CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
DESCRIBES A TREMENDOUS VISITATION--A FEAST--A SURPRISE--AND AN ATTEMPTAT MURDER.
I must beg the reader now to leap with me into the middle of winter.
It is New Year's Day. That festive season of the year is not lessmarked and honoured in the Great Nor'-west than it is in civilisedlands, though there are comparatively few to honour it, and theirresources are somewhat meagre. These facts do not however, diminish thehearty zeal of the few--perchance they tend rather to increase it.
Be that as it may, I now convey the reader to an ice-bound forest. Deepsnow has buried the frozen ground. Masses of snow weigh down thebranches of the leafless trees; and evergreens, which are not leafless,are literally overwhelmed, almost obliterated, by the universalcovering. But the scene is by no means dismal. A blue sky overhead anda bright sun and calm frosty air render it pre-eminently cheerful. Theground is undulating, and among these undulations you may see two menand a couple of sledges slowly making their way along.
The sledge in rear is the ordinary provision-sled used by wintertravellers in that land; it is hauled by an Indian. The one in front isstyled a cariole. It resembles a slipper-bath in form, is covered withyellow parchment, gaily painted, and drawn by four fine wolf-like dogs.The rider in that cariole is so whelmed in furs as to be absolutelyinvisible. The man who beats the track has a straight, stalwart frame,and from what of his countenance is left exposed by his fur cap andwhiskers, one may judge that he is a white man.
Slowly and silently they plod along through the deep snow--thesleigh-bells on the dog's harness tinkling pleasantly. Ere long theycome out upon a lake, where, the snow being beaten pretty hard, theyproceed rapidly--the dogs trotting, and the leader, having changed tothe rear, holding on to the cariole-line to restrain them.
Towards the afternoon the travellers draw towards the end of the lake,and then a spirit of mischief seems to enter into the wolf-like dogs,for, on turning round a point which reveals a wide reach of hard snowstretching away towards a distant group of buildings more than halfburied in drift, they make a sudden bound, overturn the stalwart whiteman, jerk the tail-line from his grasp, and career away joyously overthe ice, causing their bells to send up an exceeding merry and melodiouspeal.
From certain incomprehensible growls that escape the stalwart white manas he picks himself up, it might be conjectured that he had taken to theChipewyan tongue; perhaps a Scotsman might have been led by them torecall the regions that lie north of the Grampians.
Lumley and I were sitting in the hall of Fort Wichikagan, awaiting theadvent of dinner, when the sound of the sleigh-bells just referred tobroke upon our ears. We bounded from our seats as if galvanised, seizedour caps and rushed out.
"A cariole!" shouted Lumley.
"Run away!" said I.
As I spoke, the figure of a man was seen rushing round the point inpursuit.
"Macnab!" cried Lumley, with blazing eyes, "I'd know his figure attwenty miles off. I say, Max, the runaway cariole must certainlycontain the sister--the carroty-haired Jessie! Hurrah! We must stopit, my boy, else the dogs will run slap into the fort, and dash the fairsix-footer against one o' the houses. Look out, man!"
But Lumley was wrong. Either the dogs had run as much as they desired,or the decided manner in which we faced them caused them to swerveaside, and stop when they came close to us. The swerve had the effectof overturning the cariole gently, and emptying its contents at ourfeet, and out from the mass of wraps and furs there arose--not ared-headed six-footer, but a young and sprightly girl, with clear darkcomplexion, a neat, rounded little figure, and a pair of magnificentblack eyes, which, at the moment, were opened to their utmost with anexpression of intense amazement.
Lumley gazed at this apparition open-mouthed, with a look of blanksurprise. I believe that my own visage must also have worn someremarkable expression, for suddenly the girl's gorgeous eyes halfclosed, and she burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
"Well, this _is_ a surprise!" exclaimed Lumley, on recovering some ofhis usual self-possession.
