The Triumph of John Kars | Page 5

of a domesticity her woman's heart
desired.
It was about the end of the summer, after Murray's coming to the Fort,
that an element of trouble began to disquiet the peace of the Mission on
Snake River. It almost seemed as if the change from the old conditions
had broken the spell of the years of calm which had prevailed. Yet the
trouble was remote enough. Furthermore it seemed natural enough.
First came rumor. It traveled the vast, silent places in that mysterious
fashion which never seems clearly accounted for. Well over a hundred
and fifty miles of mountain, and valley, and trackless woodlands
separated the Fort from the great Mackenzie River, yet, on the wings of
the wind, it seemed, was borne a story of war, of massacre, of savage
destruction. The hitherto peaceful fishing Indians of Bell River had
suddenly become the hooligans of the north. They were carrying fire
and slaughter to all lesser Indian settlements within a radius of a

hundred miles of their own sombre valley.
The Fort was disturbed. The whole Mission struck a note of panic.
Father José saw grave danger for his small flock of Indian converts. He
remembered the white woman and her children, too. He was seriously
alarmed. Allan was away, so he sought the advice of those remaining.
Murray was untried in the conditions of the life of the country, but
Ailsa Mowbray possessed all the little man's confidence.
In the end, however, it was Murray who decided. He took upon himself
the position of leader in his partner's absence, and claimed the right to
probe the trouble to its depths. The priest and Ailsa yielded reluctantly.
They, at least, understood the risk of his inexperience. But Murray
forcefully rejected any denial, and, with characteristic energy, and no
little skill, he gathered an outfit together and promptly set out for Bell
River.
It was the one effort needed to assure him of his permanent place in the
life of the Fort on Snake River. It left him no longer an untried recruit,
but a soldier in the battle of the wilderness.
A month later he returned from his perilous enterprise with his work
well and truly done. The information he brought was comprehensive
and not without comfort. The Bell River Indians had certainly taken to
the war-path. But it was only in defence of their fishing on the river
which meant their whole existence. They were defending it
successfully, but, in their success, their savage instincts had run amuck.
Not content with slaying the invaders they had annexed their enemy's
property and squaws. Then, with characteristic ruthlessness, they had
set about carrying war far and near, but only amongst the Indians. Their
efforts undoubtedly had a dual purpose, The primary object was the
satisfying of a war lust suddenly stirred into being in savage hearts by
their first successes. The other was purely politic. They meant to
establish a terror, and so safeguard their food supplies for all time.
Murray's story was complete. It was thorough. It had not been easy. His
capacity henceforth became beyond all question.

So the cloud passed for the moment. But it did not disappear. The
people at the Fort, even Allan Mowbray, himself, when he returned,
dismissed the matter without further consideration. He laughed at the
panic which had arisen in his absence, while yet he commended
Murray's initiative and courage.
After the first lull, however, fresh stories percolated through. They
reached the Fort again and again, at varying intervals, until the Bell
River Valley became a black, dangerous spot in the minds of all people,
and both Indians, and any chance white adventurer, who sought shelter
at the Fort, received due warning to avoid this newly infected plague
spot.
It was nearly ten years since these things had occurred. And during all
that time the primitive life on the banks of Snake River had continued
to progress in its normal calm. Each year brought its added prosperity,
which found little enough outward display beyond the constant
bettering of trade conditions which went on under Murray's busy hands.
A certain added comfort reached the mother's home in the Mission
clearing. But otherwise the outward and visible signs of the wealth that
was being stored up were none.
Father José's Mission grew in extent. The clearing widened and the
numbers of savage converts increased definitely. The charity and
medical skill of the little priest, and the Mission's adjacency to a big
trading post, were responsible for drawing about the place every
begging Indian and the whole of his belongings. The old man received
them, and his benefits were placed at their service; the only return he
demanded was an attendance at his religious services, and that the
children should be sent to the classes which he