'Come awa', men,' he said to his companions. 'We'll na give o'er till we've searched the place throughout. Lead awa', Dour, gude dog.'
The clever collie needed no second bidding. He had been very impatiently awaiting the conclusion of the colloquy at the factor's, and now bounded across the open space between the different buildings, making straight for the fur-house.
By this time, several of the inmates of the fort had gathered, curious as to what was up, and, had Mr. Macrae been alone, their sinister looks might well have made him anxious concerning his own safety.
But his only thought was for Hector, and the grave, sinewy men by his side, though few in numbers, were not the kind to invite hasty attack; so, paying no heed to threatening looks or menacing utterances, the little party reached the door of the fur-house.
Upon this, Mr. Macrae struck hard with his pistol-butt, calling out: 'Hector, laddie, are ye there?'
Instantly there came back from the interior a muffled cry of joy, and the faint words: 'Father! oh, father! is that you?'
There was a stout padlock fastening the door, but Mr. Macrae quickly prised this off, and tore the door open. Out of the interior darkness rushed Hector and flung himself, half-sobbing, into his father's arms.
Andrew returned the embrace warmly, and then asked in a tone of surprise and concern: 'Was no' Dandy with you?'
'Why no, father!' replied Hector. 'The man that shut me up took both Dour and Dandy away with him.'
'Then we maun find the dog,' was the resolute rejoinder. 'Here, Dour, gude dog, call Dandy.' Without a moment's hesitation, the well-trained creature poured forth a volley of barks that meant as plainly as possible, 'Dandy, where are you? Tell us.'
'Now listen, friends, for the answer,' said Mr. Macrae, with a grim smile.
There was no doubt about the response, for out of the surrounding gloom burst a chorus of canine music that fairly made the welkin ring, and how Dandy's particular contribution could be distinguished seemed a hopeless problem.
But Mr. Macrae waited silently until the commotion had somewhat subsided, and then, pointing to the northern end of the enclosure, said confidently: 'There's whaur they've got Dandy.'
Dour evidently approved of their going thither, and presently, turning the corner of one of the most remote buildings, they found the object of their search, half-strangled in his frantic efforts to break the thong that held him fast.
'God be thanked—we've found all three, and they're nane the waur of it,' said Mr. Macrae, in a tone of fervent gratitude; and then, his voice changing to righteous indignation, 'by the morn we'll find out why this was done to ma laddie, and who did it.'
With the morn, however, came strange and startling events, that caused Hector's peculiar experience to be entirely forgotten. To understand these aright, a little explanation is necessary. Although the great Hudson's Bay Company claimed full ownership of the North-West, their right to this vast wilderness was vigorously disputed by a company formed in Lower Canada and called the North-West Fur Company. The rivalry between the two companies for control of the fur-trade was intense and unscrupulous. They resorted to all sorts of stratagems to injure each other, and wherever one built a fort, the other soon established a second within sight. Often their employees, made wild with strong drink, broke out into open violence and many lives were lost, and a number of forts sacked and burned in the course of the bitter struggle.
Now, the Nor-Westers, as they were called for short, regarded the advent of the Scotch folk with lively animosity. They suspected it to be a shrewd device of their rivals to get a firmer grip upon the country. The new-comers would not be rovers like themselves, but settlers, who would build houses, and till the rich soil, and multiply in numbers until they became a power in the land.
This far-seeing scheme must be nipped in the bud, and forthwith they set themselves to do it.
The strange part of the whole affair was that they ran slight risk of interference with their nefarious design from their hated rivals, for the employees of the Hudson's Bay Company, although, of course, they would take no part against the immigrants, were little more in favour of their coming than the Nor-Westers. They did not want the country settled. They had much rather it should remain a hunters' paradise, and they were not disposed to lift a finger on behalf of the newcomers.
The first morning after the settlers' arrival seemed full of kindly promise. Summer was just giving way to autumn. The prairie air was clear and bracing without being too cool. The sun shone from an azure sky upon a vast expanse of golden-hued turf almost as level as a floor, that only required to be turned over by the plough to be ready for fall seeding.
The hardy Scotch folk, accustomed to the rocky uplands and stony meadows of their 'ain countree,' looked with wonder and delight at the rich inheritance into which they had come.
'Eh, mon! but it's grand, grand!' ejaculated Saunders Rowan, in a tone of unqualified appreciation. He was the senior member of the party, and had been rather given to 'croaking,' but this glorious morning his doubts and fears were all dispelled.
The women busied themselves preparing the morning meal, while the children and dogs romped and rolled joyously in the rich, soft grass. It was altogether a pretty picture, that seemed to be a happy augury of the good times in store.
Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, this scene of gladness and peace changed to one of terror and strife. With no more warning than if they had risen out of the ground itself, there charged down upon the defenceless settlers a band of Indians in full war paint, mounted upon their piebald ponies, armed with spears, bows, arrows, and guns, which weapons they brandished fiercely, while they gave their awful war-whoop with all the power of their lungs.
Crying to their children, and gathering them close, as the mother hen does her chickens at sight of a hawk, the women huddled together in a panic-stricken group, while the doughty dogs faced the enemy with flashing teeth and threatening growls, and the men rushed to snatch up their guns, or anything else that might serve as an effective weapon.
For a moment it seemed as if blood must be shed. The Indians seemed ripe for mischief and the stalwart Scots were determined to defend their dear ones to the last extremity.
But before a blow was struck, the band, at a signal from their leader, brought their horses to a halt, and ceased their hideous howlings. The leader then drew out from his mob of followers, and holding up his hands in token of his wish to parley, asked in broken English for the chief man of the strangers.
There was at first some hesitancy among the Scots at replying to this. They had never formally chosen a leader, although, naturally, some of the men had shown themselves stronger and shrewder than others. Presently all eyes turned towards Andrew Macrae. No man was fitter by appearance or sagacity to be their spokesman, and, in response to their unmistakable choice, he stepped forward.
'I'm but one of our little company, yet if ye'll tell me what ye mean by a' this claverin' and scarin' peaceable folk, I'm ready to talk wi' ye.'
The Indian leader straightened up in his saddle. The stern, stalwart Scotsman was no antagonist to be trifled with, and his first intention of using the ready wit for which he had a reputation, to bait the strangers for the amusement of his followers, before proceeding to rougher measures, underwent a change. Such a man needed to be dealt with in a different fashion. Accordingly, assuming as much dignity as he could command, he began to explain what the alarming demonstration meant.
His speech was a strange jargon compounded of English, French and Indian words that would have sorely puzzled poor Mr. Macrae, were it not helped out by a vigorous pantomime, that enabled him to follow the drift of it, after a fashion.
The purport was serious enough, and his normally grave countenance grew graver still as the meaning became clearer to him.
In brief, it was an order to quit! Having at last reached their haven, after so long and perilous a journey over sea and land, they were summarily commanded to depart, and that without delay.
At first, Mr. Macrae refused to credit his own intelligence. The idea was too appalling, and in his slow, deliberate way he made the Indian leader repeat and reiterate his sinister communication.
Then, calling aside the seniors of his party, who had all been watching the parley with intent, anxious faces, he told them the startling truth.
Naturally enough, they likewise were at the outset incredulous, and stirred to righteous wrath. What had this howling mob of painted and befeathered Indians to do with them? They were not the lords of the land now, whatever they might have been before the coming of the white man. Lord Selkirk was the rightful owner of the broad, rich acres to which they had made so painful a pilgrimage, and they, the settlers, were the possessors in his name. Not one step would they budge. They had come to stay.
All this, and more, Mr. Macrae repeated to the Indian leader with the utmost emphasis, but he might as well have spared his breath.
'Non—no—non!' the fellow responded in his hybrid jargon. 'Must go way. No stay here. No food, no fire, no tepee. Go way down there,' and he pointed due south.
While this parley was proceeding, the other members of his party had been quietly forming a circle about the band of settlers, drawing steadily closer until they were almost within touch of them. As it happened, little Ailie, her first fright having passed off, grew interested in the gay trappings of the Indians, and, ere her mother noticed, sidled towards one of them, in order to touch the feathers that adorned his leggings.
She was just beside his stirrup, when, with a quick movement, he reached down, grasped her under the arms, and swung her up before him, saying, in what was meant to be a soothing tone:
'Ma jolie petite. You like ride—eh?' Ailie gave a scream of terror, that reached the ears of her mother and Hector at the same moment. The former stood transfixed, but Hector, whose position was somewhat behind the Indian, with the spring of a panther reached the pony's withers, and the next moment had the Indian's throat tightly clasped in his strong young hand.
The pony, frightened by the sudden addition of a second rider, at once began to buck and rear, so that even its expert owner could hardly retain his seat, doubly hampered as he was, holding Ailie, and being held by Hector.
Noting his predicament, his companions closed in upon him to give him help, and just at that moment Mrs. Macrae, her comely countenance aflame with maternal anger, darted into their midst, and reaching up, caught Ailie in her arms, crying: 'Ma bonnie bairn! Are ye hurt?' The Indian let go his burden readily enough, and turned to attack Hector.
