CHAPTER XL.
A STARTLING CHANGE.
We found a few men up, but most of them had turned in, and thus somelittle time was lost in selecting and rousing them. As quietly aspossible--for we did not want to alarm the whole fort--the horses wereled out and saddled. Then the twenty of us mounted, filed through thegates and rode off to the north. Among those chosen--it was mysuggestion--were Luke Hutter and Carteret. I was up in front, withLieutenant Boyd and his fellow officers.
Our destination, Lagarde's store, was a stoutly-built log house standingquite by itself, and near a lonely trail that led into the wilderness.It had been erected a few years before, and served the Northwest peoplefor a small trading post until they constructed largerones. Then it was turned over to Pierre Lagarde, one of their own men,who ran it as a combined supply store and lodging house for passingvoyageurs and hunters. It was a rough place in these times of illfeeling, and was avoided by Hudson Bay Company men. I knew a good bitabout it myself, and what more there was to know Lieutenant Boydvouchsafed as we rode along.
"It was natural that the ruffians should break their journey there," heconcluded. "They will probably be sleeping, and I don't anticipate anytrouble in getting the prisoner into our hands. As for Lagarde, he is ablustering fellow, but a coward at heart."
"They won't show light if they are seven to twenty," said I. "But do youreally believe they have dared to capture one of our couriers?"
"They would dare anything, these Northwest Company scoundrels," repliedthe lieutenant. "And Walker's information, I assure you, is alwaysaccurate."
By this time we had left Port Garry a couple of miles behind us, and faroff to our right a couple of twinkling lights on the horizon marked thelittle settlement. On we went at a rattling pace, the hoofs of ourhorses ringing on the hard, frozen snow. The night was dark and bitterlycold; the stars shone in the steely vault of the sky, but there was nomoon.
Presently we dipped into a heavy forest, which made the road gleamwhiter by contrast. When we had come within a mile of our goal, wesettled down to a trot, and a little later the word to halt and dismountwas passed along the line in a whisper.
"I don't want to give the rascals any warning," the lieutenantexplained. "It will be far the wisest plan to take them by surprise,before they can show fight. We are less than a quarter of a mile fromthe store now."
The men were quickly out of the saddle, and three of them were told offto guard the horses, which we tethered to saplings by the side of theroad. Then the rest of us--seventeen in number--looked to our musketsand started forward on foot. We moved as silently as possible, and soonreached the edge of the forest, where we halted in the deep shadow ofthe trees.
Before us was a spacious clearing, fifty yards across which stoodLagarde's store. Smoke was pouring from the chimney and a ray of lightwas visible under one of the shuttered windows; but not a sound could beheard, and not a moving object could be seen on the white snow crust.
"It's all right," said Boyd. "They have turned in for the night, and Idon't suppose they have set a watch; Lagarde keeps no dog."
"We had better make sure," suggested Nicoll. "I'm light on my feet--ifyou say the word I'll have a closer look about."
I offered to accompany him--I was keenly curious about the prisoner--andthe lieutenant consented.
"Go on, then," he said, "but don't let them catch you spying, and getback as fast as you can. It's too cold to wait about long."
So off we went, Nicoll and I, and we crept across the clearing withscarcely more noise than a cat would have made. A hum of voices grew onour ears as we approached, proving that Boyd's surmise was wrong.
The conversation, and the light under the windows, came from the room inthe nearest angle of the house. But there were no crevices between thelogs, and the shutters fitted so tightly that we could see nothing.
We heard little more. A number of men were talking in low tones, andafter listening a minute we gathered that they had a prisoner andintended taking him down to the Northwest Company's fort in the morning.We made a circuit of the house finding the other rooms dark and silent,and then safely rejoined our party and communicated our discoveries tothe lieutenant.
"Up and awake, are they?" he muttered. "And it's a sure thing about theprisoner! Well, they won't have him long. I'll surround the house andinduce them to open the door by craft. If that don't work--?"
