This compost when cooked in a frying-pan is exceedingly rich and satisfyingnot to say heavyfood, but it does not incommode such as La Certe and his wife. It even made the latter feel amiably disposed to Cloudbrow.
This sobriquet had been given by the half-breeds to a young Scotch settler named Duncan McKay, in consequence of the dark frown which had settled habitually on his browthe result of bad temper and unbridled passion. He was younger brother to that Fergus who has already been introduced to the reader. Having been partially trained, while in Scotland, away from the small farm-house of his father, and having received a better education, Duncan conceived himself to stand on a higher level than the sedate and uneducated Fergus. Thus pride was added to his bad temper. But he was not altogether destitute of good points. What man is? One of these was a certain reckless open-handedness, so that he was easily imposed on by the protestations and assurances of the sly, plausible, and lazy La Certe.
The couple were still engaged in smoking, quaffing tea, and other intellectual pursuits, when they heard sounds outside as of some one approaching. Another moment, and the door burst open, and a man in white stepped in. He saluted them with a familiar and hasty bonjour, as he stamped and beat the snow vigorously from his garments.
What? Antoine Dechamp! exclaimed La Certe, rising slowly to welcome his friend; you seem in hurry?
Ayin great hurry! They are starving on the plains! Many are dead! Davidson has come in! He is more than half-dead! Can hardly tell the news! Drops asleep when he is speaking! Luckily I met him when going home in my cariole! Okématan, the Indian, was with me. So he got out, and said he would pilot Davidson safe home! He said something about Fergus McKay, which I could not understand, so I have come on, and will drive to Fort Garry with the news! But my horse has broke down! Is yours in the stable?
Dechamp was a sturdy young half-breed and an old playmate of La Certe. He spoke with obvious impatience at the delay caused by having so much to tell.
Is your horse in the stable? he demanded sharply a second time, while his friend began, with exasperating composure, to assure him that it was, but that the horse was not his.
Cloudbrow is its owner, he said, and you know if anything happens to it he will . Stay, I will get you lantern
He stopped, for Dechamp, observing a large key hanging on the wall, had seized it and rushed out of the hut without waiting for a lantern.
Strange, how easy some men get into a fuss! remarked La Certe to his surprised, but quiet, spouse as he lighted a large tin lantern, and went to the door. Looking out with an expression of discomfort, he put on his cap, and prepared to face the storm in the cause of humanity. He held the lantern high up first, however, and peered under it as if to observe the full extent of the discomfort before braving it. Just then a furious gust blew out the light.
Ha! I expected that, he said, with a sigh that was strongly suggestive of relief, as he returned to the fire to relight the lantern.
On going the second time to the door he observed the form of his friend leading the horse pastboth of them looking dim and spectral through the driving snow.
Dechamp have good eyes! he remarked, halting on the threshold. There is light enough without the lantern; besidesha! there, it is out again! What a trouble it is! Impossible to keep it insuch a night!
Hee! hee! giggled Slowfoot, who was busy refilling her pipe.
La Certe was still standing in a state of hesitancy, troubled by a strong desire to help his friend, and a stronger desire to spare himself, when he was thrown somewhat off his wonted balance by the sudden reappearance of Dechamp, leading, or rather supporting, a man.
Need we say that it was Fergus McKay, almost blind and dumb from exhaustion, for the parting from Dan Davidson which we have mentioned had proved to be the last straw which broke them both down, and it is probable that the frozen corpse of poor Dan would have been found next day on the snow, had he not been accidentally met by Dechamp, and taken in charge by the Indian Okématan. Fergus, having a shorter way to go, and, perhaps, possessing a little more vitality or endurance, had just managed to stagger to La Certes hut when he encountered the same man who, an hour previously, had met and saved his companion further down the Settlement.
The moment Fergus entered the hut, he looked wildly round, and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then he suddenly collapsed, and fell in a heap upon the floor, scattering flakes of snow from his person in all directions.
La Certe and his wife, though steeped in selfishness, were by no means insensible to the sufferings of humanity when these were actually made visible to their naked eyes. Like manytoo manypeople, they were incapable of being impressed very deeply through their ears, but could be keenly touched through the eyes. No sooner did they behold the condition of Ferguswho was well-known to themthan they dropped their apathetic characters as though they had been garments.
