Lords of the North

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"Is Mr. Sutherland an H. B. C. or Nor'-Wester?" I asked in the slang of
the company talk.

"I don't know," she answered. "I don't think he knows himself. He says
there are numbers of men like that, and they all know there is to be a
raid. Why, Rufus, there are men down the river every day watching for
the Nor'-Westers' Fort William express." "Where do the men come from?" I
questioned, vainly trying to patch some connection between plots for a
raid on North-West boats and plots for a fight by Nor'-West followers.

"From Fort Douglas, of course."

"H. B. C.'s, my dear. You must go to Fort Douglas at once. There will be
a fight. You must go to-morrow with your father, or with me to-night," I
urged, thinking I should take myself off and notify my company of the
intended pillaging.

"With you?" she laughed. "Father will be home in an hour. Are you sure
about a fight!"

"Quite," said I, trembling for her safety. This certainty of mine has
been quoted to prove premeditation on the Nor'-Westers' part; but I
meant nothing of the sort. I only felt there was unrest on both sides,
and that she must be out of harm's way.

Truly, I have seldom had a harder duty to perform than to leave Frances
alone in that dark house to go and inform my company of the plot.

Many times I said good-by before going to the canoe and times unnumbered
ran back from the river to repeat some warning and necessitate another
farewell.

"Rufus, dear," she said, "this is about the twentieth time. You mustn't
come back again."

"Then good-by for the twenty-first," said I, and came away feeling like
a young priest anointed for some holy purpose.

* * * * *

I declare now, as I declared before the courts of the land, that in
hastening to the Portage with news of the Hudson's Bay's intention to
intercept the Nor'-Westers' express from Fort William, I had no other
thought but the faithful serving of my company. I knew what suffering
the destruction of Souris had entailed in Athabasca, and was determined
our brave fellows should not starve in the coming winter through my
negligence.

Could I foresee that simple act of mine was to let loose all the
punishment the Hudson's Bay had been heaping up against the day of
judgment?

CHAPTER XXI

LOUIS PAYS ME BACK

What tempted me to moor opposite the ruins of Fort Gibraltar? What
tempts the fly into the spider's web and the fish with a wide ocean for
play-ground into one small net? I know there is a consoling fashion of
ascribing our blunders to the inscrutable wisdom of a long-suffering
Providence; but common-sense forbids I should call evil good, deify my
errors, and give thanks for what befalls me solely through my own fault.

Bare posts hacked to the ground were all that remained of Fort
Gibraltar's old wall. I had not gone many paces across the former
courtyard, when voices sounded from the gravel-pit that had once done
duty as a cellar. The next thing I noticed was the shaggy face of Louis
Laplante bobbing above the ground. With other vagabond wanderers, the
Frenchman had evidently been rummaging old Nor'-West vaults.

"Tra-la, comrade," he shouted, leaping out of the cellar as soon as he
saw me. "I, Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, am resurrecting. I was a
Plante! Now I'm a _Louis d'or_, fresh coined from the golden vein of
dazzling wit. Once we were men, but they drowned us in a wine-barrel
like your lucky dog of an English prince. Now we're earth-goblins
re-incarnate! Behold gnomes of the mine! Knaves of the nethermost
depths, tra-la! Vampires that suck the blood of whisky-cellars and float
to the skies with dusky wings and dizzy heads! Laugh with us, old
solemncholy! See the ground spin! Laugh, I say, or be a hitching-post,
and we'll dance the May-pole round you! We're vampires, comrade, and
you're our cousin, for you're a bat," and Louis applauded his joke with
loud, tipsy laughter and staggered up to me drunk as a lord. His heavy
breath and bloodshot eyes testified what he had found under the rubbish
heaps of Fort Gibraltar's cellar. Embracing me with the affection of a
long-lost brother, he rattled on with a befuddled, meaningless jargon.

"So the knife cut well, did it? And the Sioux did not eat you by inches,
beginning with your thumbs? Ha! Tres bien! Very good taste! You were not
meant for feasts, my solemncholy? Some men are monuments. That's you,
mine frien'! Some are champagne bottles that uncork, zip, fizz, froth,
stars dancing round your head! That's me! 'Tis I, Louis Laplante, son of
a seigneur, am that champagne bottle!"

Pausing for breath, he drew himself erect with ridiculous pomposity. Now
there are times when the bravest and wisest thing a brave and wise man
can do is take to his heels. I have heard my Uncle Jack MacKenzie say
that vice and liquor and folly are best frustrated by flight; and all
three seemed to be embodied in Louis Laplante that night. A stupid sort
of curiosity made me dally with the mischief brewing in him, just as the
fly plays with the spider-web, or the fish with a baited hook.