"Look here," interrupted Nicoll. "I didn't tell you that I recognizedthe voice of one of those fellows in the room."
"Ah! Who was it?"
"Ruthven!"
"Are you sure, man?"
"Yes; positive!"
"Then there is all the more reason for acting with promptness anddecision," the lieutenant said emphatically. "Ruthven is a dangerousman," he added to me. "He is an official of the Northwest Company, andis said to have stirred up the half-breeds against us. But I'll get theupper hand of him this time."
A moment later, Boyd having given the force sharp and preciseinstructions, we sallied out from the woods and across the clearing. Asstealthily as panthers we gained the house, and a dozen of our menquickly surrounded it. Five posted themselves before the door--thelieutenant, Nicoll and McKay, Carteret and myself. We held our weaponsready for use.
"If they don't let us in at once," Boyd whispered, "we'll force anentrance. It's not a case for parleying."
With that he rapped on the door--by no means lightly. There was a suddenhush inside, then a cautious approach of booted feet, and then a gruffvoice demanded:
"Who's there?"
"A friend," answered the lieutenant.
"What do you want?"
"I have an important message for Jim Ruthven."
"From the fort?"
"Yes, from the fort. Open, Pierre!"
An instant of hesitation. Creak, creak! Bolts were being withdrawn. Nextthe door swung open, and we dimly saw the bearded, rum-bloated face ofPierre Lagarde. The lieutenant's ruse had thoroughly deceived him, andat sight of us he was struck dumb. Before he could give an alarm we hadjammed him back between the door and the wall, and dashed past him intothe room.
"Don't stir!" cried Boyd in a ringing voice. "The first one of you thatmoves, or reaches for a weapon, I'll shoot like a dog!"
And he leveled a pistol in each hand.
It was the neatest piece of work I had ever seen done. We had surprisedthe enemy at a moment when they believed themselves in perfect security,and they were powerless to offer any resistance. Seven men surrounded atable littered with cups and bottles, all hunters or voyageurs saveone--a better-dressed, crafty-featured man, whom I took for Ruthven.They sat staring at us with savage faces and flashing eyes, tremblingwith rage, muttering deep curses. Their muskets were stacked on the wallbehind them, and they dared not reach for knives or pistols.
"I've got you trapped," the lieutenant added. "You can't helpyourselves. Three times your number are outside. But I mean you no harm.My business can be settled without bloodshed--"
"Do you think you are acting in your rights, sir," Ruthven broke indefiantly, "when you invade the property of the Northwest Company andthreaten its servants?"
"You scoundrel!" cried Boyd, "were you acting in your rights when youwaylaid and captured a courier of the Hudson Bay Company?"
"It's a lie!"
"Come, we know better," said I. "The prisoner is in this house and wewant him at once."
"And who are you, my young cock-of-the-walk?" snarled Ruthven.
"Denzil Carew," I replied, on the spur of the moment, "formerly of FortRoyal."
By the sudden pallor of the man's face I knew that the shot had struckhome--that he knew all about the burning of the fort, and his companionslooked no less disconcerted and alarmed. He changed the subjectinstantly.
"Lieutenant Boyd, I command you to leave," he said hoarsely. "You forgetthere is such a thing as law in the Canadas."
"It is you who forget that, sir," retorted the lieutenant, "
as you willlearn to your cost before many days. But to business! Produce theprisoner."
"I admit that I have one," said Ruthven, "but my claim to him overridesyours. He is a murderer; he has killed a Northwest Company man in coldblood."
"Who?"
"Cuthbert Mackenzie!"
I could scarcely believe that I had heard aright. I exchangedsignificant and wondering glances with my companion. Could it bepossible that Cuthbert Mackenzie had paid the last penalty for hiscrimes?
"It's a good job, if it's true!" muttered Carteret.
The Cryptogram: A Story of Northwest Canada Page 40