikes. So intense was the frost, the skin of my +finger tips stuck to the iron, and I drew my hand in, with the sting of +a fresh burn. + +It was unfortunate about those bars. I could not possibly get past them +down to the ground without making a ladder from my great-coat. I groped +round the room hoping that some of the canvas in which we tied the +peltries, might be lying about. There was nothing of the sort, or I +missed it in the dark. Quickly tearing my coat into strips, I knotted +triple plies together and fastened the upper end to the crosspiece of +the lower window. Feet first, I poked myself out, caught the strands +with both hands, and like a flash struck ground below with badly skinned +palms. That reminded me I had left my mits in the prison room. + +The storm had driven the soldiers inside. I did not encounter a soul in +the courtyard, and had no difficulty in letting myself out by the main +gate. + +I whistled for the dogs. They came huddling from the ladders where I +had left them, the sleigh still trailing at their heels. One poor animal +was so benumbed I cut him from the traces and left him to die. Gathering +up the robes, I shook them free of snow, replaced them in the sleigh and +led the string of dogs down to the river. It would be bitterly cold +facing that sweep of unbroken wind in mid-river; but the trail over ice +would permit greater speed, and with the high banks on each side the +dogs could not go astray. + +To an overruling Providence, and to the instincts of the dogs, I owe my +life. The creatures had not gone ten sleigh-lengths when I felt the loss +of my coat, and giving one final shout to them, I lay back on the sleigh +and covered myself, head and all, under the robes, trusting the huskies +to find their way home. + +I do not like to recall that return to the Sutherlands. The man, who is +frozen to death, knows nothing of the cruelties of northern cold. The +icy hand, that takes his life, does not torture, but deadens the victim +into an everlasting, easy, painless sleep. This I know, for I felt the +deadly frost-slumber, and fought against it. Aching hands and feet +stopped paining and became utterly feelingless; and the deadening thing +began creeping inch by inch up the stiffening limbs the life centres, +till a great drowsiness began to overpower body and mind. Realizing what +this meant, I sprang from the sleigh and stopped the dogs. I tried to +grip the empty traces of the dead one, but my hands were too feeble; so +I twisted the rope round my arm, gave the word, and raced off abreast +the dog train. The creatures went faster with lightened sleigh, but +every step I took was a knife-thrust through half-frozen awakening +limbs. Not the man who is frozen to death, but the man who is +half-frozen and thawed back to life, knows the cruelties of northern +cold. + +In a stupefied way, I was aware the dogs had taken a sudden turn to the +left and were scrambling up the bank. Here my strength failed or I +tripped; for I only remember being dragged through the snow, rolling +over and over, to a doorway, where the huskies stopped and set up a +great whining. Somehow, I floundered to my feet. With a blaze of light +that blinded me, the door flew open and I fell across the threshold +unconscious. + + * * * * * + +Need I say what door opened, what hands drew me in and chafed life into +the benumbed being? + +"What was the matter, Rufus Gillespie?" asked a bluff voice the next +morning. I had awakened from what seemed a long, troubled sleep and +vaguely wondered where I was. + +"What happened to ye, Rufus Gillespie?" and the man's hand took hold of +my wrist to feel my pulse. + +"Don't, father! you'll hurt him!" said a voice that was music to my +ears, and a woman's hand, whose touch was healing, began bathing my +blistered palms. + +At once I knew where I was and forgot pain. In few and confused words I +tried to relate what had happened. + +"The country's yours, Mr. Sutherland," said I, too weak, thick-tongued +and deliriously happy for speech. + +"Much to be thankful for," was the Scotchman's comment. "Seven Oaks is +avenged. It would ill 'a' become a Sutherland to give his daughter's +hand to a conqueror, but I would na' say I'd refuse a wife to a man +beaten as you were, Rufus Gillespie," and he strode off to attend to +outdoor work. + +And what next took place, I refrain from relating; for lovers' eloquence +is only eloquent to lovers. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +UNDER ONE ROOF + + +Nature is not unlike a bank. When drafts exceed deposits comes a +protest, and not infrequently, after the protest, bankruptcy. From the +buffalo hunt to the recapture of Fort Douglas by the Hudson's Bay +soldiers, drafts on that essential part of a human being called stamina +had been very heavy with me. Now came the casting-up of accounts, and my +bill was minus reserve strength, with a balance of debt on the wrong +side. + +The morning after the escape from Fort Douglas, when Mr. Sutherland +strode off, leaving his daughter alone with me, I remember very well +that Frances abruptly began putting my pillow to rights. Instead of +keeping wide awake, as I should by all the codes of romance and common +sense, I--poor fool--at once swooned, with a vague, glimmering +consciousness that I was dying and this, perhaps, was the first blissful +glimpse into paradise. When I came to my senses, Mr. Sutherland was +again standing by the bedside with a half-shamed look of compassion +under his shaggy brows. + +"How far," I began, with a curious inability to use my wits and tongue, +"how far--I mean how long have I been asleep, sir?" + +"Hoots, mon! Dinna claver in that feckless fashion! It's months, lad, +sin' ye opened y'r mouth wi' onything but daft gab." + +"Months!" I gasped out. "Have I been here for months?" + +"Aye, months. The plain was snaw-white when ye began y'r bit nappie. +Noo, d'ye no hear the clack o' the geese through yon open window?" + +I tried to turn to that side of the little room, where a great wave of +fresh, clear air blew from the prairie. For some reason my head refused +to revolve. Stooping, the elder man gently raised the sheet and rolled +me over so that I faced the sweet freshness of an open, sunny view. + +"Did I rive ye sore, lad?" asked the voice with a gruffness in strange +contradiction to the gentleness of the touch. + +Now I hold that however rasping a man's words may be, if he handle the +sick with gentleness, there is much goodness under the rough surface. +Thoughtlessness and stupidity, I know, are patent excuses for half the +unkindness and sorrow of life. But thoughtlessness and stupidity are +also responsible for most of life's brutality and crime. Not +spiteful intentions alone, but the dulled, brutalized, deadened +sensibilities--that go under the names of thoughtlessness and +stupidity--make a man treat something weaker than himself with +roughness, or in an excessive degree, qualify for murder. When the +harsh voice asked, "Do I rive ye sore?" I began to understand how +surface roughness is as often caused by life's asperities as by the +inner dullness akin to the brute. + +Indeed, if my thoughts had not been so intent on the daughter, I could +have found Mr. Sutherland's character a wonderfully interesting study. +The infinite capacity of a canny Scot for keeping his mouth shut I never +realized till I knew Mr. Sutherland. For instance, now that +consciousness had returned, I noticed that the father himself, and not +the daughter, did all the waiting on me even to the carrying of my +meals. + +"How is your daughter, Mr. Sutherland?" I asked, surely a natural enough +question to merit a civil reply. + +"Aye--is it Frances y'r speerin' after?" he answered, meeting my +question with a question; and he deigned not another word. But I lay in +wait for him at the next meal. + +"I haven't seen your daughter yet, Mr. Sutherland," I stuttered out with +a deal of blushing. "I haven't even heard her about the house." + +"No?" he asked with a show of surprise. "Have ye no seen Frances?" And +that was all the satisfaction I got. + +Between the dinner hour and supper time I conjured up various plots to +hoodwink paternal caution. + +"Mr. Sutherland," I began, "I have a message for your daughter." + +"Aye," said he. + +"I wish her to hear it personally." + +"Aye." + +"When may I see her?" + +"Ye maun bide patient, lad!" + +"But the message is urgent." That was true; for had not forty-eight +hours passed since I had regained consciousness and I had heard neither +her footsteps nor her voice? + +"Aye," said the imperturbable father. + +"Very urgent, Mr. Sutherland," I added. + +"Aye." + +"When may I see her, Sir?" + +"All in guid time. Ye maun bide quiet, lad." + +"The message cannot wait," I declared. "It must be given at once." + +"Then deleever it word for word to me, young mon, and I'll trudge off to +Frances." + +"Your daughter is not at home?" + +"What words wu'l ye have me bear to her, lad?" he asked. + +That was too much for a youth in a peevish state of convalescence. What +lover could send his heart's eloquence by word of mouth with a peppery, +prosaic father? + +"Tell Mistress Sutherland I must see her at once," I quickly responded +with a flash of temper that was ever wont to flare up when put to the +test. + +"Aye," he answered, with an amused look in the cold, steel eyes. "I'll +deleever y'r message when--when"--and he hesitated in a way suggestive +of eternity--"I'll deleever y'r message when I see her." + +At that I turned my face to the wall in the bitterness of spirit which +only the invalid, with all the strength of a man in his whims and the +weakness of an infant in his body, knows. I spent a feverish, restless +night, with the hard-faced Scotchman watching from his armchair at my +bedside. Once, when I suddenly awakened from sleep, or delirium, his +eyes were fastened on my face with a gleam of grave kindliness. + +"Mr. Sutherland," I cried, with all the impatience of a child, "please +tell me, where is your daughter?" + +"I sent her to a neighbor, sin' ye came to y'r senses, lad," said he. +"Ye hae kept her about ye night and day sin' ye gaed daft, and losh, +mon, ye hae gabbled wild talk enough to turn the head o' ony lassie +clean daft. An' ye claver sic' nonsense when ye're daft, what would ye +say when ye're sane? Hoots, mon, ye maun learn to haud y'r tongue----" + +"Mr. Sutherland," I interrupted in a great heat, quite forgetful of his +hospitality, "I'm sorry to be the means of driving your daughter from +her home. I beg you to send me back to Fort Douglas----" + +"Haud quiet," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "An' wa'd ye have me +expose the head of a mitherless bairn to a' the clack o' the auld geese +in the settlement? Temper y'r ardor wi' discretion, lad! 