Lords of the North

by Agnes C. Laut

  CHAPTER X

  MORE STUDIES IN STATUARY

  "So he laughs at our warrant?" exclaimed Duncan Cameron. "Hut-tut! We'llteach him to respect warrants issued under authority of 43d King GeorgeIII.," and the dictator of Fort Gibraltar fussed angrily among thepapers of his desk and beat a threatening tattoo with knuckles andheels.

  The Assiniboine enters the Red at something like a right angle and inthis angle was the Nor'-Westers' fort, named after an old-worldstronghold, because we imagined our position gave us the same command ofthe two waterways by which the _voyageurs_ entered and left the northcountry as Gibraltar has of the Mediterranean. Governor McDonell hadthought to outwit us by building the Hudson's Bay fort a mile furtherdown the current of the Red. It was a sharp trick, for Fort Douglascould intercept Nor'-West brigades bound from Montreal to FortGibraltar, or from Fort Gibraltar to the Athabasca. Two days after ourarrival, Cuthbert Grant, with a band of _Bois-Brules_, had gone to FortDouglas to arrest Captain Miles McDonell for plundering Nor'-West posts.The doughty governor took Grant's warrant as a joke and scornfullyturned the whole North-West party out of Fort Douglas. On the stockadesoutside were proclamations commanding settlers to take up arms indefense of the Hudson's Bay traders and forbidding natives to sell fursto any but our rivals. These things added fuel to the hot anger of thechafing _Bois-Brules_. A curious race were these mongrel plain-rangers,with all the savage instincts of the wild beast and few of the brutalimpulses of the beastly man. The descendants of French fathers andIndian mothers, they inherited all the quick, fiery daring of theFrenchman, all the endurance, craft and courage of the Indian, and allthe indolence of both white man and red. One might cut his enemy'sthroat and wash his hands in the life blood, or spend years inaccomplishing revenge; but it is a question if there is a singleinstance on record of a _Bois-Brule_ molesting an enemy's family. Whenthe Frenchman married a native woman, he cast off civilization like anill-fitting coat and virtually became an Indian. When the Scotch settlermarried a native woman, he educated her up to his own level and if shedid not become entirely civilized, her children did. One was the wildman, the Ishmaelite of the desert, the other, the tiller of the soil,the Israelite of the plain. Such were the tameless men, of whom CuthbertGrant was the leader, the leader solely from his fitness to lead.

  It was late in the afternoon when the warden returned from Fort Douglas.I was busy over my desk. Father Holland was still with us awaiting thedeparture of traders to the south, and Duncan Cameron was stamping aboutthe room like a caged lion. There came a quick, angry tramp from thehall.

  "That's Grant back, and there's no one with him," muttered Cameron withsuppressed anger; and in burst the warden himself, his heavy brows darkwith fury and his eyes flashing like the fire at a pistol point.Involuntarily I stopped work and the priest glanced across at me with alook which bespoke expectation of an explosion. Grant did not storm.That was not his way. He took several turns about the room, masteredhimself, and speaking through his teeth said quietly, "There be somefools that enjoy playing with gunpowder. I'm not one of them! There besome idiots that like teasing tigers. 'Tis not sport to my fancy! Therebe some pot-valiant braggarts that defy the law. Let them enjoy thebreaking of the law!"

  "What--what--what?" sputtered the Highland governor, springing first onone side of Grant and then on the other, all the while rumbling outmaledictions on Lord Selkirk, and Governor McDonell and Fort Douglas."What do ye say, mon? Do I understand ye clearly, there's no prisonerswith ye?"

  "Laughs at the _Bois-Brules_. The fool laughs at the _Bois-Brules_! I'veseen gophers cock their eye at a wolf, before that same wolf made abreakfast of gophers! The fool laughs at your warrant, Sir! Scouted it,Sir! Bundled us out of Fort Douglas like cattle!" The warden went on ina bitter strain to tell of the effect of the posted proclamations on hisfollowers.

  "So the lordly Captain Miles McDonell of the Queen's Rangers,generalissimo of all creation, defies us, does he?" demanded Cameron ingreat dudgeon, scarcely crediting his ears.

  "Aye!" answered Grant, "but he can ill afford to be so high and mighty.We went through the settlement and half the people are with us----"

  "That's good! That's good!" responded Cameron with keen relish.

  "They're heartily sick of the country," continued the warden, "and wouldleave to-morrow if we'd supply the boats. Last winter they nearlystarved. The company's generous supply was rancid grease and wormyflour."

