The hours of the afternoon that followed their encounter with
Tom Lillywhite were long and heavy ones for Natalie and Garth. A
haggard misunderstanding rode between them on the trail. Denied the
all-explaining, all-healing touch of hands--or lips, the unreasonable
despair of lovers seized on each; and the sunny way was plunged in murk.
They rode, and camped, and ate their supper in silence; and in silence
they turned in for the night. But there was little sleep for either; they
lay apart, each nursing a burden of unhappiness; unable to say now what
it was all about, only dreadfully conscious that they were divided.
As soon as it was light enough to see, a pale and heavy-lidded Natalie
crept noiselessly out of her tent. In front of the door she saw Garth
on his knees preparing to build a fire; but the hand that held the
hatchet-helve had dropped nervelessly to the ground; and his eyes, fixed
and staring in the torpor of miserableness, had forgotten what he had
set out to do. At the sight, a rapturous peace came back to Natalie's
harried soul; for, she thought, if he were so unhappy as that, he must
love her in spite of all. And Garth, looking up, saw the tenderness
break in her weary face, and he understood it all too. The forest sprang
into leaf again for them; and presently the sun came gaily up. They
became as wildly and unreasonably happy as they had just been miserable;
and not a word was exchanged either way. It was not necessary. That they
did not fling themselves into each other's arms at that moment, must
surely be written down to their credit somewhere.
They made but a leisurely progress this day and the next. The labour of
the journey was greater than at any time hitherto, for in addition to
the ordinary routine of making and breaking camp twice a day, Garth had
now the four horses to look after. Catching them was a task of uncertain
duration, even though they were turned out hobbled; in particular, the
exasperating Timoosis developed the proficiency of a very circus horse,
in walking on his hind legs. And once caught, there was all the business
of saddling, packing and drawing the hitch.
Besides, there was that in both their hearts which delayed them even
more. No ardently desired goal awaited them at the end of this journey;
on the contrary they dreaded what they were to find. The last few miles
of the way together, before the inevitable came between them, was
therefore very dear; and it became ever easier to say "Let's camp!" and
harder to say "Let's move!"
Their boisterous jollity on the trail gave place to much quiet
happiness; and there was ceaseless friendly contention, where Garth's
every thought was for Natalie; and hers for him. Each was on his mettle
to be worthy of the other's best. Above all they avoided the insidious
danger of contact; but inevitably sometimes in the business of the camp,
their hands did meet--and each to himself stored up and told over the
events like secret treasures. In every labour Natalie insisted on taking
her share like a man; and Garth never ceasing to upbraid her, yet loved
her for it prodigiously.
Day by day, now, the leaves of the more exposed trees were yellowing;
and on the second night of their journey across the portage, the first
heavy frost of the season descended. Garth, under his sail-cloth at the
door of the tent, awoke covered with rime.
Toward the end of the third day they had their never-to-be-forgotten
first glimpse of the mighty Spirit, the dream river of the North, whose
name evokes the thought of a garden in a bleak land. The unvarying
flatness of the portage with its standing pools, and the interminable
lofty wood that had hemmed them in for three days, had given them the
sense of travelling on the bottom of the world, and that somewhere ahead
must be a hill to climb. What then was their astonishment this
afternoon, when, without warning they emerged from among the trees on
an abrupt grassy terrace, and beheld the great river lying nearly a
thousand feet _below_.
It was a view inimitably gorgeous and sublime. Coming so suddenly upon
it they caught their breaths and gazed in silence; for there was nothing
fitting to say. The high point on which they stood overlooked a deep and
narrow gorge at their left, through which a little river fell to the
great stream; and across this they could look up the vast trough for
miles. In the distance the river seemed to rise, until one would say it
issued molten from the low-hung sun itself.
It had an individual and peculiar look, like no watercourse they had
seen. Its course drew a sharp line between the wooded country and the
prairie. Like a figure dressed in motley, the steep southern bank was
everywhere dark and wooded, while the other side, sweeping up in
countless fantastic knolls and terraces, was bare, except for the brown
grass, and patches of scrub-like hair in the hollows. Far back from the
opposite rim of the vast trough swept the unmeasured prairie, as flat,
in the whole prospect, as the country they had lately traversed.
It was the wealth of colour that most of all bewitched their eyes. The
river itself was of an odd, insistent green--emerald tinged with milk;
the islands on its bosom hung out the rich bottle-green of spruce; the
grass on the north bank was beaver-brown; the wild-rose scrub glowed
blood-crimson in the hollows; and the aspen bluffs, touched with frost,
were as yellow as saffron. The wild and beautiful panorama was made
complete in their eyes by a great golden eagle perched on the brink of
the immediate foreground and, like themselves, gazing over. Though but a
hundred yards or so distant, he contemptuously disregarded their
arrival. When Garth, full of curiosity, came closer, he spread his vast
wings and drifted indifferently out into space.
For a long time they gazed at the scene without speaking. It was Natalie
who finally expressed their common thought.
