A PAINFUL MYSTERY.
But how and where should we seek shelter? Each man, I am sure, asked
himself that question uneasily, and the quest grew more hopeless as we
groped our way on for a quarter of an hour, our faces set against the
stinging cold wind and the biting snowflakes. Arnold was leading, and I
was some distance back, trudging alongside of Flora, and trying to keep
up her spirits.
But good fortune befell us when we least expected it. Exhausted and
half-blinded, we suddenly emerged from the tangled forest on a bit of an
open space. Before us was the bed of a frozen stream, now filled up with
drifted snow, and from the farther side of it a hill towered steeply,
affording almost complete protection from the violence of the wind. A
short distance on our left, nestled at the base of another hill, was a
little Indian village, long since deserted--a dozen tepees half-buried
in the snow, a couple of canoe frames protruding from a drift, and some
worn-out snowshoes hanging from a tree.
"By Jupiter! I know the spot," cried Tom Arnold, in a tone of
consternation and astonishment. "I remember the village and the stream!
Why, men, we are away out of our reckoning--on the wrong tack
altogether. This shows how easily a fellow can get lost in a blizzard,
no matter how old a hand he is."
"We're in luck, anyway," said I. "Here is decent shelter, and the hills
keep off the worst of the storm. We are safe for the night."
"And Fort Charter twenty miles away!" grumbled Arnold. "We've got to
reach it to-morrow, come good weather or bad. All hands to work," he
added sharply. "We'll make things as snug as possible."
We set to with a will and the exercise soon warmed our sluggish blood.
Some dug out the canoe frames and broke them up for fuel; others cleared
the loose snow from half a dozen of the huts, and we were delighted to
find them dry inside, and in sound condition. We did not hesitate to
build a roaring fire, for we knew that the light could not be seen at
any distance, and that if any hostile Indians were in the vicinity the
storm would have driven them to camp.
Twilight was falling when we found the abandoned village, and the
evening was well advanced by the time our preparations were completed.
We cooked and ate supper, and then sat smoking for awhile about the
fire. The best of the tepees had been assigned to Flora, and she retired
immediately after the meal. The storm was still raging and the snow
falling thickly, but our camp was so sheltered by the two great hills
that we were almost as comfortable as we had been at Fort Beaver. Yet
only a short distance away, to right and left, we could hear the wind
shrieking and howling through the open wilderness.
"We had better be turning in, so we can make an early start," Tom Arnold
said finally. "My arm is stiff and sore, and I can't sit up any longer.
How about sentry duty?"
"We mustn't neglect that," replied Captain Rudstone. "I volunteer for
the first watch."
The matter was quickly settled. There were to be three watches, Carteret
following the captain, and a Fort Charter man named Humphrey taking the
last turn. The orders were to pace a short distance right and left of
the camp at intervals, and to keep up the fire; each sentry was to rouse
the next man at the proper time.
We smoked a last pipe, and turned in leaving Captain Rudstone on guard.
We were divided into batches of four, and those who shared my tepee with
me were Christopher Burley, Luke Hutter and Duncan Forbes. We huddled
close together, wrapped in blankets, and I for one was so tired out that
I fell asleep instantly.
I remember nothing more until I was roused, after what seemed a short
interval, by a husky shout and a spluttering of angry words. The noise
was enough to waken the whole camp, and indeed it did so with amazing
rapidity. I rushed outside in alarm, followed by my companions. The gray
dawn was breaking, and the air was free of snow. The rest of the men
were pouring from the tepees, rubbing their drowsy eyes and fumbling
with their muskets. I saw Flora's face, flushed and frightened, peeping
from the little doorway of her hut. We all gathered round Tom Arnold,
who was pointing to a heap of dead ashes--what was left of the fire.
"We might have been murdered in our sleep!" he cried savagely. "Who's to
blame for this cursed carelessness? I turned out a minute ago, and look
what I find! Nobody on guard, and the fire burned to ashes! Humphrey,
you scoundrel, you had the last watch! What have you got to say for
yourself?"