  "Fine way o' colonizing a country," stormed Cameron, "bring men out assettlers and arm them to fight! We'll spike his guns by shipping a scoremore away."

  "We've spiked his guns in a better way," said Grant dryly. "Some of thefriendlies are so afraid he'll take their guns away and leave themdefenceless unless they fight us, they've sent their arms here forsafekeeping. We'll keep them safe, I'll warrant." Grant smiled, showinghis white teeth in a way that was not pleasant to see, and somehowreminded me of a dog's snarl.

  "Good! Good! Excellent, Grant." Such strategy pleased Cameron. "Seehere, mon, Cuthbert, we've the law on our side--we've the warrants toback the law! We'd better give yon dour fool a lesson. He's broken thepeace. We haven't. Come out, an' I'll talk it over with ye!"

  The two went out, Grant saying as they passed the window--"Let himtamper with the fur trade among the Indians and I'll not answer for it!That last order not to sell----" The rest of the remark I lost.

  "'Twould serve him well right if they did," returned Cameron, and bothmen walked beyond hearing.

  Father Holland and I were left alone. The fort became ominously still.There was a distant clatter of receding hoofs; but we were on the southside of the warehouse and could not see which way the horses weregalloping.

  "I'm afraid--I'm afraid both sides will be rash," observed the priest.

  The sun-dial indicated six o'clock. I closed and locked the officedesks. We had supper in the deserted dining-hall. Afterwards we strolledto the northeast gate, and looking in the direction of Fort Douglas,wondered what scheme could be afoot. Here my testimony need not be takenfor, or against, either side. All I saw was Duncan Cameron with theother white men of the fort standing on a knoll some distance from FortGibraltar, evidently gazing towards Fort Douglas. Against the sky, abovethe settlement, there were clouds of rising smoke.

  "Burning hay-ricks?" I questioned.

  "Aye, and houses! 'Tis shameless work leaving the people exposed to theblasts of next winter! Shameless, shameless work! Y'r company'll gainnothing by it, Rufus!"

  Across the night came faint, short snappings like a fusillade of shots.

  "Looting the neutrals," said the priest. "God grant there be no blood onthe plains this night! These fool traders don't realize what it means torouse blood in an Indian! They'll get a lesson yet! Give the red devilsa taste of blood and there won't be a white unscalped to the Rockies!I've seen y'r fine, clever rascals play the Indian against rivals, andthe game always ends the same way. The Indian is a weapon that's quickto cut the hand of the user."

  Little did I realize my part in the terrible fulfilment of thatprophecy.

  "Look alive, lad! Where are y'r wits? What's that?" he cried, suddenlypointing to the river bank.

  Up from the cliff sprang a form as if by magic. It came leaping straightto the fort gate.

  "Some frightened half-breed wench," surmised the priest.

  I saw it was a woman with a shawl over her head like a native.

  "_Bon soir!_" said I after the manner of traders with Indian women; butshe rushed blindly on to the gate.

  The fort was deserted. Suspicion of treachery flashed on me. How manymore half-breeds were beneath that cliff?

  "Stop, huzzie!" I ordered, springing forward and catching her so tightlyby the wrist that she swung half-way round before she could checkherself. She wrenched vigorously to get free. "Stop! Be still, youhuzzie!"

  "Be still--you what?" asked a low, amazed voice that broke in ripplesand froze my blood. A shawl fluttered to the ground, and there stoodbefore us the apparition of a marble face.


  "The Little Statue!" I gasped in sheer horror at what I had done.

  "The little--what?" asked the rippling voice, that sounded like coldwater flowing under ice, and a pair of eyes looked angrily down at thehand with which I was still unconsciously gripping her arm.

  "I'd thank you, Sir," she began, with a mock courtesy to the priest,"I'd thank you, Sir, to call off your mastiff."

  "Let her go, boy!" roared the priest with a hammering blow across myforearm that brought me to my senses and convinced me she was no wraith.

  Mastiff! That epithet stung to the quick. I flung her wrist from me asif it had been hot coals. Now, a woman may tread upon a man--also stampupon him if she has a mind to--but she must trip it daintily. Otherwiseeven a worm may turn against its tormentor. To have idolized that marblecreature by day and night, to have laid our votive offerings on itsshrine, to have hungered for the sound of a woman's lips for weeks, andto hear those lips cuttingly call me a dog--were more than I couldstand.

