South from Hudson Bay: An Adventure and Mystery Story for Boys

by Ethel C. Brill

  X THE RED RIVER AT LAST

  The mouth of the Red River divides into several channels that windthrough the marsh. The guide chose one of the main waterways, of gooddepth and gentle current, and the oarsmen, eager to reach the settlement,pulled with a will. They had some forty miles, by water, yet to go.

  "Why do they call it _Red River_?" Walter asked Louis. "Not from thecolor of the water?"

  "It is from the Indian name, Miscousipi," was the reply. "I have heardthat when the Saulteux and the Sioux fought a great battle on the banks,the water ran red with blood. Both nations claim the valley as a huntingground."

  "Then it can hardly be a good place for settlers if the Indians fightover it," Walter said doubtfully.

  "There are only Saulteux and Crees on the lower river now. The Sioux nolonger dare venture here. The upper river is the dangerous country."

  Where the marsh gave way to firmer ground, in an open space on the lowbank of a creek coming in from the west, stood a group of Indian lodges.As the boat passed, the Swiss boy looked with interest at the low, roundtopped structures of hides and rush mats.

  "Those are Saulteur wigwams," Louis explained.

  "No one seems to be at home to-day."

  "No, but they intend to come back or they would have taken down thelodges. There was a fight in this place many years ago. A band of Creescame down that stream, and the old people and children camped here, whilethe young men went to Fort York with their furs. That was before theHudson Bay Company had posts in this part of the country. While thebraves were all away, the Sioux came and killed the old people and tookthe children captive. So the stream is called Riviere aux Morts--theriver of the dead."

  "What a fiendish thing to do," Walter exclaimed, "and cowardly."

  Louis shrugged expressively. "It is the Indian way of fighting. The Siouxare not cowards, but fiends, yes. And so are the Crees and the Saulteuxin war. I say it though my grandmother was an Ojibwa."

  "Have you Indian blood, Louis?" Walter asked in surprise. "I supposed youwere pure French."

  "I am _bois brule_, as we mixed bloods are called from our dark skins,and I am not ashamed of it. My father, he was pure French, and my motheris half French, but her mother was Ojibwa, Saulteur. Perhaps I do notlook so Indian as _le Murrai Noir_." Louis lowered his voice. "They sayhe is at least half Sioux."

  "Sioux! Well, he certainly doesn't act like a white man."

  "He has the worst of both the white man and the Indian I think."

  As the boats went on up stream, the banks became higher and covered withtrees, not willows and aspens only, but elms and oaks and maples. Thefrosty weather had practically stripped the trees of what leaves thelocusts had left, yet no wide view was possible, for the river ranthrough a narrow trench with steep sides.

  At the foot of a stretch of rapids camp was made, and a number of smallfish caught for supper. Early in the morning the ascent was begun. Thefall was slight, but the current was strong, and the channel sown withboulders and interrupted by ledges. After the boats had been trackedthrough, the voyageurs delayed for the scrubbing and hair trimming thatpreceded their approach to the dwellings of men. Again they put on theirbest and brightest shirts, sashes, and moccasins, which they hadcarefully stowed away after leaving Norway House.

  After he was washed and dressed, Louis, with an air of secrecy, drewWalter aside. "I have seen the inside of Murray's big package," hewhispered.

  "You have? How did that happen?"

  "He left the package in the boat. I opened it."

  "What did you find?"

  "Little things,--awls, flints, fish hooks, net twine, beads, all wrappedin red or blue handkerchiefs. I had no time to unwrap them, but I couldfeel some of them. I wonder what he wants of all those things."

  Walter remembered the conversation in the Indian room at Fort York."Can't he sell them to the Indians for furs?" he asked.

  "The Company will not permit a voyageur to trade. Sometimes, it is true,they may send a man out to buy skins. Perhaps they might send Murray, butI do not think so, and he would need more goods, a whole canoe or cart orsled load."

  "But the Company refused to let him have them," Walter explained. "AtFort York he asked for a lot of goods, on credit, so he could go tradewith the Sioux."

  "The Sioux?"

  "Yes, I heard the clerk tell him that the Chief Trader wouldn't give himthe goods. The clerk said it was a crazy scheme. Murray must have stolenour pemmican and exchanged it, or got someone else to do it for him, atNorway House. He must have wanted those things badly to be willing to gohungry for them."

