*CHAPTER XV.*
_*TO THE RESCUE.*_
Diome had no more information to give. "For the love of life, sir," heentreated, as the brief conference ended, "move off to the other side ofthe house, or you will be seen by Vanner as he returns. A hunter's eye,Mr. De Brunier, notices the least change in the shadows. You mean tohide among the orchard trees, but you can't stand still. You will befrozen to death, and a moving shadow will betray you."
His cautionary counsels were wasted on a preoccupied mind. De Brunierwas examining the fastenings of the door. There was a lock, but the keywas with the owners of the hut. There was also a bar which secured iton the inside. Forgill's basket of tools stood by the chimney.
"How much time have we?" asked Mr. De Brunier.
"A good half-hour, sir," replied Diome.
"Time enough for me to transfer this staple to the outside of thedoorpost?"
Diome hesitated before he answered this inquiry. "Well then?" he askedin turn.
"Well then," repeated Mr. De Brunier, "this Vanner is to meet you here.Don't go out of the hut to take his horse; beckon him to come inside.Shut the door, as if for caution, and tell him you have seen me watchinghim from the orchard trees. He will listen to that. Two minutes willbe enough for me to bar the door on the outside, and we shall have cagedthe wild hawk before he has had time to pounce upon his prey. I mustshut you in together; but play your part well, and leave the rest tome."
"Shut me in with Dick Vanner in a rage!" exclaimed Diome. "He wouldsmell treachery in a moment. Not for me."
It went hard with Diome to turn against his old companions. It wasclear to Mr. De Brunier the man was afraid of a hand-to-hand encounter.With such half-hearted help the attempt was too hazardous. He changedhis tactics.
"I am not in their secrets," protested Diome. "I am only here to holdhis horse. They don't trust me."
"And I," added Mr. De Brunier, "am intent upon preventing mischief.I'll walk round once more. Should you hear the house-door open, you willprobably find I have gone in."
Yes, Mr. De Brunier was beginning to regret leaving the house; and yet,if he had not done so, he could not have started Gaspe to intercept thepoliceman. "Now," he thought, "the boy will be carried off before theycan arrive." His thoughts were turning to a probable pursuit. Hecrossed to the back of the house to look for the Cree. No one betterthan an Indian for work like that.
The light from the windows of the farm-house was reflected from theshining ground, making it bright as day before them, and deepening thegloom of the shadows beyond. A low, deep growl from Yula brought Mr. DeBrunier to the opposite corner of the house, where he discovered Maxicalying on the ground, with his ear to the end of one of the largest logswith which the house was built. They recognized each other instantly,but not a word was said. They were at the angle of the building wherethe logs crossed each other.
Suddenly Mr. De Brunier remembered the capacity in the uncut trunk of atree for transmitting sound, and following Maxica's example he too laidhis ear to the end of another log, and found himself, as it were, in awhispering gallery. The faintest sound at the other end of the log wasdistinctly audible. They tried each corner of the house. The music andthe dancing from dining-room to kitchen did not detain them long. Atthe back they could hear the regular breathing of a healthy sleeper andthe laboured, painful respiration of the broken-down old man.
The log which crossed the one at which they were now listening ran atthe end of the storeroom, and gave back no sound. It was evident bothWilfred and his uncle had fallen asleep, and were therefore off theirguard.
To drive up the loose ponies and make them gallop round the house towaken them was a task Yula took off their hands and accomplished so wellthat Bowkett, listening in the midst of the whirling dancers, believedthat Vanner had returned.
Maxica was back at the angle of the logs, moving his ear from one to theother. He raised a warning finger, and laid his ear a little closer tothe storeroom side. Mr. De Brunier leaned over him and pressed his ownto the tier above. Some one had entered the storeroom.
"Anything here?" asked a low voice.
"What's that behind the door?" whispered another in reply.
"A woman's ironing board."
"A woman's what?"
"Never mind what it is if it will slide through the window," interposeda third impatiently, and they were gone.
But the watchers without had heard enough to shape their plan. Maxicawas ear, Mr. De Brunier was eye, and so they waited for the first faintecho of the horse-hoofs in the distance or the tinkle of thesledge-bell.
Within the house the merriment ran high. Bridal healths were drank withthree times three. The stamp of the untiring dancers drowned thegalloping of the ponies.
Aunt Miriam paused a moment, leaning on her bridegroom's arm. "I amdizzy with tiredness," she said. "I think I have danced with every one.I can surely slip away and speak to Caleb now. What made him fasten hisdoor?"
