Ordered Off
'Come awa', men,' he said to his companions. 'We'll na give o'er till
we've searched the place throughout. Lead awa', Dour, gude dog.'
The clever collie needed no second bidding. He had been very
impatiently awaiting the conclusion of the colloquy at the factor's,
and now bounded across the open space between the different buildings,
making straight for the fur-house.
By this time, several of the inmates of the fort had gathered, curious
as to what was up, and, had Mr. Macrae been alone, their sinister looks
might well have made him anxious concerning his own safety.
But his only thought was for Hector, and the grave, sinewy men by his
side, though few in numbers, were not the kind to invite hasty attack;
so, paying no heed to threatening looks or menacing utterances, the
little party reached the door of the fur-house.
Upon this, Mr. Macrae struck hard with his pistol-butt, calling out:
'Hector, laddie, are ye there?'
Instantly there came back from the interior a muffled cry of joy, and
the faint words: 'Father! oh, father! is that you?'
There was a stout padlock fastening the door, but Mr. Macrae quickly
prised this off, and tore the door open. Out of the interior darkness
rushed Hector and flung himself, half-sobbing, into his father's arms.
Andrew returned the embrace warmly, and then asked in a tone of
surprise and concern: 'Was no' Dandy with you?'
'Why no, father!' replied Hector. 'The man that shut me up took both
Dour and Dandy away with him.'
'Then we maun find the dog,' was the resolute rejoinder. 'Here, Dour,
gude dog, call Dandy.' Without a moment's hesitation, the well-trained
creature poured forth a volley of barks that meant as plainly as
possible, 'Dandy, where are you? Tell us.'
'Now listen, friends, for the answer,' said Mr. Macrae, with a grim
smile.
There was no doubt about the response, for out of the surrounding gloom
burst a chorus of canine music that fairly made the welkin ring, and
how Dandy's particular contribution could be distinguished seemed a
hopeless problem.
But Mr. Macrae waited silently until the commotion had somewhat
subsided, and then, pointing to the northern end of the enclosure, said
confidently: 'There's whaur they've got Dandy.'
Dour evidently approved of their going thither, and presently, turning
the corner of one of the most remote buildings, they found the object
of their search, half-strangled in his frantic efforts to break the
thong that held him fast.
'God be thanked--we've found all three, and they're nane the waur of
it,' said Mr. Macrae, in a tone of fervent gratitude; and then, his
voice changing to righteous indignation, 'by the morn we'll find out
why this was done to ma laddie, and who did it.'
With the morn, however, came strange and startling events, that caused
Hector's peculiar experience to be entirely forgotten. To understand
these aright, a little explanation is necessary. Although the great
Hudson's Bay Company claimed full ownership of the North-West, their
right to this vast wilderness was vigorously disputed by a company
formed in Lower Canada and called the North-West Fur Company. The
rivalry between the two companies for control of the fur-trade was
intense and unscrupulous. They resorted to all sorts of stratagems to
injure each other, and wherever one built a fort, the other soon
established a second within sight. Often their employees, made wild
with strong drink, broke out into open violence and many lives were
lost, and a number of forts sacked and burned in the course of the
bitter struggle.
Now, the Nor-Westers, as they were called for short, regarded the
advent of the Scotch folk with lively animosity. They suspected it to
be a shrewd device of their rivals to get a firmer grip upon the
country. The new-comers would not be rovers like themselves, but
settlers, who would build houses, and till the rich soil, and multiply
in numbers until they became a power in the land.
This far-seeing scheme must be nipped in the bud, and forthwith they
set themselves to do it.
The strange part of the whole affair was that they ran slight risk of
interference with their nefarious design from their hated rivals, for
the employees of the Hudson's Bay Company, although, of course, they
would take no part against the immigrants, were little more in favour
of their coming than the Nor-Westers. They did not want the country
settled. They had much rather it should remain a hunters' paradise,
and they were not disposed to lift a finger on behalf of the newcomers.
The first morning after the settlers' arrival seemed full of kindly
promise. Summer was just giving way to autumn. The prairie air was
clear and bracing without being too cool. The sun shone from an azure
sky upon a vast expanse of golden-hued turf almost as level as a floor,
that only required to be turned over by the plough to be ready for fall
seeding.
The hardy Scotch folk, accustomed to the rocky uplands and stony
meadows of their 'ain countree,' looked with wonder and delight at the
rich inheritance into which they had come.
'Eh, mon! but it's grand, grand!' ejaculated Saunders Rowan, in a tone
of unqualified appreciation. He was the senior member of the party,
and had been rather given to 'croaking,' but this glorious morning his
doubts and fears were all dispelled.
The women busied themselves preparing the morning meal, while the
children and dogs romped and rolled joyously in the rich, soft grass.
It was altogether a pretty picture, that seemed to be a happy augury of
the good times in store.
Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, this scene of gladness and peace
changed to one of terror and strife. With no more warning than if they
had risen out of the ground itself, there charged down upon the
defenceless settlers a band of Indians in full war paint, mounted upon
their piebald ponies, armed with spears, bows, arrows, and guns, which
weapons they brandished fiercely, while they gave their awful war-whoop
with all the power of their lungs.
Crying to their children, and gathering them close, as the mother hen
does her chickens at sight of a hawk, the women huddled together in a
panic-stricken group, while the doughty dogs faced the enemy with
flashing teeth and threatening growls, and the men rushed to snatch up
their guns, or anything else that might serve as an effective weapon.
For a moment it seemed as if blood must be shed. The Indians seemed
ripe for mischief and the stalwart Scots were determined to defend
their dear ones to the last extremity.
But before a blow was struck, the band, at a signal from their leader,
brought their horses to a halt, and ceased their hideous howlings. The
leader then drew out from his mob of followers, and holding up his
hands in token of his wish to parley, asked in broken English for the
chief man of the strangers.
There was at first some hesitancy among the Scots at replying to this.
They had never formally chosen a leader, although, naturally, some of
the men had shown themselves stronger and shrewder than others.
Presently all eyes turned towards Andrew Macrae. No man was fitter by
appearance or sagacity to be their spokesman, and, in response to their
unmistakable choice, he stepped forward.
'I'm but one of our little company, yet if ye'll tell me what ye mean
by a' this claverin' and scarin' peaceable folk, I'm ready to talk wi'
ye.'
The Indian leader straightened up in his saddle. The stern, stalwart
Scotsman was no antagonist to be trifled with, and his first intention
of using the ready wit for which he had a reputation, to bait the
strangers for the amusement of his followers, before proceeding to
rougher measures, underwent a change. Such a man needed to be dealt
with in a different fashion. Accordingly, assuming as much dignity as
he could command, he began to explain what the alarming demonstration
meant.
His speech was a strange jargon compounded of English, French and
Indian words that would have sorely puzzled poor Mr. Macrae, were it
not helped out by a vigorous pantomime, that enabled him to follow the
drift of it, after a fashion.
The purport was serious enough, and his normally grave countenance grew
graver still as the meaning became clearer to him.
In brief, it was an order to quit! Having at last reached their haven,
after so long and perilous a journey over sea and land, they were
summarily commanded to depart, and that without delay.