"So it would seem," replied the apparition, still laughing, "for it hasrobbed you of common politeness. Why don't you introduce yourself andwelcome me? No doubt you are my brother's friend, Mr Lumley!"
She drew a very small white hand from a very large leather mitten, andheld it out.
"Forgive me, Miss Macnab--for of course you can be no other," saidLumley, advancing promptly and grasping the hand, "but your--your--sudden, and I may almost say magical, appearance has so taken me bysurprise, that--that--"
"Yes, yes, I understand, Mr Lumley--that you find it difficult torecover yourself,--why, your friend Mr Maxby has not yet recovered,"said the fair Jessie, turning and holding out her hand to me.
She was right. I had not recovered, but stood there open-mouthed andeyed, bereft of speech, until the necessity for action was thrust uponme. My apologies were, however, cut short by the coming up of herbrother, who, while yet a long way off, began to shout in his stentoriantones:--
"Hallo! Lumley, my boy, how are ye? Here we are at last. A happy NewYear, Max. Glad to see you once more--all alive and hearty? Eh? Morethan I expected to find _you_, Jess, after such a run with theserascally dogs--absolute wolves! But it might have been worse. Give usa shake o' your fists, my boys, on this happy New Year's Day."
By this time our hearty friend was beside us, shaking us both vigorouslyby the hands, wishing us all manner of good luck, and compliments of theseason, and otherwise letting off the steam of his exuberant feelings.
"You've introduced yourselves, I see," he continued; "come, Lumley, giveyour arm to Jessie, and show us the way to the fort."
"If Miss Macnab," began Lumley, advancing, but his speech was here cutshort.
"Miss Macnab!" echoed the explosive Peter in a sarcastic shout, "callher Jessie, man! who ever heard of a `_Miss_ Macnab' in the backwoods?When men take to living in the wilderness, it's time to cast off all thehumbuggin' politenesses o' civilised life."
"Pardon me, Macnab," returned my friend, with more than his usualurbanity, "I differ from you there."
"Oh, ay, I daresay ye do," interrupted the other. "It's been said ofScotsmen that `they can aye objec',' and I think it's equally true ofEnglishmen that they can always differ!"
"Men who live in the wilderness," continued Lumley, merely answering theinterruption with a smile, "ought to be unusually particular aboutkeeping up all the politenesses of civilised life, instead of droppingthem, and ought to be inexpressibly thankful when a soft and civilisinginfluence, like Miss Macnab, condescends to visit them with a ray ofsunshine from the old country."
"Bravo, Lumley," cried Macnab, with a boisterous laugh, "that speech wasworthy of an Irishman! Call her what you like, my good fellow, so longas you never call her too late for meals; but come along now and let'shave something to eat, for I'm famishing."
By this time the Indian with the sled had joined us, so we all went offto the fort in a state of boisterous joy, of which those unfortunateswho have never been banished from their fellows for months--or foryears--can form no conception. As dinner was opportunely smoking on thetable when we entered the hall, our visitor's hilarity was, if possible,increased. Moreover, we had company that New Year's Day, for a knifeand fork had been laid in the hall for every man at the fort. You see,Lumley was a strict disciplinarian, and, therefore, could afford atspecial times to relax without loss of dignity and with a great increaseof good-will on the part of all under him. At all other times we andthe men--excepting our guide--messed apart; but on Christmas and NewYear's Days all distinctions were laid aside, discipline was relaxed,and we acted on the principle of that brotherhood which is based uponthe assumption that all men have the same objects in life and the samehopes after death. That morning we had all played football on the icetogether, had slidden and tumbled down the snow-slope together, and nowwe were about to mess together in the hall. Still further, our companywas to be increased
, and our festive board to be graced, by the presenceof Waboose and her mother. Little had we imagined, when all this wasplanned, that we were to have the addition of our old friend Macnab, andthat glorious beam from the sun of civilisation, his sister Jessie!
I will, however, make but brief reference to this festive occasion, andproceed to tell of an event which created an unexpected sensation in ourlittle community, and might have closed our New Year's Day amusementswith a terrible tragedy.