In her haste Slowfoot let fall her pipe, which broke to atoms on the floorbut she heeded it not. La Certe capsized his mug of teabut regarded it not; and while the former proceeded to remove the shawl from Ferguss neck and chafe his cold hands, the latter assisted Dechamp to drag the exhausted man a little nearer to the fire, and poured a cup of warm tea down his throat.
Their efforts, though perchance not as wisely directed as they might have been, were so vigorously conducted that success rewarded them. Fergus soon began to show signs of returning animation. A hunter of the western wilderness is not easily overcome, neither is he long of reviving, as a rule, if not killed outright.
They set him up in a sitting posture with his back against a box, and his feet towards the fire. Heaving a deep sigh, Fergus looked round with a bewildered, anxious expression. In a moment intelligence returned to his eyes, and he made a violent attempt to rise, but Dechamp held him down.
Let me up! he gasped, life and death are in the matterif it iss not death already
Be still, Fergus McKay, said Dechamp, with that firmness of manner and tone which somehow command respect; I know all about it. Take one bit of bread, one swig more of tea, and you go with me to Fort Garry, to tell the Govnor what you know. He will send help at once.
Great was the relief of Fergus when he heard this. Submitting to treatment like an obedient child, he was soon fit to stagger to the sleigh or cariole, into which he was carefully stuffed and packed like a bale of goods by La Certe and his wife, who, to their credit be it recorded, utterly ignored, for once, the discomforts of the situation.
Fergus was asleep before the packing was quite done. Then Dechamp jumped in beside him, and drove off in the direction of the Hudsons Bay Companys establishment, Fort Garry, while our worthy couple returned to their hut to indulge in a final and well-earned pipe and a mug of the strongest possible tea.
Chapter Three.
To the Rescue
Winnipeg city, with its thousands of inhabitants, now covers the spot to which Antoine Dechamp drove his friend Fergus McKay.
At the time we write of, the only habitation there was Fort Garry, a solitary stone building of some strength, but without regular troops of any kind, and held only by a few employés of the Hudsons Bay Company, who were there only in the capacity of fur-traders.
Here the Governor of the colony received the unexpected guests with hospitality; heard the tale of Fergus with a sympathetic ear, and at once organised a rescue-expedition with dog-sledges and provisions.
While this was being done at the fort, Dan Davidson was similarly employed at Prairie Cottage, the residence of his mother, who, since the death of her husbanda farmer from the Scottish Lowlandshad managed her farm with the aid of her two sons, Dan and Peter; the latter being a youth of seventeen. She was also assisted by her only daughter, Jessie, who was over thirteen years of age, and already esteemed an authority on the subjects of poultry, cookery, and dairy produce. A small servanta French half-breed named Louisecompleted the household of the widow Davidson.
On reaching home, Dan, like Fergus McKay, experienced difficulties that he had not counted on, for his overtaxed strength fairly broke down, and he found himself almost incapable at first of telling his tale of disaster. Then, when he tried to go about the needful preparations for rescue, he found himself unable to resist drowsiness, and if he ventured to sit down for a moment he fell sound asleep at once.
Those who have experienced this condition know how overwhelming and intensely disagreeable it is, especially if resistance to it is rendered imperative by a matter of life or death. Davidson struggled bravely against it of course, but the struggle had already been so long continued that his efforts were now in vain.
Starting up from the supper which Jessie had spread before him, and which he was languidly attempting to eat, he said, almost fiercely, Where is the wash-tub, Louise?
The surprised little domestic pointed to the article in question.
Here; fetch some cold water.
It is full, said Louise with a strong French accent and a pretty lisp.
Without the ceremony even of throwing back his collar Dan plunged his head into the water, and, after steeping it for a few seconds, drew it out refreshed.
His younger brother entered the room at that moment.
Peter, he said, drying his head violently with a jack-towel, have you got the sledge ready, and the provisions packed, and the empty sledge wi the buffalo-robes?
Ayall ready, answered the other, for he was a sprightly, willing youth, who rejoiced in any unexpected demand on his superabundant energies. But I say, Dan, you are quite unfit to start off again without rest.
He looked in his brothers face anxiously, for Dan had seated himself once more to his food, but seemed unable to deal with it properly. Why, youve got the knife and fork in the wrong hands, Dan! You must have an hours rest before we start.