'Twas but the +day before yesterday she left and she was sair done wi' nursing you and +losing of sleep! Till ye're fair y'rsel' again and up, and she's weel +and rosy wi' full sleep, bide patient!" + +That speech sent my face to the wall again; but this time not in anger. +And that dogged fashion Mr. Sutherland had of taking his own way did me +many a good turn. Often have I heard those bragging captains of the +Hudson's Bay mercenaries swagger into the little cottage sitting-room, +while I lay in bed on the other side of the thin board partition, and +relate to Mr. Sutherland all the incidents of their day's search for me. + +"So many pounds sterling for the man who captures the rascal," declares +D'Orsonnens. + +"Aye, 'tis a goodly price for one poor rattle-pate," says Mr. +Sutherland. + +Whereupon, D'Orsonnens swears the price is more than my poor empty head +is worth, and proceeds to describe me in terms which Mr. Sutherland will +only tolerate when thundered from an orthodox pulpit. + +"I'd have ye understand, Sir," he would declare with great dignity, +"I'll have no papistical profanity under my roof." + +Forthwith, he would show D'Orsonnens the door, lecturing the astonished +soldier on the errors of Romanism; for whatever Mr. Sutherland deemed +evil, from oaths to theological errors, he attributed directly to the +pope. + +"The ne'er-do-weel can hawk naething frae me," said he when relating the +incident. + +Once I heard a Fort Douglas man observe that, as the search had proved +futile, I must have fallen into one of the air-holes of the ice. + +"Nae doot the headstrong young mon is' gettin' what he deserves. I +warrant he's warm in his present abode," answered Mr. Sutherland. + +On another occasion D'Orsonnens asked who the man was that Mr. +Sutherland's daughter had been nursing all winter. + +"A puir body driven from Fort Douglas by those bloodthirsty villains," +answered Mr. Sutherland, giving his visitor a strong toddy; and he at +once improved the occasion by taking down a volume and reading the +French officer a series of selections against Romanism. After that +D'Orsonnens came no more. + +"I hope I did not tell Nor'-West secrets in a Hudson's Bay house when I +was delirious, Mr. Sutherland," I remarked. + +The Scotchman had lugged me from bed in a gentle, lumbering, well-meant +fashion, and I was sitting up for the first time. + +"Ye're no the mon wi' a leak t' y'r mouth. I dinna say, though, ye're +aye as discreet wi' the thoughts o' y'r heart as y'r head! Ye need na +fash y'r noodle wi' remorse aboot company secrets. I canna say ye'll no +fret aboot some other things ye hae told. A' the winter lang, 'twas +Frances and stars and spooks and speerits and bogies and statues and +graven images--wha' are forbidden by the Holy Scriptures--till the +lassie thought ye gane clean daft! 'Twas a bonnie e'e, like silver +stars; or a bit blush, like the pippin; or laughter, like a wimplin' +brook; or lips, like posies; or hair, like links o' gold; and mair o' +the like till the lassie came rinnin' oot o' y'r room, fair red wi' +shame! Losh, mon, ye maun keep a still tongue in y'r head and not blab +oot y'r thoughts o' a wife till she believes na mon can hae peace wi'out +her. I wad na hae ye abate one jot o' all ye think, for her price is far +above rubies; but hae a care wi' y'r grand talk! After ye gang to the +kirk, lad, na mon can keep that up." + +His warning I laughed to the winds, as youth the world over has ever +laughed sage counsels of chilling age. + +I can compare my recovery only to the swift transition of seasons in +those northern latitudes. Without any lingering spring, the cold +grayness of long, tense winter gives place to a radiant sun-burst of +warm, yellow light. The uplands have long since been blown bare of snow +by the March winds, and through the tangle of matted turf shoot myriad +purple cups of the prairie anemone, while the russet grass takes on +emerald tints. One day the last blizzard may be sweeping a white trail +of stormy majesty across the prairie; the next a fragrance of flowers +rises from the steaming earth and the snow-filled ravines have become +miniature lakes reflecting the dazzle of a sunny sky and fleece clouds. + +My convalescence was similar to the coming of summer. Without any weary +fluctuation from well to ill, and ill to well--which sickens the heart +with a deferred hope--all my old-time strength came back with the glow +of that year's June sun. + +"There's nae accountin' for some wilful folk, lad," was Mr. Sutherland's +remark, one evening after I was able to leave my room. "Ye hae risen +frae y'r bed like the crocus frae snaw. An' Frances were hangin' aboot +y'r pillow, lad, I'm nae sure y'd be up sae dapper and smart." + +"I thought my nurse was to return when I was able to be up," I answered, +strolling to the cottage door. + +"Come back frae the door, lad. Dinna show y'rsel' tae the enemy. There +be more speerin' for ye than hae love for y'r health. Have y'r wits +aboot ye! Dinna be frettin' y'rsel' for Frances! The lassies aye rin +fast enow tae the mon wi' sense to hold his ain!" + +With that advice he motioned me to the only armchair in the room, and +sitting down on the outer step to keep watch, began reading some +theological disputation aloud. + +"Odds, lad, ye should see the papist so'diers rin when I hae Calvin by +me," he remarked. + +"It's a pity you can't lay the theological thunderers on the doorstep to +drive stray De Meurons off. Then you could come in and take this chair +yourself," I answered, sitting back where no visitor could see me. + +But Mr. Sutherland did not hear. He was deep in polemics, rolling out +stout threats, that used Scriptural texts as a cudgel, with a zest that +testified enjoyment. "The wicked bend their bow," began the rasping +voice; but when he cleared his throat, preparatory to the main argument, +my thoughts went wandering far from the reader on the steps. As one +whose dream is jarred by outward sound, I heard his tones quaver. + +"Aye, Frances, 'tis you," he said, and away he went, pounding at the +sophistries of some straw enemy. + +A shadow was on the threshold, and before I had recalled my listless +fancy, in tripped Frances Sutherland, herself, feigning not to see me. +The gray eyes were veiled in the misty fashion of those fluffy things +women wear, which let through all beauty, but bar out intrusion. I do +not mean she wore a veil: veils and frills were not seen among the +colonists in those days. But the heavy lashes hung low in the slumbrous, +dreamy way that sees all and reveals nothing. Instinctively I started +up, with wild thoughts thronging to my lips. At the same moment Mr. +Sutherland did the most chivalrous thing I have seen in homespun or +broadcloth. + +"Hoots wi' y'r giddy claver," said he, before I had spoken a word; and +walking off, he sat down at some distance. + +Thereupon his daughter laughed merrily with a whole quiver of dangerous +archery about her lips. + +"That is the nearest to an untruth I have ever heard him tell," she +said, which mightily relieved my embarrassment. + +"Why did he say that?" I asked, with my usual stupidity. + +"I am sure I cannot say," and looking straight at me, she let go the +barbed shaft, that lies hidden in fair eyes for unwary mortals. + +"Sit down," she commanded, sinking into the chair I had vacated. "Sit +down, Rufus, please!" This with an after-shot of alarm from the heavy +lashes; for if a woman's eyes may speak, so may a man's, and their +language is sometimes bolder. + +"Thanks," and I sat down on the arm of that same chair. + +For once in my life I had sense to keep my tongue still; for, if I had +spoken, I must have let bolt some impetuous thing better left unsaid. + +"Rufus," she began, in the low, thrilling tones that had enthralled me +from the first, "do you know I was your sole nurse all the time you were +delirious?" + +"No wonder I was delirious! Dolt, that I was, to have been delirious!" +thought I to myself; but I choked down the foolish rejoinder and +endeavored to look as wise as if my head had been ballasted with the +weight of a patriarch's wisdom instead of ballooning about like a kite +run wild. + +"I think I know all your secrets." + +"Oh!" A