"There's a fountain-spout in Nor'-West vaults for those who know where
to tap the spigot, eh, Louis?" I asked.

"I'm a Hudson's Bay man and to the conqueror comes the tribute,"
returned Louis, sweeping me a courtly bow.

"I hope such a generous conqueror draws all the tribute he deserves. Do
you remember how you saved my life twice from the Sioux, Louis?"

"Generous," shouted the Frenchman, drawing himself up proudly, "generous
to mine enemy, always magnificent, grand, superb, as becomes the son of
a seigneur! Now I pay you back, rich, well, generous."

"Nonsense, Louis," I expostulated. "'Tis I who am in your debt. I owe
you my life twice over. How shall I pay you?" and I made to go down to
my canoe.

"Pay me?" demanded Louis, thrusting himself across my path in a menacing
attitude. "Stand and pay me like a man!"

"I am standing," I laughed. "Now, how shall I pay you?"

"Strike!" ordered Louis, launching out a blow which I barely missed.
"Strike, I say, for kicking me, the son of a seigneur, like a pig!"

At that, half a dozen more drunken vagabonds of the Hudson's Bay service
reeled up from the cellar pit; and I began to understand I was in for as
much mischief as a young man could desire. The fellows were about us in
a circle, and now, that it was too late, I was quite prepared like the
fly and the fish to seek safety in flight.

"Sink his canoe," suggested one; and I saw that borrowed craft swamped.

"Strike! _Sacredie!_ I pay you back generous," roared Louis. "How can I,
Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, strike a man who won't hit back?"

"And how can I strike a man who saved my life?" I urged, trying to
mollify him. "See here, Louis, I'm on a message for my company to-night.
I can't wait. Some other day you can pay me all you like--not to-night,
some-other-time----"

"Some-oder-time! No--never! Some-oder-time--'tis the way I pay my own
debts, always some-oder-time, and I never not pay at all. You no
some-oder-time me, comrade! Louis knows some-oder-time too well! He quit
his cups some-oder-time and he never quit, not at all! He quit wild
Indian some-oder-time, and he never quit, not at all! And he go home and
say his confess to the cure some-oder-time, and he never go, not at all!
And he settle down with a wife and become a grand seigneur
some-oder-time, and he never settle down at all!"

"Good night, Laplante! I have business for the company. I must go," I
interrupted, trying to brush through the group that surrounded us.

"So have we business for the company, the Hudson's Bay Company, and you
can't go," chimed in one of the least intoxicated of the rival trappers;
and they closed about me so that I had not striking room.

"Are you men looking for trouble?" I asked, involuntarily fingering my
pistol belt.

"No--we're looking for the Nor'-West brigade billed to pass from Fort
William to Athabasca," jeered the boldest of the crowd, a red-faced,
middle-aged man with blear eyes. "We're looking for the Nor'-Westers'
express," and he laughed insolently.

"You don't expect to find our brigades in Fort Gibraltar's cellar," said
I, backing away from them and piecing this latest information to what I
had already heard of plots and conspiracies.

Forthwith I felt strong hands gripping both my arms like a vise and the
coils of a rope were about me with the swiftness of a lasso. My first
impulse was to struggle against the outrage; but I was beginning to
learn the service of open ears and a closed mouth was often more
valuable than a fighter's blows. Already I had ascertained from their
own lips that the Hudson's Bay intended to molest our north-bound
brigade.

"Well," said I, with a laugh, which surprised the rascals mightily, "now
you've captured your elephant, what do you propose to do with him?"

Without answering, the men shambled down to the landing place of the
fort, jostling me along between the red-faced man and Louis Laplante.

"I consider this a scurvy trick, Louis," said I. "You've let me into a
pretty scrape with your idiotic heroics about paying back a fancied
grudge. To save a mouse from the tigers, Louis, and then feed him to
your cats! Fie, man! I like your son-of-a-seigneur ideas of honor!"

"Ingrate! Low-born ingrate," snapped the Frenchman, preparing to strike
one of his dramatic attitudes, "if I were not the son of a seigneur, and
you a man with bound arms, you should swallow those words," and he
squared up to me for a second time. "If you won't fight, you shan't run
away----"

"Off with your French brag," ordered the soberest of the Hudson's Bay
men, catching Louis by the scruff of his coat and spinning him out of
the way. "There'll be neither fighting nor running away. It is to Fort
Douglas we'll take our fine spy."