"To keep those travellers out; and now he won't undo it: an old man'scrotchet, my dear. I have spoken to him. He is all right, and his cryis, 'Don't disturb me, I must sleep,'" answered Bowkett. "You'll giveBatiste his turn? just one more round."
Wilfred was wakened by his Yula's bark beneath the window. Kusky, whowas sleeping by the stove, sprang up and answered it, and then creptstealthily to Wilfred's feet.
"That dog will wake the master," said some one in the kitchen.
The bedroom door was softly opened, a low whistle and a tempting bonelured Kusky away. Wilfred was afraid to attempt to detain him, notventuring to show himself to he knew not whom. There was a noise at thewindow. He remembered it was a double one. It seemed to him somebodywas trying to force open the outer pane.
A cry of "Thieves! thieves!" was raised in the kitchen. Wilfred sprangupright. Uncle Caleb wakened with a groan.
"Look to the door. Guard every window," shouted Bowkett, rushing intothe room, followed by half-a-dozen of his friends, who had seized theirguns as they ran.
The outer window was broken. Through the inner, which was not sothickly frozen, Wilfred could see the shadow of a man. He knew thatBowkett was by the side of the bed, but his eyes were fixed on the pane.
At the first smash of the butt end of Vanner's gun, through shutter andframe, Mr. De Brunier laid a finger on Maxica's arm. The Cree, who washolding down Yula, suddenly let him go with a growl and a spring.Vanner half turned his head, but Yula's teeth were in his collar. Thethickness of the hunter's clothing kept the grip from his throat, but hewas dragged backwards. Maxica knelt upon him in a moment, with a hugestone upraised, ready to dash his brains out if he ventured to utter acry. Mr. De Brunier stepped out from the shadow and stood before thewindow, waiting in Vanner's stead. For what? He hardly dared to think.The window was raised a finger's breadth, and the muzzle of a hunter'sgun was pointed at his ear. He drew a little aside and flattenedhimself against the building. The gun was fired into the air.
"That is a feint," thought Mr. De Brunier. "They have not seen us yet.When they do, the tug comes. Two against twenty at the very least,unless we hear the sledge-bell first. It is a question of time. Theclock is counting life and death for more than one of us. All hinges onmy Gaspe. Thank God, I know he will do his very best. There is nomistrust of Gaspe; and if I fall before he comes, if I meet death inendeavouring to rescue this fatherless boy, the God who sees it all, inwhose hand these lawless hunters are but as grasshoppers, will neverforget my Gaspe."
The report of Bowkett's gun roused old Caleb's latent fire.
"What is it?" he demanded. "Are the Indians upon us? Where is Miriam?"
Wilfred threw the bearskin across his feet over the old man's back.
"I am here!" cried Bowkett, with an ostentatious air of protection."I'll defend the place; but the attack is at this end of the house.First of all, I carry you to Miriam and safety at the other."
Bow
kett, in the full pride of his strength, lifted up the feeble old manas if he were a child and carried him out of the room.
"Wilfred, my boy, keep close to me, keep close," called Uncle Caleb; buta strong man's hand seized hold of Wilfred and pulled him back.
"Who are you?" demanded Wilfred, struggling with all his might. "Let mego, I tell you; let me go!"
The door was banged up behind Uncle Caleb and Bowkett. The room wasfull of men.
Wilfred knew too well the cry of "Thieves" was all humbug--a sham to gethim away from his uncle.
"Forgill! Forgill!" he shouted. "Pete! Pete! Help me! help me!"
A pillow was tossed in his face.
"Don't cram the little turkey-cock with his own feathers," said a voicehe was almost glad to recognize, for he could not feel that Mathurinwould really hurt him. He kicked against his captor, and getting onehand free, he tried to grasp at this possible friend; but the corner ofthe pillow, crushed into his mouth, choked his shouts. "So it'sMathurin's own old babby, is it?" continued the deep, jovial voice."Didn't I tell ye he was uncommon handy with his little fists? But he isa regular mammy's darling for all that. It is Mathurin will put thepappoose in its cradle. Ah! but if it won't lie still, pat it on itslittle head; Batiste can show you how."
In all this nonsense Wilfred comprehended the threat and the caution.His frantic struggles were useless. They only provoked fresh bursts ofmerriment. Oh, it was hard to know they were useless, and feel theimpotency of his rage! He was forced to give in. They bound him in thesheets.
