CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
FOUND AND SAVED.
Now it must not be imagined that old Liz, after being carried away bythe flood, submitted to her fate without a struggle. It was not in hernature to give in without good reason. She did not sit down and wringher hands, or tear her hair, or reproach her destiny, or relieve herfeelings by venting them on the old couple under her charge. In short,she did not fall back in her distress on any of the refuges of theimbecile.
Her first care was to arrange Daddy and Mrs Winklemann in such a mannerthat they could sleep with some degree of comfort in their chairs. Thisshe did by means of pillows and blankets, and, after accomplishing it,sat down on the wet bed to contemplate the pair. Her satisfaction wassoon marred, however, by the discovery that Mrs Winklemann was given tokicking in her sleep. In one of the spasmodic lunges with her lowerlimbs she gave Daddy's legs such a shake that the old gentleman was halfawakened by the surprise.
It will be remembered that the pair were seated _vis-a-vis_ in theirrespective arm-chairs, with a low table between them, and their legsresting thereon. To prevent a recurrence of the kick Liz put a piece ofbroken plank between them on the table, and by means of a rope woundround legs and table, effectually restrained the unruly members.
She then returned to her place on the soaking truckle-bed, and, leaningher wet shoulders against the wall, endeavoured to think what was to bedone when the return of day should enable her to act. To act was easyto Liz, but thought was difficult. In attempting it she fell soundasleep. Her shape helped her; she did not require to lie down. Herhead merely dropped on one of her fat shoulders. The rotundity of herframe rendered a collapse impossible. Thus she slept and snored untildaylight shone through the parchment windows--until Daddy awoke her witha gasping cough.
"Hough! Hi! Liz, there's sumthin' wrang wi' my legs!"
"Hoots! haud yer gab!" cried his polite daughter, leaping from her dampcouch into the water, with no other evidence of feeling than a sharp"Hech!" as the cold element laved her limbs. "There's naethin' wrangwi' yer legs, only I've tied them to the table to keep them fraetum'lin' aff."
"Mine boy, have he comin' back?" asked Mrs Winklemann, who was awakenedby the conversation.
"Na; he's no come back yet, but he'll be here afore lang, nae doot. Bequiet noo, like guid bairns. I canna let yer legs doon yet, for thefloor's dreedfu' wat. There!" she added, casting loose the ropes andarranging the limbs more comfortably; "jist let them lie where they are,and I'll gie ye yer brekfists in a meenit."
She was as good as her word. In a few minutes the submissive pair werebusy with bread and cheese, which, with a little cold water, was theonly breakfast poor Liz had to give them.
While the morning meal was being dispensed the anxious little womanthrust a bite or two into her own mouth, and ate as she moved about.Then she told the old people she was "gauin' up the lum to look aboother." Without more ado she dipped into the fireplace and disappeared upthe chimney.
Her surprise on reaching this point of vantage was very great. Thecottage was no longer driven over the bosom of a wide sea, but floatedquietly in a calm basin surrounded by trees. During the night it hadbeen carried far down in the direction of Lake Winnipeg, and had gotentangled in one of the clumps of wood with which some parts of thatregion were studded. The hut had been so completely thrust into thecopse that it was quite encompassed by foliage, and nothing of thesurrounding country was visible from the chimney-top. The only thingthat remained obvious to old Liz was the fact that the hut stillfloated, and was held in position by a stout branch which had caught theroof.
We have said that thought--that is, profound or consecutive thought--wasa trouble to old Liz. Her mind leaped in an interjectional, flashingmanner. Her actions were impulsive. A tall tree, a squirrel, and abird's-eye view flashed into her brain at the same moment. She desiredthe last, and proceeded to act like the second, by seizing a limb of thefirst, which hung conveniently at her elbow. But her emulation of thesquirrel was not very successful, for, although a strong frame andpowerful will are useful in climbing tall trees, petticoats, even whenshort, are against that operation. It is needless to say, however, thatin the case of old Liz difficulties were only met to be overcome. Infive or ten minutes she stood with dishevelled hair, bleeding hands, andtorn garments, among the topmost branches of the tall tree, and surveyedthe world beneath with feelings of mingled surprise and dismay. Therewas evidently no abatement of the flood. On her left hand lay aboundless lake; on her right there spread out a little archipelago oftrees and bushes. While she gazed her eye was arrested by two darkspecks on the horizon. Could they be boats? Yes; they moved! Clearlythey must be either boats or canoes.
One of the old woman's intellectual flashes occurred at this point.There was a fishing-rod in the hut below, a primitive one, such as Adammight have used in Eden--the branch of a tree.
Down came old Liz, much faster than she went up; slipping, scratching,rending, grasping, and clutching, until she gained the chimney, downwhich she went unceremoniously, alighting as formerly, with a squashwhich not only alarmed but besprinkled the old couple.
