CHAPTER ELEVEN.
TO THE RESCUE.
Elsie and Cora Ravenshaw were seated at a table in Willow Creek, withtheir mother and Miss Trim, repairing garments, one night in that sameinclement January of which we have been writing.
Mr Ravenshaw was enjoying his pipe by the stove, and Louis Lambert wasmaking himself agreeable. The old man was a little careworn. No newshad yet been received of Tony or of Victor. In regard to the latter hefelt easy; Victor could take care of himself, and was in good company,but his heart sank when he thought of his beloved Tony. What would henot have given to have had him smashing his pipe or operating on hisscalp at that moment.
"It is an awful winter," observed Elsie, as a gust of wind seemed tonearly blow in the windows.
"I pity the hunters in the plains," said Cora. "They say a rumour hascome that they are starving."
"I heard of that, but hope it is not true," observed Lambert.
"Oh! they always talk of starving," said old Ravenshaw. "No fear of'em."
At that moment there was a sound of shuffling in the porch, the door wasthrown open, and a gaunt, haggard man, with torn, snow-sprinkledgarments, pale face, and bloodshot eyes, stood pictured on thebackground of the dark porch.
"Baptiste Warder!" exclaimed Lambert, starting up.
"Ay, what's left o' me; and here's the remains o' Winklemann," saidWarder, pointing to the cadaverous face of the starving German, whofollowed him.
Need we say that the hunters received a kindly welcome by the Ravenshawfamily, as they sank exhausted into chairs. The story of starvation,suffering, and death was soon told--at least in outline.
"You are hungry. When did you eat last?" asked Mr Ravenshaw,interrupting them.
"Two days ago," replied Warder, with a weary smile.
"It seems like two veeks," observed the German, with a sigh.
"Hallo! Elsie, Cora, victuals!" cried the sympathetic old man, turningquickly round.
But Elsie, whose perceptions were quick, had already placed bread andbeer on the table.
"Here, have a drink of beer first," said the host, pouring out a foamingglass.
Warder shook his head. Winklemann remarked that, "beer vas goot, vergoot, but they had been used to vatter of late."
"Ah!" he added, after devouring half a slice of bread while waiting forCora to prepare another; "blessed brod an' booter! Nobody can know vatit is till he have starve for two veek--a--I mean two days; all de sameting in my feel--"
The entrance of a huge bite put a sudden and full stop to the sentence.
"Why did you not stop at some of the houses higher up the river tofeed?" asked Lambert.
Warder explained that they meant to have done so, but they had missedtheir way. They had grown stupid, he thought, from weakness. When theylost the way they made straight for the river, guided by the pole-star,and the first house they came in sight of was that of Willow Creek.
"How can the pole-star guide one?" asked Cora, in some surprise.
"Don't you know?" said Lambert, going round to where Cora sat, andsitting down beside her. "I will explain."
"If I did know I wouldn't ask," replied Cora coquettishly; "besides, Idid not put the question to _you_."
"Nay, but you don't object to my answering it, do you?"
"Not if you are quite sure you can do so correctly."
"I think I can, but the doubts which you and your sister so often throwon my understanding make me almost doubt myself," retorted Lambert, witha laughing glance at Elsie. "You must know, then, that there is aconstellation named the Great Bear. It bears about as much resemblanceto a bear as it does to a rattlesnake, but that's what astronomers havecalled it. Part of it is much more in the shape of a plough, and one ofthe stars in that plough is the pole-star. You can easily distinguishit when once you know how, because two of the other stars are nearly inline with it, and so are called `pointers.' When you stand looking atthe pole-star you are facing the north, and of course, when you knowwhere the north is, you can tell all the other points of the compass."
It must not be supposed that the rest of the party listened to thisastronomical lecture. The gallant Louis had sought to interest Elsie aswell as Cora, but Elsie was too much engrossed with the way-worn huntersand their sad tale to think of anything else. When they had eatenenough to check the fierce cravings of hunger they related moreparticulars.
"And now," said Warder, sitting erect and stretching his long arms inthe air as if the more to enjoy the delightful sensation of returningstrength, "we have pushed on at the risk of our lives to save time.This news must be carried at once to the Governor. The Company can helpus best in a fix like this."
