The Maid of the Whispering Hills | Page 9

and alight
with a look that sent shuddering from him the timid,--thus he had been
in his hard-fought and hard-won supremacy, a great, mysterious beast

brought full-grown from the snowbound wilderness of the forest one
famine-time by old Aquamis and sold to Bois DesCaut for a tie of
tobacco.
Now he stood, a pitiable shadow, and begged mutely of the only tender
hand he had known for understanding of this strange weakness that
took his limbs and sent the heavens whirling.
McElroy looked long upon him.
"'Tis a shame," he said, his straight brows drawing together, "the dog is
a better brute than Bois."
"Aye," flashed Francette, talking as though it were no uncommon thing
for the factor to stop at the cabin of the Molines, "and no more shall the
one brute serve the other. You have said, M'sieu."
"Yes," laughed the factor, "I have said and it shall be so. I will buy the
dog from Bois if he speaks of the matter. Take good care of him, little
one," and McElroy turned down toward the gate. As he moved away,
free of step and straight as an Indian, he filliped away a small budding
twig of the saskatoon which one of the youths had brought in to show
how the woods were answering the call of the warm sun, and which he
had dandled in his fingers as he walked. It fell at the edge of the beaded
skirt and quick as thought the hand of Francette shot out and covered it.
A hot flush mounted under the silken black curls and she dropped her
eyes, peering under their lashes to see if any observed. She drew the
faded sprig toward her and hid it in her breast.
Before the cabin of the Baptistes, Jean Saville touched his cap and
stopped.
"Yes?" said the factor; "what is it, Jean?"
"Assuredly, M'sieu, has the tide of the spring set in. Pierre but now
reports the coming of a band of strangers down the river. They come in
canoes, five of them, well manned and armed as if the country of the
Assiniboine were bristling with dangers instead of being the abode of
God's chosen. Within the hour they will arrive at the landing."
"Thank you, Jean," said McElroy; "I will prepare for the meeting."
The trapper touched his cap and passed.
"Ah," smiled the factor to himself, "I like this bustle of passage. It is
good after the winter's housing, and who knows? There may be those
among the strangers who bring word from Hudson Bay."
He turned briskly back and gave word to Jack de Lancy and his wife

Rette to cook a great meal, also to see that the store-room was cleared
sufficiently by the more orderly packing back of the goods to allow of
five canoe-loads of men sleeping upon the floor. Then he passed down
the main way, out of the gate in the warm sun and took his place at the
landing to look eagerly down stream for the first coming of the
strangers. Not far from the enthusiasm of boyhood was this young
factor of Fort de Seviere.
And within the hour, as Jean had said, they came, rounding the distant
bend in an even distanced string, long narrow craft, each bearing the
regular complement of five men, a bowman, a steersman, and three
middlemen whose paddles shone like crystal as they sank and lifted
evenly. Strangers they were in very truth, as McElroy saw at the first
glance.
Never had they been bred in the wilderness, these men, unless it were
the two guides in the first and fourth canoe, picked out readily by their
swarthy skins, their crimson caps, and their rugged litheness. Fairer, all,
were the rest, paler of skin, more loose of muscle, shown by the very
way they bent to their work. Their garments, too, as they drew nearer
brought a smile to the watcher's lips, a smile of memory. Those coats,
brave in their gilt braid, had assuredly come across seas. Thus might
one behold them on the Strand.
Ah! These were, without doubt, part of the fall ship's load of
adventurers come to the new continent filled with the fire of
achievement and excitement that brought so many youths over seas.
They had, most like, come down from the great bay by way of God's
Lake and the house there, traversed the length of Winnipeg, come along
the river at the southern end, and at last turned westward into the
Assiniboine. A long rest they would no doubt take at Fort de Seviere,
and there would be news of the outside world.
McElroy was at the water's very edge as the first canoe of the string
curved gracefully in and cut slimly up to the landing.
"Welcome,