The Big Otter by R. M. Ballantyne (novels to read in english TXT) đ
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The Big Otter by R. M. Ballantyne (novels to read in english TXT) đ». Author R. M. Ballantyne
âYou are very kind,â replied the girl with much earnestness of tone and manner.
âAnd now, Waboose,â I continued, âyou remember saying long ago you would show me the packet thatââ
âYes, it is here,â she said, quickly, taking it out of the folds of a light shawl which covered her shouldersâthe gift of Jessieâand handing it to me.
âThank you. Well, I will examine it carefully this afternoon and give it back to you to-morrow before you start.â
âNo, keep it. I can trust you,â she said, with a simple look that somehow depressed me, for it was almost too simple and sisterly to my mind. âBesides,â she added, âit is safer in your hands than mine, and when I come again you will explain to me what it contains.â
Next day the party left us. It consisted of Macnab, who, with his wonted energy of nature, was leader and beater of the track; the sprightly Jessie in a cariole drawn by four dogs; Wabooseâs mother in a similar cariole, and the fair Waboose herself, on snow-shoes, for she preferred the mode of travelling to which she had been most accustomed. Two Indians dragging provision-sleds brought up the rear.
It had been arranged that I should convoy the party to their first bivouac in the snow, spend the night with them, and continue to journey with them the second day as far as was consistent with the possibility of returning to the fort that night. Jack Lumley accompanied us at first, but another small party of Indians had come in to stay at the fort at that time, and although he had, I am certain, a very strong desire to go further, with his usual self-sacrificing spirit when duty pointed another way, he turned and left us at the end of a few miles.
I spent the night in the snow-bivouac as arranged, and continued to journey onward with the party next day, until Macnab refused to let me go another step.
âNow, Max,â he said, laughingly, âyou must turn here. Why, man, it will be midnight before you get in, good walker though you be. Come, good-bye.â
âWell, well, I suppose itâs better to turn since you seem tired of my company,â said I, turning to Jessie, who stood up in her sleigh to shake hands. âGood-bye, Miss Macnab.â
âJessie, man, Jessieânone of your Miss Macnabs here, else Iâll tumble you into the snow by way of farewell,â shouted the irrepressible Highlander.
âVery well, good-bye, Jessie,â said I, with a laugh, though my heart was heavy enough. âGood-bye, Wabooseâfarewell all.â
With a wave of his hand Macnab tramped on ahead, the sleigh-bells rang out merrily and the rest of the party followed.
After they had gone a few yards Waboose turned and waved her hand again. As I looked on her fair face, glowing with health and exercise, her upright, graceful figure in its picturesque costume and her modest mien, I felt that two beams of light had shot from her bright blue eyes and pierced my heart right through and through. It was a double shotâboth barrels, if I may say soâwell aimed at the centre of the bullâs-eye!
Next moment she was goneâthe whole party having dipped over the brow of a snow-drift.
âAn Indian! a half-caste!â I exclaimed in a burst of contempt, going off over the plain at five miles an hour, ânothing of the sort. A ladyâone of Natureâs ladiesâborn and brââno, not bred; no need for breeding where genuine purity, gentleness, tenderness, simplicity, modestyââ
I stuck at this point partly for want of words and partly because my snow-shoes, catching on a twig, sent my feet into the air and stuck my head and shoulders deep into a drift of snow. Though my words were stopped, however, the gush of my enthusiasm flowed steadily on.
âAnd what can be more worthy of manâs admiration and respectful affection?â I argued, as I recovered my perpendicular, coughed the snow out of my mouth and nose, and rubbed it out of my eyes; âwhat more worthy of true-hearted devotion than thisâthisâcreature ofâof light; this noble child of natureâthis Queen of the Wilderness?â
I repeated âThis Queen of the Wildernessâ for a considerable time afterwards. It seemed to me a happy expression, and I dwelt upon it with much satisfaction as I sped along, sending the fine snow in clouds of white dust from my snow-shoes, and striding over the ground at such a pace that I reached Fort Wichikagan considerably before midnight in spite of Macnabâs prophecy.
I am not naturally prone thus to lay bare the secret workings of my spirit. You will, therefore, I trust, good reader, regard the revelation of these things as a special mark of confidence.
On reaching the fort I observed that a bright light streamed from the hall windows, casting a ruddy glow on the snow-heaps which had been shovelled up on each side of the footpath in front, and giving, if possible, a paler and more ghostly aspect to the surrounding scenery.
I went to one of the windows and, imitating Attick, flattened my nose against a pane. A pain was the immediate result, for, the glass being intensely cold, I was obliged to draw back promptly.
Lumley was seated alone at one side of the fire, in the familiar attitude of a man who meditates profoundlyâor sleepily; namely, with his legs stretched straight out in front of him, his hands deep in his trousers-pockets, and his chin sunk on his breast, while his eyes stared fixedly at the flames.
I was about to quit my post of observation when a sudden action of my friend arrested me.
