Lords of the North

  CHAPTER XXIV

  FORT DOUGLAS CHANGES MASTERS

  I suppose there are times in the life of every one, even thestrongest--and I am not that--when a feather's weight added to a burdenmay snap power of endurance. I had reached that stage beforeencountering Le Grand Diable on the field of massacre at Seven Oaks.With the events in the Mandane country, the long, hard ride northwardand this latest terrible culmination of strife between Nor'-Westers andHudson's Bay, the past month had been altogether too hard packed for mywell-being. The madness of northern traders no longer amazed me.

  An old nurse of my young days, whom I remember chiefly by her ramrodback and sharp tongue, used to say, "Nerves! nerves! nothing butnerves!" She thanked God she was born before the doctors had discoverednerves. Though neurotic theories had not been sufficiently elaboratedfor me to ascribe my state to the most refined of modern ills--nervousprostration--I was aware, as I dragged over the prairie with the horseat the end of a trailing bridle rein, that something was seriously outof tune. It was daylight before I caught the frightened broncho and noknock-kneed coward ever shook more, as I vainly tried to vault into thesaddle, and after a dozen false plunges at the stirrup, gave up theattempt 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 coulddistinguish only two thoughts, Where was Miriam--and Father Holland'sprediction--"Benedicite! The Lord shall be your avenger! He shalldeliver that evil one into the power of the punisher."

  Thus, I reached the camp, picketed the horse, threw myself down in thetent and slept without a break from the morning of the 20th till mid-dayof the 21st. I was awakened by the _Bois-Brules_ returning from ademonstration before the gateway of Fort Douglas. Going to the tentdoor, I saw that Pritchard, one of the captive Hudson's Bay men, hadbeen brought back from a conference with the enemy. From his account,the Hudson's Bay people seemed to be holding out against us; but thesettlers, realizing the danger of Indian warfare, to a man favoredsurrender. Had it not been for Grant, there would have been no fartherparley; but on news that settlers were pressing for capitulation, thewarden again despatched Pritchard to the Hudson's Bay post. In the hopeof gaining access to Frances Sutherland and Eric Hamilton I accompaniedhim. Such was the terror prevailing within the walls, in spite ofPritchard's assurance regarding my friendly purpose, admission wasflatly denied me. I contented myself with verbal messages that Hamiltonand Father Holland must remain. I could guarantee their safety. The sameoffer I made to Frances, but told her to do what was best for herselfand her father. When Pritchard came out, I knew from his face that FortDouglas was ours. Hamilton and Father Holland would stay, he reported;but Mistress Sutherland bade him say that after Seven Oaks her fatherhad no friendly feeling for Nor'-Westers, and she could not let him goforth alone. Terms were stipulated between the two companies with dueadvantage to our side from the recent victory and the formal surrenderof Fort Douglas took place the following day.

  "What are you going to do with the settlers, Cuthbert?" I asked of thewarden 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?" askedGrant, sarcastically. "Were a few Nor'-Westers so successful in holdingback the Metis at Seven Oaks, you'd like to see that experimentrepeated?"

  "'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 withgreat determination. "We'll have to send them down the Red to the laketill that fool of a Scotch nobleman decides what to do with his finecolonists."

  "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 toScotland! Why, man, it's sheer murder to expose those people to a winterup there without a thing to shelter them!"

  "To my mind, freezing is not quite so bad as a massacre. If they won'ttake 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 Iknow every effort we made to induce those people to go south instead ofnorth has been misrepresented as an infamous attempt to expel Selkirksettlers from Red River. Truly, I hope I may never see a sadder sightthan the going forth of those colonists to the shelterless plain. It wasdisastrous enough for them to be driven from their native heath; but tobe lured away to this far country for the purpose of becoming buffersbetween rival fur-traders, who would stop at nothing, and to besacrificed as victims for their company's criminal policy--I speak as aNor'-Wester--was immeasurably cruel.

  Grant was, of course, on hand for the surrender, and he wisely kept theplain-rangers at a safe distance. Clerks lined each side of the path tothe gate, and I pressed forward for a glimpse of Frances Sutherland.There was the jar of a heavy bolt shot back. Confused noises soundedfrom the courtyard. The gates swung open, and out marched the sheriff ofAssiniboia, bearing in one hand a pole with a white sheet tacked to theend for a flag of truce, and in the other the fort keys. Behind, sullenand dejected, followed a band of Hudson's Bay men. Grant stepped up tomeet the sheriff. The terms of capitulation were again stated, and therewas some signing of paper. Of those things my recollection isindistinct; for I was straining my eyes towards the groups of settlersinside the walls. When I looked back to the conferring leaders thesilence was so intense a pinfall could have been heard. The keys of thefort were being handed to the Nor'-Westers and the Hudson's Bay men hadturned away their faces that they might not see. The vanquished thenpassed quickly to the barges at the river. Each of the six drunkenfellows, whom I had last seen in the late Governor Semple's office, theHighlanders who had spied upon me when I visited Fort Douglas but a yearbefore, the clerks whom I had heard talking that night in the greathall, and many others with whom I had but a chance acquaintance, fileddown to the river. Seeing all ready, with a North-West clerk at the prowof each boat to warn away marauders, the men came back for settlers andwounded comrades. I would have proffered my assistance to some of theburdened people on the chance of a word with Frances Sutherland, but thecolonists proudly resented any kind offices from a Nor'-Wester. I sawLouis Laplante come limping out, leaning on the arm of the red-facedman, whose eye quailed when it met mine. Poor Louis looked sadlybattered, with his head in a white bandage, one arm in a sling, and adejected stoop to his shoulders that was unusual with him.

