"Look here, my love," said plump little Mr Gambart to his plump little
wife, bustling into the parlour with an open letter in his hand, "isn't
this vexatious! Just listen--it's from McLeod:--
"`My dear Gambart,--I take the opportunity of Jonas Bellew leaving me
to write a line in reply to your last, which was brought on to me by
the Indian. You will be sorry to learn that the _Betsy_ of Plymouth,
in which all my goods were embarked, is lying here a total wreck, and
the goods have been washed out of her--not a bale or cask saved! But,
worse than that, poor Roderick has been badly injured in getting
ashore, and now lies here unable to move. Many of the poor fellows
who composed the crew have been lost, and those saved are in a sad
condition. I was sorry to hear of Loch Dhu being sold, but now that
my fortunes have been so utterly and literally wrecked it is perhaps
as well as it is. I'm sorry, however, that you bought Barker's Mill
for me. In the circumstances I will find it difficult to repay you
for a long time to come.'
"Now," said Gambart, "isn't this vexing? I thought it would please him
so much, for of course he knows that I would never press him for the
money."
"Did you tell him," asked Mrs Gambart, "that in the event of his not
wanting the mill you would gladly take it yourself?"
"No, I didn't think that necessary."
"Didn't I," continued the little lady, pursing her little mouth, "didn't
I advise you to do so at the time?"
"You certainly did, my dear."
"And did I not," continued Mrs Gambart, severely, "advise you, further,
_not_ to keep Mr Redding in ignorance as to who was the late owner of
Loch Dhu, for fear of mischief coming of it?"
"Yes, my love," answered Gambart, with ever-increasing humility, "but no
mischief _has_ come of it apparently, and I thought--"
"Oh yes," interrupted his lady, "I know you _thought_. You always think
when you shouldn't, and you never think when you should."
In his heart the little man repelled this accusation, but thought it
best in the circumstances to hold his tongue. After a moment or two the
lady went on:--
"Besides, you don't know that no mischief has come of it. Take my
advice now. Write immediately to Mr McLeod, telling him that you only
ventured to buy the mill for him because you were very anxious to secure
it for yourself in the event of his not wanting it, and add that in the
selling of Loch Dhu you concealed from Mr Redding the name of the
former owner because of an absurd fancy in your own mind which it is not
worth while to mention."
"Won't that be a sort of humiliating confession?" urged the little man
timidly.
To this the little woman replied that it was better to make a _sort of_
humiliating confession than to admit the full extent of his unreasoning
stupidity; and the surveyor, half agreeing with her in his own mind,
immediately went to his study, wrote the epistle as directed, and sent
it off express by an Indian.
Meanwhile the party at the wreck found themselves in the unpleasant
condition of having nothing fresh to eat. As we have said, the trapper
had left them, knowing that the fur-traders and the Indians were quite
capable of looking after their wants. But soon afterwards the Indians
went away down the gulf to hunt seals, and none of the McLeods being
able to speak their language, they could not, or would not, be got to
understand that one of them was wanted to remain and hunt for the sick
man. As McLeod had still some provisions on hand, with a gun and
ammunition besides his boat, he did not much mind the departure of the
red men at the time. As time wore on, however, and their fresh
provisions failed, he became anxious, and wished that he had not so
angrily declined the aid offered by the fur-traders. Neither father nor
son had the slightest taste for field sports, so that when they saw the
track of an animal they found it almost impossible to follow it up with
success, and when, by good fortune, they chanced to discover a
"partridge" or a squirrel they invariably missed it! This incapacity
and a scarcity of game had at last reduced them to extremities.
"Kenneth," said his father one morning, as they walked up and down
beside the hut in which Flora sat talking to Roderick, "we must give up
our vain attempts at hunting, for it is quite plain that you and I are
incapable of improvement. After that splendid shot of yours, in which
you only blew a bunch of feathers out of a bird that was not more than
four yards from the end of your gun--"
"That," interrupted Kenneth, "was the very cause of my missing. Had it
been a little further off I should certainly have killed it. But,
father, you seem to forget the squirrel's tail, which is the only trophy
you have to show of your prowess after blazing away right and left for
two weeks!"
"No, I don't forget it, lad," returned his father, "it is because of
these sad truths that I have now determined to give it up and send you
with the boat for supplies to Jenkins Creek. Of course Ian cannot send
to us, having no boat, and Rooney or the Indian would take too long a
time to scramble through the tangled woods of this rugged part of the
coast, besides which, all they could carry on their backs would not last
more than a few days, and as long as Ian does not hear from us he will
naturally think that all is going on well. It will take you six days to
go and come, but, what with the little that remains of our fresh meat
and a chance partridge or two, we shall be able to keep Roderick going
till you return. He's getting stronger now, and as for Flo and me, we
can get along famously with salt pork and biscuit for so short a time."
"But why should I not go rather to the Cliff Fort?" asked Kenneth. "The
store there is a public one, and our buying food from the fur-traders
will lay us under no obligation to Mr Redding, whom, excuse me, I think
you have judged too hastily."
"It matters not how I have judged him," retorted McLeod sternly. "There
is no occasion to go near him at all. As I have said--"
He stopped abruptly, for at that moment an Indian was seen approaching.