"I--I wasn't roused, sir," stammered Humphrey. "It was Carteret's place
to do that."
"How could I do it when I wasn't wakened myself?" exclaimed Carteret.
"Naturally I slept sound, thinking I would be called in time."
"Just my case," added Humphrey in an aggrieved tone.
"Then Captain Rudstone is the man!" cried Arnold. "Where is he?"
Where indeed? We suddenly became aware that the captain was not among
us. We shouted and called his name, but no answer came back. We looked
into all the tepees, and found them empty. It was a deep mystery, and
our alarm and wonder increased. We glanced at one another with startled
and anxious faces. None could throw light on the matter; we had all
slept soundly through the night. I questioned Flora, but she was no
wiser than the rest of us.
"It's the queerest thing I ever heard of," said Arnold. "The man can't
have been spirited away."
"Perhaps an Indian crept up and tomahawked him," suggested Malcolm
Cameron, "and he's lying yonder under the snow."
"No; that is out of the question," said I. "Captain Rudstone could not
have been caught off his guard."
"It's my opinion," declared Arnold, "that he heard some noise in the
forest and went to see what it was. He wandered farther from camp than
he intended, and got lost in the storm--you can see by the depth of the
snow that the blizzard didn't hold up till near morning--and ten to one
he's lying stiff and dead under a drift. We'll search for him till the
middle of the morning, and if we don't find him by then, we must be off
to the fort while the weather permits."
Arnold's reasoning was not very sound, but no one could offer a more
plausible solution to the mystery. While breakfast was preparing some of
us fruitlessly explored the vicinity of the camp, and a little later,
having fortified ourselves with food and hot coffee, we set off on a
more extended search. Christopher Burley and three other men stayed
behind with Flora; the rest, divided into four parties, went in as many
different directions.
To cut a long tale short, our efforts proved of no avail. One after
another the search parties returned--the last one arriving an hour
before noon--and all had the same story to tell. The ground had been
carefully gone over within a radius of several miles from camp, but
Captain Rudstone had disappeared without leaving a trace behind him.
That Arnold's theory was correct--that the unfortunate man lay dead
under one of the mighty drifts that had formed while the storm raged in
the night--we all believed. That he could have voluntarily deserted us
was out of the question.
"It would be no use to hunt any longer," said Arnold, "even if we had
the time to spare. Perhaps next spring, when the snow melts, some
trapper or hunter will find the body and give it decent burial."
So, after a sad and hurried dinner, we packed up and resumed our
journey. The weather held good, and about midnight we arrived safely at
Fort Charter.
I will make but brief mention of our stop at the fort, where we were
received and treated with the utmost kindness. As for Captain Rudstone,
I need only say that I had grown sincerely attached to him, and felt his
loss deeply. Not a scrap of news was waiting for us on our arrival. No
couriers had come in, and what was taking place in the North, or whether
Andrew Menzies and his party had reached Fort Elk, were matters of
conjecture. One keen disappointment I had. Contrary to expectation,
there was no priest at Fort Charter, so my marriage with Flora had to be
put off indefinitely, as I feared at the time.
But something happened shortly to raise my spirits. The factor of the
fort decided to send word down to Fort Garry of the Indian rising and
the loss of Fort Royal, and I gladly consented to be his messenger.
Moreover, since an attack was far from improbable, and the post was
weak, two of the officers seized this opportunity to dispatch their
wives to the South, believing from the reports they had heard that the
country was safe in that direction.
Preparations were pushed forward, and just three days after our arrival
we started on our long march of five hundred miles to Fort Garry through
the dead of winter. We numbered fifteen in all, including Flora, and two
other women. Christopher Burley, Baptiste and Carteret, and Luke Hutter
were of the party. We were well provided with all that was
needful--sledges and dogs, provisions and firearms.