CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
THE LAST.
Once more I change the scene, from the wild regions of the north to thelittle less wild lands of Colorado.
On a certain bright forenoon in Autumn I stood in the doorway of SunnyCreek Cottage watching a clumsy vehicle as it laboured slowly up thehill. I was alone that day, old Mrs Liston, Eve, and "Aunt Temple"having gone off in the waggon for a long drive to visit a relative withhunting proclivities, who had built himself a log-hut in a ravine of theneighbouring mountains, that he might be in closer proximity to thebears and deer.
With some curiosity I approached the lumbering machine to assist theoccupant, who seemed unable, or too impatient, to open the door. It wasa stiff door, and swung open with a jerk which caused the occupant's hatto fall off, and reveal a bald head.
"Father!" I gasped.
"Punch, my boy!"
The dear old man tripped in his haste to get down, plunged into mybosom, threw his arms round my neck to save himself, and almost bore meto the ground. Neither of us being demonstrative in our affections,this unpremeditated, not to say unintentional, embrace I felt to bequite touching. My father obviously resolved to make the most of hisopportunities, for he gave me a thoroughly exhaustive hug beforereleasing me.
"I--I--didn't m-mean," said my father, blazing with excitement, andgasping with a mingled tendency to laugh and weep, "didn't mean to comeit quite so strong, P-Punch, my boy, b-but you'll make allowance for amomentary weakness. I'm getting an old man, Punch. What makes you grinso, you backwoods koonisquat?"
The last sentence, with its opprobrious epithet (coined on the spot),was addressed with sudden asperity to the driver of the clumsy vehicle,who was seated on his box, with mouth expanded from ear to ear.
"Wall, stranger, if you will insist on knowin'," said he, "It's sympathythat makes me grin. I _do_ like to see human natur' out of itsgo-to-meetin' togs, with its saddle off, an' no bridal on, spurtin'around in gushin' simplicity. But you're wrong, stranger," continuedthe driver, with a grave look, "quite wrong in callin' me a koonisquat.I _have_ dropt in the social scale, but I ain't got quite so low asthat, I guess, by a long chalk."
"Well, you compound of Welshman and Yankee, be off and refreshyourself," returned my father, putting an extra dollar, over and abovehis fare, into the man's hand, "but don't consume it on your filthyfire-water cock-tails, or gin-slings, or any other kind of sling-tails.If you must drink, take it out in strong hot coffee."
The man drove off, still grinning, and I hurried my father into thecottage where, while I set before him a good luncheon, he gave me awildly rambling and interjectional account of his proceedings since thedate of his last letter to me.
"But why did you take me by surprise in this way, dear daddy; why didn'tyou let me know you were coming?"
"Because I like to take people by surprise, especially ill-doingscapegraces like--by the way," said my father, suddenly laying down hisknife and fork, "where is she?"
"Where is who?"
"She--her, of course; the--the girl, the Hottentot, the savage. Oh!George, what an ass you are!"
"If you mean Eve, sir," said I, "she is away from home--and everybodyelse along with her. That comes of your taking people by surprise, yousee. Nobody prepared to receive you; nothing ready. No sheets airedeven."
"Well, well, Punch, my boy, don't be sharp with your old father. Iwon't offend again. By the way," he added, quickly, "you're not married_yet_? eh?"
"No, not yet."
"Ah!" said my father with a sigh of relief, as he resumed his knife andfork, "then there's the barest chance of a possibility that if--butyou've asked her to marry you, eh?"
"Yes, I have asked her."
"And she has accepted you?"
"Yes, she has accepted me. I wrote all that to you long ago."
"Ah!" said my father, with a profound sigh of resignation, "then thereis _no_ chance of a possibility, for if a man tries to win theaffections of a girl and succeeds, he is bound in honour to marry her--even though he were the Emperor of China, and she a--a Hottentot. Now,Punch, I have made up my mind to like the girl, even though she paintedscarlet circles round her eyes, and smeared her nose with sky-blue--butyou _must_ let your poor old father blow off the steam, for you havebeen such a--a donkey!--such a hasty, impatient, sentimental, romanticidiot, that--another glass of that milk, my boy. Thank'ee, where do youget it? Beats English milk hollow."
"Got it from one of our numerous cows, daddy," said I, with a shortlaugh at this violent change of the subject, "and my Eve made thebutter."
"Did she, indeed? Well, I'm glad she's fit for even that small amountof civilised labour; but you have not told me yet when I shall see her?"
