Читать книгу Susannah of the Yukon - Muriel Denison - Страница 4

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Sue sniffed rapturously. The stables were all just as she remembered. Cool and damp and shadowy, with the faint perfume of sweet grass in the hay and the pungent smell of saddle soap and polish.

From where she stood, she could see the shining flank of Ginger, the Commissioner’s horse. There was a soft snuffle of a pony in a stall near by. Through the stable door beyond, her old friend, Smith the orderly, was busily at work polishing a bit, just as he had been doing three long exciting months before, when Sue had left for England with her beloved Mounties to see Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee.

And now she was back in Regina once again, and not a little surprised to find that everything was exactly as she had left it—the Mounted Police Headquarters with its rows of neat white buildings, the Union Jack flying bravely in the prairie breeze, the bright scarlet and blue of Mounties’ uniforms crossing the Barracks Square; even Uncle Dennis’s house was the same, except that this time Sue had her parents with her.

All the same and all as perfect.

Sue sniffed again, this time with contentment. Placing the parcels she held on a near-by shelf, she tiptoed toward the stable door.

Smith was seated on a keg with his back toward her. If she could only blindfold him before he saw her. Wouldn’t he be surprised?

Cautiously she moved from stall to stall. Scottie, the young collie, pricked up his ears and pattered busily toward her, all wags and snuffles. She caught his collar. “Hush, Scottie,” she whispered. “I know it’s me back again, but be quiet. I want to surprise Smith.”

Holding Scottie close, Sue crept nearer. Smith was whistling now and leaning forward for a brush.

“The Army and Navy forever,

Three cheers for the red, white and blue,”

he sang in a queer, cracked voice. Sue’s hands closed over his eyes.

“My stars and garters!” he cried. “Whoever in the world can this be?”

Sue held her breath.

“Is it you, Miss Jane?”

Sue never made a sound.

“Looks like I’d better guess again,” said Smith. “It’s not Miss Jane, and I don’t think it’s Sergeant Whiteside.”

Sue could hardly keep from laughing out loud. The idea of Sergeant Whiteside playing “Guess Who’s Here” was too funny. He was always so military and dignified.

“And it can’t be my Missus, for she’s in Winnipeg,” Smith continued. “And I’m sure it’s not the Captain.... I wish I knew but I don’t. I give up!” he exclaimed. “Whoever is it?”

Sue took a long breath. “Susannah!”

“Susannah? ... Susannah, who?” Smith demanded. Sue felt a little catch in her throat. Could it be possible that Smith had forgotten her; Smith whose tunic she had borrowed to lead the band at the Gymkana?

“Why, it’s me ... Susannah Elizabeth Fairfield Winston.”

Surely Smith would recognize her now. But the small orderly shook his head disapprovingly. “The only Sue I ever knew had a better name than that,” he said.

In a flash Sue knew what he meant. “It’s me—Susannah of the Mounties!” she cried triumphantly, taking her hands away.

Smith jumped up, dropping his brushes and whirled around to face her. “Why, bless my soul, so it is!” he cried, his leathery face all wrinkled with familiar smiles.

“And you’re welcome back, Miss Sue. The Barracks haven’t been the same without you. Tell me, how did you like London town and did you see the Queen and how’s Miss Vicky and Monty and when did you come and how long are you going to stay?”

“What a lot of questions,” laughed Sue. It was all very exciting: Smith shaking her by both hands and Scottie leaping and barking and the horses trembling just as if they all knew she was back and were glad of it.

“And, Smith,” said Sue, as soon as she could be heard, “in all the Jubilee procession no one could beat the Mounties.”

“That’s the way to talk,” said Smith, pridefully, “but now, Miss Sue, you sit right down here”—he pulled forward another keg—“and tell me all about it, while I go on with my polishing. First, how did the Queen look?”

“Very grand,” said Sue, impressively. “Do you know, Smith, she had six cream-colored horses to drive her carriage?”

Smith whistled with surprise.

“Six, Miss Sue?”

“Six,” answered Sue, “and not one of them as good as Beppo!”

“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Smith.

