ROOFED!
The back windows commanded a view of the horse corral,
and they could see that one side of it had been borne
down by the rush of horses. But what had frightened them
was a mystery. There was nothing whatever of a hostile
mature to be seen. They could detect no lurking foe
among the pines, and when they passed outside, and went
round the scattered huts, there was nothing to account
for the disastrous panic.
"_Parbleu!_" exclaimed Jacques, looking around perplexedly.
"I think it must have been their own shadows of which
they were afraid. Do you not think that is so, m'sieur?"
"It looks like it," said Douglas; but we must get those
horses or the rebels will get _us_ to-morrow; they can
hardly overtake us before then. If I remember rightly,
there's a snake-fence across the trail, about half-a-mile
or so up the valley, which may stop them. Now, if you,
Jacques, go to the right, and you, Lagrange, to the left,
while I take the trail--I'm not quite so young and nimble
as you two--I dare say we'll not be long before we have
them back. But I'd nearly forgotten about you, Dorothy.
It won't do to--"
"Nonsense, dad! I'll be perfectly safe here. The sooner
you get the horses back, the sooner we will be able to
consider ourselves safe."
This view of the case seemed to commend itself to Bastien,
for without further ado he strode away to the left among
the pines.
"I'm afraid there's nothing else for it," said Douglas.
"I think you'd better go inside again, Dorothy, and wait
till we return."
"And in the meantime I'll pack the sleighs," observed
the girl. "Leave me a gun, and I'll be all right"
The rancher leant his gun against the window sill, and
then departed hastily.
The deserted huts seemed very lonely indeed when they
had gone, but Dorothy was a healthy, prairie-bred girl,
and not given to torturing herself with vain imaginings.
She went indoors, and, for the next few minutes busied
herself in cleaning up and stowing away the dinner things.
This done, she resolved to go outside, for a wonderful
change had come about in the weather. It was only too
obvious that a new Spring had been born, and already its
mild, quickening breath was weakening the grip of King
Frost.
Dorothy walked over towards the pines. She could detect
a resinous, aromatic odour in the air. Here and there
a pile of snow on the flat boughs would lose its grip on
the roughened surface and slip to earth with a hollow
thud. She skirted the outhouses, and then made for the
long, low-roofed hut again. She was passing a large pile
of cord-wood which she noted was built in the form of a
square, when, happening to look into it, she saw something
that for the moment caused her heart to stop beating and
paralysed her with fear. It was a great gaunt cinnamon
bear, which, seated on its haunches, was watching her
with a look of comical surprise upon its preternaturally
shrewd, human-like face.
Dorothy's heart was thumping like a steam-engine. Fear,
indeed, seemed to give her wings, for she gathered up
her skirts and ran towards the house as she had never
run in her life.
But the bear had just an hour or so before risen from
his long winter's sleep, influenced, doubtless, by those
"blind motions of the earth that showed the year had
turned"; feeling uncommonly empty, and therefore uncommonly
hungry, he had left his cave in the hillside lower down
the valley to saunter upwards in search of a meal. The
horses had unfortunately scented him before he was aware
of their proximity, and, with that lively terror which
all animals evince in the neighbourhood of bears, had
broken madly away, to Bruin's great chagrin. If he had
not been half asleep, and therefore stupid, he would have
crawled upon them from the lee side, and been on the
back, or at the throat, of one before they could have
divined his presence. The noise of the men's voices had
startled him, and he had gone into the wood heap to
collect his thoughts and map out a new plan of campaign.
The voices had ceased, but there was a nice, fresh-looking
girl, who had walked right into his very arms, as it
were. It was not likely he was going to turn up his nose
at her. On the contrary, he would embrace the
opportunity--and the young lady.
He must, indeed, have still been half asleep, for he had
given Dorothy time to make a start, and there was no
questioning the fact that she could run. Bruin gathered
himself together and made after her. Now, to look at a
bear running, one would not imagine he was going at any
great rate; his long, lumbering strides seem laboured,
to say the least of it, but in reality he covers the
ground so quickly that it takes a very fast horse indeed
to keep pace with him.
Before Dorothy had got half-way to the hut, she knew she
was being closely pursued. She could hear the hungry
brute behind her breathing hard. At length she reached
the hut, but the door was shut. She threw herself against
it and wrenched at the handle, which must have been put
on upside down to suit some whim of the owners, for it
would not turn. The bear was close upon her, so with a
sob of despair she passed on round the house. Next moment
she found herself confronted with a log wall and in a
species of _cul-de-sac_. Oh! the horror of that moment!
But there was a barrel lying on its side against the wall
of the hut Afterwards she marvelled how she could have
done it, but she sprang on to it, and, gripping the bare
poles that constituted the eaves of the shanty, leapt
upwards. Her breast rested on the low sod roof; another
effort and she was on it. The barrel was pushed from her
on springing, and, rolling out of harm's way, she realised
that for her it had been a record jump. The vital question
now was, could the bear follow?
