Meanwhile, Reginald Redding--still breathing defiance to the clan of
McLeod, with his heart steeled against all softer influences, and with
all his bristles erect--arrived at Jenkins Creek.
Seeing no one about the door of the hut, he passed it with an indignant
frown, and proceeded direct to the cascade, where, from a considerable
distance, he had observed the three settlers as they busily plied their
axes.
A thaw had set in. The little cascade was beginning to roar ominously,
almost savagely, behind the curtain of ice which had concealed almost
the whole of it during winter. The ice on the edge of the Saint
Lawrence had already given way, and was being swept out to sea in
variously-sized fields and masses. Everything gave indication that the
reign of winter had come to an end, that the short-lived spring had laid
its warm hand on the whole region, and that summer was not far distant.
Summer acts its part with promptitude in those regions.
Men out there are usually vigorous in taking advantage of the change;
the McLeods were making the most of their time when the fur-trader
approached.
"It should be getting near supper-time," said the elder McLeod, looking
at the sun.
"Not far from it," said Kenneth, flinging down his axe and wiping the
perspiration from his brow, as he glanced in the same direction, "what a
comfort it is to have Flo to look after meals; it makes one feel--hallo!
who come here?--see, two men, rounding the cliff just above the house."
The elder McLeod made no reply, but waited until the strangers were
sufficiently near to be addressed; then, touching his cap, he said,
"Good evening," heartily.
To this Reginald Redding replied, "Good evening," stiffly, while his man
bestowed a gaze of unmistakable scorn all round.
A little surprised, but not much alarmed, by their manner, McLeod said
that it was an unusual pleasure to meet with strangers in such an
out-of-the-way place; that he and his sons, having finished their day's
work, were about to return to their hut for supper, and that he would be
more than delighted if they would take "pot-luck" with them.
Redding, who was by nature of a kindly sociable disposition, felt rather
put out by this reception, especially when the invitation was pressed on
him with much cordiality by Kenneth, as well as by Ian. Even the scorn
on Le Rue's lip began to melt away like the snow! But the fur-trader
felt that the interests of his employers were at stake; besides, had he
not said to others, had he not vowed to himself, that he would not give
way an inch--no, not so much as a hair's-breadth--to these long-legged
interlopers, who, now that he beheld them, were evidently fur-traders in
disguise,--men who made use of a so-called saw-mill as a mere blind to
divert attention from the real object they had in view.
"Sir," said Redding, with quiet dignity, "I am the Fur Company's agent
in this district, in charge of the Cliff Fort."
Had Redding been in charge of the Rock of Gibraltar, with its mighty
armament of heavy guns, he could not have assumed an air of greater
importance.
"I am glad to hear it," replied McLeod, more and more perplexed by the
youth's manner, "because I have been anxious for some days to consult
you as to the exact boundary line of your Company's reserve."
"If you will accompany me to the creek," replied Redding, pointing to
the islet on which the McLeods had already marked off a portion of rock
and planted a couple of stakes, "I will enlighten you on that point."
"Willingly," answered McLeod, preparing to follow with his two sons.
"Hah!" thought Redding, as he drew near the spot and observed the
stakes, "not a doubt of it; inches indeed; they have encroached feet--
feet--if not _yards_ on our property."
He gave no audible sound, however, to his thoughts, until the party had
reached the islet, which was connected with the mainland by a plank,
then he turned to McLeod with the air of a man who has resolved to wage
war to the knife for his rights. Le Rue, seeing his master in this
mood, drew himself up, compressed his lips, and darkened his frown.
"The line of demarcation," said Redding slowly, but with much decision
of tone and manner, "runs _exactly_ down the centre of this stream and
cuts _precisely_ across the centre of this rock. Now, sir," he turned
abruptly here to look his adversary full in the face. In doing so his
vision, passing over the shoulders of his enemy, encountered the bright
face and astonished gaze of Flora McLeod, who had just come to let her
father and brothers know that their evening meal awaited them.
Reginald Redding was struck dumb. Glancing round to see what had
fascinated the gaze of the fur-trader, McLeod turned with a smile, and
said:--
"My daughter Flora, Mister--ah!--I beg pardon--your name is, I think--"
"Redding," murmured the fur-trader, with hesitation, for he had begun to
doubt his own identity.
"Just so. Flo has come to tell us, Mr Redding, that supper is ready,
so, if you will condescend to accept of our rough and ready hospitality,
we shall be delighted. But, before going, pray let us finish this
matter. You were about to say--"
"Oh, nothing,--nothing worth mentioning," said Redding hurriedly,
endeavouring to recover himself; "I merely--the fact is--that--a rock
like this is so--so utterly insignificant that the idea of trespassing
on it is quite absurd, quite out of--why, surely I _cannot_ be
mistaken," he added, lifting his cap, "this must be the young lady whom
I had the pleasure of meeting on the road hither, at a time when--"
"When your presence and aid were most opportune," interrupted Flora, as
she held out her hand with a gracious smile and a blush.
