At this time the half-breeds of the colony of Red River formed a small
party compared with the numbers to which they multiplied in after years,
and the band of hunters who annually went to the plains to chase the
buffalo was proportionally small. Nevertheless, they were numerous
enough to constitute a formidable band, capable of holding their own,
when united, against any band of wandering Indians who might feel
disposed to attack them. They were a brave, hardy race of men, but of
course there were some black sheep among them like La Certe.
About sixty or a hundred miles from the Settlement, the party, under
command of Antoine Dechamp, found the buffalo, and preparations were at
once made to attack them. It was dusk, however, when the herds were
discovered, so that the hunt had to be postponed to the following day.
A small clump of bushes afforded wood enough for camp-fires. The carts
were ranged in a circle with the trains outward. Sentries were posted;
the horses were secured; the kettles put on; pipes lighted; and noise,
laughter, song and story, mingled with the shrill voices of children,
were heard far on into the night.
Among the children, if we may venture so to class them, were Archie and
Billie Sinclair--though we suspect that Archie would have claimed, and
with some reason, to be classed with the men. They belonged to the
camp-fire, which formed a centre to the party composed of Dan and Peter,
Fergus, Dechamp, and Fred Jenkins the sailor. The latter, who it was
thought had come out to the country by way of a skylark rather than as a
settler, had followed the hunters, bent, he said, on firing a broadside
into a buffalo. He had brought with him a blunderbuss, which he averred
had been used by his great-grandfather at the battle of Culloden. It
was a formidable old weapon, capable of swallowing, at one gulp, several
of the bullets which fitted the trading guns of the country. Its powers
of scattering ordinary shot in large quantity had proved to be very
effective, and had done such execution among flocks of wild-fowl, that
the Indians and half-breeds, although at first inclined to laugh at it,
were ultimately filled with respect.
"I doubt its capacity for sending ball straight, however," remarked Dan
to Jenkins, who was carefully cleaning out the piece, "especially if
charged with more than one ball."
"No fear of it," returned the sailor, with a confident air. "Of course
it scattered the balls about six yards apart the only time I tried it
with a lot of 'em, but that was at fifty yards off, an' they tell me
that you a'most ram the muzzle against the brutes' sides when chasin'
buffalo. So there's no room to scatter, d'ee see, till they get inside
their bodies, and when there it don't matter how much they scatter."
"It's well named a young cannon by La Certe," said Peter Davidson, who,
like the seaman, was out on his first buffalo-hunt. "I never heard such
a roar as it gave that time you brought down ten out of one flock of
ducks on the way up here."
"Ay, Peter, she barked well that time," remarked the sailor, with a
grin, "but, then there was a reason. I had double-shotted her by
mistake."
"An' ye did it too without an aim, for you had both eyes tight shut at
the time," remarked Fergus. "Iss that the way they teach ye to shoot at
sea?"
"In course it is," replied Jenkins, gravely. "That's the beauty o' the
blunderbuss. There's no chance o' missin', so what 'ud be the use o'
keepin' yer eyes open, excep' to get 'em filled wi' smoke. You've on'y
got to point straight, an' blaze away."
"I did not know that you use the blunderbuss in your ships at all," said
Dechamp, with a look of assumed simplicity.
"Ho yes, they do," said Jenkins, squinting down the bell-mouthed barrel,
as if to see that the touch-hole was clear. "Aboard o' one man-o'-war
that I sailed in after pirates in the China seas, we had a blunderbuss
company. The first-leftenant, who was thought to be queer in his head,
he got it up.
"The first time the company was ranged along the deck he gave the order
to load with ball cartridges. There was twenty-six of us, all told.
"`We've got no cartridges for 'em, sir,' whispered the man nearest him.
"`If you don't obey orders,' growled the leftenant 'tween his teeth,
`I'll have ye strung up for mutiny every man Jack of you--_load_!' he
repeated in a kind of a yell.
"We had our or'nary belts and pouches on, so we out wi' the or'nary
cartridges--some three, some four,--an', biting off the ends, poured in
the powder somehow, shoved in the balls anyhow, an' rammed the whole
consarn down.
"`Present--fire!' roared the leftenant.
"Bang! went the six an' twenty blunderbusses, an' when the smoke cleared
away there was fourteen out o' the twenty-six men flat on their backs.
The rest o' us was raither stunned, but hearty.
"`Take these men below,' cried the leftenant, `an' send fourteen strong
men here. We don't want weaklings for _this_ company.'
"After that we loaded in moderation, an' got on better."
