The March of the White Guard | Page 3

case,
Bouche. Even a dog can see that."

He was silent for a moment, and then he said: "Come, Bouche. You
will keep secret what I show you."
He went to a large box in the corner, unlocked it, and took out a model
made of brass and copper and smooth but unpolished wood.
"After ten years of banishment, Bouche, Hume has worked out another
idea, you see. It should be worth ten times the other, and the world
called the other the work of a genius, dog."
Then he became silent, the animal watching him the while. It had seen
him working at this model for many a day, but had never heard him
talk so much at a time as he had done this last ten minutes. He was
generally a silent man--decisive even to severity, careless carriers and
shirking under-officers thought. Yet none could complain that he was
unjust. He was simply straight-forward, and he had no sympathy with
those who had not the same quality. He had carried a drunken Indian on
his back for miles, and from a certain death by frost. He had, for want
of a more convenient punishment, promptly knocked down Jeff Hyde,
the sometime bully of the fort, for appropriating a bundle of furs
belonging to a French half-breed, Gaspe Toujours. But he nursed Jeff
Hyde through an attack of pneumonia, insisting at the same time that
Gaspe Toujours should help him. The result of it all was that Jeff Hyde
and Gaspe Toujours became constant allies. They both formulated their
oaths by Jaspar Hume. The Indian, Cloud-in-the-Sky, though by word
never thanking his rescuer, could not be induced to leave the fort,
except on some mission with which Jaspar Hume was connected. He
preferred living an undignified, un-Indian life, and earning food and
shelter by coarsely labouring with his hands. He came at least twice a
week to Hume's log house, and, sitting down silent and cross-legged
before the fire, watched the sub-factor working at his drawings and
calculations. Sitting so for perhaps an hour or more, and smoking all
the time, he would rise, and with a grunt, which was answered by a
kindly nod, would pass out as silently as he came.
And now as Jaspar Hume stood looking at his "Idea," Cloud-in-the-Sky
entered, let his blanket fall by the hearthstone and sat down upon it. If
Hume saw him or heard him, he at least gave no sign at first. But he

said at last in a low tone to the dog: "It is finished, Bouche; it is ready
for the world."
Then he put it back, locked the box, and turned towards
Cloud-in-the-Sky and the fireplace. The Indian grunted; the other
nodded with the debating look again dominant in his eyes. The Indian
met the look with satisfaction. There was something in Jaspar Hume's
habitual reticence and decisiveness in action which appealed more to
Cloud-in-the-Sky than any freedom of speech could possibly have
done.
Hume sat down, handed the Indian a pipe and tobacco, and, with arms
folded, watched the fire. For half an hour they sat so, white man, Indian,
and dog. Then Hume rose, went to a cupboard, took out some sealing
wax and matches, and in a moment melted wax was dropping upon the
lock of the box containing his Idea. He had just finished this as
Sergeant Gosse knocked at the door, and immediately afterwards
entered the room.
"Gosse," said the sub-factor, "find Jeff Hyde, Gaspe Toujours, and Late
Carscallen, and bring them here." Sergeant Gosse immediately departed
upon this errand. Hume then turned to the Indian, and said "Cloud-in-
the-Sky, I want you to go a long journey hereaway to the Barren
Grounds. Have twelve dogs ready by nine to-morrow morning."
Cloud-in-the-Sky shook his head thoughtfully, and then after a pause
said: "Strong-back go too?" Strongback was his name for the sub-factor.
But the other either did not or would not hear. The Indian, however,
appeared satisfied, for he smoked harder afterwards, and grunted to
himself many times. A few moments passed, and then Sergeant Gosse
entered, followed by Jeff Hyde, Gaspe Toujours, and Late Carscallen.
Late Carscallen had got his name "Late" from having been called "The
Late Mr. Carscallen" by the chief factor because of his slowness. Slow
as he was, however, the stout Scotsman had more than once proved
himself a man of rare merit according to Hume's ideas. He was, of
course, the last to enter.
The men grouped themselves about the fire, Late Carscallen getting the

coldest corner. Each man drew his tobacco from his pocket, and,
cutting it, waited for Hume to speak. His eyes were debating as they
rested on the four. Then he took out Mrs. Lepage's letter, and, with the
group looking at him, he