CHAPTER THIRTY.
THE TRIAL FOR MURDER.
"Dan," said Elspie, as, seated in the summer-house after the arrival ofthe sportsmen, these two held a meeting, "I have called you back to tellyou of a very terrible thing which has been said of my dear brotherDuncan, and which you must contradict at once, and then find out how itwas that the false report arose, and have the matter cleared up."
"Dear Elspie," returned Dan, "I think I know what you are going to tellme."
"Have you heard the report, then?" said Elspie, turning pale, "and--anddo you believe it?"
"I have suspected--I have--but let me hear first what the report is, andwho it came from."
"I got it from Annette Pierre, and I am sure she would not have told itme if she did not think it true; but, then, poor Annette is not veryintelligent, and she may be--must be--mistaken. She says that it wasDuncan who killed poor Henri Perrin, and that some of the half-breedsare determined to avenge the death of their comrade. Now, it cannot betrue; and I want you at once to go and ferret out the truth, so as toprove the report false."
"Have you spoken to Duncan on the subject?" asked Dan.
"No, I cannot bear to let him imagine even for a moment that I couldbelieve him guilty of murder--that I even suspected him of it. But yousay you have heard something, Dan--that you suspect something. What isit?"
"It is difficult to say, Elspie dear. I, too, have heard the rumourthat has come to your ears, and I have seen--but it is useless talkingof our mere conjectures. I will go at once and ferret out all about itif possible. My first business will be to see Annette and get from herall that she knows. Where is Duncan?"
"In the wheat-field. They have begun to shear to-day, and, as the cropis heavy, they will be glad of your help."
Dan went to the field, after visiting Annette Pierre, and lent goodassistance to the shearers, but, like Elspie, he found that he had notcourage to say anything to Duncan that would indicate his suspicion. Helonged to put the question straight to him, but could not prevail onhimself to do so.
Next morning, however, he and Elspie were both saved the necessity ofdoing such violence to their feelings, by the arrival of two men fromFort Garry. They were members of a sort of police force that theCompany had enrolled, and had come to arrest Duncan McKay junior, on thecharge of murder!
There was not much of law in the colony at that time, but it was feltthat something had to be done in the way of governing a settlement whichwas rapidly increasing, and in which Lynch and mob law would certainlybe applied if regularly constituted authority did not step in. As themurder of Perrin had created great indignation among the half-breeds,and the feeling about it was increasing, the Company resolved to clearthe matter up by having the supposed murderer tried. Duncan wasaccordingly lodged in one of the bastions of Fort Garry, where, whenvisited by the Governor, he firmly denied his guilt.
The arrest of his younger son on such a charge fell very heavily on poorDuncan McKay senior--more heavily than those who knew him would haveexpected. It touched not only his feelings but his pride; for was henot a lineal descendant of that Fergus McKay who had been a chief in oneof the Western Isles of Scotland--he could not tell which, but nomatter--at that celebrated period of Scottish history when the greatNorse king, Harold Fairhair, had made a descent on the Scottish coastand received one of the few thorough thrashings that darkened hisotherwise successful career?
"O! Tuncan, Tuncan, my boy!" cried the old man, shoving his handsdeeper into his breeches pockets, and apostrophising his imprisoned sonas he walked up and down in the privacy of his own bedroom. "O that wano' the name should come to such disgrace! An' it's denyin' it you willbe, whether you are guilty or innocent. O Tuncan, Tuncan! you wass evernotorious for tellin' lies--an' a troublesome boy all round--whatever."
But when the old man went to Fort Garry and visited his son, he stifledhis pathetic feelings, and appeared before him with all the offendeddignity of an injured member of the great clan McKay.
"Are you guilty, Tuncan?" he asked, sternly.
"No, I'm innocent," answered the youthful Highlander, with a brow quiteas stern and a manner as dignified as the old one.
"You will hev to prove that--whatever."
"No--they will hev to prove me guilty," retorted the son.
"I wish I could believe ye, Tuncan."
"It iss not of much consequence whether ye believe me or not, father.You are not to be my chudge--whatever."