After dinner we circled round the blazing fire and enjoyed ourselveslistening to Macnab, who had a happy facility in giving a graphicaccount of his sledge journey from the Mountain Fort--his recently builttrading-post--to Fort Wichikagan, and I observed particularly that thepresence of a lady among us had a most wonderful and irresistibleinfluence in softening the tones and the manners of all.
As the evening advanced tea was introduced--we had nothing stronger, anddid not, indeed, feel any desire for fire-water. Under the inspiritinginfluence of this beverage, several of our men were induced to tellstories, which were more or less humorous.
During the meal--at which Lumley insisted that "Miss Macnab" shouldpreside, to the immense disgust of Salamander--I observed that thedark-haired white girl and the fair-haired Indian, drew very closelytogether. It appeared to me that they had fallen in love with eachother at first sight, a fact which afforded me lively satisfaction,though I had no very clear perception as to why it should do so.
Songs naturally followed the cheering cup, and at this point Lumleybecame unusually bold.
"I wonder," he said, with a peculiar air of modesty which somewhatpuzzled me, "if I may venture to ask Miss Macnab for a song."
"Ha! ha!" shouted her brother, before she could reply, "you _may_venture to ask, my boy, but you'll find it difficult to draw a song outof Jessie. Why, she never could sing a note!"
"I've a good mind to sing now, Peter," said the girl with a laugh, "justto prove that you are a false man."
"No, no, Jessie, spare me," returned the Highlander, "but get out youraccordion, and--"
"Accordion!" almost shouted Lumley, "do you play the accordion? Haveyou really got one here?"
It is but right to say, in justification of Lumley's enthusiasm, thatmusic of any kind was so seldom heard in those wilds, that the mereprospect of hearing good music excited us, for of course our naturalthought was that a girl like Jessie Macnab could not perform anythingbut good music.
As she rose to go for the instrument to Salamander's room--which hadbeen made over to her--a growling Gaelic exclamation made me aware ofthe fact that the faces of Donald Bane and James Dougall were beamingwith hope, mingled with admiration of their countrywoman. She hadnaturally paid these men a good deal of attention, and, in addition toher other good qualities, spoke their native tongue fluently. AsDougall afterwards said, "She hes the Gaelic!"
On returning to the hall with the once familiar and well-rememberedinstrument, I believe every man there felt a tendency to worship her.But who shall describe the effect produced when she began to play, withthe utmost facility and with deep feeling, one of the most beautiful ofthe plaintive Scottish melodies? Bane and Dougall shaded their ruggedfaces with their rugged hands to hide the tears that could not berestrained. Lumley, whose mind, although untouched by associations, waspeculiarly susceptible to sweet sounds, sat entranced. So did BigOtter, who could only glare; because instrument, tune, and performer,were alike new and magical to him. Even Salamander forgot his jealousyand almost collapsed with wonder. As for Dumont, Coppet, and theothers--they clasped their hands, opened their eyes and mouths, andsimply drank it in.
There was no applause when the air ceased, but a deep sigh from everyone seemed to be the indication of a return to ordinary consciousness.Waboose and her mother did not sigh, however. They sat still and gazedin silent wonder. Jessie Macnab, with a slight blush at the unexpectedeffect, ran her fingers lightly over the keys of her instrument, andthen suddenly began to play a Highland reel with tremendous vigour!
If an electric shock had traversed the marrow or our backbones, theresult could not have been more surprising.
"Wow! Tougall, man!" exclaimed Bane, starting up and flinging away hischair.
Dougall said nothing, but he uttered a Celtic yell suggestive of war andall its horrors to Big Otter, and, starting up, began the Highland flingopposite to his friend in the most violent manner. As I was not a baddancer of Scots' reels myself, and the music had caused me also to boilover, I started up likewise and faced Macnab, who, being equallyaffected, stood up to me in a moment, and away we went, hammer andtongs, with stamp and whoop and snap of finger--oh! the scene isindescribable. Indeed, I may say that to an ordinary civilised man whonever saw it, the scene is inconceivable, so--we will pass on.
