time was when fort douglas rang as loudly with mirth of assembled traders as ever fort william's council hall. often have i heard veterans of the hudson's bay service relate how the master of revels used to fill an ample jar with corn and quaff a beaker of liquor for every grain in the drinker's hour-glass.
"how stands the hour-glass?" the governor of the feast, who was frequently also the governor of the company, would roar out in stentorian tones, that made themselves heard above the drunken brawl.
"high, your honor, high," some flunkey of the drinking bout would bawl back.
thereupon, another grain was picked from the jar, another flagon tossed down and the revel went on. this was a usual occurrence before and after the conflict with the nor'-westers. but the night that i climbed the stairs of the main warehouse and, mustering up assurance, stepped into the hall as if i belonged to the fort, or the fort belonged to me, there was a different scene. a wounded man lay on a litter at the end of the long, low room; and the traders sitting on the[pg 164] benches against the walls, or standing aimlessly about, were talking in suppressed tones. scotchmen, driven from their farms by the bois-brulés, hung around in anxious groups. the lanterns, suspended on iron hooks from mid-rafter, gave but a dusky light, and i vainly scanned many faces for eric hamilton. that he was wounded, i knew. i was stealing stealthily towards the stretcher at the far end of the place, when a deep voice burred rough salutation in my ear.
"hoo are ye, gillie?" it was a shaggy-browed, bluff scotchman, who evidently took me in my tartan disguise for a highland lad. whether he meant, "how are you," or "who are you," i was not certain. afraid my tongue might betray me, i muttered back an indistinct response. the scot was either suspicious, or offended by my churlishness. i slipped off quickly to a dark corner, but i saw him eying me closely. a youth brushed past humming a ditty, which seemed strangely out of place in those surroundings. he stood an elbow's length from me and kicked moccasined heels against the floor in the way of light-headed lads. both the air and figure of the young fellow vaguely recalled somebody, but his back was towards me. i was measuring my comrade, wondering if i might inquire where hamilton could be found, when the lad turned, and i was face to face with the whiskered babe of fort william. he gave a long, low whistle.
"gad!" he gasped. "do my eyes tell lies? as i live, 'tis your very self! hang it, now, i[pg 165] thought you were one of those solid bodies wouldn't do any turn-coating——"
"turn-coating!" i repeated in amazement.
"one of those dray-horse, old reliables, wouldn't kick over the traces, not if the boss pumped his arms off licking you! hang it! i'm not that sort! by gad, i'm not! i've got too many oats! i can't stand being jawed and gee-hawed by dunc. cameron; so when the old gov. threatened to dock me for being full, i just kicked up my heels and came. but say! i didn't think you would, gillespie!"
"no?" said i, keeping my own counsel and waiting for the nor'-west deserter to proceed.
"what 'd y' do it for, gillespie? you're as sober as cold water! was it old cameron?"
"you're not talking straight, babe," said i. "you know cameron doesn't nag his men. what did you do it for?"
"eh?" and the lad gave a laugh over my challenge of his veracity. "see here, old pal, i'll tell you if you tell me."
"go ahead with your end of the contract!"
"well, then, look here. we're not in this wilderness for glory. i knock down to the highest bidder——"
"hudson's bay is not the highest bidder."
"not unless you happen to have information they want."
"oh! that's the way of it, is it?" so the boy was selling nor'-westers' secrets.
"you can bet your last beaver-skin it is! do[pg 166] you think i was old cam's private secretary for nothin'? not i! i say—get your wares as you may and sell 'em to the highest bidder. so here i am, snugly berthed, with nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs, all through judicious—distribution—of—information." and the boy gurgled with pleasure over his own cleverness. "and say, gillespie, i'm in regular clover! the little statue's here, all alone! dad's gone to pembina to the buffalo hunt. i've got ahead of all you fellows. i'm going to introduce a french-chap, a friend of mine."
"you'd much better break his bones," was my advice. it needed no great speculation to guess who the frenchman was; and in the hands of that crafty rake this prattling babe would be as putty.
