CHAPTER XVI
THE FIRST BLOW
Mechanically Dunvegan counted the dog teams that crossed the valleybefore his gaze. Five great sleds he made out, sleds piled high withhuge bales of furs. Two men accompanied each sledge, a driver and anarmed guard. Evidently the train was going into camp under the shouldersof the Caribou Ridges.
"Strong Father did not think that any of the French Hearts were sonear?" ventured Maskwa quietly.
"No," the chief trader muttered, "I did not. Ah! they are halting. It iswell that they did not get sight of us, Maskwa, for I fancy we couldnever catch them if those big teams once started galloping."
The Ojibway nodded gravely as he peered, animal-like, between two largetree trunks.
"That is why I bade Strong Father keep with the ridge," he replied. "Onthe River of the Blazing Pine the French Hearts would have seen useasily where the valleys meet."
"You knew it was coming?" Dunvegan cried in amazement. "ThisNiskitowaney train?"
"Even so, Strong Father."
"How?"
"By the actions of the Little Fool."
"What was Gaspard doing?"
The fort runner pointed to a ledge of rock that jutted out on thehighest point of the hill.
"The Little Fool stood there, waiting," he observed. "He had seen thefur train of the French Hearts coming and thought to travel with them totheir fort. But soon his thoughts were changed. He saw me anddisappeared in the trees. When I caught him, he had no food or rifle.Yet I brought them to you, Strong Father.
"He is a little devil as well as a little fool," Maskwa summed up. "Hedeserves no pity. Mark you, Strong Father, he has been the right hand ofthat wicked French Heart, the Black Ferguson. Does Strong Fatherremember the ambush on Caribou Point when we thought to take the leader?Who brought the news? Who led us there? Who had planned the surprisewith the French Hearts? None but the Little Fool! Who gave them noticeof the movements of our fur trains? The Little Fool! Who warned theCrees to fall upon you as you journeyed to Kamattawa? Why, StrongFather, it is always the Little Fool. And his weak brain seems strongerthan the wisdom of the Stern Father and his servants. He has laughed atus all."
"Yes," grumbled Dunvegan, "he has fooled us for a time. But that time isgone."
"While the wolf lives, his teeth may still rend," Maskwa philosophized."Let the Little Fool die! Else will he work Strong Father greater harm."
The calm suggestion brought an expression of repugnance to the chieftrader's face.
"I can't do that!" he objected.
"It is well," remarked the Ojibway. "I have counseled."
"As a prisoner he cannot do us any harm," Dunvegan persisted.
"I have counseled," Maskwa repeated. "When Strong Father wishes it hadbeen done he will remember my counsel."
He dismissed the subject with habitual unconcern and devoted a fewminutes to spying upon the camping preparations of the Nor'west furtrain. With the movements of skilled woodsmen they set about it. Firstof all, they stepped out of their snowshoe loops and diligently used theraquettes as shovels, clearing the snow away and banking it up till along rectangle of ground lay bare. While some thickly carpeted thecleared space with balsam brush taken from the foot of the ridge otherschopped dead pines into firewood and built a long stringer of flame theentire length of the camp ground.
Then the dogs were unharnessed and the sledges drawn up by thongs intohandy trees out of reach of these huskies, who otherwise would destroythe furs while the men slept. After that the Nor'west drivers and guardsthrew themselves down by the fires to prepare their supper of dried meatand tea, having already stuck the dogs' portion of frozen whitefish upontwigs to thaw by the fierce blaze.
From the height Dunvegan and Maskwa watched it all.
"They know how to make camp, all right," the chief trader observed.
The Ojibway nodded briefly. "They have also traveled many trails," hesupplemented judicially.
"And since it is a good camp we will not need to change it," continuedDunvegan significantly.
"It is well," grunted Maskwa. He shook the screening boughs back inplace and turned about, adding: "When the dark falls thickly, we willcome this way again."
The Oxford House men were growing impatient in the increasing cold, butthey received the news of the Nor'west fur train's proximity withjubilation. The frost was becoming so intense that to do without a fireeven for a few hours proved impossible; so the whole force backtrailed amile as a precaution and huddled over a hastily built pyramid of lightedspruce branches. The Caribou Ridges, looming up, shut off the flamesfrom the Nor'westers' view. Also, Dunvegan posted an Indian lookout onthe height above the other bivouac to carry warning of any untowardmove. The dogs' jaws were tied with strips of buckskin that they mightnot growl or bark, for sounds carried far in the frosty air.
Attention was now paid to Gaspard Follet, and he was placed in thecustody of two Hudson's Bay men, who had orders to shoot him on hisfirst attempt at escape. He still kept up his pretense of foolish wits,but a sinister threat from Dunvegan silenced his idiotic whining. Thechief trader did not condescend to parley with Follet nor tell him ofwhat he was suspected. He simply ordered the dwarf into strict charge.It was the business of Malcolm Macleod, the Factor, to judge him.
The hour of waiting while the gray twilight thickened to black darkbecame oppressive. The Oxford House men chafed under the restraint andthe silence. Other than murmurings and flame noises no sounds came fromaround the fire. Terence Burke had soaked himself through and throughwith the radiating heat. Complacently he pawed his limbs. Now theselimbs, reinvigorated, cried out for active work as loudly as his hungrystomach cried for hearty food.
He whispered to Connear: "'Tis a bloomin' wake we're at. Phwat's the useo' dallyin' loike this? Why don't we take these Nor'west divils by thescruffs o' their necks an' shake them? They're outnumbered four to wan!"