Sue nodded. “I do.”

“Now, now,” said Smith, “you are bringing us back good news.”

“And, Smith, do you know that when the Mounties rode past everyone cried out loud like this.” Sue jumped down.

“It’s the Mounties, the Canadian Mounties!” she cried. “It’s the Mounties, the Canadian Mounties!” she cried louder.

“Hooray!” cried Smith. “Hooray!” cried Sue. Scottie barked and the horses tramped and whinnied; a bugle blew in the distance and out in the Square there was a clatter of hoofs.

Smith and Sue raced forward just in time to see a company of Mounties ride by, their lances carried high, pennants fluttering in the breeze.

“Why are they carrying lances?” asked Sue.

“They are rehearsing for this year’s Gymkana,” answered Smith, with a twinkle, and he and Sue looked at each other and laughed. They both felt they could never forget her first Gymkana and its exciting finish. Turning back into the stable, Sue saw her parcels lying on the shelf.

Picking them up, she handed one to Smith. “For you,” she said. Smith held it in his hand.

“What a pretty ribbon,” he said. “Red, white, and blue—Her Majesty’s colors.”

“Ribbons like that were round everything everywhere in London,” Sue explained, wishing that Smith would open his parcel; but he turned it over and over in his hand, admiring the gay blue paper, and then untied each single knot so carefully that Sue thought he would never get it opened. She never untied knots. She was always too anxious to see what lay inside.

But finally Smith loosened the last knot and opened the box. He folded back the tissue paper carefully and there at last lay a most elegant tie of blue corded silk, patterned with red and white horseshoes.

“For me?” asked Smith. Sue nodded. Smith was delighted. “This is the most splendiferous tie I’ve ever seen,” he said. “I’ll bet the Prince of Wales never had a better one.”

“I don’t think so myself,” said Sue, looking at the tie held out at arms’ length by Smith. “Don’t you think it’s very dashing?” Sue asked.

Sue wished she could give presents every day to Smith. He was so appreciative.

“I’ve got another box here,” she said, “only it’s for Sergeant Whiteside, but I can let you have a peek.”

She lifted the cover of the box and poked a bit of the covering tissue paper aside. She and Smith peeked, but that was so unsatisfactory a method that Sue opened it. There inside the box was a pair of braces with rich green and purple checks. They were called “Britain’s Strength.”

“See,” said Sue, “it’s written on the box.”

Smith looked. “Right you are, Miss Sue,” he said, and snapped the elastic, “and just won’t the Sergeant Major be a proud man.”

”Don’t you think it’s very dashing?” Sue asked

“I think they’re pretty nice myself,” said Sue.

“Yes, but not as nice as my tie,” boasted Smith, as he patted it. “But you shouldn’t have spent your pocket money on us, Miss Sue,” he continued, reproachfully. “It was enough that you came back to us.”

Sue shook her head. “I never had so much fun in my life as I did the day Lady Charlotte took me shopping.” She explained, “You see, she gave me a whole sovereign to buy presents with to take home. Smith, did you know that a sovereign is twenty shillings and a shilling is almost a quarter?”

“That’s a lot of money, Miss Sue,” said Smith, admiringly.

“I bought the tie at Liberty’s,” Sue continued, “and it cost five shillings, and after that Lady Charlotte said I’d better go to Swan and Peacock’s for the rest of the presents, as my money would go further. And I bought a white silk hankie for Mrs. Walsh with her initial in pink in the corner and the loveliest tie pin for the Commissioner. It’s big,” she said, “a big golden horseshoe, and in the middle of it there is a red, red ruby.”

“You never managed all that out of a sovereign,” said Smith in astonishment.

“Yes,” said Sue, “and I got Hawkins gold cuff links with foxes’ heads on them. The Commissioner and Hawkins were very pleased,” she continued, “and the Commissioner is going to wear his pin when he goes hunting and Hawkins will do the same.” Sue paused. “Do you know very much about gold?” she asked.

“A little bit. Why?”

“Because Daddy bit the gold horseshoe pin and it bent a little and he said ‘Pure gold’ and everybody laughed.”