Why Flora blushed is best known to herself. The same may be said in
regard to the fact that Reginald Redding felt rather awkward--though not
naturally an awkward man--and looked rather sheepish as he took the hand
timidly. It is also worthy of record that the touch of Flora's hand
sent a galvanic stream up Redding's arm, which curled round his head,
ran down his spine, and passed out into the rock at the extremities of
his ten toes!
"Indeed!" exclaimed McLeod senior, while a peculiar expression crossed
his swarthy countenance as if a new idea had hit him; "then, Mr
Redding, I am your debtor; but come, let us to supper before it cools.
I suppose that no more need be said about the boundary line. I have not
been guilty of trespassing, it seems, on your Company's reserves?"
"Not in the least," answered the fur-trader promptly, with a glance at
his man.
"Vraiment, non, cer'nly not!" exclaimed Le Rue emphatically, not a trace
of scorn being now visible on his benign countenance.
Matters being thus amicably disposed of, the party adjourned to the hut,
where they sat down to a substantial repast, the foundation of which was
boiled bacon and tea; the superstructure, biscuits and butter.
Here Francois Le Rue met with a profound disappointment. He had rightly
judged that, where the mistress dwelt, the maid must necessarily abide;
accordingly, on entering the hut, he had the extreme satisfaction of
obtaining a glance of grateful recognition from Elise's bright eyes.
But the sanguine trader had also counted on the pleasure of her company
at supper in the kitchen of the establishment, while his master should
sup with the McLeods in the parlour. In this he was mistaken. In such
an out-of-the-way region the young Canadian girl was counted as much a
companion as a servant, and while she performed the duties of attendant
at the table in the hall, she also sat modestly down at the same table
to partake of the evening meal. Francois, on the other hand, was told
to go to the kitchen and make himself comfortable.
The kitchen was a little out-house, not unlike a gigantic dog-kennel,
separated by a space of six feet or so from the principal dwelling.
Opening its door, Le Rue entered with a heavy heart, supposing that he
should have to eat his supper in dreary solitude, "not dat I cares moch
for dat," thought he, as he raised the latch, "for I's accostomed to
solitairness; but ah! ven I tinks of--"
"Hooroo!" shouted a gruff voice, scattering at once his thoughts and his
"solitairness."
Le Rue started as he encountered the surprised gaze of a man, but, being
in a crusty humour, he only exclaimed--"Hah!" and returned the gaze.
"Sure it's you or yer ghost," exclaimed the identical driver whom the
two fur-traders had so lately assisted out of difficulties. "Give us
yer fist, young man. Ah, then, it's good luck is yer portion, Rooney.
Didn't I think to sit down to me supper in solitood, whin in comes like
a vision the frind as was a frind indade to me and the ladies the other
day. Come in, come in, sit ye down there; an' ait till yer fit to bust.
Och! but it's mesilf is glad this night. There, putt off yer capote;
if yer at all like me ye'll not be fit to taste a morsel till yer in yer
shirt sleeves. Howld--I'll hang it on the peg for 'ee. Now thin, go to
work. Don't spare it. Faix, there's plinty more where that came from,
though there ain't much variety here. It's pig for breakfast, pig for
dinner, an' pig for supper--wid a slice o' cowld pig at odd times whin
yer extra hungry. An' then ye'll have to pig-in wid myself at night,
for there's only wan bed in this coolinairy mansion, not bein' room to
howld more! That's yer sort--the tae's hot, anyhow."
There was no withstanding such a welcome as this. Francois Le Rue
thawed instantly, and thereafter warmed up to intense cordiality while
he plied his knife and fork on the "pig," and quaffed the steaming
"tae," talking between mouthfuls as his voluble friend gave him
opportunity.
An abrupt check, however, was put to the pleasant flow of his spirits
when Rooney, having occasion to refer to "the ladies," remarked in an
enthusiastic tone that Elise was "a angel--nothin' more nor less--only
widout wings."
The demon jealousy instantly fired the soul of the Canadian.
"Vat you knows about she?" he demanded, with suppressed emotion.
"Knows about her!" exclaimed Rooney, with increased enthusiasm, while Le
Rue's spirit dilated with increasing jealousy, "what do I _not_ know
about her, is the question. Sure I've knowed her iver since she was a
purty little curly-hided child; I've knowed her goodness to her parients
till the day of their death, an' her gentleness in the time of sorrow,
an' her jollity in the time of joy, an' her faithfulness to her mistress
in adversity, an' her gin'ral goodness at all times, blissin's on her!"