The words stung, but I muffled my indignation.

"I'll go with pleasure," I returned, thinking that Frances Sutherland
and Hamilton and Father Holland were good enough company to compensate
for any captivity. "With pleasure, and 'tis not the first time I'll have
found friends in the Hudson's Bay fort."

At that speech, the red-faced man, who seemed to be the ringleader, eyed
me narrowly. We all embarked on a rickety raft, that would, I declare,
have drowned any six sober men who risked their lives on it; but drunk
men and children seem to do what sober, grown folk may not are.

How Louis Laplante was for fighting a duel _en route_ with the man, who
spoke of "French brag" and was only dissuaded from his purpose by the
raft suddenly teetering at an angle of forty-five degrees with the
water, which threatened to toboggan us all into mid-river; how I was
then stationed in the centre and the other men distributed equally on
each side of the raft to maintain balance; how we swung out into the
Red, rocking with each shifting of the crew and were treated to a volley
of objurgations from the red-faced man--I do not intend to relate. This
sort of melodrama may be seen wherever there are drunken men, a raft and
a river. The men poled only fitfully, and we were driven solely by the
current. It was dark long before we had neared Fort Douglas and the
waters swished past with an inky, glassy sheen that vividly recalled the
murky pool about the beaver-dam. And yet I had no fear, but drifted
along utterly indifferent to the termination of the freakish escapade in
which I had become involved. Nature mercifully sets a limit to human
capacity for suffering; and I felt I had reached that limit. Nothing
worse could happen than had happened, at least, so I told myself, and I
awaited with cynical curiosity what might take place inside the Hudson's
Bay fort. Then a shaft of lantern light pierced the dark, striking
aslant the river, and the men began poling hard for Fort Douglas wharf.
We struck the landing with a bump, disembarked, passed the sentinel at
the gate and were at the entrance to the main building.

"You kick me here," said Louis. "I pay you back here!"

"What are you going to do with him?" asked the soberest man of the
red-faced leader.

"Hand him over to Governor Semple for a spy."

"The governor's abed. Besides, they don't want him about to hear H. B.
secrets when the Nor'-West brigade's a-coming! You'd better get sobered
up, yez hed! That's my advice to yez, before going to Governor Semple,"
and the prudent trapper led the way inside. To the fore was the main
stairway, on the right the closed store, and on the left a small
apartment which the governor had fitted up as a private office. For some
unaccountable reason--the same reason, I suppose, that mischief is
always awaiting the mischief-maker--the door to this office had been
left ajar and a light burned inside. 'Twas Louis, ever alert, when
mischief was abroad, who tip-toed over to the open door, poked his head
in and motioned his drunken companions across the sacred precincts of
Governor Semple's private room. I was loath to be a party to this mad
nonsense, but the fly and the fish should have thought of results before
venturing too near strange coils. The red-faced fellow gave me a push.
The sober man muttered, "Better come, or they'll raise a row," and we
were all within the forbidden place, the door shut and bolted.

To city folk, used to the luxuries of the east, I dare say that office
would have seemed mean enough. But the men had been so long away from
leather chairs, hair-cloth sofa, wall mirror, wine decanter and other
odds and ends which furnish a gentleman's living apartments that the
very memory of such things had faded, and that small room, with its
old-country air, seemed the vestibule to another world.

"Sump--too--uss--ain't it?" asked the sober man with bated breath and
obvious distrust of his tongue.

"Mag--nee--feque! M. Louis Laplante, look you there," cried the
Frenchman, catching sight of his full figure in the mirror and instantly
striking a pose of admiration. Then he twirled fiercely at both ends of
his mustache till it stood out with the wire finish of a Parisian dandy.

The red-faced fellow had permitted me, with arms still tied, to walk
across the room and sit on the hair-cloth sofa. He was lolling back in
the governor's armchair, playing the lord and puffing one of Mr.
Semple's fine pipes.

"We are gentlemen adventurers of the ancient and honorable Hudson's Bay
Company, gentlemen adventurers," he roared, bringing his fist down with
a thud on the desk. "We hereby decree that the Fort William brigade be
captured, that the whisky be freely given to every dry-throated lad in
the Hudson's Bay Company, that the Nor'-Westers be sent down the Red on
a raft, that this meeting raftify this dissolution, afterwards
moving--seconding--and unanimously amending----"

"Adjourning--you mean," interrupted one of the orator's audience.

"I say," called one, who had been dazed by the splendor, "how do you
tell which is the lookin' glass and which is the window?" And he looked
from the window on one side to its exact reflection, length and width,
directly opposite.