But the latter was too quick for him. He had seen his mother's action, and the instant Ailie was safely in her arms, he let go of the Indian's throat, and threw himself to the ground, narrowly escaping being trampled upon by the ponies of the nearest Indians.
The whole thing happened so quickly that many of both parties saw nothing of it but the excitement it occasioned, and, for the moment, there was a complete break-up of the parley between Mr. Macrae and the Indian leader.
When order was in some measure restored, and Mr. Macrae had assured himself that neither of his children was in any wise injured, he once more gave attention to the serious situation which had so unexpectedly presented itself.
With considerable difficulty he made the Indian understand that he must have time to consider his astounding communication, and to consult with the other men of his party. To this the fellow, with much show of reluctance, at last consented, and a gruff command sent the whole cavalcade cantering off to a little distance, where they dismounted, and, squatting upon the turf in a sort of circle, proceeded to light their pipes, and talk in guttural tones of what had happened.
The Scots, that is to say the older men of the party, now gathered in a little knot, their countenances grown suddenly haggard, for they all realized that they were face to face with a crisis more menacing than anything they had previously encountered.
''Tis unco strange. I canna understand it at all,' said Mr. Macrae. 'Noo that we are come here after sae great trouble they say we canna bide, but maun gang away doon to the States, where we dinna want to be.'
'Let us gang ower to the fort there,' suggested Saunders, pointing to the Hudson's Bay fort, which stood on the bank of the river, about a quarter of a mile distant. 'Surely the Governor will take our pairt and winna let these savages have their way with us.' This suggestion met with instant approval, and three of the party, including Mr. Macrae, were appointed to carry it out.
They at once set out across the prairie, while the other men rejoined the women, to await the result of the embassy.
But no sooner had the three got well started, than with whoops and yells the Indians sprang on their ponies and came cantering towards them, waving their weapons in a way that meant only one thing—the Scotsmen must go no farther. Baffled and disheartened, the latter, after a futile attempt at parley with the Indians, walked slowly and in silence back to their companions.
The situation seemed as desperate as it was bewildering. They were utterly at a loss either to understand it or cope with it. Lord Selkirk had given them to believe that they would be warmly welcomed at Red River, and afforded all necessary assistance in settling down, and this was the way in which his promises were being fulfilled.
In their extremity they sought guidance and strength from God, and, to the amazement of the Indians, who had again drawn closer, the stately music of the Psalms rose from their midst, followed by the sonorous voice of Saunders, laying before the Lord of all the anguish of their hearts.
When their prayers were over they all felt more composed in mind, although no light had come to them concerning the crisis.
The Indians again withdrew a little distance, and Hector, who was as curious as he was courageous, and whose eye had been taken by the gay feathers and beaded buckskins of the Indian leader, which certainly made a brave show, went over towards him for a closer inspection, Dour and Dandy following at his heels.
The Indian, noting the movement, advanced to meet him with an amiable grin, and, just before they came together, threw himself off his cayuse, as much as to say: 'See, I'm willing to be on even terms with you.' He was rather a fine-looking fellow, and Hector, little as he yet knew about the red men of the plain, somehow felt that this was no ordinary one.
He towered above the boy as they stood side by side, and, smiling mischievously, he lifted the latter's thick cap from his head, and went through the motion of scalping him. The next instant, his teasing expression changed to one of lively admiration, he thrust his hands into Hector's curly locks, exclaiming: 'Ti-ti-pu! Ti-ti-pu!'
Hector, for a moment, was somewhat startled, but he did not betray it. Dour and Dandy, however, did not quite like the proceedings, and growled menacingly through their glistening teeth. The fact of the matter was the Indian had never seen such a poll of golden curly locks before, and, accustomed as he was to the straight, black, limp tresses of his own people, they seemed to him something almost supernatural. Thenceforward he would call Hector nothing but 'Ti-ti-pu,' and the nickname stuck like a burr, until only the gravest members of his own party hardly ever thought of calling him anything else.
In sore perplexity the Scots took counsel together as to what they should do. Their stock of provisions was nearly exhausted, and although they had amongst them all a good deal of money, of what use was it if the hostile residents would not sell them anything?
'It wad seem as though we maun go ewa' doon south for the winter at any rate,' said Mr. Macrae, in a tone of profound despondency. 'The ways of Providence are beyond our ken. We maun just trust that the Lord will guide us, and provide for our necessities.'
The Indian leader was then informed that, if they were allowed to obtain a supply of provisions, and such other things as would be necessary for the journey, they would obey their orders and go down to the United States.
This was assented to, and, after some further parley, most of the Indians went away, leaving the rest of their number on guard. The settlers, with heavy hearts, made preparations for the night.
