Lords of the North

by Agnes C. Laut

  CHAPTER VI

  A GIRDLE OF AGATES RECALLED

  To unravel a ball of yarn, with which kittens have been making cobwebs,has always seemed to me a much easier task than to unknot the tangledskein of confused influences, that trip up our feet at every step inlife's path. Here was I, who but a month ago had a supreme contempt forguile and a lofty confidence in uprightness and downrightness,transformed into a crafty trader with all the villainous tricks of thebargain-maker at my finger-tips. We had befooled Louis into a betrayalof his associates but how much reliance could be placed on thatbetrayal? Had he incriminated Diable to save himself? Then, why hadDiable rescued his betrayer? Where was Louis in hiding? Was the Siouxwife with her white slave really in the north country, or was she near,and did that explain my morose Iroquois' all-night vigils? We hadcheated Laplante; but had he in turn cheated us? Would I be justified intaking Diable prisoner, and would my company consent to thedemoralization of their crews by such a step? Ah, if life were only madeup of simple right and simple wrong, instead of half rights and halfwrongs indistinguishably mingled, we could all be righteous! If thepath to the goal of our chosen desire were only as straight as it isnarrow, instead of being dark, mysterious and tortuous, how easily couldwe attain high ends! I was launched on the life for which I had longed,but strange, shadowy forms like the storm-fiends of sailors' lore,drunkenness, deceit and crime--on whose presence I had notcounted--flitted about my ship's masthead. And there was not one guidingstar, not one redeeming influence, except the utter freedom to be a man.I was learning, what I suppose everyone learns, that there are thingswhich sap success of its sweets.

  Such were my thoughts, as our canoes sped across the northern end ofLake Huron, heading for the Sault. The Nor'-Westers had a wonderful wayof arousing enthusiastic loyalty among their men. Danger fanned thisfealty to white-heat. In the face of powerful opposition, the greatcompany frequently accomplished the impossible. With half as large astaff in the service as its rivals boasted, it invaded thehunting-ground of the Hudson's Bay Company, and outrunning allcompetition, extended fur posts from the heart of the continent to thefoot-hills to the Rockies, and from the international boundary to theArctic Circle. I had thought no crews could make quicker progress thanours from Lachine to _Point a la Croix_; but the short delay during thestorm occasioned faster work. More _voyageurs_ were engaged from theNipissangue tribes. As soon as one lot fagged fresh shifts came to therelief. Paddles shot out at the rate of modern piston rods, and thewaters whirled back like wave-wash in the wake of a clipper. Except forbriefest stoppages, speed was not relaxed across the whole northern endof those inland seas called the Great Lakes. With ample space on thelakes, the brigades could spread out and the canoes separated, nothalting long enough to come together again till we reached the Sault.Here, orders were issued for the maintenance of rigid discipline. Wecamped at a distance from the lodges of local tribes. No grog was givenout. Camp-fire conviviality was forbidden, and each man kept with hisown crew. We remained in camp but one night; and though I searched everytent, I could not find Le Grand Diable. This worried and puzzled me. Allnight, I lay awake, stretching conscience with doubtful plans to entrapthe knave.

  Rising with first dawn-streak, I was surprised to find Little Fellow andLa Robe Noire, two of my canoemen, setting off for the woods. They hadlaid a snare--so they explained--and were going to examine it. Of late Ihad grown distrustful of all natives. I suspected these two might beplanning desertion; so I went with them. The way led through a densethicket of ferns half the height of a man. Only dim light penetrated themaze of foliage; and I might easily have lost myself, or beendecoyed--though these possibilities did not occur to me till we were atleast a mile from the beach. Little Fellow was trotting ahead, La RobeNoire jogging behind, and both glided through the brake withoutdisturbing a fern branch, while I--after the manner of my race--crunchedflags underfoot and stamped down stalks enough to be tracked bykeen-eyed Indians for a week afterwards. Twice I saw Little Fellow pullup abruptly and look warily through the cedars on one side. Once hestooped down and peered among the fern stems. Then he silently signaledback to La Robe Noire, pointed through the undergrowth and ran aheadagain without explanation. At first I could see nothing, and regrettedbeing led so far into the woods. I was about to order both Indians backto the tent, when Little Fellow, with face pricked forward and footraised, as if he feared to set it down--for the fourth time came to adead stand. Now, I, too, heard a rustle, and saw a vague sinuousmovement distinctly running abreast of us among the ferns. For a moment,when we stopped, it ceased, then wiggled forward like beast, or serpentin the underbrush. Little Fellow placed his forefinger on his lips, andwe stood noiseless till by the ripple of the green it seemed to scurryaway.

  "What is it, Little Fellow, a cat?" I asked; but the Indian shook hishead dubiously and turned to the open where the trap had been set.

  Bending over the snare he uttered an Indian word, that I did notunderstand, but have since heard traders use, so conclude it was one ofthose exclamations, alien races learn quickest from one another, butwhich, nevertheless, are not found in dictionaries. The trap had beenrifled of game and completely smashed.

  "Wolverine!" muttered the Indian, making a sweep of his dagger blade atan imaginary foe. "No wolverine! Bad Indians!"

  Scarcely had he spoken when La Robe Noire leaped into the air like awounded rabbit. An arrow whizzed past my face and glanced within ahair's-breadth of the Indian's head. Both men were dumb with amazement.Such treachery would have been surprising among the barbarous tribes ofthe Athabasca. The Sault was the dividing line between Canada and theWilderness, between the east and the west, and there were no hostileswithin a thousand miles of us. Little Fellow would have dragged mepell-mell back to the beach, but I needed no persuasion. La Robe Noiretore ahead with the springs of a hunted lynx. Little Fellow loyally keptbetween me and a possible pursuer, and we set off at a hard run. Thatcreature, I fancied, was again coursing along beneath the undergrowth;for the foliage bent and rose as we ran. Whether it were man or beast,we were three against one, and could drive it out of hiding.

  "See here, Little Fellow!" I cried, "Let's hunt that thing out!" and Iwheeled about so sharply the chunky little man crashed forward, knockingme off my feet and sending me a man's length farther on.

  That fall saved my life. A flat spear point hissed through the airabove my head and stuck fast in the bark of an elm tree. Scrambling up,I promptly let go two or three shots into the fern brake. We scrutinizedthe underbrush, but there was no sign of human being, except the fernstems broken by my shots. I wrenched the stone spear-head from the tree.It was curiously ornamented with such a multitude of intricate carvingsI could not decipher any design. Then I discovered that the medley ofcolors was produced by inlaying the flint with small bits of a brightstone; and the bright stones had been carved into a rude likeness ofsome birds.

  "What are these birds, Little Fellow?" I asked.

  He fingered them closely, and with bulging eyes muttered back, "L'Aigle!L'Aigle!"

  "Eagles, are they?" I returned, stupidly missing the possible meaning ofhis suppressed excitement. "And the stone?"

  "Agate, _Monsieur_."

  Agate! Agate! What picture did agate call back to my mind? A big squaw,with malicious eyes and gaping upper lip and girdle of agates, watchingLouis Laplante and myself at the encampment in the gorge.

  "Little Fellow!" I shouted, not suppressing my excitement. "Who is LeGrand Diable's wife?"

  And the Indian answered in a low voice, with a face that showed me hehad already penetrated my discovery, "The daughter of L'Aigle, chief ofthe Sioux."

  Then I knew for whom those missiles had been intended and from whom theyhad come. It was a clever piece of rascality. Had the assassinsucceeded, punishment would have fallen on my Indians.