"That is goot luck for you, Tuncan, for if I wass your chudge I would bebound to condemn you--you wass always so fond o' tellin' lies."
"It iss true what you say, father. It iss a chip o' the old block thatI am--more's the peety." At this point the door of the prison opened,and Elspie was ushered in.
"You here, father!" she exclaimed in evident surprise. "I had hoped tosee Duncan alone."
"It iss alone with him you'll soon be," replied the Highlander, puttingon his hat. "Goot tay, Tuncan, my boy, an' see that you'll be tellin'the truth, if ye can, when ye come to be tried."
To this the youth made no reply.
"O Duncan!" said the girl, when her father had retired, "how came theyto invent such lies about you?"
The tender way in which this was said, and the gentle touch on his arm,almost overcame the stubborn man, but he steeled himself against suchinfluences.
"What can I say, Elspie?" he replied. "How can I tell what iss thereason that people tell lies?"
"But it _is_ lies, isn't it, Duncan?" asked the poor girl, almostentreatingly.
"You say that it iss lies--whatever, an' I will not be contradictin'you. But when the trial comes on you will see that it cannot be provedagainst me, Elspie--so keep your mind easy."
With this rather unsatisfactory assurance, Elspie was fain to restcontent, and she returned home a little, though not much, easier in hermind.
To make the trial quite fair and regular, a jury of twelve men, chosenby lot from a large number, was empanelled, and as many witnesses aspossible were examined. These last were not numerous, and it isneedless to say that Annette Pierre and Marie Blanc were the chief. Butdespite their evidence and the strong feeling that existed against theprisoner, it was found impossible to convict him, so that in the end hewas acquitted and set free. But there were men in the colony whoregistered a vow that Cloudbrow should not escape. They believed him tobe guilty, in spite of the trial, and made up their minds patiently tobide their time.
It now seemed as if at last a measure of prosperity were about to dawnupon the farmers in that distant land, and, as usual on such occasionsof approaching prosperity, Dan Davidson and Duncan McKay senior began totalk of the wedding which had been so long delayed.
"I wass thinkin', Tan," remarked the old man one morning, while walkingin the verandah with his after-breakfast pipe, "that I will be gettingin the crops pretty soon this year, an' they're heavy crops too, so thatwe may look forward to a comfortable winter--whatever."
"True, and as our crops are also very good, thank God, I begin now tohope that Elspie may see her way to--"
"See her way!" exclaimed McKay with some asperity: "she will hev to seeher way when I tell her to open her eyes an' look!"
"Nay, but there are two to this bargain," said Dan, good-humouredly. "Iwould not consent to have her on such terms. She must fix and arrangeeverything without constraint from any one--not even from you, DuncanMcKay."
"Oh! fery goot!" retorted the old man with a touch of sarcasm; "you knowfery well what Elspie will be sayin' to that, or you would not be soready to let it rest with her. Yes, yes, she is safe to see her way togo the way that you want her to go."
It was a strange coincidence that at the very time these two wereconversing on this subject in the verandah of Ben Nevis Hall, MrsDavidson and Elspie were discussing the very same subject in an upperroom of Prairie Cottage. We refrain from giving the details, however,as it would be unpardonable to reveal such matters. We will merelystate that the conclusions to whic
h the ladies came were very similar tothose arrived at by the gentlemen.
But delay was still destined to be an element in the cup of thisunfortunate couple.
When the harvest had been gathered in that year, there came what oldMcKay called a visitation which, with its consequences, recallsirresistibly the words of our great Scottish poet--"the best-laidschemes o' mice and men gang aft a-gley." This visitation was a plagueof mice. The whole colony was infested with them. Like thegrasshoppers, the mice devoured everything. The grain after beingstacked was almost totally destroyed by them. The straw, the verystubble itself, was cut to atoms. The fields, the woods, the plains,seemed literally alive with this new visitor, and the result would havebeen that most of the settlers would again have been driven to spendanother dreary winter in trapping and hunting with the Indians atPembina, if it had not been for the fortunate circumstance that thebuffalo runners had been unusually successful that year. They returnedfrom the plains rejoicing,--their carts heavily laden with buffalo-robesand innumerable bags of pemmican.