Part 26 (1/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration: KNEELING BESIDE IT, THE LAD BOWED HIS HEAD AS IF IN SILENT PRAYER. Page 269.]

By this means the closely-swathed body was gently lowered into its last resting-place, and gathering up the axes and his rifle, La Salle followed to a.s.sist in in the final rites of sepulture. Regnar pointed to the centre of the floor.

”That will furnish a pedestal which would befit the sarcophagus of a king.”

Among the irregular mounds formed by the dripping of water from the roof above, was an ice stalagmite, about five feet high, and seven feet in length, broad at the base, but rapidly narrowing to a sharp point.

Attacking this with his axe, Regnar soon split off the point, and commenced hewing the stalagmite down to a uniform height of about two feet. La Salle a.s.sisted, and in the course of twenty minutes they had formed a snowy pedestal, whose irregular outline bore no small resemblance to that of the burden it was to sustain. Regnar cleared away the ice-chips, hurling the larger shards to an obscure corner, and carrying the smaller ones in his reversed fur cap.

At last the work was completed to his satisfaction; and motioning to La Salle, he cast off the las.h.i.+ngs, and raising the body, they placed it on the pedestal of ice. Drawing the long, slender dagger from its sheath, Regnar pierced several holes through the corners of the pedestal, and with the tough cords of raw hide lashed the body firmly to its spotless support; then kneeling beside it, the lad bowed his head as if in silent prayer. La Salle followed his example.

For a moment or two he heard nothing but the ripple and plash of the ice-brook descending the side of the berg fifty yards away; but with the burial of his enemy, the lad's self-control had deserted him, and he burst into a pa.s.sionate outbreak of sobs and tears.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XX.

A STRANGE LIFE-HISTORY.--AMONG THE RED INDIANS.

La Salle had been, as we have said, displeased and disgusted, as well as puzzled, by much which had occurred; but his heart melted when he realized the sorrow and suffering, which, in spite of unusual self-restraint, was thus laid bare before him. He threw one arm around the boy's neck, and gently pressed his hand.

”Forgive me, Regnar, if I have been unkind. I will be your friend if you desire it. Confide in me, and I will try to a.s.sist you, if you need aid or counsel.”

”You are kind, very kind, Charley; and perhaps I have been wrong in not trusting more in you heretofore. There is no time, however, like the present, and no more secret and fitting place than this burial-grot of the cause of all my sorrow.”

REGNAR'S HISTORY.

”My father was a Danish youth of good parentage, whose strange and roving predilections sent him early in manhood to an outlying station in the north of Greenland, where, between his books and the wild life of that savage coast, he pa.s.sed several years, until his unpleasant relations with the Danish officials made a change desirable, and he sought the Moravian settlements on the Labrador coast.

”He had plenty of money, and soon became well known along the coast, which he searched thoroughly in his trading schooner, doing a brisk business in furs, seal-oil, and skins, and at the same time making frequent metallurgical discoveries and adventurous exploring expeditions. It was said that no man on the coast knew so much of the topography of Labrador, between Hamilton Inlet and the Gulf of St.

Lawrence, and a strange adventure opened to him new and startling experiences in the northern central portion of Newfoundland, then, as now, almost a _terra incognita_.

”Twenty years ago he made his last voyage down the coast, attended by the man who lies yonder, an American, named Perry, a native of Baltimore, who, it afterwards transpired, fled from that city, having killed an opponent in a political quarrel.

”Albert Perry was well educated, bold, and politic, and he formed a friends.h.i.+p with my father which ended only with life, and, as I believe, served him but too faithfully through good and ill, until death broke the bond between two men who were not fitted to lead the comparatively calm, eventless life which the laws of society, and the wants of the many prescribe to all; under penalty of social ostracism to the few who scorn to be fettered by a mult.i.tude of social conventionalities.

”With this man as mate, and a crew of four Esquimaux, my father found himself, in July, in one of the little harbors, on the Newfoundland sh.o.r.e, of the Straits of Belle Isle. The night was dark, but calm, and at about ten he retired, to be awakened an hour later by Perry.

”'Come on deck, captain; there's something going on up in the mountains yonder that I cannot make out.'

”My father, already half dressed, was soon upon deck, and found the whole crew on the after-deck, gazing eagerly at the hills, which, covered with forest, surrounded the low land at the head of the bay.

Near the summit of the highest, a fire of large size had been kindled, and lit up the dark sky above it, and the tops of the surrounding trees, with a deep crimson glow, while from time to time unearthly and savage cries were borne on the night air to the ears of the wondering voyagers.

”'Have you any idea what that means, captain?' asked the American.

”'What do you say, Krasippe?' said my father, addressing a huge-shouldered Esquimaux, grizzled and scarred, who had followed his fortunes from Greenland, and knew all the lore of his wandering brethren of the Labrador coast.

”'Me tink it red Injin. Have dance; deer now come north. Marcus Jungsten, down at Hopedale, tell me he see such ting five year ago.'