The First Rain
The weary weeks of winter passed slowly away. April came in with
long bright days and abundant sunshine, but still the frost-king
held sway, and all the earth was snowbound, the rivers were mute,
and the waterfalls existed only in name. The men in the store were
saying one night that some Indians had got through from Thunder Bay
by way of the Albany River with mails; but as this meant about four
hundred miles on snowshoes, Katherine regarded it only as a piece
of winter fiction, and thought no more about it. There were fifty
miles of hill and valley between Roaring Water Portage and the
Albany River at its nearest point; but this was undoubtedly the
nearest trail to civilization and the railway, and when the waters
were open it was easier than any other route.
Two days later Katherine was in the cellar overhauling the stores,
which were getting so shrunken that she was wondering how they
could possibly be made to hold out, when she heard Phil calling,
and, going up the ladder, found a tired-looking Indian standing
there, who had a bag of mails strapped on to his back.
"Have you really come from Thunder Bay?" she asked in a surprised
tone.
"Yah," he responded promptly, and, dislodging the burden from his
back, showed her the name Maxokama on the official seals of the bag.
Her father being too unwell to leave his bed that day, Katherine
received the mail as his deputy, and, giving the Indian a receipt
for it, proceeded to open the bag and sort the letters it
contained. There were only a few, and as they were mostly directed
to those in authority in the fishing fleet, and to Astor M'Kree,
Katherine was quick in coming to the conclusion that it was Mr.
Selincourt who had arranged with the post office for the forwarding
of this particular mail. A shiver of fear shook her as she thought
of him. As a rule she preferred to keep him out of her remembrance
as much as possible; but there were times when the fact of his
coming was forced upon her. The broad glare of sunlight streaming
in through the open door of the store was another reminder that
spring was coming with giant strides, and from spring to summer in
that land of fervid sunshine was a period so brief as to be almost
breathless.
The Indian made some purchases of food and tobacco, but as his
conversational powers did not seem to go beyond a sepulchral "Yah",
which he used indifferently for yes and no, neither Katherine nor
Phil could get much information out of him. When he had gone,
Miles came back from wood-cutting on the slopes above the portage,
and was immediately started off to deliver the letters at Seal Cove.
A mail that arrives only once in five months or so is bound to be
treated as a thing of moment, even when, as in this case, it was
limited to half a dozen letters and three or four newspapers. To
Katherine's great delight one of the papers was addressed to The
Postmaster, Roaring Water Portage, and she carried it in to her
father in the dreary little room which was walled off from the
store.
"What have you got: a letter?" he asked, turning towards her, his
face looking even more thin and drawn than usual.
"No, there were no letters for any of us; ours usually come by way
of Montreal and Lake Temiskaming, you know; but this is a sort of
special mail, which has been brought by Indians from Maxokama. But
there is a newspaper for you, which shows it is a good thing to be
postmaster even of a place so remote as this," she said with a
laugh.
"A newspaper will be a treat indeed. I think I will get up,
Katherine, and sit by the stove in the store; one can't read a
newspaper comfortably in bed. Besides, you will be wanting to go
out delivering the mail."
"Miles has taken the Seal Cove letters, but there is one for Astor
M'Kree that Phil and I will take up this afternoon; the dogs will
be glad of a run," she answered, bringing his garments and
arranging them near the bed so that he could slip into them easily.
"Fancy a team of four dogs, a sledge, and two people to carry one
letter!" he exclaimed.
"Not quite that," she responded with a laugh, glad to see that his
mood was so cheerful. "There is a newspaper to go too, and we
shall take up a small barrel of flour, with some bacon and sugar."
"That sounds better at any rate, and I shall be delighted for you
to have a run in the sunshine," 'Duke Radford said, with that
thoughtful consideration for others which made his children love
him with such an ardent affection.
Katherine had not gone many yards from the door that afternoon
before she noticed a difference in the temperature; it was a soft,
clinging warmth, which made her glad to unfasten her scarlet cloud,
while the glare of the sunshine was becoming paler, as if a mist
were rising.
"Phil, the rain is coming; I can smell it, and the dogs can smell
it too. We are in for weather of sorts, I fancy, but Astor M'Kree
must get his letter first, even if we have to race for it!" she
cried.