man usually has some secrets he would rather not share; and +though I had not swung the full tether of wild west freedom--thanks +solely to her, not to me--I trembled at recollection of the passes that +come to every man's life when he has been near enough the precipice to +know the sensation of falling without going over. + +"You talked incessantly of Miriam and Mr. Hamilton and Father Holland." + +"And what did I say about Frances?" + +"You said things about Frances that made her tremble." + +"Tremble? What a brute, and you waiting on me day and----" + +"Hush," she broke in. "Tremble because I am just a woman and not an +angel, just a woman and not a star. We women are mortals just as you men +are. Sometimes we're fools as well as mortals, just as you men are; but +I don't think we're knaves quite so often, because we're denied the +opportunity and hedged about and not tempted." + +As she gently stripped away the pretty hypocrisies with which lovers +delude themselves and lay up store for disappointment, I began to +discount that old belief about truth and knowledge rendering a woman +mannish and arrogant and assertive. + +"You men marry women, expecting them to be angels, and very often the +angel's highest ambition is to be considered a doll. Then your hope goes +out and your faith----" + +"But, Frances," I cried, "if any sensible man had his choice of an +angel and a fair, good woman----" + +"Be sure to say fair, or he'd grumble because he hadn't a doll," she +laughed. + +"No levity! If he had choice of angels and stars and a good woman, he'd +choose the woman. The star is mighty far away and cold and steely. The +angel's a deal too perfect to know sympathy with faults and blunders. I +tell you, Little Statue, life is only moil and toil, unless love +transmutes the base metal of hard duty into the pure gold of unalloyed +delight." + +"That's why I tremble. I must do more than angel or star! Oh, Rufus, if +I can only live up to what you think I am--and you can live up to what I +think you are, life will be worth living." + +"That's love's leverage," said I. + +Then there was silence; for the sun had set and the father was no longer +reading. Shadows deepened into twilight, and twilight into gloaming. And +it was the hour when the brooding spirit of the vast prairie solitudes +fills the stillness of night with voiceless eloquence. Why should I +attempt to transcribe the silent music of the prairie at twilight, which +every plain-dweller knows and none but a plain-dweller may understand? +What wonder that the race native to this boundless land hears the +rustling of spirits in the night wind, the sigh of those who have lost +their way to the happy hunting-ground, and the wail of little ones whose +feet are bruised on the shadow trail? What wonder the gauzy northern +lights are bands of marshaling warriors and the stars torches lighting +those who ride the plains of heaven? Indeed, I defy a white man with all +the discipline of science and reason to restrain the wanderings of +mystic fancy during the hours of sunset on the prairie. + +There is, I affirm, no such thing as time for lovers. If they have +watches and clocks, the wretched things run too fast; and if the sun +himself stood still in sympathy, time would not be long. So I confess I +have no record of time that night Frances Sutherland returned to her +home and Mr. Sutherland kept guard at the door. When he had passed the +threshold impatiently twice, I recollected with regret that it was +impossible to read theology in the dark. The third time he thrust his +head in. + +"Mind y'rselves," he called. "I hear men coming frae the river, a pretty +hour, indeed, for visitin'. Frances, go ben and see yon back window's +open!" + +"The soldiers from the fort," cried Frances with a little gasp. + +"Don't move," said I. "They can't see me here. It's dark. I want to hear +what they say and the window is open. Indeed, Frances, I'm an expert at +window-jumping," and I had begun to tell her of my scrape with Louis' +drunken comrades in Fort Douglas, when I heard Mr. Sutherland's grating +tones according the newcomers a curious welcome. "Ye swearin', +blasphemin', rampag'us, carousin' infidel, ye'll no darken my doorway +this night. Y'r French gab may be foul wi' oaths for all I ken; but +ye'll no come into my hoose! An' you, Sir, a blind leader o' the blind, +a disciple o' Beelzebub, wi' y'r Babylonish idolatries, wi' y'r incense +that fair stinks in the nostrils o' decent folk, wi' y'r images and +mummery and crossin' o' y'rsel', wi' y'r pagan, popish practises, wi' +y'r skirts and petticoats, I'll no hae ye on my premises, no, not an' ye +leave y'r religion outside! An' you, Meester Hamilton, a respectable +Protestant, I'm fair surprised to see ye in sic' company." + +"'Tis Eric and Father Holland and Laplante," I shouted, springing to my +feet and rushing to the doorway, but Frances put herself before me. + +"Keep back," she whispered. "The priest and Mr. Hamilton have been here +before; but father would not let them in. The other man may be a De +Meuron. Be careful, Rufus! There's a price on your head." + +"Ho--ho--my _Ursus Major_, prime guardian of _Ursa Major_, first of the +heavenly constellations in the north," insolently laughed Louis Laplante +through the dusk. + +"Let me pass, Frances," I begged, thrusting her gently aside, but her +trembling hands still clung to my arm. + +"Impertinent rascal," rasped the irate Scotchman. "I'd have ye +understand my name's Sutherland, not _Major Ursus_. I'll no bide wi' +y'r impudence! Leave this place----" + +"The Bruin growls," interrupted Louis with a laugh, and I heard Mr. +Sutherland's gasp of amazed rage at the lengths of the Frenchman's +insolence. + +"I must, dearest," I whispered, disengaging the slender hands from my +arm; and I flung out into the dusk. + +In the gloom, my approach was unnoticed; and when I came upon the group, +Father Holland had laid his hand upon Mr. Sutherland's shoulder and in a +low, tense voice was uttering words, which--thank an all-bountiful +Providence!--have no sectarian limits. + +"And the King shall answer and say unto them, 'I was a stranger and ye +took me not in: naked and ye clothed me not: sick and in prison and ye +visited me not. Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to one +of the least of these, ye did it not to me'----" + +"Dinna con Holy Writ to me, Sir," interrupted Mr. Sutherland, throwing +the priest's hand off and jerking back. + +Then Louis Laplante saw me. There was a long, low whistle. + +"Ye daft gommerel," gasped Mr. Sutherland, facing me with unutterable +disgust. "Ye daft gommerel! A' my care and fret, waste--gane clean to +waste. I wash m' hands o' ye----" + +But Louis had knocked the Scotchman aside and tumbled into my arms, half +laughing, half crying and altogether as hysterical as was his wont. + +"I pay you back at las', my comrade! Ha--old solemncholy! You thought +the bird of passage, he come not back at all! But the birds return! So +does Louis! He decoy-duck the whole covey! You generous? No more not +generous than the son of a seigneur, mine enemy! You give life? He give +life! You give liberty! So does Louis! You help one able help himself? +Louis help one not able help himself! Ha! _Tres bien! Noblesse oblige! +La Gloire!_ She--near! She here! She where I, Louis Laplante, son of a +seigneur, snare that she-devil, trap that fox, trick the tigress! +Ha--ol' tombstone! _Noblesse oblige_--I say! She near--she here," and he +flung up both arms like a frenzied maniac. + +"Man! Are you mad?" I demanded, uncertain whether he were apostrophizing +Diable's squaw, or abstract glory. "Speak out!" I shouted, shaking him +by the shoulder. + +"These--are they all friends?" asked Louis, suddenly cooled and looking +suspiciously at the group. + +"All," said I, still holding him by the shoulder. + +"That--that thing--that bear--that bruin--he a friend?" and Louis +pointed to Mr. Sutherland. + +"Friend to the core," said I, laying both hands upon his shoulders. +"Core with prickles outside," gibed Louis. + +"Louis," I commanded, utterly out of patience, "what of Miriam? Speak +plain, man! Have you brought the tribe as you promised?" + +It must have been mention of Miriam's name, for the white, drawn face of +Eric Hamilton bent over my shoulder and fiery, glowing eyes burned into +the very soul of the Frenchman. Louis staggered back as if red irons had +been thrust in his face. + +"_Sacredie_," said he, backing against Father Holland, "I am no +murderer." + +It was then I observed that Frances Sutherland had followed me. Her +slender white fingers were about the bronzed hand of the French +adventurer. + +"Monsieur Laplante will tell us what he knows," she said softly, and she +waited for his answer. + +"The daughter of _L'Aigle_," he replied slowly and collectedly, all the +while feasting upon that fair face, "comes down the Red with her tribe +and captives, many captive women. They pass here to-night. They camp +south the rapids, this side of the rapids. Last night I leave them. I +run forward, I find Le Petit Garcon--how you call him?