Among the older members of the little band of pilgrims, to whom the promised land seemed about to prove so bitter a disappointment, there was not much sleep that night, and the morning found them haggard, weary and depressed. But after they had all, like one great family, united in prayer and the singing of the Psalms, they became more composed. They were in God's hands, and dark as everything now looked, He would send light in the end.
Soon after sunrise, the Indians reappeared in force, this time in quite good humour, the settlers having already agreed to obey their orders, and Mr. Macrae had little difficulty in making arrangements with them to conduct the party to Pembina.
Under other circumstances, the settlement of the terms would have been very amusing, for on the one side the language employed was a mixture of Gaelic and English, and on the other of Indian jargon and mongrel French, so that a great deal had to be made out by means of signs and gestures, and contortions of countenances. Hector watched the proceedings with intense interest. To tell the truth, after his first fear of them had passed away, and he realized that they were not going to kill and scalp his people, he was quite taken by the Indians, and eager to get upon friendly terms with them.
By the leader he was particularly attracted, and, in exchange for the nickname the Indian had given him, he, on his part, got the red man to give him a name whereby to call him, namely, Wikonaie, which he presently shortened to Wikon.
His friendship with the Indian, Hector's father looked upon with approval. He himself was perhaps of too unbending a nature to make any advances towards a more amiable footing, but he was very glad to see Hector accomplish it in his frank, boyish way.
Word was given that the start for Pembina would be made early the next morning; and one of the bitter things the settlers had to endure was being deprived of all their arms. Poor Rob McEwen had to part with his greatest treasure, a flintlock that his father had carried and used to good effect in the battle of Culloden, and who can blame him if the tears stood in his grey eyes as, after fondling the firearm as tenderly as if it were a baby, he let it go from him never to get it back? But even harder perhaps was the case of Jeanie Sinclair, who had to part with her marriage ring, whose glitter caught the eye of a big Indian, who would not be denied the gleaming treasure.
In spite of all their troubles, the settlers did not forget to sing their Psalm and to join with one of their elders in earnest prayer, ere they sadly turned their faces southward.
The procession that set forth for Pembina certainly presented a curious sight. It might have been intended to represent the triumph of savagery over civilization.
Decked out in their gayest garb, fully armed, and mounted upon spirited horses, the Indians pranced about in lordly style, giving orders to the unfortunate folk from over sea, who, although they were really so much superior to them, for the time being were completely in their power.
Mr. Macrae had succeeded in making an arrangement with the Indians that they should carry the young children upon their horses, for, of course, it would be out of the question for the little ones to walk, and this gave the riders the chance to have a good deal of amusement at the expense of the mothers of the children.
No sooner had the strange cavalcade got well under way than the rascals galloped off ahead, and were presently out of sight on the boundless prairie, while the bewildered, anxious mothers ran crying and pleading after them, until they fell exhausted upon the turf.
Ailie Macrae was among those thus carried off, and Hector pursued the Indian who held her until even his stout legs could not take another stride, while Dour and Dandy, barking fiercely, continued the chase a mile or two farther.
But, as he lay panting upon the grass, his first excitement having passed away, he began to reason the theory out. 'That's just a trick they're playing on us,' he said to himself. 'They'll bring the bairns back nae doot, but it's a mean trick, and I'll tell them so.'
And the boy was as good as his word. When the horsemen, having had their fun, came back to those on foot, with the children unharmed, and in most cases having greatly enjoyed the wild gallop, Hector made straight for his new friend, Wikonaie, and with high-pitched voice and vigorous gesture, made plain to him what he thought of the performance.
Wikonaie smiled at his passionate earnestness, and took no offence at his fearless scolding. 'You talk big words,' he said, in a tone of good-humoured admiration. 'You be big chief some day. Me like you.' This soft answer completely turned away Hector's wrath, and, in spite of himself, a smile took possession of his flushed features.
'Ha! Ha! Wikonaie,' he cried, 'ye're a canny chiel. Ye ken right well how to get out of it.'
And so the matter ended between them, but it was a noticeable fact that, although some of the other Indians repeated the foolish trick, Wikonaie took no further part in it, and that henceforth it was little Ailie that rode upon his saddle, and was so happy there that she was always sorry when she had to dismount.
The procession could make but slow progress. The settlers were no less heavy of foot than of heart, and both women and men alike had to carry, up to the limit of their strength, such of their belongings as they could not possibly part with. Moreover, their English-made boots were not at all the right thing, and their poor feet swelled out and blistered inside them, until some could scarcely stand upright.
How they envied the Indians their soft moccasins, and how they vowed to themselves that they would put off their clumsy, uncomfortable boots for them at the first opportunity!