She raised herself on hands and knees among the soft,
wet snow, and looked down apprehensively at the enemy.
What she saw would at any other time have made her laugh
heartily, but the situation was still too serious to be
mirthful. There, a few paces from the hut, seated on his
haunches and looking up at her with a look of angry
remonstrance on his old-fashioned face, was Bruin. His
mouth was open, his under jaw was drooping with palpable
disappointment, and his small dark eyes were gleaming
with an evil purpose. That he had used up all his
superfluous fat in his long winter's sleep was obvious,
judging by his lanky, slab-like sides. His long hair
looked very bedraggled and dirty. He certainly seemed
remarkably hungry, even for a bear. There was no gainsaying
the fact that he was wide awake now.
Dorothy rose to her feet and glanced quickly around.
Particularly she looked up the trail in the direction
taken by her father and the others, but the dark, close
pines, and a bluff prevented her from seeing any distance.
She could hear nothing save the twittering of some
snow-birds, and the deep breathing of Bruin, who seemed
sadly out of condition. The steep sides of the valley
and the dark woods close up all around and shut in that
desolate little homestead. There was no hiding the truth
from herself; she was very much alone, unless the bear
could be regarded as company. Bruin had her all to himself,
so much so, indeed, that he appeared to be taking matters
leisurely. He had the afternoon ahead of him, and, after
all, it was only a girl with whom he had to deal. As he
watched her there was even an apologetic expression upon
his face, as if he were half ashamed to be engaged in
such an ungentlemanly occupation and hoped it would be
understood that he was only acting thus in obedience to
the imperative demands of an empty stomach.
Dorothy wondered why the bear did not at once begin to
clamber up after her. As a matter of fact, bears are not
much good at negotiating high jumps, particularly when
their joints have been stiffening during the greater part
of the winter. But they have a truly remarkable
intelligence, and this particular one was thinking the
matter over in quite a business-like way.
Dorothy caught sight of a long sapling projecting from
the eaves. It was really a species of rafter on which
the sod roof rested. She cautiously lent over, and,
grasping it with her two bands, managed with some
considerable exercise of force to detach it. It was about
six feet long and nearly as thick as her arm, making a
formidable weapon.
Bruin regarded her movements disapprovingly, and resolved
to begin operations. The barrel which had helped the girl
to gain the roof was naturally the first thing that
attracted him. With a mocking twinkle in his dark eyes,
he slouched towards it. He was in no hurry, for, being
an intelligent bear, he appreciated the pleasures of
anticipation. He placed his two fore feet on it, and
then, with a quick motion, jerked his cumbersome hind
quarters up after him.
But the bear had never seen a circus, and his education,
so far as barrels were concerned, had been neglected.
The results were therefore disastrous. The barrel rolled
backwards while Bruin took a header forward. Never in
the days of his cubhood had he effected such a perfect
somersault In fact, if it had been an intentional
performance he could not have done it in better style.
It was such an unexpected and spontaneous feat that his
thoughts went wandering again, and he looked at the barrel
in a puzzled and aggrieved sort of way, as if he half
suspected it of having played him some sort of practical
joke.
In spite of the peril of her situation Dorothy could not
restrain a peal of laughter. A town-bred girl would
doubtless have been still shaking with terror, but this
was a lass o' the prairie, accustomed to danger. Besides,
she saw now that to reach her would cost the bear more
skill and agility than he appeared to possess.
The barrel, being in a species of hollow, rolled back
and rocked itself into its former position.
The bear walked round it, sniffing and inspecting it in
quite a professional manner. Then, not without a certain
amount of side--also quite professional--he prepared to
have another try.
He sprang more carefully this time, but he did it so as
to put the momentum the other way. The result was that
he rocked wildly backwards and forwards for about a
minute, and managed to stay on the barrel as a novice
might on a plunging horse, until the inevitable collapse
came. The barrel took a wilder lurch forward than it had
yet done, and Bruin dived backwards this time. He came
down with such a thud, and in such an awkward position,
that Dorothy made sure his neck was broken. To tell the
truth, Bruin thought so himself. He actually had not the
moral courage to move for a few moments, lest he should,
indeed, find this to be the case. Even when he did move,
he was not too sure of it, and looked the very sickest
bear imaginable.
But a bear's head and neck are about the toughest things
going in anatomy, so after Bruin had carefully moved his
about for a little to make sure that nothing serious was
the matter, he again turned his attention to the girl.
His stock of patience was by this time nearly exhausted,
and he glared up at her in a peculiarly spiteful fashion.
