Part 19 (1/2)
”Look! Look!” cried the girl. ”What is he doing?” And watched in horror as the big man charged among the Indians, smas.h.i.+ng, driving and kicking his way through the howling, rum-crazed horde. At every las.h.i.+ng blow of his fist, every kick of his high-laced boot, men went down. Others reeled drunkenly from his path screaming aloud in their fright; while across the open s.p.a.ce in the foreground four or five men could be seen das.h.i.+ng frantically for the protection of the timber.
MacNair ripped the gun from the hand of a reeling Indian and, throwing it to his shoulder, fired. Of those who ran, one dropped, rose to his knees, and sank backward. MacNair fired again, and another crashed forward, and rolled over and over upon the ground.
Lapierre watched with breathless interest while the others gained the shelter of the timber. He wondered whether one of the two men who fell was LeFroy.
”Oh!” cried Chloe in horror. ”He's killing them!”
Lapierre made a swift sign to his paddlers, and the canoe shot behind a low sand-point where, in response to a tense command, the canoemen turned its bow southward; and, for the second time, Chloe Elliston found herself being driven by willing hands southward upon Snare Lake.
”He pounded--and kicked--and beat them!” sobbed the girl hysterically.
”And two of them he killed!”
Lapierre nodded. ”Yes,” he answered sadly, ”and he will kill more of them. It seems that this time they got beyond even his control. For the destruction of his buildings and his goods, he will take his toll in lives and in the sufferings of his Indians.”
While the canoe shot southward through the darkness, Chloe sat huddled upon her blankets. And as she watched the dull-red glow fade from the sky above MacNair's burning fort, her heart cried out for vengeance against this brute of the North.
One hour, two hours, the canoe plowed the black waters of the lake, and then, because men must rest, Lapierre reluctantly gave the order to camp, and the tired canoemen turned the bow sh.o.r.eward.
Hardly had they taken a dozen strokes when the canoe ground sharply against the thin, sh.o.r.e ice. There was the sound of ripping bark, where the knifelike edge of the ice tore through the side of the frail craft. Water gushed in, and Lapierre, stifling a curse that rose to his lips, seized a paddle, and leaning over the bow began to chop frantically at the ice. Two of the canoemen with their paddles held her head on, while the other two, with the help of Chloe and Big Lena endeavoured to stay the inrush of water with blankets and fragments of clothing.
Progress was slow. The ice thickened as they neared the sh.o.r.e, and Lapierre's paddle-blade, battered upon its point and edges to a soft, fibrous pulp, thudded softly upon the ice without breaking it. He threw the paddle overboard and seized another. A few more yards were won, but the sh.o.r.e loomed black and forbidding, and many yards away.
Despite the utmost efforts of the women and the two canoemen, the water gained rapidly. Lapierre redoubled his exertion, chopping and stabbing at the ever thickening sh.o.r.e-ice. And then suddenly his paddle crashed through, and with a short cry of relief he rose to his feet, and leaped into the black water, where he sank only to his middle. The canoemen followed. And the canoe, relieved of the bulk of its burden, floated more easily.
Slowly they pushed sh.o.r.eward through the shallow water, the men breaking the ice before them. And a few minutes later, wet and chilled to the bone, they stepped onto the gravel.
Within the shelter of a small thicket a fire was built, and while the men returned to examine the damaged canoe, the two women wrung out their dripping garments and, returning them wet, huddled close to the tiny blaze. The men returned to the fire, where a meal was prepared and eaten in silence. As he ate, Chloe noticed that Lapierre seemed ill at ease.
”Did you repair the canoe?” she asked. The man shook his head.
”No. It is damaged beyond any thought of repair. We removed the food and such of its contents as are necessary, and, loading it with rocks, sank it in the lake.”
”Sank it in the lake!” cried the girl in amazement.
”Yes,” answered Lapierre. ”For even if it were not damaged, it would be of no further use to us. Tonight the lake will freeze.”
”What are we going to do?” cried the girl.
”There is only one thing to do,” answered Lapierre quickly. ”Walk to the school. It is not such a long trail--a hundred miles or so. And you can take it easy. You have plenty of provisions.”
”I!” cried the girl. ”And what will you do?”
”It is necessary,” answered the man, ”that I should make a forced march.”
”You are going to leave me?”
Lapierre smiled at the evident note of alarm in her voice. ”I am going to take two of the canoemen and return in all haste to your school. Do you realize that MacNair, now that he has lost his winter provisions, will stop at nothing to obtain more?”
”He would not dare!” cried the girl, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng.
Lapierre laughed. ”You do not know MacNair. You, personally, he would not venture to molest. He will doubtless try to buy supplies from you or from the Hudson Bay Company. But, in the meantime, while he is upon this errand, his Indians, with no one to hold them in check, and knowing that the supplies are in your storehouse, will swoop down upon it, and your own Indians, without a leader, will fall an easy prey to the hungry horde.”