Mathurin was shouting for--
"A rabbit-skin, To wrap his baby bunting in.
They took the rug from the floor and wrapped it round Wilfred. He waslaid on the ironing board.
He felt the strong, firm straps that were binding him to it growingtighter and tighter.
What were they going to do with him? and where was Mr. De Brunier?
The hunters set him up against the wall, like the pappoose in the wigwamof the Blackfoot chief, whilst they opened the window.
Mr. De Brunier stood waiting, his arms uplifted before his face, readyto receive the burden they were to let fall. It was but a little bit offace that was ever visible beneath a Canadian fur cap, such as both themen were wearing. Smoked skin was the only clothing which could resistthe climate, therefore the sleeves of one man's coat were like thesleeves of another. The noisy group in the bedroom, who had beendrinking healths all night, saw little but the outstretched arms, andtook no notice.
"Young lambs to sell!" shouted Mathurin, heaving up the board.
"What if he takes to blaring?" said one of the others.
"Let him blare as he likes when once he is outside," retorted a third.
"Lull him off with 'Yankee-doodle,'" laughed another.
"He'll just lie quiet like a little angel, and then nothing will hurthim," continued the incorrigible Mathurin, "till we come to--
"'Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock; When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, Then down goes cradle, and baby, and all.'"
This ridiculous nursery ditty, originated by the sight of the Indianpappooses hung so often on the bough of a tree when their mothers arebusy, read to Wilfred his doom.
Would these men really take him out into the darksome forest, and hanghim to some giant pine, and leave him there, as Pe-na-Koam was left, todie alone of hunger and cold?
It was an awful moment. The end of the board to which he was bound wasresting on the window-sill.
"Gently now," said one.
"Steady there," retorted another.
"Now it is going beautifully," cried a third.
"Ready, Vanner, ready," they exclaimed in chorus. Caution and prudencehad long since gone to the winds with the greater part of them.Mathurin alone kept the control.
Mr. De Brunier nodded, and placed himself between the window and the twomen on the snow in deadly silent wrestle, trusting that his own darkshadow might screen them from observation yet a little longer. He sawWilfred's feet appear at the window. His hand was up to guide the boardin a moment, acting in concert with the men above. They slid it easilyto the ground.
Mr. De Brunier's foot was on a knot in the logs of the wall, andstretching upwards he shut the window from the outside. It was beyondhis power to fasten it; but a moment or two were gained. His knife wassoon hacking at the straps which bound Wilfred to his impromptu cradle.They looked in each other's faces; not a word was breathed. Wilfred'shands were freed. He sat up and drew out his feet from the thick foldsof the rug. Mr. De Brunier seized his hand, and they ran, as men runfor their lives, straight to Forgill's hut.
Diome saw them coming. He was still leading Vanner's horse. He wheeledit round and covered their retreat, setting it off prancing andcurvetting between them and the house.
Through the open door of Forgill's hut the fire was glowing like abeacon across the snow. It was the darkest hour of all that brilliantnight. The moon was sinking low, the stars were fading; the dawning wasat hand.
The hut was gained at last. The door was shut behind the fugitives, andinstantly barred. Every atom of furniture the hut contained was piledagainst it, and then they listened for the return of the sledge. Whetherdaylight would increase their danger or diminish it, Mr. De Brunierhardly knew. But with the dreaded daylight came the faint tinkle of adistant bell and the jingling of a chain bridle.
The Canadian police in the Dominion of the far North-West are anexperienced troop of cavalry. Trooper and charger are alike fitted forthe difficult task of maintaining law and order among the scattered,lawless population sprinkling its vast plains and forest wilds. Nobronco can outride the splendid war-horse, and the mere sight of hisscarlet-coated rider produces an effect which we in England littleimagine. For he is the representative of the strong and even hand ofBritish justice, which makes itself felt wherever it touches, ruling allalike with firmness and mercy, exerting a moral force to which even theBlackfoot in his moya yields.
Mr. De Brunier pulled down his barricade almost before it was finished,for the sledge came shooting down the clearing with the policeman behindit.
Wilfred clasped his hands together at the joyful sight. "They come!they come!" he cried.
Out ran Mr. De Brunier, waving his arms in the air to attract attention,and direct the policeman to the back of the farm-house, where he hadleft Dick Vanner writhing under Maxica's grasp on the frozen ground.