Impossible, returned the other with a dazed look, as he seized a mug of water and drank it off. An hours delay may mean death to Elspie and old Duncan McKay.
But let me start off at once, returned Peter, eagerly. Ive a pretty good guess, from your description, where you left them. Besides, the gale is not so bad now. After an hours sleep you will be able to start fresh, maybe overtake me. Jess will be sure to waken you in
He stopped, for his brothers head had bent slowly forward while he was speaking, and now rested on his arms on the table. The worn-out man was sound asleep.
Just leave him, Peter, and be off wi the dogs, said Mrs Davidson. Okématan will keep you in the right track. Ill be sure to wake him in time to catch you up.
No, mother, not without his leave, said the youth, firmly. Dan! Dan! rouse up, old boy! Shall we start without you?
Yes, yesIm ready, said the poor fellow, starting up and swaying to and fro like a drunken man; butI say, Peter, Im done for. I depend on you, lad, to keep me up to the scratch. Lay the dog-whip across my shoulders if I try to lie down. Promise me that. Dee hear!
Yes, I understand, returned the youth with intense earnestness. Now look here, Dan, you know me: will you trust me?
Of course I will, answered Dan with a languid smile.
Well, then; come along, well rescue Elspieyou may depend on that. Okématan and I will look after you and see that all goes right. Come.
He took his brother by the arm, and led him unresistingly away, followed by the dark-skinned Indian, who, with the usual reticence of his race, had stood like a brown statue, silently observing events.
Jessie Davidson, who was a fair and comely maiden, touched him on the arm as he was passing out
Oh! take care of him, Okématan, she said, anxiously.
Okématan replied Ho! in a sort of grunt. It was an expressively uttered though not very comprehensible reply; but Jessie was satisfied, for she knew the man well, as he had for a considerable time been, not exactly a servant of the house, but a sort of self-appointed hanger-on, or unpaid retainer. For an Indian, he was of a cheerful disposition and made himself generally useful.
When they were outside, it was found that the gale had abated considerably, and that the moon was occasionally visible among the clouds which were driving wildly athwart the heavens, as though the elemental war which had ceased to trouble the earth were still raging in the sky.
Peter, said the brother, as they stood for a moment beside two Indian sledges, one of which was laden with provisions, the other emptyPeter, dont forget your promise. Lay the whip on heavy. Nothing else will keep me awake!
All right! Sit down there for a moment. Were not quite ready yet.
Id better not. No! I will stand till its time to start, returned Dan with a dubious shake of his head.
Didnt you say you would trust me?
Yes, I did, old boy.
Does it look like trusting me to refuse the very first order I give you? What an example to Okématan! I am in command, Dan. Do as youre bid, sir, and sit down.
With a faint smile, and a still more dubious shake of the head, Dan obeyed. He sat down on the empty sledge and the expected result followed. In a few seconds he was asleep.
Now well pack him in tight, observed his brother, as he and the Indian stretched the sleeper at full length on the sledge, wrapped him completely up in the warm buffalo-robes, and lashed him down in such a way that he resembled a mummy, with nothing visible of him except his mouth and nose.
Four strong large dogs were attached to each sledge in tandem fashion, each dog having a little collar and harness of its own. No reins were necessary. A track beaten in the soft snow with his snow-shoes by the Indian, who stepped out in front, was guide enough for them; and a tail-line attached to the rear of each sledge, and held by the drivers, sufficed to restrain them when a stretch of hard snow or ice tempted them to have a scamper.
The road thus beaten over the prairie by Okématan, though a comparatively soft one, was by no means smooth, and the rough motion would, in ordinary circumstances, have rendered sleep impossible to our hero; but it need hardly be said that it failed to disturb him on the present occasion. He slept like an infant throughout the whole night; cared nothing for the many plunges down the prairie waves, and recked not of the frequent jerks out of the hollows.
Hour after hour did Peter Davidson with his silent companion trudge over the monotonous plainshope in the ascendant, and vigour, apparently, inexhaustible. The dogs, too, were good and strong. A brief halt now and then of a few minutes sufficed to freshen them for every new start. Night passed away, and daylight came in with its ghostly revelations of bushes that looked like bears or buffaloes, and snow-wreaths that suggested the buried forms of frozen men.
Then the sun arose and scattered these sombre visions of early morning with its gladdening, soul-reviving rays.