"pah! you're jealous, gillespie! we're right on the inside track!"
"lots of confidential talks with her, i suppose?"
"talks! pah! you gross fatty! why, gillespie, what do you know of such things? laplante can win a girl by just looking at her—french way, you know—he can pose better than a poem!"
"blockhead," i ground out between my teeth, a feeling taking possession of me, which is designated "indignation" in the first person but jealousy in the second and third. "you stupid simpleton, that laplante is a villain who will turn your addled pate and work you as an old wife kneads dough."[pg 167]
"what do you know about laplante?" he demanded hotly.
"i know he is an accomplished blackguard," i answered quietly, "and if you want to spoil your chances with the little statue, just prance round in his company."
the lad was too much surprised to speak.
"where's hamilton?" i asked.
"find him for yourself," said he, going off in a huff.
i edged cautiously near enough the wounded man to see that he was not hamilton. near the litter was a group of clerks.
"they're fools," one clerk was informing the others. "cameron sent word he'd have mcdonell dead or alive. if he doesn't give himself up, this fort'll go and the whole settlement be massacred."
"been altogether too high-handed anyway," answered another. "i'm loyal to my company; but lord selkirk can't set up a military despotism here. been altogether better if we'd left the nor'-westers alone."
"it's all the fault of that cocky little martinet," declared a third.
"i say," exclaimed a man joining the group, "d' y' hear the news? all the chiefs in there—" jerking his thumb towards a side door—"are advising captain mcdonell to give himself up and save the fort."
"good thing. who'll miss him? he'll only get a free trip to montreal," remarked one of the[pg 168] aggressives in this group. "i tell you, men, both companies have gone a deal too far in this little slap-back game to be keen for legal investigation. why, at souris, everybody knows——"
he lowered his voice and i unconsciously moved from my dark corner to hear the rest.
"hoo are ye, gillie?" said the burly scot in my ear.
turning, i found the canny swain had followed me on an investigating tour. again i gave him an inarticulate reply and lost myself among other coteries. was the man spying on me? i reflected that if "the chiefs"—as the hudson's bay man had called them—were in the side room, eric hamilton would be among these conferring with the governor. as i approached the door, i noticed my scotch friend had taken some one into his confidence and two men were now on my tracks. lifting the latch, i gave a gentle, cautious push and the hinges swung so quietly i had slipped into the room before those inside or out could prevent me. i found myself in the middle of a long apartment with low, sloping ceiling, and deep window recesses. it had evidently been partitioned off from the main hall; for the wall, ceiling and floor made an exact triangle. at one end of the place was a table. round this was a group of men deeply engrossed in some sort of conference. sitting on the window sills and lounging round the box stove behind the table were others of our rival's service. i saw at once it would be difficult to have access[pg 169] to hamilton. he was lying on a stretcher within talking range of the table and had one arm in a sling. now, i hold it is harder for the unpractised man to play the spy with everything in his favor, than for the adept to act that rôle against the impossible. one is without the art that foils detection. the other can defy detection. so i stood inside with my hand on the door lest the click of the closing latch should rouse attention, but had no thought of prying into hudson's bay secrets.
"your honor," began hamilton in a lifeless manner, which told me his search had been bootless, and he turned languidly towards a puffy, crusty, military gentleman, whom, from the respect shown him, i judged to be governor mcdonell. "duncan cameron's warrant for the arrest is perfectly legal. if your honor should surrender yourself, you will save fort douglas for the hudson's bay company. besides, the whole arrest will prove a farce. the law in lower canada provides no machinery for the trial of cases occurring——" here hamilton came to a blank and unexpected stop, for his eyes suddenly alighted on me with a look that forbade recognition, and fled furtively back to the group it the table. i understood and kept silent.
"for the trial of cases occurring?" asked the governor sharply.
"occurring—here," added hamilton, shooting out the last word as if his arm had given him a sudden twinge. "and so i say, your honor[pg 170] will lose nothing by giving yourself up to the nor'-westers, and will save fort douglas for the hudson's bay."