Then, suddenly seized by a violent fit of energy, he
leapt upon the barrel again with the determination to
show this girl what he really could do when put to it
But, owing to the previous hard usage the barrel had
received, some of the staves had started, the result was
that it collapsed in a most thorough manner.
In addition to the surprise and shock sustained by the
bear, his limbs got inextricably mixed up with the iron
hoops, and he looked for all the world as if he were
performing some juggling feat with them. One hoop had
somehow got round his neck and right fore leg at the same
time, while another had lodged on his hind quarters. He
fairly lost his temper and spun round and round, snapping
viciously at his encumbrances. The girl laughed as she
had not laughed for many a long day. To see the dignified
animal make such an exhibition of himself over a trifle
of this sort was too ludicrous. But at last he managed
to get rid of the hoops, stood erect on his hind legs,
and then waddled clumsily towards the hut.
Dorothy was not a little alarmed now, for his huge forepaws
were on a level with the eaves, while his blunt, black
snout was quite several inches above the sod roof. What
if he could manage to spring on to it after all! He opened
his mouth, and she could see his cruel yellow jagged
teeth and the grey-ribbed roof of his mouth. He moved
his head about and seemed preparing for a spring. Dorothy
raised the stout pole high above her head with both hands,
and, with all the strength that was in her supple frame,
brought it down crash upon the brute's head.
Bruin must assuredly have seen stars, and thought that
a small pine tree had fallen on him, for he dropped on
all-fours again with his ideas considerably mixed--so
mixed, indeed, that he had not even the sense to go round
to the other side of the house, where there was a huge
snowdrift by which he might possibly have reached the
roof. But, being a persevering bear, and having a tolerably
thick head, not to speak of a pressing appetite, he again
reared himself against the log wall with the intention
of scrambling up. On each occasion that he did this,
however, the girl brought the influence of the pole to
bear upon him, causing him to change his mind. Dorothy
began to wonder if it were possible that a blacksmith's
anvil could be as hard as a bear's skull.
But at last Bruin grew as tired of the futile game as
Dorothy of whacking at him with the pole, and, disgusted
with his luck and with himself, withdrew to the
neighbourhood of the corral fence, either to wait until
the girl came down, or to think out a new plan of campaign.
As for Dorothy, she seated herself as best she could on
an old tin that had once contained biscuits, and which,
with various other useless articles, littered the roof.
She was quite comfortable, and the sun was warm--in fact,
almost too much so. She was conscious, indeed, that her
moccasins were damp. In future she would wear leather
boots with goloshes over them during the day, and only
put on moccasins when it became cold in the evening. She
knew that in a few days the snow would have disappeared
as if by magic, and that a thousand green living things
would be rushing up from the brown, steaming earth, and
broidering with the promise of a still fuller beauty the
quickening boughs.
But what was delaying her father and the others? Surely,
if the fence and slip-rails were across the trail where
they said they were, the rush of the horses must have
been checked, and they would be on their way back now.
But she could neither see nor hear anything of their
approach. It was stupid to be sitting up there on the
roof of a house with nothing save a bear--fortunately at
a respectable distance--for company, but perhaps under
the circumstances she ought to be very thankful for having
been able to reach such a haven at all. Besides, the day
was remarkably pleasant--almost summer-like--although
there was slush under-foot. Everywhere she could hear
the snow falling in great patches from the trees and the
rocks. The bare patches of earth were beginning to steam,
and lawn-like vapours were lazily sagging upwards among
the pines as the sun kissed the cold cheek of the snow
queen.
Dorothy's head rested on her hands, and she began to feel
drowsy. The twittering of the snow-birds sounded like
the faint tinkling silver sleigh-bells far away; the bear
loomed up before her, assuming gigantic proportions, his
features at the same time taking a human semblance that
somehow reminded her of the face of Pepin Quesnelle, then
changing to that of some one whose identity she could
not exactly recall. Stranger still, the weird face was
making horrible grimaces and calling to her; her eyes
closed, her head dropped, and she lurched forward suddenly;
she had been indulging in a day dream and had nearly
fallen asleep. But surely there was some one calling,
for a voice was still ringing in her ears.
She pulled herself together and tried to collect her
senses. The bear assumed his natural proportions, and
Dorothy realised that she was still seated on the roof
of the log hut And then a harsh voice--the voice of her
dream--broke in with unpleasant distinctness upon her
drowsily-tranquil state of mind.
"Hi, you zere?" it said. "What for you not hear? Come
down quick, I zay."
Dorothy turned, and, glancing down on the other side of
the hut, saw the two objectionable rebels whom her father
had released nearly a couple of hours before. There was
an ugly grin upon their faces, and the one who had
addressed her held in his hands the gun which Douglas
had placed against the wall so that it might be handy
for his daughter in any emergency.