  "This is too bad, Louis," said I, hurrying forward. "I forgot to sendword about you. You might as well have stayed in the fort till yourwounds healed. Won't you come back?"

  Louis stole a furtive, sheepish glance at me, hung his head and lookedaway 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 answereddisconsolately.

  "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 andlaying up a peck of trouble for yourself. Surely you don't treasure anygrudge 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 notfathom. "You understand some day and turn upon me and strike and giveme more throw."

  "All right, comrade, treasure your wrath! Only I thought two men, whohad 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 Ihad thought you might do as much----"

  "Do as much!" he interrupted fiercely. "_O mon Dieu!_" he cried, with asob that shook his frame. "Take me away! Take me away!" he begged theman on whose arm he was leaning; and with t
hose enigmatical words hepassed to the nearest boat.

  While I was yet gazing in mute amazement after Louis Laplante, wonderingwhether his strange emotion were revenge, or remorse, the women andchildren marched forth with the men protecting each side. The emptythreats of half-breeds to butcher every settler in Red River hadevidently reached the ears of the women. Some trembled so they couldscarcely walk and others stared at us with the reproach of murder intheir eyes, gazing in horror at our guilty hands. At last I caught sightof 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 herfather. I would have forced my way to her side at once, but a swiftglance forbade me. A gleam of love flashed to the gray eyes for aninstant, 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 ofthese cut-throats may I claim for a son?"

  "Hush, father," she whispered. "Remember he warned us to the fort andtook me to Pembina." She was as pale as death.

  "Aye! Aye! We're under obligations to strange benefactors when times goawry!" he returned bitterly.

  "O father! Don't! You'll think differently when you know----" but ahulking lout stumbled between us, and I missed the rest.

  They were at the boats and an old Highlander was causing a blockade byhis inability to lift a great bale into the barge.

  "Let me give you a lift," said I, stepping forward and taking hold ofthe 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 takeno help from the hated enemy.

  "Nor'-Wester, but what does that matter? A friend all the same! Yoheave! Up with it!"

  "Neffer!" roared the man in a towering passion, and he gave me a pushthat sent me knocking into the crowd on the landing. Involuntarily, Ithrew 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 couldnot speak.

  "I beg your pardon, Mistress Sutherland," said I, as soon as I couldfind 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 youngman 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, Isuppose!" she repeated unconcernedly, but the flush had suffused herneck and was not unnoticed by the father's keen eyes.

  Then they seated themselves at the prow beside the Nor'-Wester appointedto accompany the boat; and I saw that Louis Laplante was sittingdirectly opposite Frances Sutherland, with his eyes fixed on her face ina bold gaze, that instantly quenched any kindness I may have felttowards him. How I regretted my thoughtlessness in not havingforestalled myself in the Sutherlands' barge. The next best thing was togo along with Grant, who was preparing to ride on the river bank andescort 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, "butas my heart goes down the lake with those barges----"

  "Hut-tutt--man," interrupted Grant. "War's bad enough without love; butcome if you like."

  As the boats sheered off from the wharf, Grant and I rode along theriver trail. I saw Frances looking after me with surprise, and I thinkshe must have known my purpose, though she did not respond when Isignalled 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 aboutcollusion."

  The river path ran into the bush, winding in and out of woods, so wecaught only occasional glimpses of the boats; but I fancied her eyeswere ever towards the bank where we rode, and I could distinctly seethat the Frenchman's face was buried in his arms above one of thesquarish packets opposite the Sutherlands.

  "Is it the same lass," asked Grant, after we had been riding for morethan an hour, "is it the same lass that was disguised as an Indian girlat Fort Gibraltar?"

  His question astonished me. I thought her disguise too complete even forhis sharp penetration; but I was learning that nothing escaped thewarden's notice. Indeed, I have found it not unusual for young people ata certain stage of their careers to imagine all the rest of the worldblind.

  "The same," I answered, wondering much.

  "You took her back to Fort Douglas. Did you hear anything special in thefort that night?"

  "Nothing but that McDonell was likely to surrender. How did you know Iwas there?"

  "Spies," he answered laconically. "The old _voyageurs_ don't changemasters often for nothing. If you hadn't been stuck off in the Mandanecountry, you'd have learned a bit of our methods. Her father used tofavor 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 ofgloomy portents and forebodings of blame likely to fall upon him for themassacre; but I think history has cleared and justified Grant's part inthat awful work. Suddenly he turned to me.

  "There's pleasure in this ride for you. There's none for me. Will yefollow the boats alone and see that no harm comes to them?"