--Leetle Fellow? +He take me to the priest. He bring canoe here. He wait now for carry us +down. We must go to the rapids--to the camp! There my contract! My +bargain, it is finished," and he shrugged his shoulders, for Frances had +removed her hand from his. + +Whether Louis Laplante's excitable nature were momentarily unbalanced by +the success of his feat, I leave to psychologists. Whether some +premonition of his impending fate had wrought upon him strangely, let +psychical speculators decide. Or whether Louis, the sly rogue, worked up +the whole situation for the purpose of drawing Frances Sutherland into +the scene--which is what I myself suspect--I refer to private judgment, +and merely set down the incidents as they occurred. That was how Louis +Laplante told us of bringing Diable's squaw and her captives back to Red +River. And that was how Father Holland and Eric and Louis and Mr. +Sutherland and myself came to be embarking with a camping outfit for a +canoe-trip down the river. + +"Have the Indians passed, or are they to come?" I asked Louis as Mr. +Sutherland and Eric settled themselves in a swift, light canoe, leaving +the rest of us to take our places in a larger craft, where Little +Fellow, gurgling pleased recognition of me, acted as steersman. + +"They come later. The fast canoe go forward and camp. We watch behind," +ordered Louis, winking at me significantly. + +I saw Frances step to her father's canoe. + +"You're no coming, Frances," he protested, querulously. + +"Don't say that, father. I never disobeyed you in my life, and I _am_ +coming! Don't tell me not to! Push out, Mr. Hamilton," and she picked up +a paddle and I saw the canoe dart swiftly forward into mid-current, +where the darkness enveloped it; and we followed fast in its wake. + +"Louis," said I, trying to fathom the meaning of his wink, "are those +Indians to come yet?" + +"No. Simpleton--you think Louis a fool?" he asked. + +"Why did you lie to them?" + +"Get them out of the way." + +"Why?" + +"Because, stupid, some ones they be killed to-night! The Englishman, he +have a wife--he not be killed! Mademoiselle--she love a poor fool--or +break her pretty heart! The father--he needed to stick-pin you both--so +you never want for to fight each other," and Louis laughed low like the +purr of water on his paddle-blade. + +"Faith, lad," cried the priest, who had been unnaturally silent, +because, I suppose, he was among aliens to his faith, "faith, lad, 'tis +a good heart ye have, if ye'd but cut loose from the binding past. May +this night put an end to your devil pranks!" + + * * * * * + +And that night did! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE LAST OF LOUIS' ADVENTURES + + +I think, perhaps, the reason good enterprises fail so often where evil +ventures succeed, is that the good man blunders forward, trusting to the +merits of his cause, where the evil manipulator proceeds warily as a cat +over broken glass. And so, altogether apart from his services as guide, +I felt Louis Laplante's presence on the river a distinct advantage. + +"The Lord is with us, lad. She shall be delivered! The Lord is with us; +but don't you bungle His plans!" ejaculated Father Holland for the +twentieth time; and each time the French trapper looked waggishly over +his shoulder at me and winked. + +"Bungle! Pah!" Louis clapped his paddle athwart the canoe and laughed a +low, sly, defiant laugh. "Bungle! Pah! Catch Louis bungle his cards, ha, +ha! Trumps! He play trumps--he hold his hand low--careless--nodings in +it--he keep quiet--nodings worth play in his hand--but his sleeve--ha, +ha!" and Louis laughed softly and winked at the full moon. + +"The daughter of L'Aigle, she cuff Louis, she slap his cheek, she call +him lump--lout--slouch! Ha, ha!--Louis no fool--he pare the claws of +L'Aigle to-night!" + +At that, Little Fellow's stolid face took on a vindictive gleam, and he +snapped out something in Indian tongue which set Louis to laughing. +Suddenly the Indian's paddle was suspended in mid-air, and Little Fellow +bent over the prow, gazing at the moon-tracked water. + +"_Sacredie!_" cried Louis, catching up water that trickled through his +fingers, "'tis dried rabbit thong! They are ahead of us! They have +passed while that Scotch mule was balk! We must catch the Englishman," +and he began hitting out with his paddle at a great rate. + +We had overtaken Mr. Sutherland's canoe within half an hour of Louis' +discovery, and Eric wheeled about with a querulous demand. + +"What's wrong? Are they ahead? I thought you said they were behind," and +he turned suspiciously to Laplante. + +"You thought wrong," said Louis, ever facile with subterfuges. "You +thought wrong, Mister High-and-Mighty! Camp here and watch; they come +before morning!" + +"No lies to me," shouted Eric, becoming uncontrollably excited. "If you +mislead us, your life shall----" + +"Pig-head! I no save your wife for back chin! Camp here, I say," and +Louis' fitful temper began to show signs of sulking. + +"For goodness' sake, Eric, do what you're told! We've made a bad enough +business of it----" + +"Give the Frenchman a chance! Do what you're told, I say, ye blunderers! +Troth, the Lord Himself couldn't bring success to such blundering +idiots," was Father Holland's comment. + +"I'll take na orders frae meddlesome papists," began the Scotchman; but +Little Fellow had forcibly turned the prow of the canoe shoreward. I +gave them a shove with my paddle. Frances took the cue, and while her +father was yet scolding raised her paddle and had them close to the +river bank. + +"Get your tent up here," I called to conciliate them. "Then come to the +bank and watch for the Indians." + +A bit of clean gravel ran out from the clay cliff. + +"That's the ground," said I, as the other canoe bumped over the pebbles; +and I stopped paddling and dangled my hand in the water. + +Something in the dark drifted wet and soft against my fingers. +Ordinarily such an incident would not have alarmed me; but instantly a +shudder of apprehension ran through my frame. I scarce had courage to +look into the river lest the white face of a woman should appear through +the watery depths. Clutching the water-soaked tangle, I jerked it up. +Something gave with a rip, and my hand was full of shawl fringe. + +"What's that, Rufus?" asked Father Holland. "Don't know." I motioned +him to be silent and held it up in the moonlight. Distinctly it was, or +had been, red fringe. + +"Do you think--" he began, then stopped. Our keel had rubbed bottom and +Hamilton was springing out of the other canoe. + +"Yes, I do," I replied, choking with dread. "This is too terrible! He'll +kill himself! Go up the bank with him! Keep him busy at the tent! Little +Fellow and I'll pole for it. The water's shallow there----" + +"What do _you_ think?" said the priest to Laplante. + +"T'ink! I never t'ink! I finds out." But all the same, Louis' assurance +was shaken and he peered searchingly into the river. + +"Aren't you coming? What's your plan?" called Eric. + +"Certainly we are, but get this truck to higher ground, will you?" I +hoisted out the camp trappings. "I want to paddle out for something." + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Something lost out there. I lost it out of my hand." + +Frances Sutherland, I know, suspected trouble from the alarm which I +could not keep out of my speech; for she pressed to the water's edge. + +"Get the tent ready," I urged. + +"What's the meaning of this mystery?" persisted Hamilton sharply. "What +have you lost?" + +"Don't press him too closely. Faith, it may be a love token," +interjected Father Holland, as he stepped ashore; but he whispered in my +ear as he passed, "You're wrong, lad! You're on the wrong track!" + +I leaped back to the canoe, Little Fellow and the Frenchman following, +and we paddled to the shallows where I had caught the fringe. I prodded +the soft mud below and trailed the paddle back and forward over the clay +bottom. Louis did likewise; but in vain. Only soft ooze came up on the +blade. Then Little Fellow stripped and dived. Of course it was dark +under water, as it always is dark under the muddy Red, and the Indian +could not feel a thing from which fringe could have ripped. Had my jerk +disturbed whatever it was and sent it rolling down to mid-current? I +asked Father Holland this when I came back. + +"Tush, faint-heart," he muttered, drawing me aside. "'Tis only a trial +of your faith." + +I said something about trials of faith which I shall not repeat here, +but which the majority of people, who are on the tenter-hooks of such +trials, have said for themselves. + +"Faith! Pah!" exclaimed Louis, joining our whispered conference, while +Eric and Mr. Sutherland were hoisting a tent. "That shawl, it mean +nodings of things heavenly! It only mean rag stuck in the mud and reds +nearabouts here! I have told the Great Bear and his snarl Englishman the +Indians not come till morning. They get tent ready and watch! You follow +Louis, he lead you to camp. The priest--he good for say a little +prayer; the Indian for fight; Louis--for swear; Rufus--to snatch the +Englishwoman, he good at snatching the fair, ha-ha." + +He darted to the shore, calling Little Fellow from the canoe and leaving +Father Holland and me to follow as best we could. + +"We'll be back soon, Eric," I shouted. "We're going to get the lie of +the land. Keep watch here," and I broke into a run to keep up with the +French trapper and the Indian, who were leading into the woods away from +the river. I could hear Father Holland puffing behind like a wind-blown +racer. Abruptly the priest came to a stop. + +"By all the saints," he ordered. "Go back to the tent!" + +I turned. A white form emerged from the foliage and Frances was beside +me. + +"May I not come?" she asked. + +"No--dearest, there will be fighting." + +"No--Lord--no," panted Father Holland coming up to us. "We're