  "Ten thousand pardons, Mistress Sutherland!" I said with a pompousstiffness which I intended should be mighty crushing. "But when ladiesdeck themselves out as squaws and climb in and out of windows,"--thatwas brutal of me; she had done it for Miriam and me--"and announcethemselves in unexpected ways, they need not hope to be recognized."

  And did she flare back at me? Not at all.

  "You waste time with your long speeches," she said, turning from me toFather Holland.

  Thereupon I strode off angrily to the river bank.

  "Oh, Father Holland," I heard her say as I walked away, "I must go toPembina! I'm in such trouble! There's a Frenchman----"

  Trouble, thought I; she is in trouble and I have been thinking only ofmy own dignity. And I stood above the river, torn between desire to rushback and wounded pride, that bade me stick it out. Over the plains camethe shout of returning plunderers. I could hear the throb, throb ofgalloping hoofs beating nearer and nearer over the turf, and reflectedthat I might make the danger from returning _Bois-Brules_ the occasionof a reconciliation.

  "Come here, lad!" called Father Holland. I needed no urging. "Ye mustrig up in tam-o'-shanter and tartan, like a Highland settler, and takeMistress Sutherland back to Fort Douglas. She's going to Pembina to meether father, lad, when I go south to the Missouri. And, lad," the priesthesitated, glancing doubtfully from Miss Sutherland to me, "I'm thinkingthere's a service ye might do her."

  The Little Statue was looking straight at me now, and there weretear-marks about the heavy lashes. Now, I do not pretend to explain thepower, or witchery, a gentle slip of a girl can wield with a pair ofgray eyes; but when I met the furtive glance and saw the white, veinedforehead, the arched brows, the tremulous lips, the rounded chin, andthe whole face glorified by that wonderful mass of hair, I only know,without weapon or design, she dealt me a wound which I bear to this day.What a ruffian I had been! I was ashamed, and my eyes fell before hers.If a libation of blushes could appease an offended goddess, I was lividevidence of repentance. I felt myself flooded in a sudden heat of shame.She must have read my confusion, for she turned away her head to hidemantling forgiveness.

  "There's a crafty Frenchman in the fort has been troubling the lassie.I'm thinking, if ye worked off some o' your anger on him, it moight befor the young man's edification. Be quick! I hear the breeds returning!"

  "But I have a message," she said in choking tones.

  "From whom?" I asked aimlessly enough.

  "Eric Hamilton!" she answered.

  "Eric Hamilton!" both the priest and I shouted.

  "Yes--why? What--what--is it? He's wounded, and he wants a RufusGillespie, who's with the Nor'-Westers. The _Bois-Brules_ fired on thefort. Where _is_ Rufus Gillespie?"

  "Bless you, lassie! Here--here--here he is!" The holy father thumped myback at every word. "Here he is, crazy as a March hare for news ofHamilton!"

  "You--Rufus--Gillespie!" So she did not even know my name. Evidently, ifshe troubled my thoughts, I did not trouble hers.

  "He's told me so much about you," she went on, with a little pant ofastonishment. "How brave and good----"

  "Pshaw!" I interrupted roughly. "What's the message?"

  "Mr. Hamilton wishes to see you at once," she answered coldly.

  "Then kill two birds with one stone! Take her home and see Hamilton--andhurry!" urged the priest.

  The half-breeds were now very near.

  "Put it over your head!" and Father Holland clapped the shawl aboutFrances Sutherland after the fashion of the half-breed women.

  She stood demurely behind him while I ran up-stairs in the warehouse todisguise myself in tartan plaid. When I came out, Duncan Cameron was inthe gateway welcoming Cuthbert Grant and the _Bois-Brules_, as ifpillaging defenceless settlers were heroic. Victors from war may beinspiring, but a half-breed rabble, red-handed from deeds of violence,is not a sight to edify any man.

  "What's this ye have, Father?" bawled one impudent fellow, and hepointed sneeringly at the figure in the folds of the shawl.

  "Let the wench be!" was the priest's reply, and the half-breed loungedpast with a laugh.

  I was about to offer Frances Sutherland my arm to escort her from themob, when I felt Father Holland's hard knuckles dig viciously into myribs.

  "Ye fool ye! Ye blundering idiot!" he whispered, "she's a half-breed.Och! But's time y'r eastern greenness was tannin' a good western russet!Let her follow with bowed head, or you'll have the whole pack on y'rheels!"

