The March of the White Guard | Page 5

Late Carscallen, and Cloud-in-the-Sky."
"Who leads them, Hume? Who leads?"
"With your permission, I do."
"You? But, man, consider the danger and--your invention!"
"I have considered all. Here are three letters. If we do not come back in
three months, you will please send this one, with the box in my room,
to the address on the envelope. This is for a solicitor in Montreal,
which you will also forward as soon as possible; and this last one is for
yourself; but you will not open it until the three months have passed.

Have I your permission to lead these men? They would not go without
me."
"I know that, I know that, Hume. I can't say no. Go, and good luck go
with you."
Here the manly old factor turned away his head. He knew that Hume
had done right. He knew the possible sacrifice this man was making of
all his hopes, of his very life; and his sound Scotch heart appreciated
the act to the full. But he did not know all. He did not know that Jaspar
Hume was starting to search for the man who had robbed him of youth
and hope and genius and home.
"Here is a letter that the wife has written to her husband on the chance
of his getting it. You will take it with you, Hume. And the other she
wrote to me--shall I keep it?" He held out his hand.
"No, sir, I will keep it, if you will allow me. It is my commission, you
know." The shadow of a smile hovered about Hume's lips.
The factor smiled kindly as he replied: "Ah, yes, your commission--
Captain Jaspar Hume of--of what?" Just then the door opened and there
entered the four men who had sat before the sub-factor's fire the night
before. They were dressed in white blanket costumes from head to foot,
white woollen capotes covering the grey fur caps they wore. Jaspar
Hume ran his eye over them and then answered the factor's question:
"Of the White Guard, sir."
"Good," was the reply. "Men, you are going on a relief expedition.
There will be danger. You need a good leader. You have one in Captain
Hume."
Jeff Hyde shook his head at the others with a pleased I-told-you-so
expression; Cloud-in-the-Sky grunted his deep approval; and Late
Carscallen smacked his lips in a satisfied manner and rubbed his leg
with a schoolboy sense of enjoyment. The factor continued: "In the
name of the Hudson's Bay Company I will say that if you come back,
having done your duty faithfully, you shall be well rewarded. And I

believe you will come back, if it is in human power to do so."
Here Jeff Hyde said: "It isn't for reward we're doin' it, Mr. Field, but
because Mr. Hume wished it, because we believed he'd lead us; and for
the lost fellow's wife. We wouldn't have said we'd do it, if it wasn't for
him that's just called us the White Guard."
Under the bronze of the sub-factor's face there spread a glow more red
than brown, and he said simply: "Thank you, men"--for they had all
nodded assent to Jeff Hyde's words--"come with me to the store. We
will start at noon."
At noon the White Guard stood in front of the store on which the
British flag was hoisted with another beneath it bearing the magic
letters, H.B.C.: magic, because they opened to the world regions that
seemed destined never to know the touch of civilisation. The few
inhabitants of the fort were gathered at the store; the dogs and loaded
sleds were at the door. It wanted but two minutes to twelve when Hume
came from his house, dressed also in the white blanket costume, and
followed by his dog, Bouche. In a moment more he had placed Bouche
at the head of the first team of dogs. They were to have their leader too.
Punctually at noon, Hume shook hands with the factor, said a quick
good-bye to the rest, called out a friendly "How!" to the Indians
standing near, and to the sound of a hearty cheer, heartier perhaps
because none had a confident hope that the five would come back, the
march of the White Guard began.

III
It was eighteen days after. In the shadow of a little island of pines, that
lies in a shivering waste of ice and snow, the White Guard were
camped. They were able to do this night what they had not done for
days --dig a great grave of snow, and building a fire of pine wood at
each end of this strange house, get protection and something like
comfort. They sat silent close to the fires. Jaspar Hume was writing
with numbed fingers. The extract