When the window was so suddenly closed from the outside, the hunters,supposing Vanner had shut it, let it alone for a few minutes, untilwonder prompted Mathurin to open it just a crack for a peep-hole.
At the sight of Vanner held down by his Indian antagonist he threw it toits widest. Gun after gun was raised and pointed at Maxica's head; butnone of them dared to fire, for the ball would have struck Vanner also.Mathurin was leaping out of the window to his assistance, when Yularelaxed his hold of Vanner's collar, and sprang at Mathurin, seizing himby the leg, and keeping him half in half out of the window, so that noone else could get out over him or release him from the inside.
There was a general rush to the porch; but the house-door had beenlocked and barred by Bowkett's orders, and the key was in his pocket.
He did it to prevent any of the Aclands' old servants going out of thehouse to interfere with Vanner. It was equally successful in keeping inthe friends who would have gone to his help.
"The key! the key!" roared Batiste.
Another seized on old Pete and shook him because he would not open thedoor. In vain Pete protested the key was missing. They were gettingfurious. "The key! the key!" was reiterated in an ever-increasingcrescendo.
They seized on Pete and shook him again. They would have the key.
Mathurin's yell for help grew more desperate. With one hand holding onto the window-frame, he could not beat off the dog. The blows he aimedat him with the other were uncertain and feeble.
"Who let the brute o
ut?" demanded Batiste.
He had seen Yula lying by the kitchen fire when he first arrived, and ofcourse knew him again. Ah! and the dog had recognized him also, for hehad saluted him with a low, deep growl. It had watched its chance. Itwas paying back old scores. Batiste knew that well.
Another howl of pain from Mathurin.
The heel of an English boot might have given such a kick under the lockthat it would have sent the spring back with a jerk; but they were allwearing the soft, glove-like moccasin, and knew no more about themechanism of a lock than a baby. Their life had been passed in theopen; when they left the saddle for the hut in the winter camp, theirideas of door-fastening never rose beyond the latch and the bar. Adozen gun-stocks battered on the door. It was tough and strong, andnever stirred.
Pete was searching everywhere for the key. He would have let them outgladly, only too thankful to rid the house of such a noisy crew, andleave them to fight the thieves outside; but no key was to be found.
"We always hang it on this nail," he protested, groping about the floor.
Patience could hold out no longer. There was a shout for Bowkett.
"Don't leave me," Miriam had entreated, when Bowkett brought her brotherinto the dining-room and set him in the arm-chair by the fire; for shethought the old man's life would go every moment, and Forgill shared herfears.
"There are enough to defend the place," he said, "without me;" and hegave all his care to his master.
"The boy! Wilfred!" gasped Caleb Acland, making vain attempts to returnto find him. His sister and Forgill thought he was wandering, andtrusted in Bowkett's strong arm to hold him back.
How could Bowkett leave his bride? He was keeping his hands clean.There were plenty to do his dirty work. He himself was to have nothingto do with it, according to Vanner's programme. He would not go.
*CHAPTER XVI.*
_*IN CONFUSION.*_
There was a thundering rap at the dining-room window, and a voiceBowkett instantly recognized as Diome's rang out the warning word,--
"The police! The police are here!"
"Thank God!" exclaimed Miriam; but her bridegroom's cheek grew deadlypale, and he rushed into the kitchen, key in hand. The clamouring grouparound the door divided before him, as Diome hissed his warning throughthe keyhole.
The door flew open. Bowkett was almost knocked down by his hurryingguests. Each man for his horse. Some snatched up their guns, some leftthem behind. Broncos were caught by the mane, by the ear, by the tail.Their masters sprang upon their backs. Each man leaped upon the firsthorse he could lay hold of, saddle or no saddle, bridle or no bridle.What did it matter so that they got away? or else, horrors of horrors!such an escapade as they had been caught in might get one or other amongthem shut up for a month or two in Garry Jail. They scattered in everydirection, as chickens scatter at the flutter of the white owl's wing.
Diome put the bridle of Vanner's horse into Bowkett's hand. "To thefrontier," he whispered. "You know the shortest road. We are partingcompany; for I go northwards."
Bowkett looked over his shoulder to where Pete stood staring in thedoorway. "Tell your mistress we are starting in pursuit," he shouted,loud enough for all to hear, as he sprang on Vanner's horse and gallopedoff, following the course of the wild geese to Yankee land.