not +swapping one woman for another. What would Rufus do without ye?" + +"You are going for Miriam?" she questioned, holding my hand. "God speed +you and bring you back safely!" + +"Say rather--bring Miriam," and I unfastened the clinging hand almost +roughly. + +"Come on, slugs, sloths, laggards," commanded Laplante impatiently, and +we dashed into the thick of the woods, leaving the white figure alone +against the shadowy thicket. She called out something, of which I heard +only two words, "Miriam" and "Rufus"; but I knew those names were +uttered in supplication and they filled my heart with daring hope. +Surely, we must succeed--for the Little Statue's prayers were following +me--and I bounded on with a faith as buoyant as the priest's blind +trust. Thus we ran through the moon-shafted woods pursuing the flitting, +lithe figures of trapper and Indian, who scarce disturbed a fern leaf, +while Father Holland and I floundered through the underbrush like +ramping elephants. Then I found myself panting as hard as the priest and +clinging to his arm for support; for illness had taken all the bravery +out of my muscles, like champagne uncorked and left in the heat. + +"Brace yourself, lad," said the priest. "The Lord is with us, but don't +you bungle." + +A long, low whistle came through the dark, a whistle that was such a +perfect imitation of the night hawk, no spy might detect it for the +signal of a runner. After the whistle, was the soft, ominous hiss of a +serpent in the grass; and we were abreast of Louis Laplante and Little +Fellow standing stock still sniffing forward as hounds might scent a +foe. + +"She may not be there! She may be drown;" whispered Louis, "but we creep +on, quiet like hare, no noise like deer, stiller than mountain cat, +hist--what that?" + +The night breeze set the leaves all atremble--clapping their hands, as +the Indians call it--and a whiff of burning bark tainted the air. +"That's it," said I under my breath. + +The smoke was blowing from wooded flats between us and the river. +Cautiously parting interlaced branches and as carefully replacing each +bough to prevent backward snap, we turned down the sloping bank. I +suppose necessity's training in the wilds must produce the same result +in man and beast; and from that fact, faddists of the various "osophies" +and "ologies" may draw what conclusions they please; but I affirm that +no panther could creep on its prey with more stealth, caution and +cunning than the trapper and Indian on the enemy's camp. I have seen +wild creatures approaching a foe set each foot down with noiseless +tread; but I have never seen such a combination of instincts, brute and +human, as Louis and Little Fellow displayed. The Indian felt the ground +for tracks and pitfalls and sticks, that might crackle. Louis, with his +whole face pricked forward, trusted more to his eyes and ears and that +sense of "feel," which is--contradictory as it may seem--utterly +intangible. Once the Indian picked up a stick freshly broken. This was +examined by both, and the Indian smelt it and tried his tongue on the +broken edge. Then both fell on all fours, creeping under the branches of +the thicket and pausing at every pace. + +"Would that I had taken lessons in forest lore before I went among the +Sioux," I thought to myself. Now I knew what had been incomprehensible +before--why all my well-laid plans had been detected. + +A wind rustled through the foliage. That was in our favor; for in spite +of our care the leaves crushed and crinkled beneath us. At intervals a +glimmer of light shone from the beach. Louis paused and listened so +intently our breathing was distinctly audible. A vague murmur of low +voices--like the "talking of the trees" in Little Fellow's +language--floated up from the river; and in the moonlight I saw Laplante +laugh noiselessly. Trees stood farther apart on the flats and brushwood +gave place to a forest of ferns, that concealed us in their deep +foliage; but the thick growth also hid the enemy, and we knew not at +what moment we might emerge in full view of the camp. So we stretched +out flat, spying through the fern stalks before we parted the stems to +draw ourselves on a single pace. Presently, the murmur separated into +distinct voices, with much low laughing and the bitter jeers that make +up Indian mirth. We could hear the crackling of the fire, and wormed +forward like caterpillars. + +There was a glare of light through the ferns, and Louis stopped. We all +three pulled abreast of him. Lying there as a cat watches a mouse, we +parted first one and then another of the fronds till the Indian +encampment could be clearly seen. + +"Is that the tribe?" I whispered; but Louis gripped my arm in a vice +that forbade speech. + +The camp was not a hundred feet away. Fire blazed in the centre. Poles +were up for wigwams, and already skins had been overlaid, completing +several lodges. Men lay in lazy attitudes about the fire. Squaws were +taking what was left of the evening meal and slave-women were putting +things to rights for the night. Sitting apart, with hands tied, were +other slaves, chiefly young women taken in some recent fray and not yet +trusted unbound. Among these was one better clad than the others. Her +wrists were tied; but her hands managed to conceal her face, which was +bowed low. In her lap was a sleeping child. Was this Miriam? Children +were with the other captives; but to my eyes this woman's torn shawl +appeared reddish in the fire glow. + +"Let's go boldly up and offer to buy the slaves," I suggested; but +Louis' grip tightened forbiddingly and Little Fellow's forefinger +pointed towards a big creature, who was ordering the others about. 'Twas +a woman of giant, bronzed form, with the bold stride of a conquering +warrior and a trophy-decked belt about her waist. The fire shone against +her girdle and the stones in the leather strap glowed back blood-red. +Father Holland breathed only one word in my ear, "Agates;" and the fire +of the red stones flashed like some mystic flame through my being till +brain and heart were hot with vengeance and my hands burned as if every +nerve from palm to finger-tips were a blade point reaching out to +destroy that creature of cruelty. + +"Diable's squaw," I gasped out, beside myself with anger and joy. "Let +me but within arm's length of her----" + +"Hold quiet," the priest hissed low and angry, gripping my shoulder like +a steel winch. "'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord! See that you save +the white woman! Leave the evil-doer to God! The Lord's with us, but I +tell you, don't you bungle!" + +"Bungle!" I could have shouted out defiance to the whole band. "Let go!" +I ordered, trying to struggle up; for the iron hand still held me. "Let +go, or I'll----" + +But Louis Laplante's palm was forcibly slapped across my mouth and his +other hand he laid significantly on his dagger, giving me one +threatening look. By the firelight I saw his lips mechanically counting +the numbers of the enemy and mechanically I audited his count. + +"Twenty men, thirty squaws and the slaves," said he under his breath. + +An Indian left the fire and approached the captives. + +"See! Watch! Is that woman Miriam?" demanded the priest. "She'll take +her hands from her face now." + +"Of course it is!" I was furious at the restraint and hesitancy; but as +I said before, the experienced intriguer proceeds as warily as a cat. + +"You not sure--not for sure--_Mon Dieu_--no," muttered Laplante; and he +was right. With the forest shadows across the captives, it was +impossible to distinguish the color of their faces. Taking a knife from +his belt, the Indian cut the cords of all but the woman with her hands +across her face. A girl brought refuse of food; but this woman took no +notice, never moving her hands. Thereupon the young squaw sneered and +the Indian idlers jeered loud in harsh, strident laughter. This roused +the big squaw. She strode up, Little Fellow all the while with +glistening teeth following her motions as a cat's head turns to a mouse. +With the flat of her hand she struck the silent woman, who leaped up and +ran to a wigwam. In speechless fear, the child had scrambled to its feet +and backed away from the angry group towards the ferns; but the light +was fitful and shadowy, and we could recognize neither woman, nor child. + +"I can't stand this any longer," I declared. "I must know if that's +Miriam. Let's draw closer." + +Father Holland and I crawled stealthily to the very border of fern +growth, Louis and the Indian lying still and muttering over some plan of +action. + +"Hist," said the priest, "we'll try the child." + +Unlike naked Indian children, the little thing had a loose garment +banded about its waist; but its feet were bare and its hair as raven +black as that of any young savage. It stood like some woodland elf in +the maze of heavy sleepiness, at each harsh word from the camp, sidling +shyly closer to our hiding-place. We dragged forward till I could have +touched the child, but feared to startle it. + +Putting his hand out slowly, Father Holland caught the little creature's +arm. It gave a start, jerked back and looked in mute wonderment at our +strange hiding-place. + +"Pretty boy," crooned the priest in low, coaxing tones, gently +tightening his hold. + +"Is it white?" I whispered. + +"I can't see." + +"Good little man," he went on, slowly folding his hands about it. +Drawing quickly back, he lifted the child completely into his arms. + +"Is boy