"That is a question I cannot exactly answer," said I, "but you will atall events be introduced to-night to her father's mother, and her cousin(whom we call aunt), as well as to a young lady--a Miss Waboose--who isstaying with us at present. And now, father," I added, "come, and we'llhave a stroll round the farm. I don't expect the ladies back tillevening. Meanwhile, I want you to do me a favour; to humour what I maycall a whim."
"If it's not a very silly one, Punch, I'll do it, though I have not muchconfidence in your wisdom _now_."
"It is simply that you should agree, for this night only, to passyourself off for a very old friend of mine. You need not tell fibs, orgive a false name. You are a namesake, you know. There are lots ofMaxbys in the world!"
"Weak, my boy; decidedly weak. They'll be sure to see through it and Iwon't be able to recollect not to call you Punch."
"No matter. Call me Punch. I'll tell them you are a very familiar oldfriend--a sort of relation, too, which will account for the name."
"Well, well," said my father, with a smile of pity, "I'll not object tohumour your whim, but it's weak--worthy of a man who could engagehimself to a miserable red-Indian Hottentot!"
This being finally settled, and my father having been pretty wellexhausted by his ramble round the farm, I set him down on the rusticchair with a newspaper and left him, saying that I should be back in anhour or so.
I knew the road by which the waggon was to return, walked along itseveral miles, and then waited. Soon it drove up to the spot where Istood. They were surprised to see me, but more surprised when I orderedthe ladies to get out, and walk with me, while the coachman drove onslowly in advance.
Then I hurriedly told of my father's arrival, and explained more fullythan I had yet ventured to do his misconceptions and prejudices as toEve. "Now, I want you all," said I, "to help me to remove theseprejudices and misconceptions as quickly as possible by falling in withmy little plans."
Hereupon I explained that my father was to be introduced as an oldfriend and namesake, while Eve was to be presented to him as a visitorat the cottage named Miss Waboose. I had feared that old Mrs Listonwould not enter into my plan, but found that, on the contrary, having astrong sense of humour, she quite enjoyed the notion of it. So did AuntTemple, but Eve herself felt doubtful of her ability to act out herpart. I had no doubt on that point, for she had undertaken it, and welldid I know that whatever Eve undertook she could, and would, accomplish.
It might be tedious to recount in detail the scenes that followed. Thedear old man was charmed with Miss Waboose--as I had fully expected--andMiss Waboose was more than charmed with the dear old man! So that whenwe bade the ladies good-night, he kissed her fair forehead with quitefatherly tenderness.
When I conducted the old man to his room I was struck, and made quiteanxious, by the disconsolate expression of his face, and asked earnestlywhat was wrong.
"Wrong!" he exclaimed, almost petulantly. "Everything's wrong. Moreparticularly, _you_ are wrong. Oh, George, I _can't_ get over it. Tothink that you are tied hard and fast--_irrevocably_--to--a red-Indian--a painted savage--a Hottentot. It is too--too bad!"
He kicked off one of his shoes so viciously at this point, that it wentstraight into, and smashed, a looking-glass; but he did
n't seem to carea straw for that. He did not even condescend to notice it.
"And to think, too," he continued, "that you might have had thatadorable young lady, Miss Waboose, who--in spite of her heathenishname--is the most charming, artless, modest young creature I ever saw.Oh! Punch, Punch, what a consummate idiot you have been."
It was impossible to help laughing at my poor father's comicalexpression of chagrin, as he sat on the edge of his bed, slapped hishands down on both knees and looked up in my face.
"Excuse me, daddy, but what ground have you for supposing that MissWaboose would accept me, even if I were free to ask her hand?"
"Ground? Why the ground that she is fond of you. Any man with half aneye could see that, by the way she looks at and speaks to you. Ofcourse you have not observed that. I trust, my boy, you are toohonourable to have encouraged it. Nevertheless, it is a fact--amiserable, tantalising, exasperating fact--a maddening fact, now thatthat hideous red-Indian--Hottentot stands in the way."
"That red-Indian--Hottentot," said I, unable any longer to cause my dearfather so much pain, "does _not_ stand in the way, for I am happy totell you that Miss Waboose and Eve are one and the same person."
"Come, come, Punch," returned my parent, testily, "I'm in no humour forjesting. Go away, and let me get to bed and pillow my head on oblivionif possible."
I do assure you, reader, that I had no slight difficulty in persuadingmy father that Eve Liston and Waboose were really the same person.