"And the pirates--what did _they_ think o' the new weapon?" asked Peter
Davidson, with an amused expression.
"O! they couldn't stand it at all," answered the sailor, looking up from
his work, with a solemnity that was quite impressive. "They stood fire
only once. After that they sheered off like wild-cats. I say, Mistress
La Certe, how long is that lobscouse--or whatever you call it,--goin' to
be in cookin'?" Slowfoot gave vent to a sweet, low giggle, as she
lifted the kettle off the hook, and thus gave a practical answer to the
question. She placed before him the robbiboo, or pemmican, soup, which
the seaman had so grievously misnamed.
During the time that the hunters were appeasing their appetites, it was
observed that Antoine Dechamp, the leader of the expedition, was
unusually silent and thoughtful, and that he betrayed a slight look of
anxiety. It therefore did not surprise Dan Davidson, when the supper
was nearly ended, that Dechamp should rise and leave the fire after
giving him a look which was a silent but obvious invitation to follow.
Dan obeyed at once, and his leader, conducting him between the various
camp-fires, led him outside the circle of carts.
A clear moon lit up the prairie all round, so that they could see its
undulating sweep in every direction.
"Anything wrong, Antoine?" asked Dan in a low voice, when they were out
of earshot of the camp.
"Nothing wrong, Dan."
"Surely," continued the other, while Dechamp paused as if in perplexity,
"surely there can be no chance of Red-skins troubling us on a clear
night like this. I can distinguish every bush for miles around."
"There is no fear o' Red-skins. No, I am not troubled about them. It
is matters concerning yourself that trouble me."
"How's that? What do you mean, Antoine?"
"Is your brother-in-law-to-be, Duncan McKay, coming to join us this
spring?" asked Dechamp.
"I believe he is--after he has helped his father a bit longer wi' the
farm. Why do you ask?"
"Well, to say truth, I can't give you a very good reason for my bein'
anxious. Only I can't help havin' my ears open, and I've heard some
talk among the lads that makes me fear for the young man. They say, or
hint, that he knows more about the murder o' poor Perrin than he chooses
to tell. I've not been quite able to find out what makes them suspect
him, but they do suspect him, an' it would be well to warn him not to
come here, for you know there are many opportunities to commit murder on
a buffalo-hunt!"
The incident of the knife, and of Duncan McKay's significant glance, at
once flashed across Davidson's mind, and he felt a terrible sinking of
the heart when the suspicion, once before roused within him, seemed now
to be confirmed. He resolved, however, to reveal his thoughts to no
one--specially not to Elspie.
"I think it a shame," he said, "that men should allow such rumours to
circulate, when nothing certain has arisen to rouse suspicion. That
affair of the knife was clearly explained when young McKay declared that
it was not his, though it looked like it. If he knew anything about the
murder, would he not have been certain to have told us long ago? And,
surely, you cannot suppose that Duncan killed Perrin with his own hand?
Speak, Dechamp! Why do you shake your head?"
"I know nothing," returned the leader. "What right have I to suppose
anything? I only know that men's deeds are often mysterious and
unaccountable, and that our men have strong suspicion. For myself, I
have no opinion. Duncan McKay is probably innocent, for he and Perrin
were not enemies. I hope he is so, but I advise you to stop his coming
to the camp just now if you can. His life may depend on it."
"I cannot stop him," returned Dan, with a perplexed look. "He is
headstrong, as you know, and if he has made up his mind to come, nothing
will stop him."
"Perhaps if he knew his life would be in danger--that might stop him."
"I doubt it; but I will give him the chance. I will ride back to Red
River without delay, and warn him."
"Good. When will you start?"
"To-night. The moon is clear and will not set till morning. I shall be
well on my way by that time."
"Will you ride alone?"
"No, there may be bad Indians about. I will ask Okematan or Fergus
McKay to ride with me. Why did you not speak to Fergus instead of to
me?"
"Because he has not been spoken to by any one," answered Dechamp; "and I
would not be the first to put suspicion into his head about his own
brother. Besides, your head is clearer; and your interest in Duncan,
for Elspie's sake, is greater than his, no doubt."
"Well, you may be right, Antoine. At all events if I take Fergus with
me I shall send him back before reaching the Settlement, and say nothing
whatever about my reason for going there. `Pressing business,' you
know, will be sufficient."
"I'm not so sure of that," returned Dechamp with a laugh. "Men are apt
to want to know the nature of `pressing business.' However, it may be
as well to take Fergus. At any rate you cannot have Okematan, for he is
not in camp, he left soon after we pitched, and I know has not yet
returned."