"Let's race, then; the dogs are willing, and so am I," replied
Phil, who was seated in the sledge among the packages, while
Katherine travelled ahead on snowshoes,
And race they did; but already the snow was getting wet and soft on
the surface, so that the going was heavy, the sledge cut in deeply,
and it was a very tired team of dogs which dropped to the ground in
front of the boatbuilder's house. Phil set to work hauling out the
stores, but Katherine as usual went in to chat with Mrs. M'Kree,
who looked upon her visits with the utmost pleasure.
"I expect it is the last time we shall come up by sledge this
season," said Katherine. "But in case the ice is troublesome, and
we can't get a canoe through for a week or two, we have brought you
double stores."
"That is a good thing, for we are all blessed with healthy
appetites up here, and it isn't pleasant to even think of going on
short commons," replied Mrs. M'Kree. "But do wait until I've read
this letter, for there may be news in it, and there is so little of
that sort of thing here that we ought to share any tidings from
outside that may happen to get through."
"Perhaps Mr. M'Kree would rather read his letter first himself,"
suggested Katherine, who would have preferred not to hear about
anything that letter might contain. She guessed it was from Mr.
Selincourt, and for that reason shunned anything to do with it.
"Astor has gone across to Fort Garry to-day; he started at dawn,
and a pretty stiff journey he'll have before he gets back: but I
warned him not to go, for I smelled the rain coming when I put my
head outside this morning; my nose is worth two of his, for he
can't smell weather, and never could," Mrs. M'Kree answered,
pulling a hairpin from her head and preparing to slit open the
envelope in her hand.
"Still, he might rather that his letter waited for him unopened,"
murmured Katherine; but Mrs. M'Kree was already deep in her
husband's correspondence, and paid no heed at all.
"Oh! oh! what do you think!" she cried a moment later, giving an
excited jump, which so startled Katherine that she jumped too.
"How should I know what to think?" she said; then was angry to find
that she was trembling violently.
"Mr. Selincourt hopes to arrive in June, and he is going to bring
his daughter with him," announced Mrs. M'Kree with a shout, waving
the letter in a jubilant fashion.
"Impossible!" remarked Katherine scornfully, the colour dying out
of her face. "The first steamers can't get through Hudson Strait
until the first week in July."
"They are not coming that way, but straight from Montreal by way of
Lake Temiskaming. My word! the young lady will have a chance of
roughing it, for the portages on that route are a caution, so Astor
says," Mrs. M'Kree answered, then fairly danced round the room.
"Just fancy how gay we shall be this summer with a young lady fresh
out from England among us! And her father must be just the right
sort of moneyed gentleman, for he wants Astor to get a little hut
ready for him by the middle of June."
"A what?" Katherine had risen to go, and was buttoning her coat,
but faced round upon the little woman with blank surprise in her
face, as if she failed to understand what the other was saying.
"A hut. They will want some sort of a place to live in. There is
no hotel here, you see, and they are going to stay all summer.
What a pity it is you haven't got room to board them at the store!"
"We don't want them," retorted Katherine quickly. "We have quite
enough to do without having to wait on a lot of idle boarders."
"Oh! I don't fancy they will be very idle, for Mr. Selincourt says
that he and his daughter intend being out a great deal among the
fishers," said Mrs. M'Kree, who still kept dipping into the
letter, and besought her visitor to stay until she had read it all.
But Katherine would not wait; she was in a hurry to start on the
return journey, for every hour now would make the snow surface more
wet and rotten to travel over. She was sick at heart, too, and
suffering from the keenest disappointment. Six months ago how she
would have rejoiced at the prospect of having Miss Selincourt at
Roaring Water Portage for the weeks of the short, busy summer. An
educated girl to talk to would make all the difference in the
isolation in which they were forced to live. Katherine felt
herself thrill and flutter with delight, even while she trembled
with dread at the thought of her father having to meet Mr.
Selincourt face to face. She wondered if the rich man who was
coming would remember her father, and if he knew of the wrong that
the latter had done in keeping silent, so that he might prosper by
the other's downfall.
Bitter tears smarted in her eyes as she toiled through the melting
snow; then a dash of wet struck her in the face, and she realized
that the rain had begun, and the long winter was coming to an end
at last. The last mile was very hard to traverse, and when at
length they went down the hill between the high rocks of the
portage trail, Katherine heard a faint rippling sound which warned
her that the waters were beginning to flow. The store was crowded
with men, as was often the case in the late afternoon, and
Katherine's hope of being able to tell her father the news quietly
was doomed to disappointment. Her first glance at him told her
that he knew all there was to be known, and the look of suffering
on his face hurt her all the more because she knew there was no
balm for his pain. Miles was doing what was necessary in the store
under his father's direction, and, because there seemed no need for
her assistance just then, Katherine went on indoors to get a little
rest before it was time for evening school.