Drawing up his legs, grasping his knees with his hands, turning his eyes to the ceiling with that gaze which implies that planks and roof count for nothing in the way of intercepting the flight of Mind to the realms of Inspiration, Lumley opened his handsome mouth and broke forth into song. He had a magnificently harsh voice. I could distinguish both air and words through the double windows. The song was that which I have already quoted elsewhereââLovely young Jessie, the flower of Dunblane.â The deep pathos of his tone was thrilling! It flashed a new thought into my brain. Then I became amazed at my own blind stupidity. I now understood the meaning of that restless activity which had struck me recently as being so uncharacteristic of my sedate friend; that anxiety to have all our food well cooked and nicely served, in one who habitually took food just as it came, and cared nothing for quality or appearance; that unusual effort to keep our hall neat and in order; those sharp reproofs to the astonished Salamander for failure in punctuality at meal-hours; that very slight indication of a more frequent use of the brush and comb, in one whose crisp curls required little aid from such implements.
Under the excitement of my discovery I burst into the room with, âOh! Lumley, you deceiver!â cutting him short in the very middle of those repeated âlovely young Jessiesâ which constitute the very pith and marrow of the song.
âWhy, Max! back already?â cried my friend, starting up with a slightly-confused look, which confirmed my suspicion, and rattling on at a pace which was plainly meant to carry me past the subject. âHow you must have walked, to be sure, unless, indeed, you convoyed them only a short part of the way; but that could not have been the case. It would have been so unlike your gallant nature, Maxâeh? Well, and how did they get on? Snow not too soft, I hope? Encampment comfortable? But no fear of that of course, with Peter Macnab as leader. No capsizes?â
âNone,â said I, seizing advantage of a slight pause; âeverything went as well as possible, and the carioles went admirablyâespecially Jessieâs.â
I looked at him pointedly as I said this, but he coolly stooped to lift a billet and put it on the fire as he rattled on again.
âYes? Thatâs just what I hoped for, though I could not be quite sure of it for she has the old one which I had patched up as well as possible. You see, as Macnab saidâand of course I agreed with himâit was only fair that the invalid should have the strongest and easiest-going conveyance. By the way, Max, Iâve heard some news. Do you know that that scoundrel Attick is stirring up the tribes against us?â
âNoâis he?â said I, quite forgetting the fair Jessie, at this piece of information.
âYes, and the rascal, I fear, may do us irreparable damage before we can tame him, for he has considerable influence with the young and fiery spirits among the savagesâso Big Otter says. Fortunately his power lies only in the tongue, at present, for it seems I broke his arm the night he tried to murder me; but that will mend in time.â
âVery unfortunate,â said I, âthat this should happen at the beginning of our career in this region. We must thwart his plans if we can.â
âMoreover,â continued Lumley, with a sly look, âI am told that he has the presumption to aspire to the hand of Waboose!â
âIndeed!â I exclaimed, as a flame of indignation seemed to shoot through my whole frame; âwe must thwart his plans in that direction emphatically.â
âOf course, of course,â said my friend, gravely; âit would never do to let such a sweet girl throw herself away on a savage; besides, sheâs such a favourite with Jessie Macnab, you know. It would never doânever.â
I looked at him quickly, but he was gazing abstractedly at the fire. I felt that I was no match for my friend at badinage, and gave it up!
âBut what do you think he could do!â I asked with some anxiety, after a few minutesâ thought. âYou know that Waboose would as soon think of marrying that bloodthirsty savage as she would think of marrying aâaââ
âA pine-tree or a grizzly bear. Yes, I know,â interrupted Lumley, âhe will never get her with her own consent; but you know that savages have a knack of marrying women without their consent and then there is the possibility of his attempting to carry her offâand various other possibilities.â
I saw that my friend was jestingly attempting to test my feelings, but I made no reply at first, though I felt strongly on the subject.
âWell, Lumley,â said I, at length, âyour first suggestion I meet with the reply that the consent of parents is not ignored among Indians, and that Wabooseâs mother is an Indian of so high-minded and refined a natureâpartly acquired, no doubt, from her husbandâthat she will never consent to give her daughter to such a man; such a brute, I might say, considering what he attempted. As to Waboose herself, her fatherâs gentle nature in her secures her from such a misfortune; and as to her being carried offâwell, I donât think any savages would be bold enough to try to carry off anything from the grip of Peter Macnab, and when we get her back here we will know how to look after her.â
âIt may be so,â said Lumley, with a sigh; âand now, my boy, to change the subject, we must buckle to our winterâs work in right good earnest; I mean what may be styled our philanthropic work; for the other workâfirewood-cutting, hunting, store arranging, preparation for the return of Indians in spring, with their furs, and all the other odds and ends of dutyâis going along swimmingly; but our classes must be resumed, now that the holidays are over, for we have higher interests to consider than the mere eating that we may live, and living that we may eat.â
âAll right,â said I heartily, for I was very glad to help in a species of work which, I felt gave dignity to all our other labours. âIâll get the slates out and start the men at arithmetic to-morrow evening, from the place where we left off. What will you do? Give them âRobinson Crusoeâ over again?â
âNo, Max, I wonât do
Comments (0)