The Triumph of John Kars | Page 7

though the child had instinctively sought the mother's support in face of a blow which she knew was about to fall.
Ailsa held out one hand.
"Give it to me," she said authoritatively. Then, as the Padre handed the letter across to her, she added: "But first tell me what's amiss with him."
The Padre cleared his throat.
"He's held up," he said firmly. "The Bell River neches have got him surrounded. Keewin got through with great difficulty, and has been wounded. You best read the letter, and--tell us."
CHAPTER III
THE LETTER
Ailsa Mowbray tore off the fastening which secured the outer cover of discolored buckskin. Inside was a small sheet of folded paper. She opened it, and glanced at the handwriting. Then, without a word, she turned back into the house. Jessie followed her mother. It was nature asserting itself. Danger was in the air, and the sex instinct at once became uppermost.
The men were left alone.
Murray turned on the Indian. Father José and Alec Mowbray waited attentively.
"Tell me," Murray commanded. "Tell me quickly--while the missis and the other are gone. They got his words. You tell me yours."
His words came sharply. Keewin was Allan Mowbray's most trusted scout.
The man answered at once, in a rapid flow of broken English. His one thought was succor for his great white boss.
"Him trade," he began, adopting his own method of narrating events, which Murray was far too wise in his understanding of Indians to attempt to change. "Great boss. Him much trade. Big. Plenty. So we come by Bell River. One week, two week, three week, by Bell River." He counted off the weeks on his fingers. "Bimeby Indian--him come plenty. No pow-wow. Him come by night. All around corrals. Him make big play. Him shoot plenty. Dead--dead--dead. Much dead." He pointed at the ground in many directions to indicate the fierceness of the attack. "Boss Allan--him big chief. Plenty big. Him say us fight plenty--too. Him say, him show 'em dis Indian. So him fight big. Him kill heap plenty too. So--one week. More Indian come. Boss Allan then call Keewin. Us make big pow-wow. Him say ten Indian kill. Good Indian. Ten still fight. Not 'nuff. No good ten fight whole tribe. Him get help, or all kill. So. Him call Star-man. Keewin say Star-man plenty good Indian. Him send Star-man to fort. So. No help come. Maybe Star-man him get kill. So him pow-wow. Keewin say, him go fetch help. Keewin go, not all be kill. So Keewin go. Indian find Keewin. They shoot plenty much. Keewin no care that," he flicked his tawny fingers in the air. "Indian no good shoot. Keewin laugh. So. Keewin come fort."
The man ceased speaking, his attitude remaining precisely as it was before he began. He was without a sign of emotion. Neither the Padre nor Alec spoke. Both were waiting for Murray. The priest's eyes were on the trader's stern round face. He was watching and reading with profound insight. Alec continued to regard the Indian. But he chafed under Murray's delay.
Before the silence was broken Ailsa Mowbray reappeared in the doorway. Jessie had remained behind.
The wife's face was a study in strong courage battling with emotion. Her gray eyes, no longer soft, were steady, however. Her brows were markedly drawn. Her lips, too, were firm, heroically firm.
She held out her letter to the Padre. It was noticeable she did not offer it to Murray.
"Read it," she said. Then she added: "You can all read it. Alec, too."
The two men closed in on either side of Father José. The woman looked on while the three pairs of eyes read the firm clear handwriting.
"Well?" she demanded, as the men looked up from their reading, and the priest thoughtfully refolded the paper.
Alec's tongue was the more ready to express his thoughts.
"God!" he cried. "It means--massacre!"
The priest turned on him in reproof. His keen eyes shone like burnished steel.
"Keep silent--you," he cried, in a sharp, staccato way.
The hot blood mounted to the boy's cheek, whether in abashment or in anger would be impossible to say. He was prevented from further word by Murray McTavish who promptly took command.
"Say, there's no time for talk," he said, in his decisive fashion. "It's up to us to get busy right away." He turned to the priest. "Father, I need two crews for the big canoes right off--now. You'll get 'em. Good crews for the paddle. Best let Keewin pick 'em. Eh, Keewin?" The Indian nodded. "Keewin'll take charge of one, and I the other. I can make Bell River under the week. I'll drive the crews to the limit, an' maybe make the place in four days. I'll get right back to the store now for the arms and ammunition, and the grub. We start in an hour's time."
Then he turned on Alec.