Within ten minutes after the first jingling sound from the light shakeof the trooper's bridle the place was cleared.
"Oh, I did it!" said Gaspe, with his arm round Wilfred's neck. "I wasback to a minute, wasn't I, grandfather?"
Mr. De Brunier scarcely waited to watch the break-neck flight. He wasoff with the sledge-driver to the policeman's assistance. He beckonedto the boys to follow him at a cautious distance, judging it safer thanleaving them unguarded in Forgill's hut.
The policeman, seeing Yula had already arrested Mathurin, turned to thetwo on the ground. He knocked the stone out of Maxica's hand, andhandcuffed Vanner.
Mr. De Brunier was giving his evidence on the spot. "I was warned therewould be mischief here before morning. I sent my messenger for you, andwatched the house all night. The Indian and the dog were with me. Isaw this fellow attempt to break in at that window. The dog flew onhim, dragged him to the ground, and the Indian held him there. Thatother man I denounce as an accomplice indoors, evidently acting inconcert with him."
Wilfred shook off Gaspe's arm and flew to Yula. "Leave go," he said,"leave go." His hands went round the dog's throat to enforce obedienceas he whispered, "I am not quite a babby to choke him off like that, amI? Draw your leg up, Mathurin, and run. You meant to save me--I saw itin your face--and I'll save you. The porch-door stands open, run!"
Mathurin drew up his leg with a groan, but Yula's teeth had gone sodeeply into the flesh he could scarcely move for pain. If Mathurincould not run, the sledge-driver could. He was round the house andthrough the porch before Mathurin could reach it. He collared him by thekitchen-table, to Pete's amazement. Forgill burst out of thedining-room, ready to identify him as one of their guests, and waspushed aside. The policeman was dragging in his prisoner.
Mr. De Brunier held Wilfred by the arm. "You should not have donethat," he was saying. "Your dog knew what he was about better than youdid. At any other time to call him off would only have been humane andright, but in such circumstances--"
He never finished his sentence. There was Mathurin cowed and tremblingat the sight of Yula, who was marching into the porch with his head upand his tail wagging in triumph.
Aunt Miriam, aghast and pale, stood in the doorway of the dining-room.Mr. De Brunier led her aside for a word of explanation. "The thievesamong the guests of her wedding party, incredible!" She was stunned.
Yula seated himself in front of Mathurin, daring him to move hand orfoot.
Wilfred was looking round him for the Cree, who was feeling for his bowand arrows, thrown somewhere on the ground during his prolongedstruggle. When the stone was struck from Maxica's grasp, and he knewthat Vanner was dragged off helpless, he felt himself in the presence ofa power that was mightier than his own. As Wilfred caught up the bowand put it in his hand, he said solemnly, "You are safe under the shadowof that great white warrior chief, and Maxica is no longer needed; foras the horse is as seven to the dog, so is the great white medicine asseven to one, therefore the redman shuns his presence, and here wepart."
"Not yet, not yet," urged Wilfred desperately; but whilst he wasspeaking the Cree was gone. He had vanished with the morning shadowsbehind the pine trees.
Wilfred stretched out his arms to recall him; but Gaspe, who hadfollowed his friend like his shadow, pulled him back. "It would be butpoor gratitude for Maxica's gallant rescue to run your head into thenoose a second time," he said. "With these hunters lurking about theplace, we ought to make our way indoors as fast as we can."
The chill of the morning wrapped them round. They were shivering in theicy mist, through which the rising sun was struggling. It was folly tolinger. Gaspe knew the Indian was afraid to trust himself in the companyof the policeman.
"Shall I never see him more?" burst out Wilfred mournfully.
"Don't say that," retorted Gaspe. "He is sure to come again to HungryHall with the furs from his winter's hunting. You can meet him then."
"I? I shall be at school at Garry. How can I go there?" asked Wilfred.
"At Garry," repeated his consoler, brightening. "Well, from Garry youcan send him anything you like by the winter packet of letters. Youknow our postman, the old Indian, who carries them in his dog-sled toevery one of the Hudson Bay stations. You can send what you like by himto Hungry Hall. Sooner or later it will be sure to reach your duskyfriend."
"It will be something to let him know I don't forget," sighed Wilfred,whose foot was in his uncle's porch, where safety was before him.