“But the Commissioner didn’t laugh, did he?” asked Smith.

Sue shook her head. “Do you know what I’ve got here?” she added. Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, she brought out a bit of pencil, a popgun, a rubber band, and then a very grubby hankie tied in fearsome knots. Untying the knots, she showed Smith a beautiful shiny gold sovereign.

“Look, Smith!” she cried. “Lady Charlotte gave me this the day we sailed.”

“My, my,” said Smith. “A gold piece all your own! That’s wonderful!” Sue nodded importantly. Smith sat silently while she tied up the precious piece and put it back in her pocket. They smiled at each other.

“There’s an awful lot of talk about gold just now,” said Smith. “Everybody’s going clean crazy about it, and they’re all going out to the Yukon to find their fortunes.”

“Where’s the Yukon?” asked Sue.

“Away up at the top of Canada,” said Smith, “where the icebergs are, and if the stories are to be believed, the gold lies around in yellow heaps. See, Miss Sue, look here.”

Smith took a folded paper off the shelf and there, right across the top of the page, she read in great black letters:

THE REGINA LEADER

August 1, 1897

A Ton of Gold

The Portland Arrives at Seattle

with a Ton of Gold

“What’s a ton?” asked Sue.

“Two thousand pounds,” answered Smith. “Let me see. ... You weigh almost seventy pounds. There’d have to be about thirty of you to weigh as much as a ton of gold.”

Sue’s eyes grew round with excitement. “Do you truly mean they just find gold in heaps?” she asked.

But Smith didn’t answer, for at that moment there were voices outside and Sue turned. Striding past the stable was the Sergeant Major.

“Wait!” called Sue. “Wait and see what I’ve brought you.”

The Sergeant Major turned and saluted smartly. “You’re welcome back, Miss Sue,” he said.

Sue held out her parcel. “For you,” she said.

The Sergeant Major opened the box and there in all their glory lay the green and purple braces, “Britain’s Strength.”

“Now, now, Miss Sue,” he said, “this is too good of you, and what a splendid color.”

The Sergeant Major looked very pleased, Sue thought. “Could you try them on right here?” she asked. “I’d like to know if they fit.” And while the Sergeant Major obligingly removed his tunic and handed it to Smith, Sue told him of how difficult it had been to get a large enough size, even in London town.

“I told the man who sold them to me that you were the biggest man in Canada.”

The Sergeant Major snapped the elastic over his shoulders and twirled his mustaches. “How do I look, Miss Sue?” he asked.

“Simply salubrious,” said Sue. “You couldn’t be better.”

Smith displayed his tie and both he and the Sergeant Major agreed that she couldn’t have brought them more perfect presents, but they both wanted to know how long she was going to stay.

“Not very long,” she answered. “Daddy’s got to paint the Rockies.”

Smith whistled with surprise. “That’s a pretty tall order, Miss Sue. He’ll need an awful lot of paint to cover the Rockies.”

“Oh, Smith,” Sue laughed back. “You know what I mean. He’s got to paint pictures of the Rockies. You see, while we were in London, Daddy met a gentleman called Sir Donald Smith, and he saw some of Daddy’s paintings and he asked Daddy to go straight home and paint the Rockies for the Canadian Pacific Railway.” Sue looked very proud as she pronounced these long names. “And,” she continued, “Mummy and I are going with him. We shall be traveling all winter,” she added, impressively.

“What a way to talk, Miss Sue,” said Sergeant Whiteside. “You’re just back from the Jubilee and now you’re planning to leave us so soon again.”

“I know,” answered Sue. “If I had my way I’d live here at the Barracks for ever and ever, but I’ve got to go.”

“And I’ll have to go to my luncheon now,” she added, “or Matilda’ll come after me.” All three of them laughed, just as they used to whenever Sue mentioned her nurse’s name.

“I’ll take you back to Bachelors’ Hall, Miss Sue,” said the Sergeant Major, and they started off around the Square together. It was quite exciting being with the Sergeant Major again. She took long strides to match his steps. Everyone saluted so smartly and smiled such pleasant welcomes that she had hardly begun to tell him about the Jubilee, before she was home.