He was a powerfully-built fellow, with a handsome figure and face,
though the latter was very dark, and he walked with a stoop and an
awkward slouching gait. He wore his long black hair in straight elfin
locks; those in front having been cut across the forehead just above the
eyebrows, as being the simplest method of clearing the way for vision.
He was clad in a very dirty soiled hunting-shirt and leggings of
leather, with moccasins of the same, and carried a long gun on his
shoulder. McLeod also observed, with much satisfaction, that several
partridges hung by their necks from the belt which encircled his waist.
Of course the meeting that ensued was conducted in pantomime, with a few
useless remarks in English from Kenneth, who appeared to entertain an
idea which is not uncommon among sailors, namely, that a man who knows
nothing whatever of the language is more likely to understand bad than
good English! "Where you come from?" he asked, after shaking hands with
the Indian and giving him the salutation, "watchee?" (what cheer),
which he understood, and returned.
A shake of the head was the reply.
"Where you go--_go_?" said Kenneth, in the hope apparently that emphasis
might awaken intelligence.
Again the Indian shook his head.
"What's the use of asking him?" said McLeod senior. "See, here is a
language that is understood by all men."
He pulled a powder flask from his pocket, and, shaking it at the ear of
the savage, offered it to him, at the same time pointing to the
partridges and to his own open mouth.
This pantomime was evidently comprehensible, for the man at once threw
the birds at McLeod's feet, and, taking the flask, emptied its contents
into his own powder-horn.
"Good," said McLeod, picking up the birds. "Now, Kenneth, if we can
prevail on this redskin to remain by us it won't be necessary to send
you to Jenkins Creek."
As he spoke, Flora issued from the opening of the tarpaulin tent,
exclaiming--"Father, I've just--"
On seeing the red man she stopped and gazed at him with much interest.
The native returned the gaze, and for one moment a gleam of admiration
lighted up his swarthy countenance, but it passed like a flash of light
and left that stoical look of impassibility so common to the men of the
American wilderness.
"What were you about to say, Flo?" asked her father.
"That I've just learned a piece of good news from Roderick. He seemed
inclined to talk about the wreck this morning. Seeing him so much
better, I gave him encouragement, and he has just told me that before
leaving England he had taken the advice of a friend and insured the
whole of our goods that were shipped in the _Betsy_."
"That's good news indeed, Flo; better than I deserve after my
unbelieving remarks about the efficacy of prayer. And here is good news
for you of another kind," he added, holding up one of the partridges,
"fresh meat for Roderick, and a hunter who looks as if he could keep us
well supplied if we can only prevail on him to stay with us. Try what
you can do, Flo; if he has a spark of gallantry in him he will be sure
to understand what you say to him; but it must be in the language of
signs, Flo, for he evidently understands no English."
Thus appealed to, Flora advanced to the Indian, and, taking him somewhat
timidly by the sleeve, led him to the opening of the tent and pointed to
the sick man; then to the clean-scraped bones of the last rabbit he had
eaten, after which she pointed to the game just purchased, touched the
Indian's gun, and, making a sweep with her hand towards the forest
looked him full in the face.
The Indian allowed the faintest possible smile to curl his lips for a
moment and then with a slight inclination of his head, but without
uttering a word, turned abruptly and went off at a long swinging pace
into the woods.
"'Pon my word, Flo," said McLeod, "your pantomime has been most
effective, but I have doubts as to whether he understands you to have
invited him to be our hunter, or commanded him to go about his
business."
"I think we've seen the last of him," said Kenneth, somewhat gloomily.
"He will return," said Flora, with decision.
"Well, time will show," rejoined McLeod, "meanwhile we will delay the
trip to Jenkins Creek for a day, and I'll go have a talk with Roderick
about that lucky insurance business."
Time did settle the matter of the Indian's intentions almost sooner than
had been expected, for that same evening he returned with a further
supply of fresh meat and laid it down at Flora's feet. Nothing,
however, would prevail on him to remain and sup with the party. Having
received a small supply of powder and shot in payment, he at once turned
away and re-entered his native wilderness.
Thus day by day for about a week the silent man made his appearance
every evening with fresh supplies, and, we might almost say, disappeared
after delivering them. One day Kenneth determined to offer to accompany
him on his next appearance. Accordingly he prepared his gun, rolled up
his blanket and strapped it on his shoulders, and when the Indian
arrived in the evening as usual, he presented himself equipped for the
chase.
The Indian expressed some surprise in his looks, and at first seemed to
object to Kenneth's companionship, but at length gave in and they
entered the forest together.
It seemed at first as if the red man wished to test the physical powers
of his white brother, for he led him over hill and dale, through swamp
and brake, during the greater part of that night. Fortunately there was
bright moonlight. But Kenneth was stout of frame and enduring in
spirit; he proved to be quite a match for the redskin.
At last they encamped under a tall pine, and, after a hearty supper, sat
staring at each other and smoking in silence until sleep induced them to
lie down. Next morning by daybreak Kenneth was roused by his companion,
who, after a hasty meal, led him another long march through a wild but
beautiful country, where several partridges and rabbits were shot by the
Indian, and a great many more were missed by Kenneth, much to the
amusement of his companion.
Towards evening the red man turned his steps in the direction of the
tarpaulin tent.