"the doctor tells me it's a compound fracture. you'll find it painful, mr. hamilton," said governor mcdonell sympathetically, and he turned to the papers over which the group were conferring. "i'm no great hand in winning victories by showing the white flag," began the gallant captain, "but if a free trip from here to montreal satisfies those fools, i'll go."
"well said! bravo! your honor," exclaimed a shaggy member of the council, bringing his fist down on the table with a thud. "i call that diplomacy, outmanœuvring the enemy! your honor sets an example for abiding by the law; you obey the warrant. they must follow the example and leave fort douglas alone."
"besides, i can let his lordship know from montreal just what reinforcements are needed here," continued captain mcdonell, with a curious disregard for the law which he professed to be obeying, and a faithful zeal for lord selkirk.
hamilton was looking anxiously at me with an expression of warning which i could not fully read. then i felt, what every one must have felt at some time, that a third person was watching us both. following eric's glance to a dark window recess directly opposite the door where i stood, i was horrified and riveted by the beady, glistening, insolent eyes of louis laplante,[pg 171] gazing out of the dusk with an expression of rakish amusement, the amusement of a spider when a fly walks into its web. taken unawares i have ever been more or less of what mr. jack mackenzie was wont to call "a stupid loon!" on discovering laplante i promptly sustained my reputation by letting the door fly to with a sharp click that startled the whole room-full. whereat louis laplante gave a low, soft laugh.
"what do you want here, man?" demanded governor mcdonell's sharp voice.
jerking off my cap, i saluted.
"my man, your honor," interjected eric quietly. "come here, rufus," he commanded, motioning me to his side with the hauteur of a master towards a servant. and louis laplante rose and tip-toed after me with a tigerish malice that recalled the surly squaw.
"oh, eric!" i cried out eagerly. "are you hurt, and at such a time?" unconsciously i was playing into louis' hands, for he stood by the stove, laughing nonchalantly.
thereupon eric ground out some imprecation at my stupidity.
"there's been a shuffling of allegiance, i hear," he said with a queer misleading look straight at laplante. "we've recruits from fort gibraltar."
eric's words, curiously enough, banished triumph from laplante's face and the frenchman's expression was one of puzzled suspicion. from eric's impassive features, he could read nothing. what hamilton was driving at, i should presently[pg 172] learn; but to find out i would no more take my eyes from laplante's than from a tiger about to spring. at once, to get my attention, hamilton brought a stick down on my toes with a sharpness that made me leap. by all the codes of nudges and kicks and such signaling, it is a principle that a blow at one end of human anatomy drives through the density of the other extremity. it dawned on me that eric was trying to persuade laplante i had deserted nor'-westers for the hudson's bay. the ethics of his attempt i do not defend. it was after the facile fashion of an intriguing era. a sharper weapon was presently given us against louis laplante; for when i grasped eric's stick to stay the raps against my feet, i felt the handle rough with carving.
"what are these carvings, may i inquire, sir?" i asked, assuming the strangeness, which eric's signals had directed, but never moving my eyes from laplante. the villain who had befooled me in the gorge and eluded me in the forest, and now tormented frances sutherland, winced under my watchfulness.
"the carvings!" answered eric, annoyed that i did not return his plain signals and determined to get my eye. "pray look for yourself! where are your eyes?"
"i can't see in this poor light, sir; but i also have a strangely carved thing—a spear-head. now if this head has no handle and this handle has no head—they might fit," i went on watching[pg 173] laplante, whose saucy assurance was deserting him.
"spear-head!" exclaimed hamilton, beginning to understand i too had my design. "where did you find it?"
"trying to bury itself in my head." i returned. at this, laplante, the knave, smiled graciously in my very face.
"but it didn't succeed?" asked hamilton.
"no—it mistook me for a tree, missed the mark and went into the tree; just as another friend of mine mistook me for a tree, hit the mark and ran into me," and i smiled back at laplante. his face clouded. that reference to the scene on the beach, where his hudson's bay despatches were stolen, was too much for his hot blood. "here it is," i continued, pulling the spear-head out of my plaid. i had brought it to hamilton, hoping to identify our enemy, and we did. "please see if they fit, sir? we might identify our—friends!" and i searched the furtive, guilty eyes of the frenchman.