No one was in for luncheon except Michael O’Dare. Her father and mother, he said, were at Government House. Sue told him of her morning’s adventures and of how Smith said it would take about thirty of her to make a ton of gold.

“Have you heard about the Yukon, Michael?” she asked. “The gold lies around in heaps.”

Michael laughed. “Yes, I’ve heard about the Yukon. They say there’s plenty of gold there, Sue, and I’ll be able to tell you all about it someday. I’m going up to the Yukon with Major Bell and his party to join Superintendent Consell, who’s in charge of all that territory.”

“Mercy me,” said Sue. “I haven’t heard about this. When do you start?”

“We’re leaving on the fourteenth. That’s fourteen days from now.”

“When do you come back?”

Michael laughed. “Ask the Commissioner,” he said. “Hurry with your luncheon, Sue, and if you’re in your habit by two o’clock, I’ll take you out riding with me, and we’ll see how pemmican is made.”

It was unexpected things like this that made the Barracks so interesting, Sue felt. There were never the adventures in London that there were here.

Finishing her applesauce, she hurried upstairs and wondered what pemmican could be as she buttoned her gaiters and pulled on the little green jacket. Matilda didn’t know about pemmican, and Sue was still wondering as she ran downstairs to find her pony, Beppo, outside—a Beppo who nuzzled for sugar in her pocket, just as she had taught him to do. He had grown a little fat in her absence but was very glad to see her again.

Around the Barracks Square and out through the gates to the prairies, powdered with the gold of wild pea vines, they cantered, trampling the tall grasses and swinging at last onto a trail that led them over Pile o’ Bones Creek.

“See,” said Michael, pointing to where a line of tepees stood against the sky. “There’s where they’re making pemmican.”

“What is pemmican?” asked Sue. In the joy of riding again, she had forgotten all about it.

“Pemmican is a kind of food you’ve never tasted,” explained Michael. “At first it was made from buffalo meat, but now it’s made from beef. The raw beef is cut free from all fat and then sliced into thin strips and dried in the sun. It is easy to carry and a very little goes a long way. Pemmican is an Indian word, but it is used now by everyone in the Northwest.”

As they drew nearer to the tepees, the faint acrid odor of the campfire drifted toward them and both Beppo and Michael’s mount sniffed uneasily. “Horses never like smoke,” Michael reminded Sue, “and they dislike the odor of raw flesh even more.”

To Sue it all seemed dreadfully untidy and unpleasant. Just beyond the camp and behind the tepees, slim birch poles were crossed to hold in place longer poles. Hanging from them were strips of thinly cut beef, browned and blackened by the sun. A young Indian took their ponies while Chief Kicking Horse advanced to give them the sign of welcome.

“Come, Sue,” said Michael, when the greetings were over, and Sue followed while Michael examined the beef and talked with Kicking Horse. “Ugh,” said Sue.

There were flies on the strips of beef and bits of grass and weeds where they had fallen off the bars and been replaced. An old squaw with a long, flat-bladed knife turned the strips now and then. At the door of the tepee two young squaws sat pounding a strip of the completely dried beef. Sue watched. They pounded, shredded, and beat it into a powder and turned it over and over until it was fine. But still Sue didn’t like it.

She followed Michael to another tepee. Here, in a large iron kettle, an older woman was mixing the fat of beef with the shredded meat and adding pounded saskatoon berries for flavor. Michael put his hand in a basket hanging from the tent pole and drew out a round, dried berry.

“Taste it, Sue,” he said. Gingerly, Sue tasted. It was acid and puckered her tongue, but it had a distinct flavor, and Michael explained that it cut the heavy fat and made the pemmican more pleasant to the white man’s taste.

Chief Kicking Horse showed her a sack made of skins. Pemmican was carried ninety pounds to a sack, or as much as a man could carry, Sue learned, and then the Chief brought out a little sack and had it filled with pemmican and gave it to her. His son, a young brave who had been to the Mission School at Qu’Appelle interpreted for her.