  With that admonition I strode boldly out, she behind, humble, withdowncast eyes like a half-breed girl.

  We ran down the river path through the willows and jumping into a canoeswiftly rounded the forks of the Assiniboine and Red. There we left thecanoe and fled along a trail beneath the cliff till the shouting of thehalf-breeds could be no longer heard. At once I turned to offer her myarm. She must have bruised her feet through the thin moccasins, for theway was very rough. I saw that she was trembling from fatigue.

  "Permit me," I said, offering my arm as formally as if she had beensome grand lady in an eastern drawing-room.

  "Thank you--I'm afraid I must," and she reluctantly placed a light handon my sleeve.

  I did not like that condescending compulsion, and now out of danger, Ibecame strangely embarrassed and angry in her presence. The "mastiff"epithet stuck like a barb in my boyish chivalry. Was it the wind, or alow sigh, or a silent weeping, that I heard? I longed to know, but wouldnot turn my head, and my companion was lagging just a step behind. Islackened speed, so did she. Then a voice so low and soft and golden itmight have melted a heart of stone--but what is a heart of stonecompared to the wounded pride of a young man?--said, "Do you know, Ithink I rather like mastiffs?"

  "Indeed," said I icily, in no mood for raillery.

  "Like _them_ for friends, not enemies, to be protected by _them_,not--not bitten," the voice continued with a provoking emphasis of theplural "_them_."

  "Yes," said I, with equal emphasis of the obnoxious plural. "Ladies find_them_ useful at times."

  That fling silenced her and I felt a shiver run down the arm on mysleeve.

  "Why, you're shivering," I blundered out. "You must let me put thisround you," and I pulled off the plaid and would have placed it on hershoulders, but she resisted.

  "I am not in the least cold," she answered frigidly--which is the onlyuntruth I ever heard her tell--"and you shall not say '_must_' to me,"and she took her hand from my arm. She spoke with a tremor that warnedme not to insist. Then I knew why she had shivered.

  "Please forgive, Miss Sutherland," I begged. "I'm such a maladroitanimal."

  "I quite agree with you, a maladroit mastiff with teeth!"

  Mastiff! That insult again! I did not reproffer my arm. We strodeforward once more, she with her face turned sideways remote from me, Iwith my face sideways remote from her, and the plaid trailing from myhand by way of showing her she could have it if she wished. We must havepaced along in this amiable, post-matrimonial fashion for quite aquarter of the
mile we had to go, and I was awkwardly conscious ofsuppressed laughing from her side. It was the rippling voice, thatalways seemed to me like fountain splash in the sunshine, which brokesilence again.

  "Really," said the low, thrilling, musical witchery by my side, "really,it's the most wonderful story I have ever heard!"

  "Story?" I queried, stopping stock still and gaping at her.

  "Perfectly wonderful! So intensely interesting and delightful."

  "Interesting and delightful?" I interrogated in sheer amazement. Thisgirl utterly dumfounded me, and in the conceit of youth I thought itstrange that any girl could dumfound me.

  "What an interesting life you have had, to be sure!"

  "I have had?"

  "Yes, don't you know you've been talking in torrents for the past tenminutes? No? Do you forget?" and she laughed tremulously either fromembarrassment, or cold.

  "Well!" said I, befooled into good-humor and laughing back. "If you giveme a day's warning, I'll try to keep up with you."

  "Ah! There! I've put you through the ice at last! It's been such hardwork!"

  "And I come up badly doused!"

  "Stimulated too! You're doing well already!"

  "My thanks to my instructor," and catching the spirit of her mockery, Iswept her a courtly bow.

  "There! There!" she cried, dropping raillery as soon as I took it up."You were cross at the window. I was cross on the flats. You nearlywrenched my hand off----"

  "Can you blame me?" I asked. "And to pay me back you turned my head andstole my heart----"

  "Hush!" she interrupted. "Let's clean the slate and begin again."

  "With all my heart, if you'll wear this tartan and stop shivering." Iwas not ready to consent to an unconditional surrender.

  "I hate your 'ifs' and 'buts' and so-much-given-for-so-much-got," sheexclaimed with an impatient, little stamp, "but--but--" she addedinconsistently, "if--if--you'll keep one end of the plaid for yourself,I'll take the other."

  "Ho--ho! I like 'ifs' and 'buts.' Have you more of that kind?" Ilaughed, whisking the fold about us both. Drawing her hand into mine, Ikept it there.