"It matters not. Fergus will do better. He is more companionable."
Returning to camp, Dan Davidson made the proposal to Fergus McKay. That
worthy was, as he said, ready for anything, and the two were soon
mounted. They were also well armed, for the risk of meeting a party of
hostile Indians was not altogether out of the question, though
improbable. Each horseman carried his blanket and provision wallet, his
gun, a long knife almost equal to an ancient Roman sword, and a cavalry
pistol--revolvers not having been invented at that time: at least they
had not come into general use. Thus provided for all contingencies,
they set forth.
As we have said, the night was clear and fine, so that the plains were
open to view in all directions, save where a few scattered clumps of
willows and small trees grew like islets in the ocean.
"It iss this that I like better than farming," said Fergus, as the fresh
horses carried them swiftly and lightly over the prairie waves, and down
into the grassy hollows, now swerving to avoid a badger-hole, or
clearing a small shrub with a little bound. "I do think that man wass
intended to live in the wilderness, an' not to coop himself up in the
cities like rabbits in their holes."
"Why, Fergus, you should have been born a savage," said Dan.
"Ay, it iss savitch I am that I wass not born a savitch," returned
Fergus with a grim smile. "What in all the world iss the use of
ceevilisation if it will not make people happy? A man wants nothing
more than a goot supper an' a goot bed, an' a goot shelter over him, an'
it is a not five hunderd pound a year that we will want to buy that--
whatever."
"But surely man wants a little more than that, Fergus. He wants
breakfast and dinner usually, as well as supper, and a few comforts
besides, such as tea and sugar--at least the women do--besides pipes an'
baccy--to say nothing of books."
"Oo ay, I will not be denyin' that. But we've no need for wan half the
luxuries o' ceevilisation. An' ye know ferry weel, Tan, that my sister
Elspie would be content to live wi' you in a ferry small hoose, and the
bare necessaries of life, but here you are forced to put off the
merritch because our hooses wass burnt, and you are obleeged to wait
till you get a sort o' palace built, I suppose, and a grand farm set
a-goin'."
"Indeed, Fergus, you touch me on a sore point there, but with all your
scorn of luxury, I'm sure you'd be the last man to let his sister marry
a fellow who could take her only to a hut or a wigwam."
"You are right, Tan. Yet I hev spent many a comfortable night in a hut
an' a wigwam since I came to Red River. I wish the place wass more
peaceable."
"It will never be more peaceable as long as there are two rival
companies fighting for the furs," said Davidson; "but there's worse than
that goin' on, for some of the Indians, it seems, are mad at the
agreement made between them and Lord Selkirk."
"Wow! that iss a peety. Where heard ye that?"
"I heard it from La Certe, whose wife Slowfoot, you know, is a Cree
Indian. It seems that the Crees have always claimed Red River as their
lands; but when Lord Selkirk came to make a treaty with the natives he
found some Saulteaux livin' on the soil, an' his lordship, in ignorance,
gave them an interest in the treaty, though they were mere visitors--an'
indeed don't even claim to be owners of the soil--their lands lying far
to the east of Red River."
"Well," continued Dan, guiding his horse carefully down the next hollow,
for the moon had gone behind a cloud just then, "when the Crees found
out what had been done, they were naturally very angry--an' I don't
wonder--an' they threaten now to expel the Saulteaux from Red River
altogether, an' the white men along wi' them, unless the names of the
Saulteaux chiefs are wiped out o' the contract, an' the annual payment
made to the Crees alone."
"That iss bad, Taniel, ferry bad," said Fergus, as they reached the
bottom of the hollow and began to ascend the succeeding undulation, "an'
I am all the more sorry to hear it because our goot frund Okematan is a
Cree."
"Ay, Fergus, he is a great chief of the Crees, and a man of considerable
influence among his people. I should not like to have him for an
enemy."
"Stop!" said Fergus in a whisper at that moment, laying his hand on
Davidson's arm.
Dan drew rein at once and looked at his friend, but could not clearly
see his face, for the moon was still behind thick drifting clouds.
They had just risen high enough on the prairie wave, which they had been
ascending, to be able to see over it, and Dan could perceive by the
outstretched neck of his companion that he was gazing intently at
something directly in front.
"What do you see, Fergus?" he asked in a low voice.
"Do you see nothin', Taniel?" was the Highlander's reply.
"Why, yes. I see the plains stretching away to the horizon--an' dark
enough they are, too, at this moment. I also see a few small clumps
that look like bushes here an' there."