sleepy?" he asked. + +"Call him 'Eric,'" I urged. + +"Is Eric sleepy?" + +The child's head fell wearily against the priest's shoulder. Snuggling +closer, he lisped back in perfect English, "Eric's tired." + +At once Father Holland's free hand caught my arm as if he feared I might +rush out. For a moment neither of us spoke. + +Then he said, "Give me your coat." + +I ripped off my buckskin-smock. Wrapping the sleeping boy about, the +priest laid him gently among the ferns. + +"Where's the mother?" asked Father Holland with a catching intake of +breath. + +I pointed to the wigwam. The big squaw had come out, leaving Miriam +alone and was engaged in noisy dispute with the men. Louis and Little +Fellow had now wriggled abreast of us. + +"Ha, ha, _mon brave_--your time, it come now! You save the white woman! +I pay my devoirs to the lady, ha, ha--I owe her much--I pay you both +back with one stroke, one grand stroke. Little Fellow, he watch for +spring surprise and help us both! Swoop--snitch--snatch--snap her up! +'Tis done--tra-la!" and Louis drew up for all the world like a tiger +about to spring, but the priest drew him down. + +"Listen," commanded the churchman, in the slow, tense way of one who +intended to be obeyed. "I'll go back and come up by the beach. I'll +brow-beat them and tongue-whack them for having slaves. They'll offer +fight; so'll I. They'll all run down; that's your chance. Wait till they +all go. I'll make them, every one. That's your chance. You rush! Try +that! If it fail, in the name of the Lord, have y'r weapons ready--and +the Lord be with us!" + +"They'll kill you," I protested. "Let me go!" + +"You? What about Frances?" + +"Pah!" said Louis. "I go myself--I trick--I trap--I snare 'em----" + +"Hush to ye, ye braggart," interrupted the priest. "Gillespie is as +flabby as dough from an illness. 'Tis here you sit quiet, and help with +Miriam as ye'd save y'r soul! Howld down with y'r bouncing nonsense, +lad, and the saints be with ye; for it's a fight there'll be, and there +is the fightin' stuff of a soldier in ye! Never turn to me--mind ye +never turn to help me, or the curse of the fool be on y'r head--and the +Lord be with us!" + +"Amen." But I spoke to vacancy. While a rising wind set the branches +overhead grating noisily, he had risen and darted away. Louis Laplante, +contrary to the priest's orders, also rose and disappeared in the woods. +Little Fellow still lay by me, but I could not rely on him for +intelligent action, and there came over me that sense of aloneness in +danger, which I knew so well in the Mandane country. The child's +slightest cry might alarm the camp, and I shivered when he breathed +heavily, or turned in his sleep. The Indians might miss the boy and +search the woods. Instinctively my hand was on my pistol. It was well to +be as near Miriam's tent as possible; and I, too, took advantage of the +wind to change my place. I moved back, signalling the Indian to follow, +and skirted round the open till I was directly opposite Miriam's wigwam. +Why had Louis gone off, and why did he not come back? Had he gone to +keep secret guard over the priest, or to decoy the vigilant Sioux woman? +In his intentions I had confidence enough, but not in his judgment. At +that moment my speculations were interrupted by a loud shout from the +beach. Every Indian in camp started up as if hostiles had uttered their +war-cry. + +"Hallo, there! Hallo! Hallo!" called the priest. Indians dashed to the +river, while bedraggled squaws and naked children rushed from wigwams +and stood in clamorous groups between the lodges and the water. The +topmost branches of the trees swayed back and forward in the wind, +alternately throwing shafts of moonlight and shadows across the opening +of Miriam's wigwam. When the light flooded the tent a solitary, +white-faced form appeared in dark, sharp outline. The bare arms were +tied at the wrists, and beat aimlessly through the darkness. And there +was a sound of piteous weeping. + +Should I make the final, desperate dash now? "Don't bungle His plans," +came the priest's warning; and I waited. The squaws were very near; and +the angular figure of Diable's wife hung on the rear of the group. She +was scolding like a termagant in the Sioux tongue, ordering the other +women to the fray; but still she kept back, looking over her shoulder +suspiciously at Miriam's tent, uncertain whether to go or stay. We had +failed in every other attempt to rescue Miriam. If the Lord--as the +priest believed--had planned the sufferer's aid, His instruments had +blundered badly. There must be no more feeble-fingering. + +"Thieves! Thieves! Cut-throats!" bawled Father Holland in a storm of +abuse. "Ye rascals," he thundered, cutting the air with his stick and +purposely backing away from the camp to draw the Indians off. Then his +voice was lost in a chorus of shrill screams. + +The moonlight shone across the wigwam opening. The captive had heard the +English tongue, and was listening. But the Sioux squaw had also heard +and recognized the voice of a former prisoner. She ran forward a pace, +then hesitated, looking back doubtfully. As she turned her head, out +from the gloom of the thicket with the leap of a lynx, lithe and swift, +sprang the crouching form of Louis Laplante. I felt Little Fellow all in +a tremor by my side; the tremor not of fear, but of the couchant +panther; and he uttered the most vicious snarl I have ever heard from +human throat. Louis alighted neatly and noiselessly, directly behind the +Sioux woman. She must have felt his presence, for she turned round and +round expectantly. Louis, silent and elusive as a shadow, circled about +her, tripping from side to side as she turned her head. But the fire +betrayed him. She had wheeled towards the forest as if spying for the +unseen presence among the foliage, and Louis deftly dodged behind. The +move put him between the fire and his antagonist, and the full profile +of his queer, bending figure was shadowed clear past the woman. She +turned like some vengeful, malign goddess, and I thought it all up with +the daring trapper; but he doffed his red toque and swept the advancing +fury the low bow of a French courtier. Then he drew himself erect and +laughed insolently in the woman's face. His careless assurance allayed +her suspicions. + +"Oh, 'tis you!" she growled. + +"'Tis I, fleet-foot, winged messenger, humble slave," laughed Louis, +with another grotesque bow; but the rogue had cleverly put himself +between the squaw and Miriam's tent. + +I should have rushed to Miriam's rescue long since, instead of watching +this by-play between trapper and mountain cat; but as the foray waxed +hotter with the priest, the young braves had run back to their tents for +guns and clubs. + +"Stand off, ye scoundrels," roared the priest, in tones of genuine +anger; for the Indians were closing threateningly about him. "Stand +back, ye knaves, ye sons of Satan," and every soul but Louis Laplante +and the Sioux squaw ran with querulous shouts to the river. + +"Cruel! Cruel! Cruel!" sobbed a voice from the wigwam; and there was a +straining to break the thongs which bound her. "Cruel! Cruel! Hast Thou +no pity? O my God! Hast Thou no pity? Shall not a sparrow fall to the +ground without Thy knowledge? Is this Thy pity? O my God!" The voice +broke in a torrent of heart-piercing cries. + +I could endure it no longer. + +"Have at ye, ye villains! Come out like men! Now, me brave bhoys, show +the stuff that's in ye! A fig for y'r valor if ye fail! The curse o' the +Lord on the coward heart! Back with ye; ye red divils! Out with ye, +Rufus! The Lord shall deliver the captive! What, 'an wuld ye dare strike +a servant o' the Lord? Let the deliverer appear, I say," he shouted, +weaving in commands to us as he dealt stout blows about him and receded +down the river bank. "Take that--and that--and that," I heard him shout, +with a rat-tat-too of sharp thuds from the staff accompanying each +word. Then I knew the quarrel on the beach was at its height; and Louis +Laplante was still foiling the Sioux's approach to Miriam's wigwam like +a deft fencer. + +"Follow me, Little Fellow," I commanded. "Have your knife ready," and I +had not finished speaking when three shrill whistles came from Louis. +'Twas his old-time signal of danger. Above the hubbub at the river the +Sioux squaw was screaming to the braves. + +Bounding from concealment, I tore off the layer roofing of the wigwam, +plunged through the tapering pole frame, shaking the frail lean-to like +a house of cards, and was beside Miriam. Again I heard Louis' whistle +and again the squaw's angry scream; but Little Fellow had followed on my +heels and stood with knife-blade glittering bare at the tent-entrance. + +"Hush," I whispered, slashing my dagger through the thongs around her +hands and cutting the rope that held her to the central stake. "We've +found you at last. Come! Come!" and I caught her up. + +"O my God!" she cried. "At last! At last! Where is the child? They have +taken little Eric!" + +"We have him safe! His father is waiting! Don't hesitate, Miriam!" + +"Run, Little Fellow," I ordered, "Across the camp. Get the child," and I +sprang from the wigwam, which crashed to the ground behind me. I had +thought to save skirting the woods by a run across the camping-ground; +but when my Indian dashed for the child and the Sioux saw me undefended +with the white woman in my arms, she made a desperate lunge at Laplante +and called at the top of her voice for the