While these stirring events were taking place inside the hall, ablack-faced, red-painted savage was flattening his ugly nose against apane of glass outside one of the windows. It was Attick, whom our chiefhad convicted of stealing about the time of our arrival. Thatunpleasant savage had never forgiven Lumley, and, being exceedinglyvindictive, had resolved to murder him! With this end in view, he hadbeen prowling about the place for several days, having arrived with aband of his tribe who had assembled at Christmas-time to enjoy some ofthe good cheer which they understood to be going at that season amongthe pale-faces.
On New Year's night unknown to his comrades--for it was his intention todo the deed secretly, and leave the imputation upon all--he watched hisopportunity, and thought he had found it when, after the dance was overand the guests had retired, he saw Lumley seated by the fire inconversation with the newly-arrived pale-face girl. Macnab and I hadgone with the men to their house for some purpose--I forget what--sothat the two were left alone.
Attick might easily have opened the door and shot his victim, but thereport, he knew, would have roused every one; besides, his absence atthe moment and his dirty gun would have betrayed him to his comrades;so, being a strong man, he preferred the scalping-knife, with the use ofwhich he was of course familiar.
Now, it chanced that there hung a small looking-glass over the hallfireplace. In that glass Lumley could see not only himself, but thedoor and windows of the room behind him, as he sat chatting with JessieMacnab. Happening to glance into the glass, he observed the flattenednose of Attick on the window-pane with the glaring eyes above it. A_tete-a-tete_ with the fair Jessie was too pleasant, however, to beinterrupted by such a trifle; he therefore continued the conversation,though he kept a sharp look-out behind him. Presently he saw the dooropen--open so gently that it gave forth no sound. Immediately after, ablackened and savage head appeared with a diabolical expression on thecountenance. It was followed slowly by a hand in which a gleaming knifewas clutched. Lumley now fully understood what was meditated, for herecognised Attick through his war-paint. He did not move, however, forhe felt that if he sprang up too soon the savage could easily leap backthrough the doorway and escape into the dark woods. He therefore laidstrong constraint on himself and waited.
Miss Macnab's back was turned to the savage, but not having theadvantage of the glass, she could not see him, and continued herpleasant prattle. Like a dark, noiseless shadow, the Indian advanced,and raised his knife.
"Then you like this wilderness life?" asked Jessie, at that moment.
"Yes, I confess, Miss Macnab, that it has its charms as well as itsdisagreeables--the utter want of society being the worst of the latter."
"I should have thought," said the girl, looking up, "that you--but--but--why do you gaze and frown so fiercely at that--"
She was promptly answered, for Lumley sprang up at the moment withpanther-like agility, wheeled round, seized the uplifted arm, and, witha wrench so violent as to break it, he hurled the savage to the ground.
Jessie Macnab sprang up in consternation, but did not give way to thatsupposed female-in-alarm necessity--a scream. At the same moment Macnaband I entered.
"Hallo! Lumley. What's all this?"
cried Macnab. "Nobody hurt, Ihope?"
"I fear the Indian is hurt somewhat," said our chief, looking down athis enemy, who lay stunned upon the floor. "Go, Max, assemble our menand fetch all the Indians."
In a few minutes all were assembled in the hall, when Lumley, in a low,stern voice, related what had occurred, appealing to Jessie tocorroborate what he said.
"Now," he added in conclusion, turning to the Indians, "I have noquarrel with you. There lies your comrade. He has forfeited his lifeto me, but I forgive him. Take him away."
Lumley said no more, as, in solemn surprise and silence, the Indianslifted up their comrade and bore him out of the hall; but he took goodcare to make no reference whatever to the looking-glass, and I verilybelieve that to this day it is believed by the red-men of that regionthat Lumley has eyes in the back of his head.