  "He can endure hunger like an Indian," Louis returned, "and one of thevoyageurs in Laroque's boat has been sharing his food with him. I saw himdo it. He is afraid of Murray for some reason. It may be you are rightabout his selling the pemmican. The Indians want all those little things.They are eager to get them. He might begin----"

  "Embark, embark!"

  The two boys hurried towards the boat. As they went, Walter whispered,"Are you going to tell about that package?"

  "I think so. Not to Laroque, but to the Chief Trader at Fort Douglas."

  When Murray stepped into the boat, he stooped to examine his bundle.Would he discover that it had been opened? It was an anxious moment forLouis and Walter, but the steersman took his place without even lookingin their direction. Walter would not have thought of opening Murray'spackage. But the Canadian boy's upbringing had been different.

  The banks bordering the rapids were gravelly, the growth thinner andsmaller. Then came lower, muddy shores, and Walter got his first glimpseof the prairie. On the west side, only a few trees and bushes edged theriver. The country beyond stretched away flat and open, but it was notthe fertile, green land the Swiss boy had heard about. The plain wasyellow-gray, desolate and dead looking. In one place a wide stretch wasburned black. Could this be the rich and beautiful land Captain Mai haddescribed?

  Walter's disappointment was too deep for expression. All he said was, "Ithought the prairie would be like our meadows at home. It doesn't look asif anything could grow here."

  "Oh, things grow very fast, once the ground is broken," Louis assuredhim. "Wheat, barley and oats, peas and potatoes, everything that isplanted. And the prairie grass is fine pasture. The buffalo eat nothingelse. It is as I feared though. The grasshoppers have taken everything.But the grass will grow again. It is coming now. Look at that low place.It is all green. Wait until spring and then you will see. The prairie isbeautiful then, the fresh, new grass, and flowers everywhere."

  "And the grasshoppers come and eat it all up," Walter added dejectedly.

  "They may never come again. No one at Fort Douglas or Pembina had everseen the short horned grasshoppers till three years ago. And they didn'tcome last year. Perhaps we shall never see them again."

  Walter knew that Louis was trying to cheer him, and he felt a littleashamed of his discouragement. He put aside his disappointment andforebodings, and tried to share in his friend's good spirits. In a fewhours the long journey would be over, and that was something to bethankful for. He hoped it was nearly over for Elise and Max and theirfather. The second brigade could not be very far behind.

  The current was not strong and there were no rocks, so making their wayup stream was not hard work for the boat crews. The first person from thesettlement who came in sight was a sturdy, red-haired boy of aboutWalter's own age, fishing from a dugout canoe. He raised a shout at theappearance of the brigade, and snatching off his blue Scotch bonnet orTam-o'-Shanter, he waved it around his head. Then he paddled to shore inhaste to spread the news.

  Log houses came in view on the west side of the river at the place Louiscalled the Frog Pond. Lord Selkirk himself, when he had visited thesettlement four years before, had named that part of his colony KildonanParish, after the settlers' old home in Scotland. The little cabins werescattered along the bank facing the stream, the narrow farms stretchingback two miles across the pr
airie. From the river there was but littlesign of cultivation and scarcely anything green to be seen.

  From nearly every house folk came out to watch the brigade go by. Roughlyclad, far from prosperous looking they were, in every combination ofhomespun, Hudson Bay cloth, and buckskin. Some of the men wore kiltsinstead of trousers, and nearly all waved flat Scotch bonnets. Walter'sheart warmed to these folk. Like himself they were white and from acrossthe ocean, though their land and language were not his own. One bent oldwoman in dark blue homespun dress, plaid shawl, and white cap remindedhim of his own grandmother.

  All the Swiss were waving hats and kerchiefs, and shouting "_Bon jour_"and "_Guten Tag_," the women smiling while the tears ran down theircheeks. The long journey with all its suffering and hardships wasover,--so they believed. At last they had reached the "promised land." Asyet it did not look very promising to be sure, but they would soon makehomes for themselves. The thin face of Matthieu, the weaver, who had beenso disheartened when he heard about the grasshoppers, was shining withhappiness.