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

by Ethel C. Brill

  XXXIX SAFE

  Not one of the three boys thought of disobeying Duncan McNab's sterncommand. On hands and knees, for fear some Indian might catch a glimpseof them and send a shot in their direction, they crawled through thebushes. Not until they were out of sight as well as out of range, didthey stand upright.

  They tried to follow McNab's instructions and make good speed towardsLake Traverse, but all three suddenly found themselves very tired. Thenight before, after a hard day's journey, they had had not a wink ofsleep. It had been a night of continuous physical exertion and intensestrain. Then came the meeting with Scar Face, and the anxious waiting forMurray and the Dakotas, capped by the excitement of the brief fight. Thetime had seemed long, yet in reality events had followed one another soswiftly that the sun even now was scarcely more than half-way up the sky.

  "If I didn't know we were going in the right direction, I should think wewere headed north, not south," said Walter, as he plodded wearily along."It seems as if the sun must be on the way down, instead of up."

  Neil nodded. "I'm dead sleepy," he admitted, "but we must try to keep ongoing till McNab overtakes us."

  "The firing has stopped," put in Raoul. "The fight must be over."

  "Or else the noise doesn't reach us here."

  If the fight was over, who had won? The answer to that question mightmean life or death to the fugitives. Murray had fallen, but if theDakotas had destroyed the Ojibwas, they might, even without hisleadership, cross the river and continue the pursuit. The boys felt theymust go on as long as they possibly could. They trudged doggedly on,casting many a glance behind them.

  At last Neil, turning to look back, gave a cry of joy. A single horsemanwas on their trail, coming at good speed. He raised one long arm in thefriendship sign. The three stopped short and dropped down to rest and lethim overtake them. They were almost asleep when he reached them.

  McNab reined in his horse and looked down at the weary figures with agrim smile. "Weel," he said slowly, in his peculiar Scots' English withits guttural suggestion of Dakota, "ye disappeart sa quick I thocht theprairie had swallowed ye."

  "Did the Saulteux win?" Neil roused himself to ask.

  "Aye, an' withoot losin' a man. Scar Face himsel got a shot in the thigh,but it's only a flesh wound. The ither side didna ken the number o' theenemy, an' they were mair nor a little upset by Murray's fa'. When theyfound they coudna drive the Ojubwas fra the wee isle, they turnt tailtheirsel an' were awa'. If ye can mak it, we'd best be gettin' ta thatbit _ile des bois_ ower yon, where ye can be sleepin' in the shade."

  The clump of small trees was only a short distance away. There, shadedfrom the heat of midday, the boys slept, utterly relaxed, until the sunwas far on its downward course. Duncan McNab kept watch. He had had nomore sleep than they the night before, but he was more used to goingwithout and needed less than growing boys required.

  Neil's first words, when he woke to find the sun low in the west, were,"How far have we got to go to Lake Traverse?"

  "Ta the post thirty mile or mair," was the reply.

  Neil groaned and stretched. "And we've got to walk it," he muttered.

  "Weel, ye may be glad ye've got twa soond legs left ta walk it wi',"McNab returned with his grim smile. There were no more complaints.

  McNab, old campaigner that he was, carried cooking utensils, pemmican,and a packet of tea in his saddle bags. A hot meal put new courage intothe lads. Before the sun was down they were on their way again. The nightwas clear and light, and they kept up a steady pace till midnight. Thenthey stopped for a brief rest and more tea.

  Luckily for the boys they did not have to walk the whole distance to thetrading post. Dawn had not yet come, when McNab made out a party ofhorsemen coming towards them. The foremost rider waved his arms andshouted. The boys knew that voice. Louis had come back to seek them.

  Unashamed to display his feelings, Louis sprang from his pony to hug hisbrother and his friends. "Thank the good God," he cried. "I felt like acoward and a traitor to leave you behind."

  "It was the only thing to do," Walter and Neil exclaimed together. "Arethe others safe?"

  "All safe, but we did not reach the fort till after sunset. After wecrossed the Bois des Sioux we had to rest our horses a little, and thechildren slept. We dared not stop long. The ponies did their best, butthey could not carry double all the time. My mother and M'sieu Perier andI walked much of the way, and sometimes Marie and Elise walked also."

  "And you started right back to find us?" cried Walter.

  "I rested a while first, but I could not sleep. M'sieu Renville gave me afresh horse, and these men offered to come with me. I thought you wouldfollow our trail. If I kept to it, I would find you; if _le Murrai_ hadnot overtaken you."

