Читать книгу The Young Nor'-Wester - James Macdonald Oxley - Страница 4

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Archie’s first feeling was one of terror, and wild anxiety to save his own life. But so soon as he had risen to the surface and cleared the water from his eyes, he thought of his sister. Fortunately they had fallen close together, and at once he saw her struggling frantically not a yard away. Two eager strokes brought him to her, and catching her by the arm, he shoved her towards the canoe, crying out—

‘Take hold of the canoe, Rose, quick!’ Rose-Marie put out her little hands more by instinct than by understanding, and happily caught a good grip of the bow of the canoe, to which she clung desperately.

Archie came close beside her, and sought to cheer her by saying bravely—

‘Don’t be frightened, Rose darling; we’ll be all right soon.’

Poor little Rose, all the colour fled from her plump cheeks, her curly hair clinging lankly about her neck, and her heart beating as though it wanted to break loose, made no attempt to answer him, but clung tightly to the canoe, which just served to keep her head above water.

It was well enough for Archie to say that they would be all right soon, but there certainly did not seem much ground for his confidence. They were at least a quarter of a mile from the shore, and even could little Rose have held on so long, it was not at all possible for Archie to push the canoe to land, while to get back into it was no less out of the question. Unhappily, too, there was no one in sight at the fort, and his shrill cries for rescue got no response save from the mocking echoes.

Although it was midsummer, the water was too cold to be long endured. A few minutes more, and the M’Kenzie household would have been made desolate, when Providence, in the guise of a brown Indian, intervened.

Old Akaitchko had been paying a visit to his nets at Whitefish Point that morning, and was returning with a full fare, and in high good-humour, when his keen eyes caught sight of the overturned canoe, and the next moment Archie’s cry fell upon his ear. Instantly the old man bowed over his paddle, until it bent like a bow in his hands, and the canoe, laden as it was, leaped over the water as though it shared its master’s eagerness.

‘I come, I come!’ he shouted at the top of his voice, and drove the paddle still deeper into the water.

Archie heard his shout just in time, for he was fast losing strength, and could hardly have held on a moment longer. Putting his arm about Rose-Marie, he cried—

‘Hurrah! Akaitchko’s coming to us.’

But the girl did not answer, for she had fainted, and only his grasp prevented her from sinking. The next moment the Indian’s canoe shot up to them, and bending skilfully over, the strong old man lifted poor little Rose in beside him, saying in his own tongue—

‘You next, Archie.’

Relieved of his burden, Archie let go of his own canoe and caught hold of the other, into which, with the assistance of Akaitchko, he presently clambered, and dropped exhausted on the bottom.

The Indian gave a grunt of approval which spoke volumes, and then resuming his paddle, plied it with a vigour that soon brought them to the beach, where, without a word to Archie, whom he evidently deemed quite able to look after himself, he picked up the still insensible girl as though she were a little baby, and hastened to the fort, Archie following behind at a much slower pace, and already beginning to wonder what consequences his act of disobedience would entail.

As it turned out, he came off scathless, for his father, who could punish soundly enough when he thought the occasion required it, was away, and his mother was too rejoiced at the escape of her darling Rose-Marie to think of doing any more than enjoining solemnly upon Archie never to take his sister out canoeing again until he should have permission from her.

Of course, old Akaitchko came in for Mrs. M’Kenzie’s warmest gratitude, receiving as reward such a supply of tea and tobacco as he had never had in his life before, and the assurance, moreover, that he need never go with empty pannikin or pipe so long as she was at hand to fill them for him. Whereat the old man felt that he had nothing more to ask for.

Little Rose-Marie was none the worse for her adventure, not even taking a cold, thanks to her vigorous constitution, developed by constant outdoor life; so that in the end there was nothing to be sorry for but the act of disobedience which might have had such dreadful consequences.

Life at the fort in midsummer was apt to be very quiet and uneventful. Mr. M’Kenzie and the majority of his men would be absent, either taking the furs as far down as Lac à la Crosse on their long journey to Montreal, or bringing back the supplies of goods and provisions which were sent up to meet them; or, when this was all over, they would be away out upon the prairies hunting the bison, moose, and deer whose juicy meat, dried in the sun, and then pounded into shreds and mixed with melted fat, would be packed into great bags of skin, and under the name of pemmican form the principal item of food during the long winter months when neither bison nor deer was to be had. So that Archie saw very little of his father at the very time when he would have liked most to be with him, and this made him all the more impatient to be permitted to accompany him on his expeditions.

His delight, then, may be imagined, when, one morning of the following summer after that in which the canoeing incident occurred, Mr. M’Kenzie, who had arranged for a trip in quest of bison over the plains of the Peace River, having received the usual petition from his son, instead of dismissing it at once, hesitated in replying, hummed and hawed, looked at the sturdy little chap from head to foot, and then, as if unable to withstand the arguments expressed in his flushed face, eager eye, and trembling lip, said in the tone of a man who thought he should not give way, but really could not help it—

‘Very well, then, laddie, you may come this time; but mind you, you must not get into any mischief.’

