CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
VERY PERPLEXING INTERVIEWS WITH LITTLE BILL.
Things in the colony had at this time come to what may be styled acomplicated pass, for distress and starvation were rampant on the onehand, while on the other hand the weather was superb, giving prospect atlast of a successful harvest.
The spring buffalo-hunt had been but partially successful, so that anumber of the buffalo runners had to make arrangements to supportthemselves by fishing during the autumn in lakes Winnipeg and Manitoba.
In these great fresh-water seas there is an unlimited quantity of richand finely flavoured whitefish, or Titameg, besides other fish. ButTitameg are only to be caught in large quantities during autumn, and ofcourse much of the success of fishing depends on weather--one galesometimes visiting the fishermen with ruin--ruin all the more completethat the nets which may be carried away have in many cases to be paidfor out of the produce of the season's fishing.
In addition to the buffalo-hunters, who were obliged to supportthemselves by fishing, there was a large number of idle half-breeds, ofa much lower type than these plain hunters, who had to betake themselvesto the same pursuit. These were the "ne'er-do-weels" of the colony; menwho, like La Certe, with more or less--usually less--of his good-nature,seemed to hold that all the industrious people in the world were createdto help or to support them and their families. Of course when theindustrious people were unsuccessful, these idlers were obliged to workfor their living, which, being unaccustomed to do anything energetic,they found it hard and difficult to do, and generally regardedthemselves as the harshly used victims of a tyrannous fate.
There was one thing, however, at which these idlers were very expert anddiligent--they begged well, and with persistency. No wonder; for theirlives often depended on their persistent and successful begging. TheCompany and the private storekeepers were always more or less willing torisk their goods by advancing them on credit. Before the summer wasover, most of these people had got their supplies and were off to thefishing grounds, regardless of the future, with large quantities of teaand tobacco, and happy as kings are said to be--but never are, ifhistory be true!
Among these, of course, was La Certe. That typical idler had made themost of his misfortunes. Everybody had heard what the Sioux had done tohim, and everybody had pitied him. Pity opens the heart, and that opensthe hand; and, when the poor man entered a store with the polite mannerof a French Canadian and the humble aspect of a ruined man, he scarcelyrequired to beg. One man lent him a tent. Another lent him a canoe.From the Company's store at Fort Garry he received a fair outfit ofnearly all that he could require. Further down the Settlement there wasa private store-keeper with a jovial countenance.
"O it was a sad, sad sight!" he said to this man on entering thestore--"so very sad to see my tent in ashes, and nothing left--nothing--absolutely!" The jovial man was moved. He gave La Certe what he askedfor--even pressed things on him, and also bestowed on him a considerable"gratuity."
Still further down the Settlement the unfortunate man found the store,or shop, of another friend. This man was saturnine of countenance, butmoderately liberal of heart. La Certe approached him with an air sopitiful that the saturnine man melted like snow in the sunshine or waxunder heat.
"I have heard of your loss," he said, "and I will give you credit _this_time, La Certe, though you _are_ so bad at paying your debts. But Iwon't give you much."
"I do not want much," returned the afflicted man in tones of deephumility--"only a little--a very little."
By asking much more than he required, La Certe obtained as much as hewanted from the saturnine man, and thus he finally started for LakeWinnipeg with a canoe laden, almost to sinking, with the good things ofthis life.
The fineness of that summer brought forth the fruits of the earth ingreat luxuriance, and it really seemed as if at last the Scotch settlerswere going to reap some reward for all their prolonged perseverance andindustry. The long rest, the good feeding, the sunshine of nature, andthe starlight of Elspie's eyes had a powerful effect on Dan Davidson'shealth, so that, by the time autumn arrived and the prospects of asplendid harvest became more certain every day, he had recovered much ofhis usual strength of body and vigour of mind.
Little Bill also felt the genial influences around him, and, to theintense joy of Archie, became visibly fatter and stronger, while hislarge blue eyes lost some of that wistfully solemn appearance with whichthey had been wont to gaze inquiringly into people's faces.
One afternoon Billie, having walked to the summer house in the PrairieCottage garden, along with Archie, was left alone there at his ownrequest, for, unlike other boys, he was fond of occasional solitarymeditation.
"Now mind, Little Bill--you whistle if you want me," said Archie, whenabout to leave him. "I'll hear you, for I'm only going to thecarpenter's shed."
"I will, Archie, if I want you; but I don't think I shall, for I canwalk by myself now, quite easily, as far as the house."
But Little Bill was not destined to be left to solitary meditations thatday, for his brother had not left him more than a few minutes when afootstep was heard on the path outside, and next moment Fred Jenkinspresented himself at the opening of the summer-house. The face of themariner betrayed him, for he was too honest by nature to dissembleeffectively.
"Well, Fred, how are you? You seem a little disappointed, I think."
"Not exactly disappointed, Little Bill, but sort o' ways scumbusticated,so to speak--perplexed, if I may say so. Kind o' ways puzzled, d'eesee?"