"dat frien'," muttered louis with a threatening look at me, "dat frien' of mister hamilton he spike good english for scot' youth."
now louis, as i remembered from laval days, never mixed his english and french, except when he was in passion furious beyond all control.
"fit!" cried hamilton. "they're a perfect fit, and both carved the same, too."
"with what?"
"eagles," answered eric, puzzled at my drift,[pg 174] and louis laplante wore the last look of the tiger before it springs.
"and eagles," said i, defying the spring, "signify that both the spear-head and the spear-handle belong to the sioux chief whose daughter"—and i lowered my voice to a whisper which only laplante and hamilton could hear—"is married—to le—grand—diable!"
"what!" came hamilton's low cry of agony. forgetting the fractured arm, he sprang erect.
and louis laplante staggered back in the dark as if we had struck him.
"laplante! laplante! where's that frenchman? bring him up here!" called governor mcdonell's fussy, angry tones.
coming when it did, this demand was to louis a bolt of judgment; and he joined the conference with a face as gray as ashes.
"now about those stolen despatches! we want to know the truth! were you drunk, or were you not? who has them?" captain mcdonell arraigned the frenchman with a fire of questions that would have confused any other culprit but louis.
"eric," i whispered, taking advantage of the respite offered by louis' examination. "we found laplante at pointe a la croix. he was drunk. he confessed miriam is held by diable's squaw. then we discovered someone was listening to the confession and pursued the eavesdropper into the bush. when we came back, laplante had been carried off. i found one of[pg 175] my canoemen had your lost fowling-piece, and it was he who had listened and carried off the drunk sot and tried to send that spear-head into me at the sault. 'twas diable, eric! father holland, a priest in our company, told me of the white woman on lake winnipeg. did you find this—" indicating the spear handle—"there?"
eric, cold, white and trembling, only whispered an affirmative.
"was that all?"
"all," he answered, a strange, fierce look coming over his face, as the full import of my news forced home on him. "was—was—laplante—in that?" he asked, gripping my arm in his unwounded hand with foreboding force.
"not that we know of. only diable. but louis is friendly with the sioux, and if we only keep him in sight we may track them."
"i'll—keep—him—in sight," muttered hamilton in low, slow words.
"hush, eric!" i whispered. "if we harm him, he may mislead us. let us watch him and track him!"
"he's asking leave to go trapping in the sioux country. can you go as trader for your people? to the buffalo hunt first, then, south? i'll watch here, if he stays; you, there, if he goes, and he shall tell us all he knows or—"
"hush, man," i urged. "listen!"
"where," governor mcdonell was thundering at laplante, "where are the parties that stole those despatches?"[pg 176]
the question brought both hamilton and myself to the table. we went forward where we could see laplante's face without being seen by his questioners.
"if i answer, your honor," began the frenchman, taking the captain's bluster for what it was worth and holding out doggedly for his own rights, "i'll be given leave to trap with the sioux?"
"certainly, man. speak out."
"the parties—that stole—those despatches," laplante was answering slowly. at this stage he looked at his interlocutor as if to question the sincerity of the guarantee and he saw me standing screwing the spear-head on the tell-tale handle. i patted the spear-head, smiled blandly back, and with my eyes dared him to go on. he paused, bit his lip and flushed.
"no lies, no roguery, or i'll have you at the whipping-post," roared the governor. "speak up. where are the parties?"
"near about here," stammered louis, "and you may ask your new turn-coat."
i was betrayed! betrayed and trapped; but he should not go free! i would have shouted out, but hamilton's hand silenced me.