braves. + +Louis, with weapons in hand, still kept between the fury and Miriam; but +I think his French chivalry must have been restraining him. Though the +Sioux offered him many opportunities and was doing her best to sheathe a +knife in his heart, he seemed to refrain from using either dagger or +pistol. An insolent laugh was on his face. The life-and-death game which +he was playing was to his daring spirit something novel and amusing. + +"The lady is--perturbed," he laughed, dodging a thrust at his neck; "she +fences wide, tra-la," this as the barrel of his pistol parried a drive +of her knife; "she hits afar--ho--ho--not so fast, my fury--not so +furious, my fair--zipp, ha--ha--ha--another miss--another miss--the +lady's a-miss," for the squaw's weapon struck fire against his own. + +"Look out for the braves, have a care," I shouted; for a dozen young +bucks were running up behind to the woman's aid. + +"Ha--ha---_prenez garde_--my tiger-cat has kittens," he laughed; and he +looked over his shoulder. + +That backward look gave the fury her opportunity. In the firelight blue +steel flashed bright. The Frenchman reeled, threw up his arms, and +fell. One sharp, deep, broken draw of breath, and with a laugh on his +lips, Louis Laplante died as he had lived. Then the tiger-cat leaped +over the dead form at Miriam and me. + +What happened next I can no more set down consecutively than I can +distinguish the parts in a confused picture with a red-eyed fury +striking at me, naked Indians brandishing war-clubs, flashes of powder +smoke, a circle of gesticulating, screeching dark faces in the +background, my Indian fighting like a very fiend, and a pale-faced woman +with a little curly-headed boy at her feet standing against the woods. + +"Run, _Monsieur_; I keep bad Indians off," urged Little Fellow. +"Run--save white squaw and papoose--run, _Monsieur_." + +Now, whatever may be said to the contrary, however brave two men may be, +they cannot stand off a horde of armed savages. I let go my whole +pistol-charge, which sent the red demons to a distance and intended +dashing for the woods, when the Sioux woman put her hand in her pocket +and hurled a flint head at Little Fellow. The brave Indian sprang aside +and the thing fell to the ground. With it fell a crumpled sheet of +paper. I heard rather than saw Little Fellow's crouching leap. Two forms +rolled over and over in the camp ashes; and with Miriam on my shoulder +and the child under the other arm, I had dashed into the thicket of the +upper ground. + +Overhead tossed the trees in a swelling wind, and up from the shore +rushed the din of wrangling tongues, screaming and swearing in a clamor +of savage wrath. The wind grew more boisterous as I ran. Behind the +Indian cries died faintly away; but still with a strength not my own, +always keeping the river in view, and often mistaking the pointed +branches, which tore clothing and flesh from head to feet, for the hands +of enemies--I fled as if wolves had been pursuing. + +Again and again sobbed Miriam--"O, my God! At last! At last! Thanks be +to God! At last! At last!" + +We were on a hillock above our camp. Putting Miriam down, I gave her my +hand and carried the child. When I related our long, futile search and +told her that Eric was waiting, agitation overcame her, and I said no +more till we were within a few feet of the tents. + +"Please wait." I left her a short distance from the camp that I might go +and forewarn Eric. + +Frances Sutherland met me in the way and read the news which I could not +speak. + +"Have you--oh--have you?" she asked. "Who is that?" and she pointed to +the child in my arms. + +"Where's Hamilton? Where's your father?" I demanded, trembling from +exhaustion and all undone. + +"Mr. Hamilton is in his tent priming a gun. Father is watching the +river. And oh, Rufus! is it really so?" she cried, catching, sight of +Miriam's stooped, ragged figure. Then she darted past me. Both her arms +encircled Miriam, and the two began weeping on each other's shoulders +after the fashion of women. + +I heard a cough inside Hamilton's tent. Going forward, I lifted the +canvas flap and found Eric sitting gloomily on a pile of robes. + +"Eric," I cried, in as steady a voice as I command, which indeed, was +shaking sadly, and I held the child back that Hamilton might not see, +"Eric, old man, I think at last we've run the knaves down." + +"Hullo!" he exclaimed with a start, not knowing what I had said. "Are +you men back? Did you find out anything?" + +"Why--yes," said I: "we found this," and I signalled Frances to bring +Miriam. + +This was no way to prepare a man for a shock that might unhinge reason; +but my mind had become a vacuum and the warm breath of the child +nestling about my neck brought a mist before my eyes. + +"What did you say you had found?" asked Hamilton, looking up from his +gun to the tent-way; for the morning light already smote through the +dark. + +"This," I said, lifting the canvas a second time and drawing Miriam +forward. + +I could but place the child in her arms. She glided in. The flap fell. +There was the smothered outcry of one soul--rent by pain. + +"Miriam--Miriam--my God--Miriam!" "Come away," whispered a choky voice +by my side, and Frances linked her arm through mine. + +Then the tent was filled and the night air palpitated with sounds of +anguished weeping. And with tears raining from my eyes, I hastened away +from what was too sacred for any ear but a pitying God's. That had come +to my life which taught me the depths of Hamilton's suffering. + +"Dearest," said I, "now we understand both the pain and the joy of +loving," and I kissed her white brow. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE PRIEST JOURNEYS TO A FAR COUNTRY + + +Again the guest-chamber of the Sutherland home was occupied. + +How came it that a Catholic priest lay under a Protestant roof? How +comes it that the new west ever ruthlessly strips reality naked of creed +and prejudice and caste, ever breaks down the barrier relics of a +mouldering past, ever forces recognition of men as individuals with +individual rights, apart from sect and class and unmerited prerogatives? +The Catholic priest was wounded. The Protestant home was near. Manhood +in Protestant garb recognized manhood in Roman cassock. Necessity +commanded. Prejudice obeyed as it ever obeys in that vast land of +untrameled freedom. So Father Holland was cared for in the Protestant +home with a tenderness which Mr. Sutherland would have repudiated. For +my part, I have always thanked God for that leveling influence of the +west. It pulls the fools from high places and awards only one +crown--merit. + +It was Little Fellow who had brought Father Holland, wounded and +insensible, from the Sioux camp. + +"What of Louis Laplante's body, Little Fellow?" I asked, as soon as I +had seen all the others set out for the settlement with Father Holland +lying unconscious in the bottom of the canoe. + +"The white man, I buried in the earth as the white men do--deep in the +clay to the roots of the willow, so I buried the Frenchman," answered +the Indian. "And the squaw, I weighted with stones at her feet; for they +trod on the captives. And with stones I weighted her throat, which was +marked like the deer's when the mountain cat springs. With the stones at +her throat and her feet, the squaw, I rolled into the water." + +"What, Little Fellow," I cried, remembering how I had seen him roll over +and over through the camp-fire, with his hands locked on the Sioux +woman's throat, "did you kill the daughter of L'Aigle?" + +"Non, _Monsieur_; Little Fellow no bad Indian. But the squaw threw a +flint and the flint was poison, and my hands were on her throat, and the +squaw fell into the ashes, and when Little Fellow arose she was dead. +Did she not slay La Robe Noire? Did she not slay the white man before +Monsieur's eyes? Did she not bind the white woman? Did she not drag me +over the ground like a dead stag? So my fingers caught hard in her +throat, and when I arose she lay dead in the ashes. So I fled and hid +till the tribe left. So I shoved her into the water and pushed her +under, and she sank like a heavy rock. Then I found the priest." + +I had no reproaches to offer Little Fellow. He had only obeyed the +savage instincts of a savage race, exacting satisfaction after his own +fashion. + +"The squaw threw a flint. The flint was poison. Also the squaw threw +this at Little Fellow, white man's paper with signs which are magic," +and the Indian handed me the sheet, which had fallen from the woman's +pocket as she hurled her last weapon. + +Without fear of the magic so terrifying to him, I took the dirty, +crumpled missive and unfolded it. The superscription of Quebec citadel +was at the top. With overwhelming revulsion came memory of poor Louis +Laplante lying at the camp-fire in the gorge tossing a crumpled piece of +paper wide of the flames, where the Sioux squaw surreptitiously picked +it up. The paper was foul and tattered almost beyond legibility; but +through the stains I deciphered in delicate penciling these words: + + "In memory of last night's carouse in Lower Town, (one favor + deserves another, you know, and I got you free of that scrape), + spike the gun of my friend the enemy. If R-f-s G--p--e, E. + H--l-t-n, J--k MacK, or any of that prig gang come prying round + your camp for news, put them on the wrong track. I owe the + whole ---- ---- set a score. Pay it for me, and we'll call the + loan square." + +No name was signed; but the scene in the Quebec club three years before, +when Eric had come to blows with Colonel Adderly, explained not only the +authorship but Louis' treachery. 