So they struggled on over the prairie, the weather, fortunately, continuing fine and warm, so that they could sleep in the open air at night without inconvenience. At last footsore, weary, and sad of heart, they reached their destination.—Pembina, a frontier settlement of the United States, where they were now to pass the long, cold winter.
Hector was rather sorry when the journey came to an end, tiresome as it was to his seniors. They went so slowly that he had plenty of time to roam at his will, and never without the company of Dour and Dandy. He would make excursions to the right and left of the line of march, and generally manage to find plenty to amuse and interest him.
'Eh! but ye're grand friends to have!' he would cry to his faithful four-legged playmates after a wild scamper over the prairie, which set all three of them panting. 'Ye ken as much as most ordinary folk, and ye can run faster and farther than the best man that ever lived. Indeed, I just wish I could run about half as fast myself. It would be a fine thing to be able to do,' and then he would take their hairy heads between his hands, and rub his own face fondly between them.
At Pembina, they were well received by the residents, who seemed glad to have such an addition to their numbers, and, with their aid and advice, they at once set about getting ready the huts or tents that would be their only homes for many months to come. With all who could help lending a hand, these simple habitations did not take long to put up, and in the course of a few days, each family had their own little dwelling, such as it was, and the whole party felt in better spirits than they had done for many a day.
Mr. Macrae's hut was one of the best of the little group. Taking the Highland cottage as his model, he constructed out of sods, wood, and canvas, the latter serving for the roof, a really snug affair with a 'butt' and a 'ben,' that gave him much satisfaction, and of which Hector was immensely proud, as it was the only 'residence' in the camp having two rooms.
Shelter having thus been secured, the next thing to be taken into account was the food question. Happily the answer to this lay right around them. The country was rich in game. From the frisky rabbit to the lordly buffalo, the prairie or the woods offered the hunter rich reward for his skill and patience.
To Hector's vast delight, his father bought a gun for him as well as for himself.
'Ye're a big laddie now,' said Mr. Macrae, his grave features lighting up with a rare smile of love and pride, as he watched the boy fondling the firearm as a mother would her baby, 'and it is right you should learn to use the gun. Be verra careful with it, laddie, and dinna forget that powder and bullets are very scarce, and maun na be wasted.'
Hector, of course, promised to be as economical as possible of ammunition, and, having thanked his father over and over again, rushed off to show his gun to the other boys in the party.
Naturally his first essay as a hunter was against the rabbits, that were quite plentiful in the clumps of trees which were a feature of the country. With Dour and Dandy bounding and barking beside him, and a young half-breed with whom he had picked up an acquaintance as his companion, he set off very proudly and confidently. Baptiste had promised to guide him to the best places for the bunnies, and Hector said confidently to his mother, as, with no small anxiety in her eye and voice, she was warning him to be careful in handling the gun: 'To be sure, mither, to be sure; I'll take the best o' care o' myself and the gun, and, mither, I'll bring ye back as many rabbits as I can carry.'
It was a boyish boast, for he had yet to shoot his first rabbit; but Hector had that happy quality, 'a gude conceit of himself,' and it was a great help to him in life.
Reaching the woods, the dogs, with the fine intelligence of their noble race, ceased bounding and barking aimlessly, and, with lowered heads, ran silently hither and thither seeking for game. They were not long in picking up a brace of bunnies that gave a fine chance for a shot ere they leaped away out of range.
'Shoot 'em—queek!' cried Baptiste excitedly.
Hector threw the gun to his shoulder with all speed, and pulled the trigger without stopping to take aim. Naturally the charge of shot buried itself harmlessly in the side of a tree, and the panic-stricken rabbits vanished unhurt.
'Bah!' cried Hector, in disgust at his miserable markmanship. 'I did na touch them! Eh, Baptiste, but they're awfu' smart!'
Baptiste, considerately doing his best to smother a smile, nodded in assent and muttered something about trying again.
Another chance soon came, but Hector had no better luck, and he began to realize that shooting the long-eared, long-legged little creatures was not so easy as he had at first imagined. Having failed for the third time, he handed the gun, in disgust, to the half-breed, saying: 'Here, Baptiste, you try.'
Baptiste eagerly seized the fire-arm, and the next rabbit that was started he tumbled over neatly. Another and another was shot in quick succession, and then, returning the gun with a grateful smile, Baptiste said: 'Now you shoot.'
Hector's next attempt, happily, was not a miss, and encouraged by this, he kept on with varying success, until, between him and Baptiste, nearly a dozen rabbits had been bowled over. Then, satisfied with their bag, they hastened homeward to proudly exhibit the results of their day's hunting.
