The Buffalo Runners Part 45

"To go with me on a shooting expedition to Lake Winnipeg for a week or two."

"O no! I will not decline that," returned La Certe, brightening up.

"Shooting is not labour. It is amus.e.m.e.nt, with labour sufficient to make after-repose delightful. And I will be glad to leave my home for a time, for it is no longer the abode of felicity."

This having been satisfactorily arranged, preparations made, and Slowfoot advised of her husband's intention, Dan went to Ben Nevis Hall next morning to bid farewell to Elspie for a brief period. He found only old McKay in the Hall, Elspie having gone up the Settlement, or down the Settlement--the man did not know which--to call on a friend.

"See that ye will not be long o' comin' back, Tan," he said. "There will be a good many arranchments to make, you see."

"I hope to be back in three weeks at latest," said Dan, "if all goes well."

"Ay, if all goes well," repeated the old man, thoughtfully. "As Elspie says sometimes, `We never know what a day may bring furth.' Well, well, see that you will not be upsetting your canoe, for canoes are cranky things--whatever."

In a short time our hero and La Certe found themselves floating once more on the calm breast of the mighty inland sea.

It was afternoon. The circ.u.mstances were eminently conducive to the felicity which is derivable from repose, and thus admirably suited to the tastes of La Certe. An unruffled sheet of gla.s.sy water lay spread out to the north-western horizon, which not only doubled the canoe and its occupants, but reflected the golden glory of the sun, and mirrored every fleecy cloudlet in the bright blue sky. A mere dip of the paddles now and then served to give impulse to the light, and literal, bark.

Genial warmth pervaded the atmosphere, and little white gulls floated almost motionless on outspread wings, or sloped hither and thither with lazy flap, while ever and anon the whistling wings of pa.s.sing wild-fowl gave promise of occupation to their guns, to say nothing of their kettles.

On their third day out, towards evening, they went ash.o.r.e on the lee-side of a rocky point where some bushes and trees seemed to offer firewood and shelter.

"This will do," said Dan, as he stepped lightly out on a shelving rock and held the canoe while his companion took out the lading. "Plenty dry sticks and lots of moss for bedding."

"Truly, that is so," returned La Certe. "It is a place in which Slowfoot would rejoice to repose, and the little one to smoke its pipe."

"You forget," said Dan. "The little one is no longer allowed that luxury."

"No, I forgot not. But I reflect that it is possible to give her many a draw on the sly."

The fire was soon kindled, ducks were roasting in front of it, and the kettle boiling above it. The tea had been infused, and La Certe, while filling his pipe, was blinking good-will at all around, when the notes of a voyageur-song were heard like an echo in the far distance.

Gradually the song grew louder, and soon a canoe rounded the point, and came in sight of the camp-fire. It was what used to be called a north-canoe, of the largest size, made of birch-bark, and contained a crew of ten men.

The song and the paddling stopped simultaneously when the camp was observed, and the men appeared to hold a consultation. Their hesitation, however, was very brief. Suddenly, breaking again into song, they ran the canoe to sh.o.r.e, and landed.

"We are bound for Red River," said their chief to Dan. "Just come from Canada. We suppose you don't object to our camping beside you. It is a convenient spot."

Of course the two hunters had no objection whatever to fraternise with the strangers from Canada, and in a short time another large fire was sending its myriad sparks up into the darkening sky like a gigantic roman-candle.

During supper the strangers made themselves very agreeable. After supper, two of the stoutest of them arose, as if to go into the bush for more firewood. Suddenly these threw themselves upon and seized Dan and his comrade, who were reclining quietly on the ground. Before either could make even an attempt at self-defence they were overpowered by the Canadians, and held forcibly down, while their arms were securely bound to their sides with strips of deerskin.

"It is useless to struggle, Dan Davidson," said the chief, when this was being accomplished. "We know you as a bitter opponent of the Nor'-westers, and we intend to carry you where your power to do mischief will be ended."

"Who are you? and under whose authority do you act?" demanded Dan, angrily.

"Who I am is a matter of no interest to you, Dan. I act under my own authority, and I may just as well tell you, at the beginning, that if you and your comrade choose to submit peaceably, we will treat you reasonably well;--if not, we will find means to quiet you, even though we should be driven to do it wi' that."

The man pointed significantly to a gun which leant against a neighbouring tree. His meaning could not be misunderstood.

That night, Dan and La Certe were fastened to a tree by cords which allowed of their moving about freely within a small s.p.a.ce, but their arms were not unbound. Here they were allowed to make themselves as comfortable as possible in the circ.u.mstances. Their bed, being mossy, was well enough, but the distracted state of their minds--especially Dan's--may be imagined.

"La Certe," said Dan, when the camp-fire had burned low, and the stars were s.h.i.+ning on them through the leaves, and all was still, save an occasional snore from the Nor'-westers.

La Certe groaned in reply.

Poor Dan was not in a mood to comfort him or anybody else at that moment, and did not follow up his remark.

"La Certe," he said again, after a quarter of an hour.

"Well?"

"Do you remember John Bourke?"

"Yes, yes. I remember him, but I care not for him. My own sorrows are too great."

"Do you recollect," continued Dan, regardless of this despairing remark, "that a good while ago the Nor'-westers took him prisoner, when he was wounded after a skirmish with them, and carried him to Canada--treating him with great barbarity on the way. There he was put in jail, but, as nothing could be proved against him, he was liberated, and then tried to return to his family in Red River, but the Nor'-westers caught him again, imprisoned him, sent him a second time to Canada, and had him tried at the Court of the King's Bench, although his only crime was that of resisting the North-West Company. He was acquitted, and, after terrible sufferings from which he never quite recovered and a three years' absence, he rejoined his family in Red River."

"Yes, O yes! I know it all," groaned La Certe.

"Well," continued Dan, bitterly, "his fate is not unlikely to be ours."

The poor half-breed made no reply to this. For some time he lay quite still, and his comrade had almost fallen into an uneasy slumber, when he was awakened by La Certe breaking out into a soliloquy in which he apostrophised his absent wife.

"O my Slowfoot!" he murmured. "Shall we never meet again on earth?

Yes, you are right. I have been lazy! I _am_ lazy. I suppose that this is punishment for my sin. But it is hard to bear, and very heavy-- is it not?--for only following one's nature in longing for repose. O!

why was I born? Why was our little one born, to enjoy for so brief a time the delights of smoke, and then have it denied her--except on the sly, when with her miserable father, who will never see her more-- perhaps."

He paused for a few minutes, and then broke out again.

"Yes, my Slowfoot--you are right. I must reform. I will cast off my sloth as a garment--even--even though I should go naked all the rest of my days! I will work--energise! I will--"

"Hold your tongue, La Certe, and listen," said Dan in a low, stern voice.

"I am all attention," returned the poor man in a similarly low tone.

"Are you game to fight, if you get the chance?"

"Game to fight!" echoed the other--"to fight for my Slowfoot, my little one, my smoke, and my repo--I mean my--my--new--"

"Speak lower, man, and listen to a plan I have in my head."

Here Dan spoke so low that he could not be heard at all, save only by his companion; but that is of little consequence, for the plan, whatever it might have been, was never carried out.

Next day the Nor'-west party with their two prisoners paddled away towards the mouth of the grand turbulent Winnipeg River, and began to traverse the weary wilderness-route of rivers and lakes, which at that time formed the only direct means of communication between the frontiers of Canada and "Rupert's Land."

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

THE LAST.