  "Certainly," said I, and the warden wheeled his horse and galloped backtowards Fort Douglas.

  For an hour after he left, the trail was among the woods, and when Ifinally reached a clearing and could see the boats, there was causeenough for regret that the warden had gone. A great outcry came fromthe Sutherlands' boat and Louis Laplante was on his feet gesticulatingexcitedly and talking in loud tones to the rowers.

  "Hullo, there!" I shouted, riding to the very water's edge andflourishing 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 ceasedpulling; for the water was shallow, and we were within speakingdistance.

  "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?" Idemanded 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 inyou, 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 pastweek. I signalled the rowers to go without him, waved a last farewell toFrances Sutherland, and turned to see Louis Laplante throw himself onthe grass and cry like a schoolboy. Dismounting I knelt beside him.

  "Cheer up, old boy," said I, with the usual vacuity of thought andstupidity of expression at such times. "Cheer up! Seven Oaks has knockedyou 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 tohimself 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 whatyou did in the gorge!' What care Louis Laplante for the fire? Pah! Whatcare Louis for wounds and cuts and threats?
Pah! The fire not half sohot as the hell inside! The cuts not half so sharp as the thinks thatprick 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 itsay: 'Pah! Louis Laplante!' The Irish priest, he say, 'You repent!' Whatcare Louis for repents? Pah! But her eyes, they look and look and looklike two steel-gray stars! Sometime they caress and he want to pray!Sometime they stab and he shiver; but they always shine like stars ofheaven and the priest, he say, 'You be shut out of heaven!' If the angelall have stars, steel glittering stars, for eyes, heaven worth fortrying! The priest, he say, 'You go to abode of torture!' Torture! Pah!More torture than 'nough here. Angels with stars in their heads, morebetter. 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 inno good mood, for a reason with which most men, but few women, willsympathize.

  "Stupid ox!" He spat out the words with unspeakable impatience at myobtuseness. "What of Miriam! Why the priest and the starry eyes and thesomething inside, they all say, 'Go and get Miriam! Where's the whitewoman? You lied! You let her go! Get her--get her--get her!' What ofMiriam? Pah!"

  After that angry outburst, the fountains of his sorrow seemed to dry upand 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 getMiriam!"

  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'twait 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--toMiriam?"

  "Yes, Louis, I know."

  "And you forgive all? Call all even?"

  "As far as I'm concerned--yes--Louis! God Almighty alone can forgive thesuffering you have caused her."

  Then Louis Laplante leaped up and, catching my hand, looked long andsteadily into my eyes.

  "I go and find her," he muttered in a low, tense voice. "I follow theirtrail--I keep her from suffer--I bring them all back--back here in thebush on this river--I bring her back, or I kill Louis Laplante!"

  "Old comrade--you were always generous," I began; but the words chokedin my throat.

  "I know not where they are, but I find them! I know not howsoon--perhaps a year--but I bring them back! Go on with the boats," andhe 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 themoment of his penitence, which goes to prove--I suppose--that we are allthe sum total of the thing called habit, that even spontaneous acts areevidences of the summed result of past years. I did not expect to findhim when I came back, and I did not. He had vanished into the woods likethe wild creature that he was; but I was placing a strange, reasonlessreliance on his promise to find Miriam.

  When I caught up with the boats, the river was widening so that attackwould be impossible, and I did not ride far. Heading my horse about, Ispurred back to Fort Douglas. Passing Seven Oaks, I saw some of theHudson'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'spromise. He had suffered disappointments enough and could ill stand anysort of excitement. I found him walking about in the up-stairs hall, buthis own grief had deadened him to the fortunes of the warring companies.

  "Confound you, boy! Tell me the truth!" said Father Holland to meafterwards in the courtyard.

  Le Grand Diable's death and Louis Laplante's promise seemed to make agreat impression on the priest.

  "I tell you the Lord delivered that evil one into the hands of thepunisher; 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 andnumerous well-loaded canoes--whose cargoes had been the bone ofcontention between Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers at Seven Oaks--arrivedat Fort Douglas. The newcomers were surprised to find us in possessionof the enemy's fort. The last news they had heard was of wanton andsuccessful aggression on the part of Lord Selkirk's Company; and I thinkthe extra crews sent north were quite as much for purposes of defence asswift travel. But the gravity of affairs startled the men from FortWilliam; for they, themselves, had astounding news. Lord Selkirk was onhis way north with munitions of war and an army of mercenaries formerlyof the De Meurons' regiment, numbering two hundred, some said three orfour hundred men; but this was an exaggeration. For what was he comingto Red River in this warlike fashion? His purpose would probably showitself. Also, if his intent were hostile, would not Seven Oaks massacreafford him the very pretence he wanted for chastising Nor'-Westers outof the country? The canoemen had met the ejected settlers bound up thelake; and with them, whom did they see but the bellicose Captain MilesMcDonell, 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 hurryingsouthward to inform Lord Selkirk of the massacre.

  We had had a victory; but how long would it last? Truly the sky wasdarkening and few of us felt hopeful about the bursting of the storm.