"Oh, Katherine, have you heard the news?" cried Mrs. Burton, who
was knitting stockings and reciting "Old Mother Hubbard" between
whiles to the twins.
"Yes; at least, I have heard about Mr. Selincourt coming, if that
is what you mean," Katherine answered, as she unfastened her outer
garments.
"That is not the best part of the news by any means," returned Mrs.
Burton, giving Lotta a little shake to silence the demand for more
of "Mother Hubbard". "What delights me so much is to think that
Miss Selincourt is coming too. Just imagine what it will be to
have cultured society here at Roaring Water Portage!"
"She will despise us, most likely, and consider us about on a level
with Peter M'Crawney's wife, or that poor little Mrs. Jenkin," said
Katherine.
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Burton's tone was energetic; her manner one of
mild surprise. "No one would despise you. They might look down
upon me a little, but you are quite a different matter."
"Perhaps I am," replied Katherine. "But somehow I have got the
feeling in my bones that Miss Selincourt and I shall not fall in
love with each other."
"I expect that what you have really got in your bones is a touch of
rheumatism from wading through wet snow," Mrs. Burton said
anxiously. "Dear, you must take care of yourself, for what would
become of us all if you were to fall ill?"
Katherine laughed, only there was not much mirth in the sound.
"There is nothing the matter with me, nor likely to be, for I am
tough as shoe leather; only sometimes my temper gets knobby,
because all the children I can find to teach are grown-up babies of
thirty and forty, who prefer flirting to arithmetic, and have to be
continually snubbed in order to keep them in their places. The
stupid creatures make me so angry!"
"Poor Katherine! It is hard on you, for you are certainly much too
good-looking to teach a night school; but, on the other hand, what
a good thing it has been for the men to have the school to occupy
their evenings," said Mrs. Burton. "Mrs. Jenkin was saying only
yesterday that there has not been half so much drinking and
gambling at Seal Cove this winter as there was last year, because
the men would rather come here and listen to your lectures on
history and geography."
"They are willing enough to listen, and will sit looking as stupid
as a school of white whales, caught in a stake trap," replied
Katherine. "But see what dunces some of them are when I try to
knock a little arithmetic into their thick heads."
"Yes, I will admit they are rather dense; and you are very much
more patient with them than I should be, I'm afraid," Mrs. Burton
said with a sigh. The night school had privately been a very great
trial to her, for since 'Duke Radford's indifferent health had
caused him to lie in bed so much, it had been impossible to use the
room off the store as schoolroom, and so for two hours every
evening the family living-room had been invaded by a swarm of more
or less unwashed men, whose habits were not always of the most
refined description.
"The need for patience will soon be over now," Katherine said,
understanding the cause of the sigh, although Mrs. Burton had
uttered no spoken complaint. "Miles says the men were beginning to
break the boats out yesterday, and it is raining now, which will
help matters on a great deal, unless, indeed, it rains too long,
and then we may have floods."
"Oh dear, I hope not!" replied Mrs. Burton with a shiver, for
spring floods were no joke in that part of the world. "By the way,
has Miles told you that he saw the Englishman to-day?"
"What Englishman?" demanded Katherine, with dismay in her tone, for
her thoughts immediately flew to Mr. Selincourt; only, of course,
it was not possible that he could arrive before June.
"Didn't you hear that an Englishman came through from Maxokama with
the Indians who brought up the mail?" said Mrs. Burton in surprise.
"Not a word. But certainly he must be a plucky sort of person to
have ventured a journey of four hundred miles on snowshoes. Do you
know who he is?" Katherine asked with quickened interest.
"Someone to do with the fishing, I think; a sort of master of the
fleet very likely," replied Mrs. Burton, who had dropped her
knitting and gathered both the little girls on to her lap, as the
surest means of keeping them quiet while she talked to her sister.
"How will Oily Dave like that, I wonder?" Katherine said in a
musing tone, and then her thoughts went wandering off to the pails
of stolen lard. She had kept up an unremitting watchfulness ever
since the time when the theft occurred, and had missed nothing more
of importance; but her mistrust of Oily Dave was as great as ever.
"I don't suppose he will like it at all," Mrs. Burton answered.
"But it is quite time that a more responsible man was put in
charge."