'Weel done, laddie, weel done!' exclaimed Mrs. Macrae, patting Hector fondly. 'Ye'll be getting us mony a gude dinner, I'm thinking.'
Soon after the arrival of the Selkirk settlers at Pembina, the people of the place set about preparing for the great fall buffalo hunt, and they cordially invited the Scots to join them.
The latter accepted the kind invitation eagerly, and all the men who had a little money to spare purchased guns and ammunition from the store-keepers.
For days the settlement and the Scotch camp were full of bustle. Ponies had to be provided for all the hunters, provisions prepared, as they would be away probably for ten days or so, and a number of other things attended to.
Mr. Macrae, having decided to go himself, at first wanted Hector to remain behind with his mother, but the boy pleaded so earnestly to be taken, and the loving, self-sacrificing mother, though she dreaded some mishap, so warmly supported his plea, that, to his abounding joy, his father consented.
It was an odd-looking cavalcade that set forth from Pembina on a bright, bracing October morning. The Scotsmen looked very awkward as, mounted upon Indian ponies, some of which were so small that the long legs of the riders almost touched the ground, they strove to carry their guns and keep their seats with some sort of dignity.
The Pembina folk, whether white or half-breed, were all good riders, and, having taken the pick of the ponies, as was only natural, looked remarkably well, while half-a-score Indians who were to act as guides galloped hither and thither, whooping and brandishing their guns by way of showing off.
Hector was delighted with the pony that fell to him, a sturdy, piebald creature, in quite good condition and full of life, but not at all vicious. No knight of old sallying forth in full armour could have felt prouder than did the Scotch laddie, as, with Dour and Dandy barking and pretending to bite the pony's nose, he took his place in the motley procession.
'Eh, father, but isn't this just grand!' he cried, enthusiastically, as he cantered beside his father, whose stalwart frame looked bigger than ever as he rode solemnly upon a steed that, assuredly, had never carried so weighty a rider before. 'See what a fine horse I have, and he's that good, too! Oh, but I hope we'll be sure to find the buffalo!'
'Ye need na fash yersel', laddie,' responded Mr. Macrae, with one of his wise, kind smiles. 'Ye'll have plenty of riding upon your little horse, and we're likely enough to find the buffalo, for these folk ken just where to look for them. So be patient an' ye'll have your desire.'
They travelled for two days due west, and then made camp on a lovely spot beside a clear flowing stream, where a clump of trees afforded them both shade and firewood. Farther west stretched the prairie where roamed the noble animal of whom they were in quest.
Soon after dawn the next morning the whole camp was astir, and after a hurried meal everybody got ready for the day's business. The weather was all that could be wished, and spirits ran high.
'Ye'll keep as near to me as ye can, eh, laddie?' said Mr. Macrae to Hector. 'There'll be mony ways o' getting hurt, e'en though ye may be careful.'
'Yes, father, I'll try,' answered Hector promptly, but in his heart he felt that once the chase really began his speedy pony, with only his light weight to carry, must soon run away from the scarcely larger animal that had his father's two hundred pounds upon his back.
A veteran hunter, nick-named Buffalo Carter, took entire charge of the hunt, and under his short, sharp commands the party was divided up, and sent off in different directions.
There were six in the party to which Mr. Macrae and Hector were assigned, and their captain—so to speak—was a shrewd, good-humoured half-breed, Narcisse by name, who had killed many score of buffalo in the course of his career. He had taken a liking to Hector, and he greatly admired Dour and Dandy, who, having vented their superfluous spirits, were now trotting quietly along beside Hector's pony, and he said to him in a sort of aside: 'You keep close to me, eh!mon petit ami. Kill big buffalo for sure, eh!'
Hector responded with a grateful smile. 'I will that if I can, but your fine horse will likely run away from my pony.'
'Non-non—that's all right,' laughed Narcisse, pleased at the compliment to his steed. 'You keep so near me as possible.'
The different groups of riders being about a quarter of a mile apart, the whole party covered a pretty wide stretch of prairie, as they steered due west at a leisurely lope.
The leader's plan of campaign was that, on a herd of buffalo being sighted, every effort should be made to surround it without stampeding it, and to this end instructions had been given to the captains of each band that not a shot should be fired until the signal was given by Carter himself.
On they loped over the billowy prairie, the tensity of eagerness growing with each mile covered. Suddenly, Carter, who was a little in advance of all the others, pulled up on the hither side of a swale, and gave the signal agreed upon for a general halt. It passed from band to band almost instantaneously and the hunters became as motionless as statues.
Carter, slipping from his horse, went forward cautiously on foot some little distance, and then, dropping on all fours, peered over the top of a big swale beyond which, perhaps, was the big game they sought.