Francois ceased devouring "pig," and played with his knife, while he
mentally, almost unconsciously, measured the number of inches that lay
between the outside of Rooney's chest and the core of his heart.
"You'se verai fond of her, it seems," he said, with deep sarcasm.
"That's just what I am," replied Rooney, stuffing an enormous piece of
bacon into his no less enormous mouth. "It's raison I have too," he
added thickly, but quite audibly, "for she nursed my poor wife through a
long illness, an' it's my belaif she wouldn't ha' bin alive this day but
for the care and attintion she got from Elise."
The demon fled horrified out at the key-hole--the window being shut--and
Le Rue, feeling the deepest regard for Rooney, relieved his feelings
with a sigh and more "pig."
While the Irishman and Canadian were entertaining each other thus in the
kitchen, the Highlanders and Englishman were no less cordial and busy in
the hall. Rough and ready the hospitality indeed was, for the board was
not only uncovered but unplaned, and the dishes were cracked and
dinted--according to their nature; but the heartiness of the welcome,
the solidity of the simple viands, the strength of appetite, and, above
all, the presence of bright eyes and gentle spirits threw a luxurious
halo round the humble apartment, in the light of which Reginald Redding
revelled.
Tea,--the cup which cheers but does not inebriate,--was used at that
board as if it had been brandy and water. The men not only drank it
during the progress of the meal, but afterwards sat long over it, and
dallied with it, and urged each other to "have some more" of it, and
quaffed it to the health of absent friends, and told stories, and cut
jokes, and sang songs over it, and replenished it with hot water to such
an extent that it gradually changed its nature and became that harmless
beverage loved by Frenchmen, _eau sucre_.
That it cheered was evident, for laughter was often loud and sometimes
long. That it did not inebriate was equally clear, for the talk of the
party was frequently grave as well as gay.
It was especially grave when, towards the end of the evening, McLeod
senior, in answer to some allusion of his guest as to the beauties of
Partridge Bay, became confidential, and told how he had once dwelt in
that settlement for many years, in a happy home which he had specially
built for himself, or rather, as he said, with a kindly glance at his
pretty daughter, which he had built specially for his wife and child.
How it had pleased God to take from him his dear partner before they had
been long in the new house; how the failure of a friend had involved him
in ruin, and compelled him to sell off all he had possessed and begin
life anew with the scanty remnants of his fortune; how he had taken the
advice of another friend, and come to Jenkins Creek to set up a
saw-mill, having previously invested nearly all his funds in an order
for goods from England, for the purpose of setting up a general store,
as it was highly probable the country would go on prospering, and the
demand for such a store become great; how he had had letters from his
youngest son, Roderick,--a lad of nineteen who had been educated in the
"old country,"--telling him that the goods had been bought and shipped
in the _Betsy_ of Plymouth, and how that he, Roderick, intended to take
passage in the same ship the week following, and join his father and
brothers in their new sphere of labour; how that, sometimes, he felt
depressed by the sudden reverse of fortune, but was always cheered and
raised up again by his daughter Flo, who had a wonderful way--somewhat
like her mother--of inducing him, when things looked darkest, to turn
his eyes to the source of all light, and comfort, and hope, and
prosperity.
You may be sure that Reginald Redding listened to all this with the
deepest interest and sympathy, for as he glanced at Flora's speaking
countenance--and he did glance at it pretty frequently--he observed new
beauty in her expression, and bright tear-drops in her eyes.
"Ah, Flo," said her father, when he had finished, "no one has such good
cause to regret the loss of our old home as yourself, for I don't think
Mr Gambart could have planned it without your aid."
"What!" exclaimed Redding, with a look of sudden surprise, "what was the
name of your place in Partridge Bay?"
"I gave it a Highland name," said McLeod, with a sad smile, "after a
place in Scotland that once belonged to my mother's family,--Loch Dhu."
For a moment or two the young fur-trader remained speechless. He looked
first at Flora and then at her father, and after that at her brothers,
without being able to make up his mind how to act. He now understood
the reason of Gambart's silence as to the former owners of Loch Dhu, and
he would have given worlds at that moment if he had never seen or heard
of the place, for it seemed such a heartless position to be placed in--
the fortunate owner of the lovely spot, over the loss of which Flora and
her family evidently mourned so deeply. He could not bear the thought
of having to reveal the truth; still less could he bear the thought of
concealing it. He was therefore about to make the disagreeable
confession, when the thoughts of the whole party were suddenly diverted
to another channel, by the opening of the door and the entrance of one
of those gaunt sons of the forest who were wont to hang on the skirts of
civilisation, as it advanced to wrest from them their native wilderness.
The Indian stalked into the room, handed a dirty piece of folded paper
to McLeod, and sat down beside the fire, after the fashion of his race,
in solemn silence.