There was a sudden stillness about the place. A kind of paralysis hadseized upon the household, as it fell under the startling interd
ict ofthe policeman: "Not a thing on the premises to be touched; not anindividual to leave them until he gave permission." This utterstandstill was more appalling to the farm-servants than the riotousconfusion which had preceded it. The dread of what would come next laylike a nightmare over master and men.
Wilfred scarcely looked at prisoners or policeman; he made his way tohis uncle.
"I can finish my prayer this morning, and I will--I will try to do myduty. Tell me what it is?"
"To speak the truth," returned old Caleb solemnly, "without fear orprevarication. No, no! don't tell me beforehand what you are going tosay, or that fellow in the scarlet coat will assert I have tutored you."
Gaspe began to speak.
"No, no!" continued Uncle Caleb, "you must not talk it over with yourfriend. Sit down, my boy; think of all that has happened in the nightquietly and calmly, and God help us to bear the result."
Again he rocked himself backwards and forwards, murmuring under hisbreath, "My poor Miriam! I have two to think of--my poor, poor Miriam!"
Wilfred's own clear commonsense came to his aid; he looked up brightly.The old man's tears were slowly trickling down his furrowed cheeks."Uncle," he urged, "my friends have not only saved me, they have savedyou all. They stopped those fellows short, before they had time to dotheir worst. They will not be punished for what they were going to do,but for what they actually did do."
A sudden rush of gratitude came over Wilfred as he recalled his peril.His arms went round Gaspe with a clasp that seemed to know nounloosening. A friend is worth all hazards.
His turn soon came. Aunt Miriam had preceded her nephew. She had solittle to tell. "In the midst of the dancing there was a cry of'Thieves!' The men ran. Her husband came back to her, bringing herinvalid brother to the safest part of the house. He stayed to guardthem, until there arose a second cry, 'The police!' She supposed thethieves made off. Her husband had started in pursuit."
In pursuit, when there was nothing to pursue; the aggressor was alreadytaken. Aunt Miriam saw the inevitable inference: her husband had fledwith his guests. She never looked up. She could not meet the eyesaround her, until she was asked if Vanner and Mathurin were among herguests. Her pale cheeks grew paler.
Their own men were stupid and sleepy, and could only stare at eachother. All they had had to say confirmed their mistress's statements.
Mr. De Brunier had fetched Wilfred whilst his aunt was speaking. Helooked at the men crowding round the table, pushed between thesledge-driver and Pete to where his aunt was standing, and squeezed herhand. There was just one look exchanged between them. Of all thestartling events in that strange night, it was strangest of all to AuntMiriam to see him there. The fervency in the pressure she returned setWilfred's heart at ease. One determination possessed them both--not tomake a scene.
Aunt Miriam got back into her own room; how, she never knew. She threwherself on her knees beside her bed, and listened; for in thatwood-built house every word could be heard as plainly as if she hadremained in the kitchen. Her grief and shame were hidden, that was all.
Wilfred's clear, straightforward answers made it plain there were nothieves in the case. Her wedding guests had set upon her littlewanderer in the moment of his return.
Vanner, scowling and sullen, never uttered a single word.
Mathurin protested volubly. He never meant to let them hurt the boy,but some amongst them owed him a grudge, and they were bent on paying itoff before they parted.
"A base and cowardly trick, by your own showing, to break into an oldman's room in the dead of the night with a false alarm; not to mentionyour behaviour to the boy. If this outrage hastens the old gentleman'send, you will find yourselves in a very awkward position. His seizurein the night was solely due to the unwarrantable alarm," observed thepoliceman.
Mathurin began to interrupt. He checked him.
"If you have anything to say for yourself, reserve it for the propertime and place; for the present you must step into that sledge and comewith me at once.--Mr. De Brunier, I shall meet you and your son at Garryon the twenty-ninth."
He marched his prisoners through the porch; a sullen silence reignedaround. The sledge-bell tinkled, the snow gleamed white as ever in themorning sunshine, as Vanner and Mathurin left the farm.
With the air of a mute at a funeral, Forgill bolted the door behindthem. Mr. De Brunier walked into the sleeping-room, to examine thescene of confusion it presented for himself.
Aunt Miriam came out, leaving the door behind her open, without knowingit. She moved like one in a dream. "I cannot understand all this," shesaid, "but we must do the thing that is nearest."
She directed Forgill to board up the broken window and to see that thehouse was secure, and took Pete with her to make up a bed for herbrother in the dining-room. She laid her hand on Wilfred's shoulder asshe passed him, but the words died on her lips.
