Part 40 (2/2)

”She is anxious. She naturally pines for female society--though she did not say so until I urged her solemnly to tell me all her mind. And she is right. It is not good for woman, any more than for man, to be alone, and when I am away on these long expeditions--taking the furs to the depot, searching out the Indians, hunting, etcetera,--she is left unavoidably alone. I have felt this very strongly, and that was why, as you know, I had made up my mind during the winter, and written to the governor and council that, as my time had expired, I meant to retire this spring.”

”Yes, boy, I know,” returned Macnab. ”I foresaw all this even long before you began to move in the matter, and I also took steps with a view to contingencies. You know that I am ent.i.tled to a year's furlough this spring. Well, I wrote during the winter to say that I intended to avail myself of it. Now, then, this is what I intend to do. When you retire, and go off to the States, I will go with you on leave of absence. We won't lose time by the way, for you may depend on it that Maxby will not delay his wedding longer than he can help. Fortunately, his old father won't be able to wind up his affairs in England, and set off to Colorado quite as quickly as the son expects, so that will help to delay matters; and thus, though we can hardly expect to be in time for the wedding, we will at least be time enough to claim a revival and extension of the festivities. Then, you know, Big Otter--”

”Aye, what of him?” asked Lumley, seeing that Macnab paused.

”Well, I think we may prevail on him to go with us, as our guide, till we reach the civilised world, after which, we can take him in charge-- turn the tables as it were--and guide him to Sunny Creek.”

”Yes--or send him on in advance of us, through the wood in a straight line, like the swallow, to announce our approach.”

At this point, Jessie, who had been busy with the household bread, came to the door with a face radiant from the combined effect of hard work and happiness.

”What is the subject of all this earnest conversation, Jack?” she asked, pulling down the sleeves that had been tucked up above her elbows.

”Ask your brother, Jess,” said Lumley, rising. ”I shall have time before supper to pay a visit to Big Otter on a matter of some importance.”

He pa.s.sed into the house to take up his gun and powder-horn, while Jessie sat down on the rustic chair, and her brother returned to the subject that had been interrupted.

Now there occurred that afternoon an event which might have put a final and fatal termination to the plans which had just been so eagerly discussed.

I have said that spring was so far advanced at that time, that pools of water were formed on the ice of Lake Wichikagan. The heat which caused these had also the effect of softening the snow in the woods, so as to render walking in snow-shoes very laborious. As walking without them, however, was impossible, Lumley had no other course left than to put them on and plod away heavily through the deep and pasty snow.

Big Otter at that time occupied the important position of hunter to the establishment. He supplied it with fresh meat and dwelt in a small wigwam, about six miles distant from the fort, on the borders of a little lake--little at least for that region, but measuring somewhat over three miles in diameter. He also, for his own advantage and recreation, carried on the business of a trapper, and had that winter supplied many a silver fox and marten to the fur-stores at Wichikagan.

When Lumley set out to visit the chief he knew that there was a possibility of his being out after deer, but in that case he meant to await his arrival, at least until nightfall, and then he could leave a hieroglyphic message, which the Indian would understand, requiring his immediate presence at the fort. In any case Lumley thought nothing of a twelve-mile walk, even though the snow _was_ soft and deep.

Nothing worthy of notice occurred until he reached the lake above-mentioned, on the borders of which he halted. Looking across the bay, on the other side of which the hunter's wigwam stood, he could discern among the pines and willows, the orange-coloured birch-bark of which it was made, but no wreath of blue smoke told of the presence of the hunter.

”H'm! not at home!” muttered Lumley, who then proceeded to debate with himself the propriety of venturing to cross the bay on the ice.

Now, it must be told that ice on the North American lakes becomes exceedingly dangerous at a certain period of spring, for, retaining much of its winter solidity of appearance, and, indeed, much of its winter thickness, it tempts men to venture on it when, in reality, it has become honeycombed and ”rotten.” Ice of this kind--no matter how thick it be,--is p.r.o.ne to give way without any of those friendly cracks and rends and other warnings peculiar to the new ice of autumn, and, instead of giving way in angular cakes, it suddenly slides down, letting a man through to the water, by opening a hole not much larger than himself.

Of course Lumley was well aware of this danger--hence the debate with himself, or rather with his judgment.

”It looks solid enough,” said Lumley.

”Looks are deceptive,” said his judgment.

”Then, it's rather early yet for the ice to have become quite rotten,”

said Lumley.

”So everyone goes on saying, every spring, till some unfortunate loses his life, and teaches others wisdom,” said judgment; ”besides, you're a heavy man.”

”And it is a tremendous long way round by the sh.o.r.e--nearly four times the distance,” murmured Lumley.

”What of that in comparison with the risk you run,” remarked judgment, growing impatient.

<script>