"But the girl's _fair_," objected my father, when the truth began toforce an entrance.
"Yes--`passing fair,'" said I.
"And with blue eyes and golden hair!" said he.
"Even so," said I.
"No more like a savage than I am?" said my father.
"Much less so," said I.
When at length he did take in the fact, he flung his arms round my neckfor the second time that day, and did his best to strangle me. Then,under a sudden impulse, he thrust me out into the passage and shut andlocked the door.
"You won't pillow your head on oblivion now, will you, daddy?" I askedthrough the keyhole.
"Get away, you deceiver!" was the curt reply.
But surprises did not come singly at that time. Call it a miracle, or acoincidence, or what you will, it is a singular fact that, on the verynext day, there arrived at Sunny Creek cottage four travellers--namely,Jack Lumley, the black-haired pale-face, Peter Macnab, and Big Otter.
On beholding each other, Jessie Lumley and Eve Liston, uttering each alittle shriek, rushed into each other's arms, and straightway, for thespace of five minutes, became a human amalgam.
"Not too late, I hope?" said Lumley, after the first excitement ofmeeting was over.
"Too late for what?" said I.
"For the wedding, of course," said he.
"By no means. It is fixed for this day three weeks."
"Good--Jessie and I will have the knot tightened a little on the sameday by the same man."
"Wind and weather permitting," said Macnab, with his wonted irreverence."Now, Maxby, my boy, take us into the house, and introduce us to oldMrs Liston. But what splendid creature is this coming towards us?"
"Why that's Aunt Temple," I whispered, as she came forward. "Let meintroduce you, aunt, to Mr Macnab--the jolly fur-trader of whom youhave heard me speak so often and so much."
Macnab made a profound obeisance, and Aunt Temple returned a dignifiedbow, expressing herself, "much pleased to make the acquaintance,"etcetera, and saying that Mrs Liston, being unable to come out to greetthem, was anxious that we should enter. "Particularly Big Otter," saidAunt Temple, turning to the grave chief, "for whom she has a very greatregard."
Thus invited and specially complimented, our tall Indian stooped toenter the cottage door, but not being accustomed to the wooden wigwamsof the pale-faces, he did not stoop low enough, struck his head againstthe top, and rather damaged an eagle's feather, with which his hair wasdecorated.
Nothing, almost, could upset the dignity and imperturbable gravity ofBig Otter. He stooped lower to conquer the difficulty, and when insidedrew himself up to his full height, so that the eagle's feather touchedthe ceiling, and tickled up some flies that were reposing in fanciedsecurity there.
Glancing round till his black eyes caught sight of old Mrs Liston in adarkish corner on a sofa, he stepped forward, and, stooping to grasp oneof her small hands in both of his, said tenderly--"Watchee."
"What cheer--what cheer?" said the accommodating old lady, responding tothe salutation in kind. "Tell him, George, that I'm _so_ happy to seeonce again the friend of my beloved William."
"Big Otter rejoices to meet again the mother of Weeum," replied theIndian.
"And tell him," said Mrs Listen, "that I hope he has now come to staywith us altogether."
The Indian smiled gravely, and shook his head, intimating that thequestion required consideration.
When the other members of the party were introduced--Jessie and Evehaving been separated for the purpose--we all adjourned to the verandahto interchange news.
Need it be said that we had much to hear and tell? I think not.Neither need the fact be enlarged on, that we all retired late thatnight, in a state of supreme felicity and mental exhaustion.
There was one exception, however, as regards the felicity, for MrsListon, out of regard for the friend of her darling William, insistedthat Big Otter should occupy the best bedroom on the ground floor. Theresult was eminently unsatisfactory, for Big Otter was not accustomed tobest bedrooms. Eve conducted the Indian to his room. He cared nothingfor his comfort, and was prepared humbly to do whatever he was bid. Hesilently followed her and looked round the room with open-mouthed wonderas she pointed to his bed and, with a pleasant nod, left him.