The puzzle was left unsolved; for just then Louis Laplante found a flask
of liquor and speedily divided its contents among the crowd--which was
not calculated to clear up mysteries of windows and mirrors among those
addle-pates. Dull wit may be sport for drunken men, but it is mighty
flat to an onlooker, and I was out of patience with their carousal.

"The governor will be back here presently, Louis," said I.

"Tired of being a tombstone, ha--ha! Better be a champagne bottle!" he
laughed with slightly thickened articulation and increased unsteadiness
in his gait.

"If you don't hide that bottle in your hand, there'll be a big head and
a sore head for you men to-morrow morning." I rose to try and get them
out of the office; but a sober man with tied arms among a drunken crew
is at a disadvantage.

"Ha--old--wise--sh--head! To--be--sh--shure! Whur--d'--y'--hide--it?"

"Throw it out of the window," said I, without the slightest idea of
leading him into mischief.

"Whish--whish--ish--the window, Rufush?" asked Louis imploringly.

The last potion had done its work and Louis was passing from the jovial
to the pensive stage. He would presently reach a mood which might be
ugly enough for a companion in bonds. Was it this prospect, I wonder, or
the mischievous spirit pervading the very air from the time I reached
the ruins that suggested a way out of my dilemma?

"Throw it out of the window," said I, ignoring his question and shoving
him off.

"Whish--ish--the window--dammie?" he asked, holding the bottle
irresolutely and looking in befuddled distraction from side to side of
the room.

"Thur--both--windows--fur as I see," said the man, who had been sober,
but was no longer so.

"Throw it through the back window! Folks comin' in at the door won't see
it."

The red-faced man got up to investigate, and all faith in my plan died
within me; but the lantern light was dusky and the red-faced man could
no longer navigate a course from window to mirror.

"There's a winder there," said he, scratching his head and looking at
the window reflected in perfect proportion on the mirrored surface.

"And there's a winder there," he declared, pointing at the real window.
"They're both winders and they're both lookin'-glasses, for I see us all
in both of them. This place is haunted. Lem-me out!"

"Take thish, then," cried Louis, shoving the bottle towards him and
floundering across to the door to bar the way. "Take thish, or tell me
whish--ish--the window."

"Both winders, I tell you, and both lookin'-glasses," vowed the man. The
other four fellows declined to express an opinion for the very good
reason that two were asleep and two befuddled beyond questioning.

"See here, Louis," I exclaimed, "there's only one way to tell where to
throw that bottle."

"Yesh, Rufush," and he came to me as if I were his only friend on earth.

"The bottle will go through the window and it won't go through the
mirror," I began.

"Dammie--I knew that," he snapped out, ready to weep.

"Well--you undo these things," nodding to the ropes about my arms, "and
I'll find out which opens, and the one that opens is the window, and you
can throw out the bottle."

"The very thing, Rufush, wise--sh--head--old--old--ol' solemncholy," and
he ripped the ropes off me.

Now I offer no excuse for what I did. I could have opened that window
and let myself out some distance ahead of the bottle, without involving
Louis and his gang in greater mischief. What I did was not out of spite
to the governor of a rival company; but mischief, as I said, was in the
very air. Besides, the knaves had delayed me far into midnight, and I
had no scruples about giving each twenty-four hours in the fort
guardroom. I took a precautionary inspection of the window-sash. Yes, I
was sure I could leap through, carrying out sash and all.

"Hurry--ol' tombshtone--governor--sh-comin'," urged Louis.

I made towards the window and fumbled at the sash.

"This doesn't open," said I, which was quite true, for I did not try to
budge it. Then I went across to the mirror. "Neither does this," said I.

"Wha'--wha'--'ll--we do--Rufush?"

"I'll tell you. You can jump through a window but not through a glass.
Now you count--one two--three,"--this to the red-faced man--"and when
you say 'three' I'll give a run and jump. If I fall back, you'll know
it's the mirror, and fling the bottle quick through the other. Ready,
count!"

"One," said the red-faced man.

Louis raised his arm and I prepared for a dash.

"Two!"

Louis brought back his arm to gain stronger sweep.

"Three!"

I gave a leap and made as though I had fallen back. There was the
pistol-shot splintering of bottle and mirror crashing down to the floor.
The window frame gave with a burst, and I was outside rushing past the
sleepy sentinel, who poured out a volley of curses after me.