"Mind your own business," growled Connear. "You keep mixin' yourself upwith every plan that's being made. You're too fresh! Keep your ownplace, you Irish lubber, and don't try runnin' the whole show!"
Baptiste Verenne flashed his customary grin, with the attribute of ivoryteeth.
"_Oui_," he commented, "kip de place an' go ver' cautious. Dat's de wayin dis countree. You see, we mus' spring on dose mans _vite_ w'en deynot t'ink! Geeve dem no taim harness de fas' dogs. Dat's onlee way weget dem."
"It's a slow sphring," Terence complained. "If the recoil's as slow asthe sphring, bewitch me if divil a thing comes av it."
"Shut up," commanded Connear tersely. "Your mouth's as big as the Irishsea."
"Yes," snapped Burke, "an' it's swallowed better sailors than yerself."
Baptiste made an angry gesture for quiet and motioned furtively to whereDunvegan stood silently warming himself on the other side of the fire.
"_Saprie!_ You be stubborn mans!" he snarled contemptuously.
But now the order came to move. Several Indians were left with thesledges and the newly-made prisoner. The rest of the men filed off inthe direction of the balsam ridge. Its crest was reached silently and inperfect order. There the men paused at a point directly over the campthey purposed to rush.
Maskwa, with Dunvegan, surveyed the slope, contemplating the moment ofdescent. Far below they could see the line of crackling fire with thebanked snow at the sides glowing pink beneath the blaze. Etched outdully against each fitful flame, the squatting figures crouched low. Attimes a hand was cleanly outlined in the white upper light as it raisedfood to mouth. A tea pail passing down the line of men flashedintermittently.
"Now while they eat is the time, Strong Father," the Ojibway fort runnermurmured. "They think only of their stomachs, and their arms are nothandy. If we are swift and sure on our feet not a shot need be fired."
"Very well," assented Dunvegan. "You lead. I will stay on your heels."
"Let the men make no sound," warned Maskwa. "We go without noise asclose as possible. As soon as their dogs scent us we must spring likethe hungry p
anther."
The chief trader passed a whispered caution to his retainers.
"Keep close to us," he adjured, "and rush when we rush! Grasp thefellows and prevent them from shooting! There is no need for bloodshed,and we cannot afford to lose any of our number. Every man we have willbe needed at Fort Brondel!"
There was a faint, dissatisfied murmur at this command. Fresh in theminds of the Hudson's Bay men were the accounts given by survivors ofthe bloody sacking of the Wokattiwagan and Shamattawa fur trains. Theywould have liked a sanguinary reprisal, but they knew better than todisobey any order of Dunvegan's. So they relinquished their vengefulanticipations and followed watchfully.
Down the snowy hillside they dropped, noiseless as shadows. No figure atthe fire stirred from its eating; no dog voiced alarm. The balsams wereleft behind and the men entered scrubby spruces, where they foundbetter cover.
The camp was no more than a little dome of light walled in byimpenetrable darkness. The night crowded to its red ramparts, full ofmystery, unreadable, sinister, fear-compelling. And, crowding like thenight, came the Oxford House force, with all the advantage of positionthat the inky darkness gave.
Slowly, their nerves growing more tense at every step, they workedthrough the spruces. Each yard they advanced increased the strain. Alittle drumming noise began to vibrate in the men's throats. An almostinaudible sound it was, but to their own strained hearing it rose in aroar. Closer and closer they stole till, seeing their enemies soplainly, the idea that they themselves must be seen impressed itselfwith ever-increasing power.
Maskwa treaded the evergreen aisles like a swift wraith. Holding theends of each other's sashes, the rest walked in single file after him.So great was the curb on their feelings, so suffocating the silence,that some would have gained immense relief by uttering tremendousshouts. But they dared not! The first outcry must come from the camp.The alarm would ring out unexpectedly, and the invaders waited for thatmoment and wrestled with their tingling senses.
Forty paces!--the impaled whitefish before the fires looked ludicrouslylarge, like young sharks. Thirty paces!--the ruddy blaze limned thedark, lean-featured countenances of the Nor'westers, resting in naturalunconsciousness of impending disaster. Twenty-five!--the nervous tensionsnapped with a sudden mental jerk that set every sinew in the men'sbodies tingling!
The suspicious huskies blew loudly and growled. Instinctively theNor'west guards reached quickly for their guns, only to be seized by theshoulders and hurled back into the snow. The camp turned instantly to amass of rolling, grappling bodies. Red coals kicked into the banks sentforth hissing steam clouds. Feet stamped and plunged and twisted hereand there, throwing up white spurts of snow, knocking burning branchesthrough the air, tripping opponents with savage force.
The struggle took place practically in silence except for the uneasysnarling of the dogs and the heavy breathing and occasional oaths of themen. Often a knife blade gleamed redly as it poised for a blow. The thudof steel on flesh and the groan of pain followed.
Then, bringing the climax of brute savagery, the growling huskiescharged, indifferent whether their chisel-like fangs sliced master ormaster's foe. But they had waited too long! The moment when theirassault might have seriously hindered the Hudson's Bay men--in theinitial minute of the fight--was past. A half dozen of Dunvegan'sfollowers sprang out of the melee, and, catching up dog whips, flayedneutrality through their tough hides.
The cowing of the Nor'westers' huskies was coincident with theoverpowering of the Nor'westers themselves. Held in the grip of two, andoften three, antagonists each of the guards and the Indian drivers wassubdued, bound, and laid beside the raked-up fire.
In a sullen line they lay, beaten but full of stubborn enmity. To thatline Dunvegan added Gaspard Follet when the Company's sledges came on.The capture of the Niskitowaney fur train was complete.