"Of course, of course; I shall send word to him at once," said his host.
"All right, Baptiste," said Lambert, coming forward, "I expected you'dwant a messenger. Here I am. Black Dick's in the stable. He'll be inthe cariole in ten minutes. What shall I say to the Governor?"
"I'll go with you," answered Warder.
"So vill I," said Winklemann.
"You'll do nothing of the sort," retorted Ravenshaw. "You both needrest. A sound sleep will fit you to do your work more actively in themorning. I myself will go to the fort."
"Only _one_ can go, at least in my cariole," remarked Lambert, "for itonly holds two, and no one can drive Black Dick but myself."
Baptiste Warder was immoveable; it ended in his going off in the cariolewith Lambert to inform the governor of the colony, who was also chief ofthe Hudson's Bay Company in Red River, and to rouse the settlement.They had to pass the cottage of Angus Macdonald on the way.
"Oh! wow!" cried that excitable old settler when he heard the news."Can it pe possible? So many tead an' tying. Oh! wow!--Here, Martha!Martha! where iss that wuman? It iss always out of the way she iss whenshe's wantit. Ay, Peegwish, you will do equally well. Go to thestaple, man, an' tell the poy to put the mare in the cariole. Make himpe quick; it's slow he iss at the best, whatever."
Lambert did not wait to hear the remarks of Angus, but drove off atonce. Angus put on his leather coat, fut cap, and mittens, andotherwise prepared himself for a drive over the snow-clad plains to FortGarry, where the Governor dwelt, intending to hear what was going to bedone, and offer his services.
With similarly benevolent end in view, old Ravenshaw harnessed his horseand made for the same goal, regardless alike of rheumatism, age, andinclement weather. At a certain point, not far from the creek, the oldtrader's private track and that which led to the house of AngusMacdonald united, and thereafter joined the main road, which road, bythe way, was itself a mere track beaten in the snow, with barely roomfor two carioles to pass. Now, it so happened that the neighbours cameup to the point of junction at the same moment. Both were driving hard,being eager and sympathetic about the sufferings of the plain-hunters.To have continued at the same pace would have been to insure a meetingand a crash. One _must_ give way to the other! Since the affair of theknoll these two men had studiously cut each other. They met everySabbath day in the same church, and felt this to be incongruous as wellas wrong. The son of the one was stolen by savages. The son of theother was doing his utmost to rescue the child. Each regretted havingquarrelled with the other, but pride was a powerful influence in both.What was to be done? Time for thought was short, for two fiery steedswere approaching each other at the rate of ten miles an hour. Who wasto give in?
"I'll see both carioles smashed to atoms first!" thought Ravenshaw,grinding his teeth.
"She'll tie first," thought Angus, pursing his lips.
The instinct of self-preservation caused both to come to a dead andviolent halt when within six yards of the meeting-point. A happythought burst upon Angus at that instant.
"Efter you, sir," he said, with a palpable sneer, at the same timebacking his horse slightly.
It was an expression of mock humility, and would become an evidence ofsuperior courtesy if Ravenshaw should go insolently on. If, on theother hand, he sh
ould take it well, a friendly reference to the roads orthe weather would convert the sneer into a mere nasal tone.
"Ah, thanks, thanks," cried Mr Ravenshaw heartily, as he drove past;"bad news that about the plain-hunters. I suppose you've heard it."
"Ay, it iss pad news--ferry pad news inteed, Mister Ruvnshaw. It willpe goin' to the fort ye are?"
"Yes; the poor people will need all the help we can give them."
"They wull that; oo ay."
Discourse being difficult in the circumstances, they drove the remainderof the way in silence, but each knew that the breach between them washealed, and felt relieved. Angus did not, however, imagine that he wasany nearer to his desires regarding the knoll. Full well did heunderstand and appreciate the unalterable nature of Sam Ravenshaw'sresolutions, but he was pleased again to be at peace, for, to say truth,he was not fond of war, though ready to fight on the smallestprovocation.
Baptiste Warder was right in expecting that the Company would lend theirpowerful aid to the rescue.