CHAPTER XXII

A DAY OF RECKONING

As well play pussy-wants-a-corner with a tiger as make-believe war with
an Indian. In both cases the fun may become ghastly earnest with no time
for cry-quits. So it was with the great fur-trading companies at the
beginning of this century. Each held the Indian in subjection and
thought to use him with daring impunity against its rival. And each was
caught in the meshes of its own merry game.

I, as a Nor'-Wester, of course, consider that the lawless acts of the
Hudson's Bay had been for three years educating the natives up to the
tragedy of June 19, 1816. But this is wholly a partisan, opinion.
Certainly both companies have lied outrageously about the results of
their quarrels. The truth is Hudson's Bay and Nor'-Westers were playing
war with the Indian. Consequences having exceeded all calculation, both
companies would fain free themselves of blame.

For instance, it has been said the Hudson's Bay people had no intention
of intercepting the North-West brigade bound up the Red and Assiniboine
for the interior--this assertion despite the fact our rivals had
pillaged every North-West fort that could be attacked. Now I
acknowledge the Nor'-Westers disclaim hostile purpose in the rally of
three hundred _Bois-Brules_ to the Portage; but this sits not well with
the warlike appearance of these armed plain rangers, who sallied forth
to protect the Fort William express. Nor does it agree with the
expectations of the Indian rabble, who flocked on our rear like carrion
birds keen for the spoils of battle. Both companies had--as it
were--leveled and cocked their weapon. To send it off needed but a
spark, and a slight misunderstanding ignited that spark.

My arrival at the Portage had the instantaneous effect of sending two
strong battalions of _Bois-Brules_ hot-foot across country to meet the
Fort William express before it could reach Fort Douglas. They were to
convoy it overland to a point on the Assiniboine where it could be
reshipped. To the second of these parties, I attached myself. I was
anxious to attempt a visit to Hamilton. There was some one else whom I
hoped to find at Fort Douglas; so I refused to rest at the Portage,
though I had been in my saddle almost constantly for twenty days.

When we set out, I confess I did not like the look of things. Those
Indians smeared with paint and decked out with the feathered war-cap
kept increasing to our rear. There were the eagles! Where was the
carcass? The presence of these sinister fellows, hot with the lust of
blood, had ominous significance. Among the half-breeds there was
unconcealed excitement.

Shortly before we struck off the Assiniboine trail northward for the
Red, in order to meet the expected brigade beyond Fort Douglas, some of
our people slipped back to the Indian rabble. When they reappeared, they
were togged out in native war-gear with too many tomahawks and pistols
for the good of those who might interfere with our mission. There was no
misunderstanding the ugly temper of the men. Here, I wish to testify
that explicit orders were given for the forces to avoid passing near
Fort Douglas, or in any way provoking conflict. There was placed in
charge of our division the most powerful plain-ranger in the service of
the company, the one person of all others, who might control the natives
in case of an outbreak--and that man was Cuthbert Grant. Pierre, the
minstrel, and six clerks were also in the party; but what could a
handful of moderate men do with a horde of Indians and Metis wrought up
to a fury of revenge?

"Now, deuce take those rascals! What are they doing?" exclaimed Grant
angrily, as we left the river trail and skirted round a slough of Frog
Plains on the side remote from Fort Douglas. Our forces were following
in straggling disorder. The first battalions of the _Bois-Brules_, which
had already rounded the marsh, were now in the settlement on Red River
bank. It was to them that Grant referred. Commanding a halt and raising
his spy-glass, he took an anxious survey of the foreground.

"There's something seriously wrong," he said. "Strikes me we're near a
powder mine! Here, Gillespie, you look!" He handed the field-glass to
me.

A great commotion was visible among the settlers. Ox-carts packed with
people were jolting in hurried confusion towards Fort Douglas. Behind,
tore a motley throng of men, women and children, running like a
frightened flock of sheep. Whatever the cause of alarm, our men were not
molesting them; for I watched the horsemen proceeding leisurely to the
appointed rendezvous, till the last rider disappeared among the woods of
the river path.

"Scared! Badly scared! That's all, Grant," said I. "You've no idea what
wild stories are going the rounds of the settlement about the
_Bois-Brules_!"

"And you've no idea, young man, what wild stories are going the rounds
of the _Bois-Brules_ about the settlement," was Grant's moody reply.

My chance acquaintance with the Assiniboine encampment had given me some
idea, but I did not tell Grant so.

"Perhaps they've taken a few old fellows prisoners to ensure the fort's
good behavior, while we save our bacon," I suggested.

"If they have, those Highlanders will go to Fort Douglas shining bald as
a red ball," answered the plain-ranger.

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