“My father says that on this food men can travel longer in the frozen north than on any other food,” he said gravely. “These small bags are good for those who go out for a few days. You carry them at your belt.”

Sue took the greasy little bag and thanked Chief Kicking Horse with her hand held up, open palm, in the Indian greeting of friends. The squaws went on working but the young braves stood in a silent group until they rode away.

“Michael,” confessed Sue, “I don’t like pemmican at all. It’s so dirty and it smells like a skunk,” and Sue held her nose.

“Now, Sue, not as bad as a skunk,” laughed Michael. “It isn’t the pemmican that smells, it’s the untidy camp and the preparation of the raw beef that you dislike.” Sue shuddered. “And you mustn’t make me dislike it,” Michael continued. “I may have to eat it in the Yukon this winter and I don’t want to be reminded of a skunk.”

“Will you have to eat it?” asked Sue, anxiously.

“I don’t think so,” answered Michael.

“Then I wouldn’t mind going to the Yukon,” said Sue.

The fresh prairie wind of sunset was blowing against their faces. Ahead of them lay the Barracks. Riding slowly, Michael told her of how two years before Superintendent Consell had gone out to the Yukon to establish law and order in the frozen North. Now that the territory had grown with the miners in search of gold, he had sent for extra men. Michael, it seemed, was going along with Major Bell, who had come down from Duck Lake to take charge of the party.

“Why can’t I go, too?” asked Sue. “I’m a Mountie. I’ve my red coat and I’d like it better than school.”

“I’m afraid you can’t go to the Yukon,” said Michael. “It’s too rough and cold and too difficult a journey for anyone but a strong man to take. Besides, only men can mine for gold.”

“But if it lies around in the streets, I can put it in my pocket as well as a man,” Sue argued, as they rode up to the house again.

Michael smiled and lifted her off Beppo. “Run along in, Sue,” he said. “They’re having tea and I promised your mother to have you home on time.”

Sue paused a moment in the doorway of the drawing room. Everyone was talking at once, some laughing and some very earnest indeed. Sue knew them all, for they were friends of Uncle Dennis’s, asked to tea to meet Sue’s father and mother.

Uncle Dennis was looking at Sue’s tall, good-looking father. “What you propose is simply preposterous, Jimmy,” he was saying. “I tell you it just cannot be done.”

“But I like preposterous things, Dennis,” answered Sue’s father, “and I’m going to do it.”

“Sue darling,” called her mother. “Come over here beside me.”

Curtsying as she crossed the room, Sue perched on the arm of her mother’s chair. She was glad they had come back to Regina together, for she wanted everyone to see how pretty her mother was. Sue looked admiringly at her—a tiny, slender woman with masses of golden hair in a low knot at her neck and gray-green eyes, fringed with dark lashes. Aileen Winston looked up at her husband.

“Well, Jimmy,” she said, “do we look as if we’d stand the journey?”

He smiled down at them. “Certainly,” he answered, and, turning to Uncle Dennis, began again.

“I’ll admit it sounds preposterous,” he said, “but I don’t think it’s as bad as it sounds. Last winter we spent in the heat and color of India. This winter it’ll do us good to have a touch of Northern cold. Roughing it won’t hurt any one of us. My commission with the C.P.R. is to paint pictures of the Rockies. Well, I can make my sketches as I go through to the Yukon. In the Yukon I can make more. And next year, with my sketches finished, I can paint the pictures for the Railway. Besides, Dennis, I might find a gold mine while I’m up there.”

Uncle Dennis stood up. “How do you feel about this, Aileen?” he asked. Everyone in the room seemed awfully cross, but Sue’s mother slipped her hand into her husband’s. “I’m going wherever Jimmy goes,” she said, “and this time we’ll take Sue.”

Uncle Dennis seemed very angry. “I tell you it’s simply criminal to take that child up there,” he snapped.

“Take me where?” broke in Sue.

“Daddy’s thinking of taking us both up to the Yukon,” said her mother.

“Where the GOLD is?” Sue demanded.

Her father nodded.

“Oh, Daddy!” shrieked Sue. “How soon do we start?”