Preparations of quite an imposing character were made for this hunt, the Indian who had been charged to report the appearance of the bison having brought in word that two immense herds were to be found not far apart, and about one hundred miles to the south-west. This was just the opportunity the factor desired to lay in a stock of meat out of which to manufacture the indispensable pemmican, and so every man and horse that could be spared from the fort were ordered out for active service.

Everybody was in high good-humour, the Indians and half-breeds hugging themselves with delight at the prospect of unlimited gorging of juicy tongue and unctuous hump, the white men full of pleasurable anticipation of a lively hunt, and the very horses and dogs eager for the chase; while most excited of all was Archie, now a big boy of fourteen, and thinking himself equal to anything.

‘Of course I’ll take my gun, father,’ said he, bringing in an excellent little musket that the factor had procured especially for him, and which he had now cleaned and polished until it shone in his hands.

‘Do you think you can do better with that than with your bow and arrow, Archie?’ asked Mr. M’Kenzie quizzingly.

‘I don’t think, father; I know,’ replied Archie proudly. ‘Can’t I hit the bull’s eye two times out of three at sixty paces?’ he added, with a tone of reproach in his voice.

‘Can you indeed, my boy?’ exclaimed Mr. M’Kenzie. ‘Well, I’m sure that’s not bad shooting and you ought to secure us a good fat buffalo calf at least, if you can do as well as that. Don’t you think so?’

‘I’ll do my best, father,’ answered Archie; ‘and I shall be very much disappointed if I don’t do that much for you, at any rate.’

The following morning, bright and early, the expedition set forth from the fort, Mrs. M’Kenzie and Rose-Marie accompanying it to the gate, and then climbing up into one of the towers and watching its progress until it was lost in the distance.

There were twenty-five men all told, and nearly twice as many horses, for they hoped to bring back with them a good quantity of meat. Besides Mr. M’Kenzie, there were Ferdinand Wentzel, his right-hand man, a Norwegian, and a most trustworthy, excellent clerk, who had been in the employ of the Company almost as long as his chief; Colin Robertson, a junior clerk, a red-haired, freckle-faced, hot-tempered, but brave and energetic young Scotchman; and Alec MacGillivray, another Scotchman, though of a quite different nature, being quiet, reserved, and cool.

These men, with John Stewart, a Canadian, composed the factor’s staff of assistants at Fort Chipewyan, and the latter had been left in command of the little garrison which would hold the fort until the return of the expedition.

The remainder of the party consisted of Canadians and Indians in about equal numbers, accompanied by a wonderful collection of dogs of all sorts and sizes, that ran about among the horses, barking noisily, by way of expressing their interest in the undertaking. They were all in light marching order, for it was intended to lose no time upon the way either going or coming. The bison must be reached as soon as possible, and then, after the hunt was over, the sooner they got back to the fort with the results, the better would be the pemmican.

Archie was well mounted, his steed being a pretty piebald mustang his father had given him the year before, having first made sure that it was well broken in and of a trustworthy temper. It was a speedy, enduring animal, and while on its back Archie need not fear being left behind by any of the others.

He rode along beside his father, who was mounted upon a splendid black stallion of unusual size, whose impatient spirit he kept in check by means of a powerful Spanish curb that no horse could resist.

‘You’ll have to keep your wits well about you, Archie, when we sight the buffalo. It’ll be everyone for himself, you know,’ said the factor, smiling proudly down upon the boy at his stirrup.

‘I’m sure I don’t care, father,’ answered Archie firmly. ‘If Spot and I cannot keep out of the way, why, we’re only fit to be run over; aren’t we, Spot?’ and he patted the mustang’s neck fondly.

‘But look here now, Archie, do you seriously imagine that you are going to kill a buffalo yourself with that plaything?’ asked Mr. M’Kenzie in a bantering tone, pointing at the musket which hung from the boy’s shoulder.

The colour mounted into Archie’s face, and his eye flashed for a moment in a way that suggested a hasty answer, but, controlling himself by an effort that was not lost upon his questioner, he replied respectfully—

‘Well, father, if you had only seen how I killed that carcajou over at Beaver Creek the other day when you were away, you wouldn’t laugh at my gun. It isn’t very big, but it can shoot straight, and pretty far too; can’t it, Mr. Wentzel?’ appealing to the Norwegian, his especial friend among the employees, who happened to ride up at that moment.

‘There’s no doubt but that it can do good work in your hands, Archie,’ responded Wentzel.

‘And don’t you believe I could kill a buffalo with it?’ asked the boy eagerly.

‘Certainly you could, if you were only lucky enough to hit him in the right place,’ said Wentzel.

‘The proof of the pudding is in the eating, Archie,’ broke in Mr. M’Kenzie; ‘and all I hope is that you may have the best possible chance to show what you can do with your pop-gun.’