Resting his gun in a corner--for he never parted with that weapon nightor day--and laying his powder-horn and shot-pouch on the ground, he drewhis tomahawk and scalping-knife, and was about to deposit them besidethe horn, when his eye suddenly fell on a gigantic Indian crouching, asif on the point of springing on him. Like lightning he sprang erect.Then an expression of intense humility and shame covered his gravefeatures on discovering that a large mirror had presented him with afull-length portrait of himself! A sort of pitiful smile curled his lipas he took off his hunting coat. Being now in his ordinary sleepingcostume he approached the bed, but did not like the look of it. Nowonder! Besides being obviously too short, it had white curtains withfrills or flounces of some sort, with various tags and tassels around,and it did not look strong. He sat cautiously down on the side of it,however, and put one leg in. The sheets felt unpleasant to his nakedfoot, but not being particular, he shoved it in, and was slowly lettinghimself down on one elbow, when the bed creaked!
This was enough. Big Otter was brave to rashness in facing knowndanger, but he was too wise to risk his body on the unknown! Drawingforth his leg he stood up again, and glanced round the room. There wasa small dressing-table opposite the bed; beside it was the large glasswhich had given him such a surprise. Further on a washhand-stand with atowel-rack beside it, but there was no spot on which he could stretchhis bulky frame save the middle of the floor. Calmly he lay down onthat, having previously pulled off all the bedclothes in a heap andselected therefrom a single blanket. Pillowing his head on a footstool,he tried to sleep, but the effort was vain. There was a want of air--adreadful silence, as if he had been buried alive--no tinkling of water,or rustling of leaves, or roar of cataract. It was insupportable. Hegot up and tried to open the door, but the handle was a mystery which hecould not unriddle. There was a window behind the dressing-table. Heexamined that, overturning and extinguishing the candle in the act. Butthat was nothing. The stars gave enough of light. Fortunately thewindow was a simple cottage one, which opened inwards with a pull. Heput on his coat and belt, resumed his arms, and, putting his long legover the sill, once more stood on his native soil and breathed the pureair! Quietly gliding round the house, he found
a clump of bushes with afootpath leading through it. There he laid him down, enveloped in oneof Mrs Liston's best blankets, and there he was found next morning intranquil slumber by our domestic when she went to milk the cows!
Before the three weeks were over Peter Macnab almost paralysed AuntTemple by a cool proposal that she should exchange the civilisedsettlements for the wilderness, and go back with him, as Mrs Macnab, tothe Mountain Fort! The lady, recovering from her semi-paralyticaffection, agreed to the suggestion, and thus Peter Macnab was,according to his own statement, "set up for life."
Shall I dwell on the triple wedding? No. Why worry the indulgentreader, or irritate the irascible one, by recounting what is souniversally understood. There were circumstances peculiar, no doubt tothe special occasion. To Eve and myself, of course, it was the mostimportant day of our lives--a day never to be forgotten; and for whichwe could never be too thankful, and my dear father pronounced it thehappiest day of _his_ life; but I think he forgot himself a little whenhe said that! Then old Mrs Liston saw but one face the whole evening,and it was the face of Willie--she saw it by faith, through the mediumof Eve's sweet countenance.
But I must cut matters short. When all was over, Macnab said to hiswife:--
"Now, my dear, we must be off at the end of one week. You see, I havejust one year's furlough, and part of it is gone already. The rest ofit, you and I must spend partly in the States, partly in England, andpartly on the continent of Europe, so that we may return to the GreatNor'-west with our brains well stored with material for small talkduring an eight or nine months' winter."
Aunt Macnab had no objection. Accordingly, that day week he and shebade us all good-bye and left us. Big Otter was to go with them part ofthe way, and then diverge into the wilderness. He remained a fewminutes behind the others to say farewell.
"You will come and settle beside us at last, I hope," said Mrs Liston,squeezing the red-man's hand.
The Indian stood gently stroking the arched neck of his magnificenthorse in silence for a few moments. Then he said, in a low voice:--
"Big Otter's heart is with the pale-faces, but he cannot change thenature which has been given to him by the Great Master of Life. Hecannot live with the pale-faces. He will dwell where his fathers havedwelt, and live as his fathers have lived, for he loves the great freewilderness. Yet in the memory of his heart the mother of Weeum willlive, and Waboose and Muxbee, and the tall pale-face chief, who won thehearts of the red-men by his justice and his love. The dark-hairedpale-face, too, will never be forgotten. Each year, as it goes andcomes, Big Otter will come again to Sunny Creek about the time that theplovers whistle in the air. He will come and go, till his blood growscold and his limbs are frail. After that he will meet you all, withWeeum, in the bright Land of Joy, where the Great Master of Life dwellsfor evermore. Farewell!"
He vaulted on his steed at the last word, and, putting it to the gallop,returned to his beloved wilderness in the Great Nor'-west.
THE END.
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