'He see 'em! Buffalo near now!' exclaimed Narcisse to Hector, as he tightened rein and grasped his gun more firmly. 'You be ready, eh?' Hector was too excited to do more than nod assent, as he kept his eyes following every movement of Carter.
The latter, evidently satisfied with his scrutiny, made haste back to his horse, and, having remounted, by making a sort of semaphore of himself, waving his arms in rapid fashion, signalled to the captains of each band.
They caught his meaning, and the next instant, all were in motion closing in toward their leader. When they were near enough he signalled for them to spread out in a single line, then, waving his gun above his head as a final signal for them to do likewise, he dashed forward at the full speed of his swift steed.
As they swept over the swale, the buffalo came in sight—a fine herd, numbering several hundred, grazing on the rich grass in utter unconsciousness of the human cyclone rushing upon them.
The wind blew from them towards the hunters, thus giving the latter, whose ponies' hoofs made scarcely any sound upon the thick turf, the opportunity to get quite close ere an old bull threw up his head, caught sight of the charging cavalcade, and instantly gave vent to a thundering bellow of warning, that caused the whole herd to cease grazing and huddle together nervously.
Only for a moment did they thus hesitate. Then, moving as one huge black mass, they were off in full flight, with the hunters not a hundred yards behind.
Hector was amazed that such heavy, clumsy-looking creatures could get up such speed, and his excitement rose to its highest pitch as, urging his pony on by voice and heel, he strove to reach the rear of the panic-stricken herd.
Dour and Dandy, in no less a state of excitement, were already snapping at the heels of the buffalo, and enjoying themselves immensely.
Little by little Hector's clever pony, to which, by the way, he had given the appropriate name of Joseph, because his coat was of many colours, caught up to the herd, until, at last, with an extra spurt, he charged right into it, and Hector, not altogether to his comfort, found himself wedged in between two great shaggy animals, whose bloodshot eyes made them look very fierce, even if they were fleeing for their lives.
He did his best to check the speed of his pony, pulling upon the reins with all his might. But Joseph had got the bit in his teeth, and being in a regular frenzy of excitement, all Hector's efforts were fruitless. Not only so, but as the tremendous pace began to tell upon the buffalo, and their speed slackened, Joseph, who showed no signs of tiring, made his way deeper into the herd, until presently Hector was completely surrounded by the huge animals.
His situation was one of great peril, for, although the buffalo were too intent upon flight to pay him any attention, yet if by chance his pony were to stumble or put his foot in a gopher hole, bringing down himself and his rider, they would both infallibly be trampled out of all semblance of life under the hoofs of the mighty creatures.
But not for a moment did the boy lose his wits. Holding hard to the saddle he watched keenly for his chance of deliverance.
Not until he had become embedded as it were in the panic-stricken mass of buffalo did Mr. Macrae observe his son's peril.
At almost the same moment Narcisse caught sight of the boy, and, with a characteristic exclamation of horror, at once drove his horse into the herd, that he might, if possible, get to Hector's side.
'Take care! Take care!' he shouted with all his might, not recking that his voice was utterly lost in the thunder of the countless hoofs. 'Keep hold, eh!'
Mr. Macrae followed his example, and the two men plunged into the mob of terrified monsters, steering as best they could for the imperilled boy.
Meanwhile, Hector, who had kept both his head and his seat wonderfully, not forgetting the purpose of the whole affair, pointed his gun behind the shoulder of a fine fat buffalo and fired.
The muzzle of the gun was so close to the buffalo that the discharge burned the animal's hide, and the recoil almost knocked Hector out of his saddle.
But the bullet found its way to the great creature's heart, and, a moment later, down it went, to the delight of the young huntsman. The loud report was not without effect upon the buffalo that hemmed in Hector. They swerved off to right and left, giving him more room and thereby enabling Narcisse and his father to reach his side.
'Ah, laddie!' cried his father. 'I was in great fear for ye. Ye should na have gone into such danger. Be carefu' now, for ye're not yet out of harm's way.'
Hector nodded gaily in reply. He was so exultant over his success that he could think of nothing else for the moment.
As neither Narcisse nor Mr. Macrae had yet bagged their buffalo, they left Hector to stay beside his prize while they went on after the fleeing herd, upon whom the tremendous pace was beginning to tell.
The reports of the guns followed fast upon each other, as the different members of the hunting party, choosing a fine fat cow, or a prime young bull, brought down their victim with unerring aim.
At last the pursuit of the herd ended, and the hunters returned to take stock of results. These were certainly satisfactory: nearly a score of buffalo, all in the best of condition, had been secured, and a supply of food that would keep the whole settlement for many weeks was ensured.