  "It isn't so cold as--as that, is it?" asked the voice under the plaid.

  "Quite," I returned valiantly, tightening my clasp. She laughed a low,mellow laugh that set my heart beating to the tune of a trip-hammer. Ifelt a great intoxication of strength that might have razed Fort Douglasto the ground and conquered the whole world, which, I dare say, otheryoung men have felt when the same kind of weight hung upon theirprotection.

  "Oh! Little Statue! Why have you been so hard on us?" I began.

  "_Us?_" she asked.

  "Me--then," and I gulped down my embarrassment.

  "Because----"

  "Because what?"

  "No _what_. Just because!" She was astonished that her decisive reasondid not satisfy.

  "Because! A woman's reason!" I scoffed.

  "Because! It's the best and wisest and most wholesome reason everinvented. Think what it avoids saying and what wisdom may be behindit!"

  "Only wisdom?"

  "You be careful! There'll be another cold plunge! Tell me about yourfriend's wife, Miriam," she answered, changing the subject.

  And when I related my strange mission and she murmured, "Hownoble," I became a very Samson of strength, ready to vanquishan army of Philistine admirers with the jawbone of my inflatedself-confidence--provided, always, one queen of the combat were lookingon.

  "Are you cold, now?" I asked, though the trembling had ceased.

  No, she was not cold. She was quite comfortable, and the answer came invibrant tones which were as wine to a young man's heart.

  "Are you tired, Frances?" and the "No" was accompanied by a littlelaugh, which spurred more questioning for no other purpose than to hearthe music of her voice. Now, what was there in those replies to causehappiness? Why have inane answers to inane, timorous questionstransformed earth into paradise and mortals into angels?

  "Do you find the way very far--Frances?" The flavor of some names temptsrepeated tasting.

  "Very far?" came the response in an amused voice, "find it very far? YesI do, quite far--oh! No--I don't. Oh! I don't know!" She broke into ajoyous laugh at her own confusion, gaining more self-possession as Ilost mine; and out she slipped from the plaid.

  "I wish it were a thousand times farther," and I gazed ruefully at thefolds that trailed empty.

  What other absurd things I might have said, I cannot tell; but we wereat the fort and I had to wrap the tartan disguise about myself.Stooping, I picked a bunch of dog-roses growing by the path, then feltfoolish, for I had not the courage to give them to her, and dropped themwithout her knowledge. She gave the password at the gate. I was takenfor a Selkirk Highlander and we easily gained entrance.

  A man brushed past us in the gloom of the courtyard. He lookedimpudently down into her face. It was Laplante, and my whole framefilled with a furious resentment which I had not guessed could bepossible with me.

  "That Frenchman," she whispered, but his figure vanished among thebuildings. She showed me the council hall where Eric could be found.

  "And where do you go?" I asked stupidly.

  She indicated the quarters where the settlers had taken refuge. I ledher to the door.

  "Are you sure you'll be safe?"

  "Oh! Yes, quite, as long as the settlers are here; and you, you will letme know when the priest sets out for Pembina?"

  I vowed more emphatically than the case required that she should know.

  "Are there no dark halls in there, unsafe for you?" I questioned.

  "None," and she went up the first step of the doorway.

  "Are you sure you're safe?" I also mounted a step.

  "Yes, quite, thank you," and she retreated farther, "and you, have youforgotten you came to see Mr. Hamilton?"

  "Why--so I did," I stammered out absently.

  She was on the top step, pulling the latch-string of the great door.

  "Stop! Frances--dear!" I cried.

  She stood motionless and I felt that this last rashness of an unrulytongue--too frank by far--had finished me.

  "What? Can I do anything to repay you for your trouble in bringing mehere?"

  "I've been repaid," I answered, "but indeed, indeed, long live theQueen! May it please Her Majesty to grant a token to her leal anddevoted knight----"

  "What is thy request?" she asked laughingly. "What token doth the knightcovet?"

  "The token that goes with _good-nights_," and I ventured a pace up thestairs.

  "There, Sir Knight," she returned, hastily putting out her hand, whichwas not what I wanted, but to which I gratefully paid my devoir. "Artsatisfied?" she asked.

  "Till the Queen deigns more," and I paused for a reply.

  She lingered on the threshold as if she meant to come down to me, thenwith a quick turn vanished behind the gloomy doors, taking all thelight of my world with her; but I heard a voice, as of some happy birdin springtime, trilling from the hall where she had gone, and a new songmade music in my own heart.