"Don't you see the clump that's nearest to you--right foment your nose?"
said the other.
"Of course I do," and he stopped abruptly, for at that moment he saw a
spark in the clump referred to--a spark so small that it might have been
taken for a glow-worm, had such a creature existed there.
"Savitches!" whispered the Highlander. "Let's get into the hollow as
fast as we can."
This retrograde movement was soon effected, and the friends dismounted.
"Now, Fergus, what's the best thing to be done?"
"I will be leavin' that to you, Taniel, for you've a clearer head than
mine."
"We dare not ride forward," said Dan, as if communing with himself, "an'
it would be foolish to make a long detour to escape from something until
we know there is something worth escaping from. My notion is that we
hobble or picket our horses here, and go cautiously forward on foot to
see what it is."
"You'll be doin' what ye think best, Captain Taniel, an' you will find
that private Fergus will back you up--whatever."
This being settled, the two men picketed their steeds in the hollow,
fastened their guns to the saddles, as being too cumbrous for a creeping
advance, and, armed only with their long knives and pistols, reascended
the prairie wave. With feet clothed in soft moccasin, and practised by
that time in the art of stealthy tread, they moved towards the summit
noiseless as ghosts.
On gaining the ridge they sank slowly down into the tall grass and
disappeared.
After a prolonged and somewhat painful creep on hands and knees the two
men reached the edge of the clump of bushes already referred to.
Before reaching it they discovered, from the sound of voices, that a
party of some kind was encamped there; but, of course, as they knew not
who, it became needful to proceed with extreme caution. When they
gained the edge of the clump, and raised their heads over a low
bush-covered bank, they beheld a sight which was not calculated to cheer
them, for there, in the centre of the bush, encircling a very small
fire, sat a war-party of about fifty painted and befeathered braves of
the Cree Indians. They were engaged in council at the moment.
A creeping sensation about their scalps was experienced by the two
eavesdroppers on observing that they had passed not a hundred yards from
a sentinel who occupied a low knoll on their left.
Neither Dan nor Fergus dared to speak--not even to whisper. Still less
did they dare to move; for a few moments after they reached the bank
just referred to, the moon came out from behind the clouds and flooded
the whole scene as with the light of day.
There was nothing left for it, therefore, except to lie still and
listen. But this gave them small comfort; for, although quite within
earshot of the war-party, the language spoken was utterly unintelligible
to either of them.
Their eyes, however, were not so useless as their ears, for they could
clearly see each warrior as he rose to harangue his comrades, and, from
the vindictive expression of their faces as well as their frequent
pointing in the direction of the buffalo-hunters it was abundantly
evident that an attack upon them was being discussed.
At last, after many braves had spoken, a chief of tall and noble mien
arose. His back was towards the two spies, but the moment they heard
his voice they turned their heads and gazed at each other in speechless
amazement, for the voice was quite familiar.
No word did they dare to utter, but Fergus made formations with his lips
of a most extravagant nature, which, however, clearly spelt "Okematan."
When he had finished, he nodded and turned his gaze again on the Crees.
Both men now understood that treachery was in the wind, and that a night
attack was highly probable; and, of course, they felt desperately
anxious to jump up and fly back to the camp to warn their comrades--for
their only fear was a surprise. The half-breeds being far more numerous
than the Indians, and well entrenched, there could be no fear for them
if prepared.
Just then, as if to favour them, the moon retired behind a huge black
cloud.
Without a moment's hesitation Dan began to creep away back, closely
followed by Fergus. They gave a wide berth of course to the sentinel,
and soon regained the hollow where the horses had been left. Here they
breathed more freely.
"Who would have thought this of Okematan?" muttered Dan, as he hastily
tightened his saddle-girths.
"The _rascal_!" exclaimed Fergus, in deep tones of indignation.
"You must gallop back to camp at once, Fergus," said Dan, as they
mounted. "I will go on to Red River alone."
"What! will you not be coming with me?" asked the Highlander, in some
surprise.
"There is no need, for there will be no fighting," returned the other.
"Our fellows far outnumber the Red-skins, and when the latter find that
we have been warned, and are on our guard, they won't attack us, depend
on it. But you'll have to ride fast, for when such fellows make up
their minds to strike they don't usually waste time in delivering the
blow. My business presses, I _must_ go on."
A minute later, and Dan Davidson was galloping towards the Settlement
alone, while Fergus made the best of his way back to the camp of the
buffalo runners.