'Tis the misfortune of errant rogues +like poor Louis that to get out of one scrape ever involves them in a +worse. Now I understood the tumult of contradictory emotions that had +wrought upon him when I had saved his life and he had resolved to undo +the wrong to Miriam. + +Little Fellow put the small canoe to rights, and I had soon joined the +others at the Sutherland homestead. But for two days the priest lay as +one dead, neither moaning nor speaking. On the morning of the third, +though he neither opened his eyes nor gave sign of recognition, he asked +for bread. Then my heart gave a great bound of hope--for surely a man +desiring food is recovering!--and I sent Frances Sutherland to him and +went out among the trees above the river. + +That sense of resilient relief which a man feels on discharging an +impossible task, or throwing off too heavy a burden, came over me. +Miriam was rescued, the priest restored, and I dowered with God's best +gift--the love of a noble, fair woman. Hard duty's compulsion no longer +spurred me; but my thoughts still drove in a wild whirl. There was a +glassy reflection of a faded moon on the water, and daybreak came +rustling through the trees which nodded and swayed overhead. A +twittering of winged things arose in the branches, first only the +cadence of a robin's call, an oriole's flute-whistle, the stirring +wren's mellow note. Then, suddenly, out burst from the leafed sprays a +chorus of song that might have rivaled angels' melodies. The robin's +call was a gust of triumph. The oriole's strain lilted exultant and a +thousand throats gushed out golden notes. + +"Now God be praised for love and beauty and goodness--and above all--for +Frances--for Frances," were the words that every bird seemed to be +singing; though, indeed, the interpretation was only my heart's +response. I know not how it was, but I found myself with hat off and +bowed head, feeling a gratitude which words could not frame--for the +splendor of the universe and the glory of God. + +"Rufus," called a voice more musical to my ear than any bird song; and +Frances was at my side with a troubled face. "He's conscious and +talking, but I can't understand what he means. Neither can Miriam and +Eric. I wish you would come in." + +I found the priest pale as the pillows against which he leaned, with +glistening eyes gazing fixedly high above the lintel of the door. +Miriam, with her snow-white hair and sad-lined face, was fanning the air +before him. At the other side stood Eric with the boy in his arms. Mr. +Sutherland and I entered the room abreast. For a moment his wistful gaze +fell on the group about the bed. First he looked at Eric and the child, +then at Miriam, and from Miriam to me, then back to the child. The +meaning of it all dawned, gleamed and broke in full knowledge upon him; +and his face shone as one transfigured. + +"The Lord was with us," he muttered, stroking Miriam's white hair. +"Praise be to God! Now I can die in peace----" + +"No, you can't, Father," I cried impetuously. + +"Ye irriverent ruffian," he murmured with a flash of old mirth and a +gentle pressure of my hand. "Ye irriverent ruffian. Peace! Peace! I die +in peace," and again the wistful eyes gazed above the door. + +"Rufus," he whispered softly, "where are they taking me?" + +"Taking you?" I asked in surprise; but Frances Sutherland's finger was +on her lips, and I stopped myself before saying more. + +"Troth, yes, lad, where are they taking me? The northern tribes have +heard not a word of the love of the Lord; and I must journey to a far, +far country." + +At that the boy set up some meaningless child prattle. The priest heard +him and listened. + +"Father," asked the child in the language of Indians when referring to a +priest, "Father, if the good white father goes to a far, far away, +who'll go to northern tribes?" "And a little child shall lead them," +murmured the priest, thinking he, himself, had been addressed and +feeling out blindly for the boy. Eric placed the child on the bed, and +Father Holland's wasted hands ran through the lad's tangled curls. + +"A little child shall lead them," he whispered. "Lord, now lettest Thou +Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation. A +light to lighten the Gentiles--and a little child shall lead them." + +Then I first noticed the filmy glaze, as of glass, spreading slowly +across the priest's white face. Blue lines were on his temples and his +lips were drawn. A cold chill struck to my heart, like icy steel. Too +well I read the signs and knew the summons; and what can love, or +gratitude, do in the presence of that summons? Miriam's face was hidden +in her hands and she was weeping silently. + +"The northern tribes know not the Lord and I go to a far country; but a +little child shall lead them!" repeated the priest. + +"Indeed, Sir, he shall be dedicated to God," sobbed Miriam. "I shall +train him to serve God among the northern tribes. Do not worry! God will +raise up a servant----" + +But her words were not heeded by the priest. + +"Rufus, lad," he said, gazing afar as before, "Lift me up," and I took +him in my arms. + +"My sight is not so good as it was," he whispered. "There's a dimness +before my face, lad! Can _you_ see anything up there?" he asked, +staring longingly forward. + +"Faith, now, what might they all be doing with stars for diadems? What +for might the angels o' Heaven be doin' going up and down betwane the +blue sky and the green earth? Faith, lad, 'tis daft ye are, a-changin' +of me clothes! Lave the black gown, lad! 'Tis the badge of poverty and +He was poor and knew not where to lay His head of a weary night! Lave +the black gown, I say! What for wu'd a powr Irish priest be doin' +a-wearin' of radiant white? Where are they takin' me, Rufus? Not too +near the light, lad! I ask but to kneel at the Master's feet an' kiss +the hem of His robe!" + +There was silence in the room, but for the subdued sobbing of Miriam. +Frances had caught the priest's wrists in both her hands, and had buried +her face on the white coverlet. With his back to the bed, Mr. Sutherland +stood by the window and I knew by the heaving of his angular shoulders +that flood-gates of grief had opened. There was silence; but for the +hard, sharp, quick, short breathings of the priest. A crested bird +hopped to the window-sill with a chirp, then darted off through the +quivering air with a glint of sunlight from his flashing wings. I heard +the rustle of morning wind and felt the priest's face growing cold +against my cheek. + +"I must work the Master's work," he whispered, in short +broken breaths, "while it is day--for the night cometh--when +no man--can work.--Don't hold me back, lad--for I must go--to a +far, far country--It's cold, cold, Rufus--the way is--rugged--my feet +are slipping--slipping--give a hand--lad!--Praise to God--there's a +resting-place--somewhere!--Farewell--boy--be brave--farewell--I may not +come back soon--but I must--journey--to--a----far----far----" + +There was a little gasp for breath. His head felt forward and Frances +sobbed out, "He is gone! He is gone!" + +And the warmth of pulsing life in the form against my shoulder gave +place to the rigid cold of motionless death. + +"May the Lord God of Israel receive the soul of His righteous servant," +cried Mr. Sutherland in awesome tones. + +With streaming eyes he came forward and helped me to lay the priest +back. + +Then we all passed out from that chamber, made sacred by an invisible +presence. + + * * * * * + +VALEDICTORY. + +'Twas twenty years after Father Holland's death that a keen-eyed, +dark-skinned, young priest came from Montreal on his way to Athabasca. + +This was Miriam's son. + +To-day it is he, the missionary famous in the north land, who passing +back and forward between his lonely mission in the Athabasca and the +headquarters of his order, comes to us and occupies the guest-chamber in +our little, old-fashioned, vine-grown cottage. + +The retaking of Fort Douglas virtually closed the bitter war between +Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers. To both companies the conflict had proved +ruinous. Each was as anxious as the other for the terms of peace by +which the great fur-trading rivals were united a few years after the +massacre of Seven Oaks. + +So ended the despotic rule of gentlemen adventurers in the far north. +The massacre turned the attention of Britain to this unknown land and +the daring heroism of explorers has given place to the patient +nation-building of multitudes who follow the pioneer. Such is the record +of a day that is done. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lords of the North, by A. C. Laut + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORDS OF THE NORTH *** + +***** This file should be named 20418.txt or 20418.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/4/1/20418/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by the Canadian Institute for Historical +Microreproductions (www.canadiana.org)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/20418.zip b/20418.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b403e08 --- /dev/null +++ b/20418.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7c7174 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #20418 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20418) |