  The _bois brules_ from the trading post gladly gave up their horses tothe weary boys, and went afoot. So Lake Traverse and the shelter of theColumbia Fur Company's fort was reached at last. There, in one of the logbuildings within the stockade on the shore of the lake, the rest of thelittle party were waiting anxiously. The boys, almost dropping from theirsaddles with sleep and weariness, were embraced and shaken by the hand,and cried over, and questioned, until the trader, Joseph Renville,intervened. He led them away to bunks where they could sleep undisturbedfor as many hours as they cared to.

  When the boys had had their sleep out, the two sections of the partyexchanged stories. Afterwards Duncan McNab had something to add. He hadreturned to the Indian camp two nights before to find the dance in fullswing. Within the medicine lodge, Murray was instructing the choseninitiates in some sort of mystic rites. From time to time one of themwould come out to chant or howl a few words or syllables and to gothrough the steps and posturings of the new dance. The men around thefires would repeat the lesson over and over, until another of the chosenones appeared to teach them something new.

  "As near as I could mak oot," said Duncan, "it was something like themedicine dance the Mdewakanton Dakota on the Mississippi mak ta their godUnktahi, that Murray was teachin' yon Wahpetons, but he was puttin' insome stuff of his ain. Some o' the words o' the sangs soundit likeGaelic, but made na sense as far as I could ken, an' I hae a bit o' theGaelic mysel. I'm thinkin' he picked the words for their mysterious soundlike."

  When the excitement had reached the right pitch, Murray began to serveout liquor. "I dinna ken where he got sa mickle,"--McNab shook his head."He had a cairt loadit wi' goods an' kegs an' what a'. He must be in wi'ither free traders, some o' the men on the Missouri most like, or mayhaphe stole the stuff fra them. It's the wrang time o' year ta be buyin'furs. It was the good will o' the sauvages an' power ower 'em he wasafter, sa they'd be sure an' bring him their next winter's catch."

  As the liquor flowed more freely, the performance grew frenzied. It was awild night in Tatanka Wechacheta's village, and McNab spared hislisteners the details. He feared every moment that the Indians would raidthe neighboring camp, and discover too soon that the white men had gone.But the Black Murray overdid the celebration. He supplied liquor solavishly that his followers were soon entirely overcome by it. Perhaps hedared not try to withhold what they knew he had. And he failed to curbhis own immoderate thirst, but overindulged until, inert in the medicinelodge, he slept as heavily as they. "I'm thinkin' it was the rascal'sowerfondness for _minnewakan_ that saved a' your lives," said McNab. "Ifhe hadna slept sa late, he wad sure hae owertaken the lads on foot an'maybe the rest o' ye."

  When Murray finally roused himself, in ugly mood, he gathered togethereight or ten reckless young braves who could still sit their horses, andstarted for the white men's camp. Up to that time McNab had not felthimself in any great danger, as long as he kept to his own lodge. He wasa man of influence among the Dakotas, and back of him was the authorityof the Columbia Fur Company and of Joseph Renville. Renville himself washalf Dakota and powerful and respected among his mother's people. But theyoung chief, still partially drunk, was in almost as savage a m
ood asMurray that morning, and McNab did not know what might happen.

  As soon as Murray had gone, McNab took his leave. On the other side of atiny clump of trees, he threw his buffalo robe over his horse andhimself, hoping that, seen from behind, horse and rider might be takenfor a lone bull. He made for the head of the coulee, intending to followthe fugitives and lend his aid if they were attacked. Finding that Murrayand his men were coming, he urged his horse to its best speed, to getacross the Bois des Sioux before them.

  After he had sent the boys on their way, McNab remained to watch theoutcome of the fight. It was soon over. The fall of Murray had struckpanic into the hearts of his followers. "There was reason for that,"Duncan explained. "Yon Wahpetons are na cowards, but Wechacheta's chiefmedicine man was against Murray. The auld fellow claimed Murray was namedicine man at a' an' had na _wakan_ or _tonwan_, na magic powers. WhenMurray was gatherin' men ta plunder the white men, the auld man tauld 'emthey'd gang ta destruction sure. Murray's time was come, he said. Aforethe sun gaed doon, he wad be deed, an' likewise a' that followt him. Sait was na wonder the young braves was scairt when Murray was shot doon atthe ford."

  "You're sure he was killed?" questioned Renville. "From what I have heardof the fellow, he seems to have as many lives as a cat."

  "I made sure afore ever I left the Bois des Sioux," McNab repliedquietly. "An' there's his medicine bag ta prove it." He handed Renville acurious looking pouch made of rattlesnake skin. "An' a fine lot o' trashthere is in it,--birds' claws, an' dried roots, a copper nugget, asnake's fang, a man's finger bone, an' a wee packet o' black, stickystuff. Do na handle that, it micht be poison."

  "It is poison," asserted Walter, and told the story of his infected hand.