There was something very amusing in the manner of the strapping seamanas he sat down beside the puny little boy, with a bashful expression onhis handsome face, as if he were about to make a humiliating confession.
"What troubles you, Jenkins?" asked Billie, with the air of a man who isready to give any amount of advice, or, if need be, consolation.
The seaman twisted his eyebrows into a complex form, and seemeduncertain how to proceed. Suddenly he made up his mind.
"Was you ever in love, Little Bill?" he asked abruptly, and with a smilethat seemed to indicate a feeling that the question was absurd.
"O yes," answered the boy quite coolly. "I've been in love with brotherArchie ever since I can remember."
Jenkins looked at his little friend with a still more complicated knotof puzzlement in his eyebrows, for he felt that Billie was scarcelyfitted by years or experience to be a useful confidant. After restinghis hands on his knees, and his eyes on the ground, for some time, heagain made up his mind and turned to Billie, who sat with his large eyesfixed earnestly on the countenance of his tall friend, wondering whatperplexed him so much, and waiting for further communications.
"Little Bill," said Jenkins, laying a large hand on his small knee, "incourse you can't be expected to understand what I wants to talk about,but there's nobody else I'd like to speak to, and you're such a knowin'little shaver that somehow I felt a kind of--of notion that I'd like toask your advice--d'ee see?"
"I see--all right," returned Billie; "though I wonder at such a man asyou wanting advice from the like of me. But I'll do what I can for you,Jenkins, and perhaps I know more about the thing that troubles you thanyou think."
"I'm afraid not," returned the seaman, with a humorous twinkle in hiseye. "You see, Billie, you never wanted to get spliced, did you?"
"Spliced! What's that?"
"Well, I should have said married."
"O no! I don't think the thought of that ever did occur to me. I'msorry, Jenkins, but I really cannot give you advice on that subject."
"H'm! I'm not so sure o' that, Little Bill. You're such a practicallittle chap that I do believe if you was put to it you'd be able to--see, now. If you happened to want to marry a nice little gal, whatwould you do?"
"I would ask her," said Little Bill, promptly.
"Jus' so; but that is what I have not got courage to do."
Jenkins laughed at the expression of blazing surprise with whi
ch the boyreceived this statement.
"Have not got courage!" he repeated; and then, after a pause--"Have allthe stories you have told me, then, been nothing but lies!"
"What stories, Billie?"
"Why, such as that one about the pirates in the Java seas, when ten ofthem attacked you and you were obliged to kill four, and all the restran away?"
"No, Billie--that was no lie: it was quite true. But, then, theseblackguards were cowards at bottom, and they saw that I'd got a brace o'double-barrelled pistols in my belt, and was pretty well up in thecutlass exercise."
"And that time when you led a storming party against the fort in SouthAmerica, and was the only one left o' the party, and fought your way allalone in through the breach till the troops came up and carried you onwith a rush, and--and--was all about that untrue?"
"Not a bit of it, Billie, though I wouldn't have you think I wasboastin' about it. I only gave you the bare facts, which, like barepoles, is as much as a ship can stand sometimes."
"An' that time you jumped overboard in Port Royal among the sharks tosave the little girl?"
"That's a fact, if ever there was one," said the seaman quickly, "forthe dear child is alive this good day to swear to it if need be."
"Yet you tell me," continued Little Bill, "that you have not the courageto ask a nice little girl to marry you?"
"That's exactly how the matter stands, Billie."
It was now Billie's turn to look perplexed.
"Who is this nice little girl?" he asked abruptly, as if the answer tothat question might help to explain the enigma.
"Well--it's Elise Morel; an', mind, not a soul knows about that but youan' me, Little Bill."
"But--but Elise is _not_ a little girl. She's a big woman!"
Jenkins laughed as he explained that seamen sometimes had a habit--mistaken, it might be--of calling even big women "nice little gals" whenthey chanced to be fond of them.
"And are you _really_ afraid to ask Elise to marry you?" asked the boy,earnestly.
"I suspect that's what's the matter wi' me," replied the sailor, with amodest look.
"I always thought that nothing could frighten you," said Billie, in asomewhat disappointed tone, for it seemed to him as if one of his idolswere shaking on its pedestal. "I can't understand it, for _I_ would notbe afraid to ask her--if I wanted her."
At this Jenkins again laughed, and said that he believed him, and thatBillie would understand these things better when he was older.
"In the meantime, Little Bill," he continued, "I haven't got the heartof a Mother Carey's chicken. I could stand afore a broadside withoutwinkin', I believe; I think I could blow up a magazine, or fight theFrench, as easy as I could eat my breakfast a'most, but to ask a pure,beautiful angel like Elise to marry _me_, a common seaman--why, I hasn'tgot it in me. Yet I'm so fond o' that little gal that I'd strike mycolours to _her_ without firin' a single shot--"
"Does Elise want to marry _you_?" asked Billie.