Very proud and content was Buffalo Carter, and all the other members of the party, particularly Hector, whose buffalo was as fine a specimen as any of the others.
'Eh, but it was a warm, stirrin' experience,' remarked Mr. Macrae, with emphasis. 'I never expected to see the like of it. 'Tis a wonderful country, this, and there's a powerful lot to be learned. But I'm right glad I've come, laddie,' he went on, laying his hand fondly upon Hector's shoulder, 'and with the favour of God we shall yet do better here than e'er we could in the land we left.'
This was a good deal for him to say, but the excitement of the hunt had for the time swept away his reserve, and he was in almost as high spirits as Hector.
So soon as they had rested a little, the buffalo hunters set to work to skin the buffalo, and to cut the rich meat into long strips, which, after being dried in the sun, were then minced as small as possible, and so made into 'pemmican,' which was then packed away for use in the winter.
Of course, there was great feasting meanwhile, and the special tit-bits, such as the tongues and the humps, were cooked and eaten with the keenest relish.
Dour and Dandy were so well supplied with bits of juicy steak, or well-covered bones, that they were in danger of overfeeding, and Mr. Macrae had to limit their allowance.
It took several days to prepare the pemmican, and then, laden with it and with the buffalo-skins which would at leisure be made into the warmest of robes, the whole party moved slowly back to Pembina.
'Eh! but I'm glad I killed one myself,' said Hector to his father as they rode along together, 'for now I'll have a buffalo robe of my own, and that will be fine when the winter comes, won't it, father?'
So indeed it proved. There was many a night during the long cold winter at Pembina, when Hector, lying snug and warm under his buffalo-robe, had reason to be thankful for the success of his shot.
The reception of the hunting-party at Pembina was a royal one, and the feasting that followed was shared in by all. Then the remainder of the meat was stored away for the winter.
As already mentioned, Mr. Macrae had taken more pains and spent somewhat more money upon the hut that sheltered his family, and now, having got everything fixed to his satisfaction, with that fore-thought which was one of his distinguishing traits, he resolved to secure a supply of firewood for the winter.
A fine 'bunch of timber,' as it was called locally, stood not more than a mile away, and, hiring a horse and cart from one of the residents, Mr. Macrae, accompanied by his whole family—for it was beautiful weather, being the so-called Indian summer—began his attack upon the trees.
'I'll cut them doon, laddie,' he said to Hector, 'and ye'll chop off the branches, and so we'll just divide the wark between us.'
This arrangement suited Hector, and he did his part faithfully, lopping off the branches so that the trunk itself could be cut up into suitable lengths.
None of the trees were large. The country is not favourable to forest giants, and the wood was fairly soft, so that Hector's task was by no means beyond his powers.
The work went on steadily from day to day, and Mrs. Macrae viewed with the approval and satisfaction of a good housewife the growing pile of fuel that would be right at hand through the long winter.
'Ye always were a good provider, Andrew,' she said, giving her stalwart husband a look of ineffable love and pride. 'Nane o' yer charge will ever want while ye're aboot.'
From under his shaggy brows, Andrew Macrae returned the look of love and pride; for to him there was no woman so bonnie or so wise as his gude wife, but he pretended to make light of the compliment, saying he was but doing his duty.
The wood-pile at the hut had grown big enough, and they were making their last trip to the timber. Mrs. Macrae had not accompanied them, but little Ailie would not be left at home. She enjoyed too much the ride out on the empty cart, and then back again, perched triumphantly on top of the load, to lose the last chance for it. So father had to yield to her pretty pleadings, although he would have preferred her remaining with her mother.
The father and son worked very hard that day, and during the afternoon got so engrossed in the completion of their task, that they quite forgot the little girl.
Then, left to her own resources, Ailie, as sturdy a child for her years as ever stepped, wandered off over the prairie in the opposite direction to home, her little head filled with some foolish notion of getting nearer to the sunset.
On and on she went, forgetful of everything but the beauty of the western sky, which had so fascinated her, and it was because her blue eyes were intent upon this, and not upon what was under her feet, that she did not notice the coulee, or break in the prairie, into which she fell with a sharp cry of fright.
Happily it was soft earth at the bottom of the coulee, and Ailie was not injured in the least by her fall. But she was terrified beyond measure at her situation, and screamed for her father and brother with the full strength of her lungs.
But, lying as she was at the bottom of the coulee, a dozen feet or more below the surface of the prairie, her most vigorous efforts could not have been heard many yards away.
There the poor little lonely frightened girl wept and wailed and cried out for her father and Hector, until at last, in sheer exhaustion, she lapsed into a sort of stupor and knew no more.