CHAPTER XI
FOR HER
Upon Jan now fell a great responsibility. Melisse was his own. Dayspassed before he could realize the fullness of his possession. He hadmeant to go by the Athabasca water route to see Jean de Gravois,leaving Melisse to Cummins for a fortnight or so. Now he gave this up.Day and night he guarded the child; and to Jan's great joy it soon cameto pass that whenever he was compelled to leave her for a short time,Melisse would cry for him. At least Maballa assured him that this wasso, and Melisse gave evidence of it by her ecstatic joy when hereturned.
When Cummins came back from Fort Churchill in the autumn, he broughtwith him a pack full of things for Melisse, including new books andpapers, for which he had spent a share of his season's earnings. As hewas freeing these treasures from their wrapping of soft caribou skin,with Jan and Melisse both looking on, he stopped suddenly and glancedfrom his knees up at the boy.
"They're wondering over at Churchill what became of the missionary wholeft with the mail, Jan. They say he was last seen at the Etawney."
"And not here?" replied Jan quickly.
"Not that they know of," said Cummins, still keeping his eyes on theboy. "The man who drove him never got back to Churchill. They'rewondering where the driver went, too. A company officer has gone up tothe Etawney, and it is possible he may come over to Lac Bain. I don'tbelieve he'll find the missionary."
"Neither do I," said Jan quite coolly. "He is probably dead, and thewolves and foxes have eaten him before this--or mebby ze feesh!"
Cummins resumed his task of unpacking, and among the books which hebrought forth there were two which he gave to Jan.
"The supply ship from London came in while I was at Churchill, andthose came with it," he explained. "They're school-books. There's goingto be a school at Churchill next winter, and the winter after that itwill be at York Factory, down on the Hayes." He settled back on hisheels and looked at Jan. "It's the first school that has ever comenearer than four hundred miles of us. That's at Prince Albert."
For many succeeding days Jan took long walks alone in the foresttrails, and silently thrashed out the two problems which Cummins hadbrought back from Churchill for him. Should he warn Jean de Gravoisthat a company officer was investigating the disappearance of themissionary?
At first his impulse was to go at once into Jean's haunts beyond theFond du Lac, and give him the news. But even if the officer did come toPost Lac Bain, how would he know that the missionary was at the bottomof the lake, and that Jean de Gravois was accountable for it? So in theend Jan decided that it would be folly to stir up the little hunter'sfears, and he thought no more of the company's investigator who hadgone up to the Etawney.
But the second problem was one whose perplexities troubled him.Cummins' word of the school at Churchill had put a new and thrillingthought into his head, and always with that thought he coupled visionsof the growing Melisse. This year the school would be at Churchill, andthe next at York Factory, and after that it might be gone for ever, sothat when Melisse grew up there would be none nearer than what Janlooked upon as the other end of the world. Why could not he go toschool for Melisse, and store up treasures which in time he might turnover to her?
The scheme was a colossal one, by all odds the largest that had everentered into his dreams of what life held for him--that he, JanThoreau, should learn to read and write, and do other things like thepeople of the far South, so that he might help to make the littlecreature in the cabin like her who slept under the watchful spruce. Hewas stirred to the depths of his soul, now with fear, again with hopeand desire and ambition; and it was not until the first cold chills ofapproaching winter crept down from the north and east that the ultimatetest came, and he told Cummins of his intention.
Once his mind was settled, Jan lost no time in putting his plans intoaction. Mukee knew the trail to Churchill, and agreed to leave with himon the third day--which gave Williams' wife time to make him a new coatof caribou skin.
On the second evening he played for the last time in the little cabin;and after Melisse had fallen asleep he took her up gently in his armsand held her there for a long time, while Cummins looked on in silence.When he replaced her in the little bed against the wall, Cummins putone of his long arms about the boy's shoulders and led him to the door,where they stood looking out upon the grim desolation of the forestthat rose black and silent against the starlit background of the sky.High above the thick tops of the spruce rose the lone tree over thegrave, like a dark finger pointing up into the night, and Cummins' eyesrested there.
"She heard you first that night, Jan," he spoke softly. "She knew thatyou were coming long before I could hear anything but the crackling inthe skies. I believe--she knows--now--"
The arm about Jan's shoulder tightened, and Cummins' head dropped untilhis rough cheek rested upon the boy's hair. There was something of thegentleness of love in what he did, and in response to it Jan caught thehand that was hanging over his shoulder in both his own.
"Boy, won't you tell me who you are, and why you came that night?"
"I will tell you, now, that I come from ze Great Bear," whispered Jan."I am only Jan Thoreau, an' ze great God made me come that nightbecause"--his heart throbbed with sudden inspiration as he looked upinto his companion's face--"because ze leetle Melisse was here," hefinished.
For a time Cummins made no move or sound; then he drew the boy backinto the cabin, and from the little gingham-covered box in the cornerhe took a buckskin bag.
"You are going to Churchill for Melisse and for HER" he said in a voicepitched low that it might not awaken the baby. "Take this."
Jan drew a step back.
"No, I fin' work with ze compan-ee at Churchill. That is ze gold forMelisse when she grow up. Jan Thoreau is no--what you call heem?"
His teeth gleamed in a smile, but it lasted only for an instant.Cummins' face darkened, and he caught him firmly, almost roughly, bythe arm.
"Then Jan Thoreau will never come back to Melisse," he exclaimed withfinality. "You are going to Churchill to be at school, and not to workwith your hands. THEY are sending you. Do you understand, boy? THEY!"There was a fierce tremor in his voice. "Which will it be? Will youtake the bag, or will you never again come back to Lac Bain?"
Dumbly Jan reached out and took the buckskin pouch. A dull flush burnedin his cheeks. Cummins looked in wonder upon the strange look that cameinto his eyes.
"I pay back this gold to you and Melisse a hundred times!" he criedtensely. "I swear it, an' I swear that Jan Thoreau mak' no lie!"
Unconsciously, with the buckskin bag clutched in one hand, he hadstretched out his other arm to the violin hanging against the wall.Cummins turned to look. When he faced him again the boy's arm hadfallen to his side and his cheeks were white.
The next day he left. No one heard his last words to Melisse, orwitnessed his final leave-taking of her, for Cummins sympathized withthe boy's grief and went out of the cabin an hour before Mukee wasready with his pack. The last that he heard was Jan's violin playinglow, sweet music to the child. Three weeks later, when Mukee returnedto Lac Bain, he said that Jan had traveled to Churchill like one whohad lost his tongue, and that far into the nights he had played lonelydirges upon his violin.
The Honor of the Big Snows Page 11