"Oh, that's the very pint!" said the seaman with decision. "If I couldonly make sure o' that pint, I'd maybe manage to come up to the scratch.Now, that's what I wants you to find out for me, Little Bill, an' Iknow you're a good little shaver, as'll do a friend a good turn when youcan. But you must on no account mention--"
He was going to have said, "You must on no account mention that I wasblabbing to you about this, or that I wanted to find out such a thing,"when the sudden appearance of Elise's lap-dog announced the fact thatits mistress was approaching.
With a flushed face the bold seaman sprang up and darted out, as if toattack one of those pirates of the Java seas who had made so powerful animpression on Little Bill's mind. But his object was escape--notattack. Lightly vaulting the garden fence, he disappeared into the samethicket which, on another occasion, had afforded opportune refuge toKateegoose. A few moments later Elise turned into the walk, and stoodbefore the summer-house.
"You here, Little Bill!" she exclaimed on entering, "I am very glad tofind you, for I have been alone all the morning. Everybody is away--inthe fields, I suppose--and I don't like being alone."
"Was you ever in love, Elise?" asked the boy with a solemn countenance.
The girl laughed heartily, and blushed a little.
"What a strange question, Billie," she said; "why do you ask?"
"Well, it's not easy to explain all at once; but--but I want to know ifyou want to be married?"
Elise laughed again, and, then, becoming suddenly grave, asked seriouslywhy Billie put such foolish questions.
"Because," said Little Bill, slowly, and with an earnest look, "Jenkinsis _very_ anxious to know if you are fond of him, and he actually saysthat he's afraid to ask you to marry him! Isn't that funny? I saidthat even _I_ would not be afraid to ask you, if I wanted you--How redyou are, Elise! Have you been running?"
"O no," replied the girl, sheltering herself under another laugh; "andwhat did he say to that?"
"He said a great many things. I will try to remember them. Let mesee--he said: `I haven't got the heart of a Mother Carey'schicken,'--(he didn't tell me who Mother Carey is, but that's no matter,for it was only one of her chickens he was speaking of);--`I could standafore a broadside without winkin','--(I give you his very words, Elise,for I don't quite understand them myself);--`I could blow up amagazine,' he went on, `or fight the French, as easy as I could eat mybreakfast, a'most, but to ask a pure an' beautiful angel like Elise'--yes, indeed, you needn't shake your head; he said these very wordsexactly--`a pure an' beautiful angel like Elise to marry _me_, a commonseaman, why, I hasn't got it in me. Yet I'm so fond o' that little galthat I'd strike my colours to her without firin' a single shot.' Now,do you understand all that, Elise? for I don't understand the half ofit."
"O yes, I understand a good deal of it, though some of it is indeedpuzzling, as you say. But how did you come to recollect it all so well,Little Bill?"
"Because he said he wanted me to help him, and to find out if you wantedto marry him, so I paid particular attention to what he said, and--"
"Did he tell you to tell me all this?" asked Elise abruptly, and withsudden gravity.
"O dear, no; but as he wanted me to find it out for him, and said thatnot a soul knew about the matter but me, I thought the simplest waywould be to tell you all he said, and then ask you straight. He wasgoing to tell me something more, very particularly, for he was justsaying, in a very solemn tone, `You must on no account mention--' whenyour little dog bounced in and Jenkins bounced out, leaving the rest ofit unsaid."
"Then he has just left you?" said Elise.
"Just a moment or two before you came up. I think he must have seensome sort of beast in the wood, and gone in chase of it, he bolted insuch a hurry, so I don't know yet what I was not to mention."
"Now, Little Bill," said Elise with great seriousness of tone andmanner, "you must not tell Mr Jenkins one word of the conversation thatyou and I have had just now."
"What! not a single word?"
"Not one. You understand?"
"Yes, but, if he asks me, I must answer something, you know, and I mustnot tell lies."
"Quite true, Billie. You must not tell lies on any account whatever.Now, listen. If he asks you about our conversation this morning, youmust say that I told you you were never to open your lips about thesubject again either to me or to him or to anybody. Mr Jenkins is anhonourable man, and will not ask you a single question after that."
"Then I'm not to tell him whether you want to marry him?"
"How can you tell him what you don't know?"
"Well, but, I mean that you're not going to tell me, so that I mighttell him?"
"Certainly not."
"Not a word to him and not a word to you--nor to anybody! Not even toArchie!"
"Yes. That is exactly what you must promise me."
"This is a very unpleasant state of things," said Little Bill, with asad and puzzled countenance, "but of course I promise, for it is youraffair, you know."
It was a notable fact, which Little Bill did not fail to note--but didnot dare to mention--that after that date there was a distinct change ofdemeanour in Elise Morel towards the handsome sailor--whether in hisfavour or otherwise it was impossible to tell.
Meanwhile, events were pending which were destined to exercise a verypowerful influence over the fortunes of the Red River Colony, and,indeed, over the condition of the whole of Rupert's Land.
The Buffalo Runners: A Tale of the Red River Plains Page 28