The men obeyed her without reply. Forgill was afraid to go out of thehouse alone. As the cowman followed him, he patted Yula's head,observing, "After all that's said and done, it was this here dog whichcaught 'em. I reckon he's worth his weight in gold, wherever he comesfrom, that I do."
Yula shook off the stranger's caress as if it were an impertinentfreedom. His eye was fixed on two small moccasined feet peeping outfrom under Aunt Miriam's bed.
There was a spring, but Wilfred's hand was in his collar.
"I know I had better stop him," he whispered, looking up at Gaspe, as hethought of Mr. De Brunier's reproof.
"Right enough now," cried Gaspe. "Wilfred, it is a girl."
He ran to the bed and handed out Bowkett's young sister, Anastasia. Herdress was of the universal smoked skin, but its gay embroidery of beadsand the white ribbons which adorned it spoke of the recent bridal. Herblack hair fell in one long, heavy braid to her waist.
"Oh, you uncomplimentary creatures!" she exclaimed, "not one of youremembered my existence; but I'll forgive you two"--extending a hand toeach--"because you did not know of it. I crawled in here at the firstalarm, and here I have lain trembling, and nobody missed me. But, Ideclare, you men folk have been going on awful. You will be the deathof us all some of these days. I could have knocked your heads togetheruntil I had knocked some sense into you. Put your pappoose in itscradle, indeed! I wish you were all pappooses; I would soon let youknow what I think of upsetting a poor old man like that."
The indignant young beauty shook the dust from her embroidery, andtwirled her white ribbons into their places as she spoke.
"Spoiling all the fun," she added.
"Now don't perform upon us, Miss Bowkett," put in Gaspe. "We are notthe representatives of last night's rowdyism. My poor friend here ischief sufferer from it. Only he had a four-footed friend, and adark-skinned friend, and two others at the back of them of a veryordinary type, but still friends with hands and feet. So the tableswere turned, and the two real representatives are gone up for theirexam."
"I daren't be the first to tell a tale like this in the hunters' camp.Besides," she demanded, "who is to take me there? This is what the dayafter brings," she pouted, passing the boys as she went into thekitchen. The guns which the hunters had left behind them had beencarefully unloaded by the policeman and Mr. De Brunier, and were piledtogether in one corner, waiting for their owners to reclaim them. Everyone knew the hunters could not live without their trading guns; theymust come back to fetch them. Anastasia, too, was aware she had only towait for the first who should put in an appearance to escort her home.Little was said, for Aunt Miriam knew Anastasia's departure fromAcland's Hut would be Hugh Bowkett's recall.
When Mr. De Brunier understood this, his anxiety on Wilfred's accountwas redoubled.
But when Uncle Caleb revived enough for conversation, he spoke of thelittle business to be settled between them, and asked for Mr. DeBrunier.
"I have thought it all through," he said. "In the face of the Cree'swarning, and all that happened under this roof, I can never leave
mynephew and Hugh Bowkett to live together beneath it. As soon as hehears from his sister how matters stand here, and finds sentence hasbeen passed on Vanner and Mathurin, he may come back at any hour. Iwant to leave my nephew to your care; a better friend he could nothave."
"As he has had it already, he shall always have it, as if he were nextto Gaspe, I promise you," was the ready answer.
"I want a little more than that," Uncle Caleb continued. "I want you totake him away at once, and send him back to school. You spoke of buyingland; buy half of mine. That will be Wilfred's portion. Invest themoney in the Hudson Bay Company, where Bowkett can never touch it, and Ishall feel my boy is safe. As for Miriam, she will still have a goodhome and a good farm; and the temptation out of his reach, Bowkett maysettle down."
"I have no faith in bribery for making a man better. It wants thechange here, and that is God's work, not man's," returned Mr. DeBrunier, tapping his own breast.
Caleb Acland had but one more charge: "Let nobody tell poor Miriam theworst." But she knew enough without the telling.
When Wilfred found he was to return to Garry with his friends the nextday his arms went round his dogs, and a look of mute appeal wanderedfrom Mr. De Brunier to Aunt Miriam.
"Had not I better take back Kusky?" suggested Gaspe. "And could not wehave Yula too?"
"Yula!" repeated Aunt Miriam. "It is I who must take care of Yula. Heshall never want a bone whilst I have one. I shall feed him, Wilfred,with my own hands till you come back to claim him."
THE END.
Lost in the Wilds: A Canadian Story Page 15