"here!" exclaimed the astounded governor. "go call that young nor'-wester! if he backs up y'r story, he was cameron's secretary, you can go to the buffalo hunt."
that response upset louis' bearings. he had expected the governor would refer to me; but[pg 177] the command let him out of an awkward place and he darted from the room, as hamilton and i supposed,—simpletons that we were with that rogue!—to find the young nor'-wester. this turn of affairs gave me my chance. if the young nor'-wester and laplante came together, my disguise as highlander and turn-coat would be stripped from me and i should be trapped indeed.
"good-by, old boy!" and i gripped hamilton's hand. "if he stays, he's your game. when he goes, he's mine. good luck to us both! you'll come south when you're better."
then i bolted through the main hall thinking to elude the canny scots, but saw both men in the stairway waiting to intercept me. when i ran down a flight of side stairs, they dashed to trap me at the gate. at the doorway a man lounged against me. the lantern light fell on a pointed beard. it was laplante, leaning against the wall for support and shaking with laughter.
"you again, old tombstone! whither away so fast?" and he made to hold me. "i'm in a hurry myself! my last night under a roof, ha! ha! wait till i make my grand farewell! we both did well, did the grand, ho! ho! but i must leave a fair demoiselle!"
"let go," and i threw him off.
"take that, you ramping donkey, you anglo-saxon animal," and he aimed a kick in my direction. though i could ill spare the time to do it, i turned. all the pent-up strength, from the walk[pg 178] with frances sutherland rushed into my clenched fist and louis laplante went down with a thud across the doorway. there was the sish-rip of a knife being thrust through my boot, but the blade broke and i rushed past the prostrate form.
certain of waylaying me, the scots were dodging about the gate; but by running in the shadow of the warehouse to the rear of the court, i gave both the slip. i had no chance to reconnoitre, but dug my hunting-knife into the stockade, hoisted myself up the wooden wall, got a grip of the top and threw myself over, escaping with no greater loss than boots pulled off before climbing the palisade, and the highland cap which stuck fast to a picket as i alighted below. at dawn, bootless and hatless, i came in sight of fort gibraltar and father holland, who was scanning the prairie for my return, came running to greet me.
"the tip-top o' the mornin' to the renegade! i thought ye'd been scalped—and so ye have been—nearly—only they mistook y'r hat for the wool o' y'r crown. boots gone too! out wid your midnight pranks."
a succession of welcoming thuds accompanied the tirade. as breath returned, i gasped out a brief account of the night.
"and now," he exclaimed triumphantly, "i have news to translate ye to a sivinth hiven! och! but it's clane cracked ye'll be when ye hear it. now, who's appointed to trade with the buffalo hunters but y'r very self?"[pg 179]
it was with difficulty i refrained from embracing the bearer of such good tidings.
"be easy," he commanded. "ye'll need these demonstrations, i'm thinkin'—huntin' one lass and losin' y'r heart to another."
we arranged he should go to fort douglas for frances sutherland and i was to set out later. they were to ride along the river-path south of the forks where i could join them. i, myself, picked out and paid for two extra horses, one a quiet little cayuse with ambling action, the other, a muscular broncho. i had the satisfaction of seeing father holland mounted on the latter setting out for fort douglas, while the indian pony wearing an empty side-saddle trotted along in tow.
the information i brought back from fort douglas delayed any more hostile demonstrations against the hudson's bay. that very morning, before i had finished breakfast, governor mcdonell rode over to fort gibraltar, and on condition that fort douglas be left unmolested gave himself up to the nor'-westers. at noon, when i was riding off to the buffalo hunt and the missouri, i saw the captain, smiling and debonair, embarking—or rather being embarked—with north-west brigades, to be sent on a free trip two thousand five hundred miles to montreal.
"a safe voyage to ye," said duncan cameron, commander of nor'-westers, as the ex-governor of red river settled himself in a canoe. "a safe voyage to ye, mon!"[pg 180]
"and a prosperous return," was the ironical answer of the dauntless ruler over the hudson's bay.
"sure now, rufus," said father holland to me a year afterwards, "'twas a prosperous return he had!"
fortunately, i had my choice of scouts, and, by dangling the prospects of a buffalo hunt before la robe noire and little fellow, tempted them to come with me.