"Wouldn't it be sweet," she said wistfully, "if our journey had no other
object but to see this! With what satisfied hearts we could now turn
back!"
Skirting the edge of the steep, presently the Settlement came into view
far below, a hut or two along the river, hugging the base of the cliffs.
The trail zigzagged gradually down, frequently doubling on itself; and
whereas the eagle might have descended in a minute, it promised to be
more like half an hour for them.
Garth, following his previous policy, did not intend to expose Natalie
to the stares of the Settlement, until he had at least reconnoitred.
Before coming on the houses, therefore, he led his little caravan off
through the bush to the left; and descended to the shore of the smaller
stream they had seen from above. Here, in a private glade beside the
noisy brown water, they pitched their camp; and Garth, leaving Natalie
armed against all eventualities, proceeded into the Settlement.
His inevitable first question at the store elicited the information that
the Bishop had gone up the river to Binchinnin, Ostachegan Creek and Fort
St. Pierre. Next, the name of Herbert Mabyn called forth contemptuous
shrugs. None of the men could give certain information of his whereabouts,
though Clearwater Lake was mentioned again. He had not been in to the post
for four months; and there was a handful of letters waiting for him.
Garth was referred to the breeds across the river for better news. It was
clearly intimated that all self-respecting white men had cast Mabyn off.
Inquiring the means of crossing the river, the ferry was pointed out
to Garth, a barge propelled with sweeps. It must be tracked up-stream
for a quarter of a mile before starting across, to allow for the current,
he was told. The trader offered to help him when he was ready. Garth
thanking him, privately resolved to cross before the Settlement was
astir next morning. He saw that his own reticence in answering questions
inspired the three simultaneously with the idea that he was a detective
from outside, in pursuit of Herbert Mabyn for some early sin; and he let
it go at that.
* * * * *
Garth roused Natalie long before dawn; and they crossed the river by the
first greenish light of the East. Garth handled one sweep, Natalie the
other; and their labour was great. The incorrigible Timoosis, who never
neglected an opportunity to make trouble, balked furiously at the ferry;
and, finally driven on board and tied, managed to work the other horses
up to a high state of excitement during the passage.
Finally, when they had almost made the other shore, he succeeded in
breaking his halter; and, leaping over the stern, perversely struck
out for the shore they had left. Cy and Caspar, horses of no character,
blindly leaped after him. For a moment a dire disaster threatened; for
Timoosis, borne down by the weight of his pack, could scarcely keep his
head above water; and they thought they had lost both their horse and
their camp equipment. But the self-contained Emmy, who had not budged
during all the excitement, merely turned her head, and sent an imperious
whinny in the direction of her offspring; whereupon Timoosis, with true
coltish inconsistency, turned about, and came meekly swimming after
the barge, followed by the other two. Since the shore was not above
twenty-five yards off he managed to win it pack and all, and staggered
up on the beach, chilled, exhausted, and much chastened in mind.
Warned by previous experiences, they never trusted him with anything
perishable, so the damage to his pack was slight.
After an hour's travelling, they halted by the trail at sunrise to eat,
and to dry out what had been wet. This part of the trail traversed the
heavily wooded bottom-lands, before starting to climb the grassy steeps
of the further bank. As they sat on a log discussing their bread and
cocoa, a rollicking song came, as a sound comes fluctuating through the
woods, now from this side, now from that, and curiously deadened. It
finally resolved itself into the air of _Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay_ with words
in Cree. While it still seemed some distance away, suddenly the singer
rode upon them; and reining up his horse, called the song into his
surprised throat.
He was the handsomest native they had met, a young fellow of twenty-odd,
lean and broad-shouldered, with flashing black eyes and high-bridged
nose. His stiff-brimmed "Stetson" was tilted at a dashing angle; he had
a scarlet silk handkerchief about his throat; and he sat his horse like
a young prince of the woods. Whether pure redskin or breed it was
impossible for them to tell; certainly there was no visible evidence of
a white admixture; but in spite of his strange and savage air, there was
something instantly likeable about the young man--according to Natalie
he was the first native they had met who seemed human. He rode a fine
black horse as bravely accoutred as would become the captain of a
round-up.
He seemed disposed to be friendly; and Garth invited him to share their
meal. As politeness demanded, he broke a small piece of bread, and drank
some cocoa, which was plainly not at all to his taste. When he sat down
he had the grace to take off his hat, something else they had not seen
before in a native.
His name, he volunteered, was Gene Lafabe. Since his English was about
on a par with Garth's Cree, communication was difficult. In his
simplicity, the young man was continually forgetting they could not
understand his language; and when Garth shook his head, only shouted the
louder.
"You know Herbert Mabyn?" Garth asked.
Gene vigorously nodded his head, adding a stream of information, which,
had they only understood, would have materially altered their subsequent
line of action.
Garth shook his head hopelessly. "Where is he?" he asked.
Gene pointed north. "Clearwater Lake," he said; and in the twinkling of
an eye, counted seventy-five with his ten fingers.
"Where is the trail?" Garth asked.