Archie was just ready to speak warmly in defence of his firearm, when one of the Indians rode up with a communication to make, which claimed his father’s attention, and he had to content himself with saying to the Norwegian, with a touch of indignation in his voice—

‘Pop-gun, to be sure! It’s no pop-gun, is it, Mr. Wentzel?’

To which Mr. Wentzel replied, ‘No, indeed, Archie.’

By the afternoon of the second day they had reached the locality indicated by the Indians as that where the bison were to be found, and the expedition moved forward with the greatest care, sending out scouts in all directions, lest they should come suddenly upon the herd, and stampede it before they were ready to deal with it. They made no fire in the camp that night, but stayed their hunger with cold victuals, and the following morning everybody was astir at daybreak, and impatient for the fray.

They were entering upon a beautiful country. Away before them until they seemed to touch the horizon undulated the great plains of the Peace River, covered with the bunches of rich, thick grass that forms the bison’s favourite food, and intersected at wide intervals by shallow valleys, along whose bottom ran lazy little tributaries of the Peace. The weather was perfect, and there was every reason to expect a successful hunt. Before they left camp there were some black dots to be made out toward the south, which were probably outposts of the herd, and toward these the hunters directed their way, spreading out into a long line, and moving as steadily forward together as the nature of the country permitted. Far in advance of the others were old Akaitchko and another Indian, whose very appropriate name when translated was Long Legs, the two most experienced hunters in the country, and these two the others anxiously watched for the signal which would mean that the bison were in sight.

Up one slope and down another, across narrow coulées and broad intervals, splashing through the streams that now had shrunk to half their size, and avoiding the mud-holes in which their horses might have stuck fast, the line of attack moved steadily forward, every man holding his gun across his saddle before him, ready for instant use.

Archie, who rode at his father’s left, trembled so visibly with suppressed excitement, that the factor became concerned lest his gun should go off accidentally, and give a premature alarm.

‘Keep cool, my lad, keep cool,’ said he. ‘If your pop-gun goes off before it ought to, it will play mischief with us.’

Understanding his father’s meaning at once, Archie blushed as if he had betrayed himself, and sitting up very straight in his saddle, grasped the gun firmly, saying—

‘I will keep cool, father, never fear; this won’t go off until it’s told to. But look, father, isn’t Akaitchko signalling?’

The factor glanced quickly at the old Indian. Sure enough, from the hither slope of a near hill, he was making gestures that said as plain as words—

‘The bison—I see them. Come on, but take care.’

The others soon saw the signal also, and all moved forward as quietly as possible until they were beside Akaitchko. The old man was fairly palpitating with excitement, as he said in a hoarse whisper to Mr. M’Kenzie—

‘Thousands of ’em! um—um! Fine—fat—good,’ and he rolled his tongue expressively in his mouth.

Creeping cautiously to the summit of the hill, the factor, lying at full length, looked over into the valley below, and beheld a sight that did his heart good; for there, within easy reach and utterly unsuspicious of danger, was as noble a herd of bison as he had ever seen in his life—bulls, cows, and calves, all fat and in fine condition.

Without a moment’s loss of time the order of attack was arranged. One half of the party, with Wentzel as leader, were despatched to make a wide detour, and if possible get on the other side of the herd, while those who remained would not move until this had been done. The rolling nature of the ground made this manœuvre easy of accomplishment, and twenty minutes later the signal came from the crest of the opposite slope that showed Wentzel’s division had fulfilled their mission.

The bison were feeding down towards a large pond that filled the valley at the farther end, and Mr. M’Kenzie’s scheme was to stampede them into this pond, where they would be entirely at his mercy. When all was in readiness, he called to his men to mount and see that their guns were all right; then, giving Archie an affectionate clasp on the arm, he said in a low, tender tone—

‘Look well out for yourself now, Archie. Don’t get in the way of the herd, or anybody else.’

Before Archie has time to make any reply, his father roars out at the top of his stentorian voice, ‘All together now—Charge!’ and the whole party as one man start on the gallop down the slopes, and joining line in the level valley, bear down upon the startled herd like an avalanche, the Indians giving vent to the most blood-curdling whoops as they urge their mustangs to their utmost speed.

So sudden is the onset that the hunters are right upon the bewildered bison ere they get fairly started in flight, and the sharp report of the guns tells that the work of death is begun. Each man chooses his animal, and seeks to bring it down. Archie is soon separated from his father, and, determined to show his mettle, he singles out a fine yearling bull, and sends a bullet into him behind the shoulder, as he had been told to do. But, much to his surprise, his quarry refuses to fall, and he is just wondering whether he could manage to reload on horseback, when he discovers that he is himself in too much danger to give any more attention to the bison, for his horse, to whom this hunt is an entirely novel experience, has become frantic with fright, and is carrying him right into the heart of the herd, now fully started on its mad stampede towards the pond.