The moment the Governor heard of the disaster, he took immediate andactive steps for sending relief to the plains. Clothing and provisionswere packed up as fast as possible, and party after party was sent outwith these. But in the nature of things the relief was slow. We havesaid that some of the hunters and their families had followed theIndians and buffalo to a distance of between 150 and 200 miles. Thesnow was now so deep that the only means of transport was bydog-sledges. Dogs, being light and short-limbed, can travel wherehorses cannot, but even dogs require a track, and the only way of makingone on the trackless prairie, or in the forest, is by means of a man onsnow-shoes, who walks ahead of the dogs and thus "beats the track." Themen employed, however, were splendid and persevering walkers, and theirhearts were in the work.
Both Samuel Ravenshaw and Angus Macdonald gave liberally to the cause;and each obtaining a team of dogs, accompanied one of the relief partiesin a dog-cariole. If the reader were to harness four dogs to aslipper-bath, he would have a fair idea of a dog-cariole and team.Louis Lambert beat the track for old Ravenshaw. He was a recognisedsuitor at Willow Creek by that time. The old gentleman was wellaccustomed to the dog-cariole, but to Angus it was new--at least inexperience.
"It iss like as if she was goin' to pathe," he remarked, with a grimsmile, on stepping into the machine and sitting down, or ratherreclining luxuriously among the buffalo robes.
The dogs attempted to run away with him, and succeeded for a hundredyards or so. Then they got off the track, and discovered that Angus washeavy. Then they stopped, put out their tongues, and looked humbly backfor the driver to beat the track for them.
A stout young half-breed was the driver. He came up and led the wayuntil they reached the open plains, where a recent gale had swept awaythe soft snow, and left a long stretch that was hard enough for the dogsto walk on without sinking. The team was fresh and lively.
"She'd petter hold on to the tail," suggested Angus.
The driver assented. He had already left the front, and allowed thecariole to pass him, in order to lay hold of the tail-line and check thepace, but the dogs were too sharp for him. They bolted again, ran morethan a mile, overturned the cariole, and threw its occupant on the snow,after which they were brought up suddenly by a bush.
On the way the travellers passed several others of the wealthy settlerswho were going personally to the rescue. Sympathy for the plain-hunterswas universal. Every one lent a willing hand. The result was that thelives of hundreds were saved, though many were lost. Their sufferingswere so great that some died on their road to the colony, after beingrelieved at Pembina. Those found alive had devoured their horses, dogs,raw hides, leather, and their very moccasins. Mr Ravenshaw and hisneighbour passed many corpses on the way, two of which were scarcelycold. They also passed at various places above forty sufferers in sevenor eight parties, who were crawling along with great difficulty. Tothese they distributed the provisions they had brought with them. Atlast the hunters were all rescued and conveyed to the settlement--oneman, with his wife and three children, having been dug out of the snow,where they had been buried for five days and nights. The woman andchildren recovered, but the man died.
Soon after this sad event the winter began to exhibit unwonted signs ofseverity. It had begun earlier, and continued later than usual. Thesnow averaged three feet deep in the plains and four feet in the woods,and the cold was intense, being frequently down to forty-five degreesbelow zero of Fahrenheit's scale, while the ice measured between fiveand six feet in thickness on the rivers.
But the great, significant, and prevailing feature of that winter wassnow. Never within the memory of man had there been such heavy,continuous, persistent snow. It blocked up the windows so that men hadconstantly to clear a passage for daylight. It drifted up the doors sothat they were continually cutting passages for themselves to the worldoutside. It covered the ground to such an extent that fences began tobe obliterated, and landmarks to disappear, and it weighted the roofsdown until some of the weaker among them bid fair to sink under theload.
"A severe winter" was old Mr Ravenshaw's usual morning remark as hewent to the windows, pipe in hand, before breakfast. To which hisbetter half invariably replied, "Never saw anything like it before;" andMiss Trim remarked, "It is awful."
"It snows hard--whatever," was Angus Macdonald's usual observation aboutthe same hour. To which his humble and fast friend Peegwish--whoassisted in his kitchen--was wont to answer, "Ho!" and glare solemnly,as though to intimate that his thoughts were too deep for utterance.
Thus the winter passed away, and when spring arrived it had to wage anunusually fierce conflict before it gained the final victory over iceand snow.