Liz caught up the rod, tied an apron to it, and then, using it as alance, charged the fireplace. It stuck, of course, but Liz was in nomood to be baffled. She bent the rod powerfully and forced it up.Following it, she emerged from the chimney, and, with a spirit worthy ofExcelsior, bore her banner to the tall tree-top, and fastened it to thetopmost bough with the last remnant of her torn neckerchief.
It was in the morning of the day about which we now write, that VictorRavenshaw and his friends arrived at the settlement. We have said thatMichel Rollin set off alone in a canoe in search of his mother themoment he obtained sufficient information to enable him to act. Atfirst he paddled wildly over the watery plain, as if mere exertion ofmuscle would accomplish his end, but soon he began to consider thatwithout giving definite direction to his energies he could not hope forsuccess. He therefore made straight for the mission station, where hefound Mr Cockran's family and people encamped on the stage, theminister himself being away in his canoe visiting some of his scatteredflock, and offering them such comfort as only those can who truly trustin Christ. Here he was advised to go to the Mountain, to which place itwas probable his mother and grandfather would have been conveyed ifpicked up by any passing boat or canoe.
Deciding to do so, he paddled away at once with diminishing hopes and aheavy heart, for the evidences of total destruction around him wereterribly real. He had not gone far when a canoe appeared on thehorizon. There was one figure in it. As it drew near the figure seemedfamiliar. Nearer still, and he recognised it.
"Vinklemann!"
"Michel!"
The friends arrested their canoes by grasping hands.
"I seek for ma mere," said the half-breed.
"I for mine moder," returned the German.
A hurried consultation ensued. It was of no use going to the Mountain.Winklemann had just come from it, having failed to find his mother. Hewas still suffering from the effects of his recent accident, but hecould not wait. He would continue the search till he died. Rollin wasof the same mind, though neither he nor his friend appeared likely todie soon. They resolved to continue the search together.
Both of them were thoroughly acquainted with the Red River plains in alldirections, but Rollin was more versed in the action of water. Thegreater part of his boyhood had been spent in canoeing and huntingexpeditions with his father, from whom he inherited the French tongueand manners which showed so much more powerfully than the Scotch elementin his composition. After his father's death he had consorted andhunted much with Peegwish, who spoke Indian and French, but remarkablylittle English. Peegwish was also a splendid canoe-man, so that Rollinhad come to study with great intelligence the flow and effect ofcurrents of water, whether deep or shallow, narrow or broad. Hence whenWinklemann related circumstantially all he had done, he shook his headand gave it as his opinion that
he had not gone the right way to work atall, and that, according to the lie of the land and the height of theflood, it was certain the hut must have been carried far below that partof the settlement in the direction of the lower fort.
Poor Winklemann was so worn out with unsuccessful searching that he wasonly too glad to follow wherever Michel Rollin chose to lead. Hence itcame to pass that in the afternoon of the same day the searchers came inview of the tall tree where old Liz had hoisted her flag of distress.
"Voila!" exclaimed Michel, on first catching sight of the ensign.
"Vat is dat?" said his companion, paddling closer alongside of hisfriend, and speaking in a hoarse whisper.
"It look like a flag," said Rollin, pushing on with increased vigour."There's something like one crow below it," he added, after a shorttime.
"It have stranch voice for von crow," said the German.
He was right. The yell of triumphant joy uttered by old Liz when shesaw that her signal had been observed was beyond the imitative powers ofany crow. As the poor creature waved her free arm, and continued toshout, while her loose hair tossed wildly round her sooty face, shepresented a spectacle that might well have caused alarm not unmixed withawe even in a manly breast; but there was a certain tone in the shoutswhich sent a sudden thrill to the heart of Rollin, causing him, strangeto say, to think of lullabies and infant days! With eyeballs fixed onthe tree-top, open-mouthed and breathing quick, he paddled swiftly on.
"Michel," said Winklemann, in a whisper, even hoarser than before, "yourmoder!"
Rollin replied not, but gave a stentorian roar, that rolled grandly overthe water.
Why was it that old Liz suddenly ceased her gesticulations, lifted herblack brows in unutterable surprise, opened her mouth, and became alistening statue? Did she too recognise tones which recalled otherdays--and the puling cries of infancy? It might have been so. Certainit is that when the shout was repeated she broke down in an effort toreply, and burst into mingled laughter and tears, at the same timewaving her free arm more violently than ever.
This was too much for the branch on which she had been performing. Itgave way, and old Liz suddenly came down, as sailors have it, "by therun." She crashed through the smaller branches of the tree-top, whichhappily broke her fall, bounded from mass to mass of the thicker foliagebelow, and finally came down on a massive bough which, shunting herclear of the tree altogether, and clear of the hut as well, sent herheadlong into the water.
With something like frozen blood and marrow, Michel witnessed the fall.A few seconds more and his canoe went crashing through the leafy screenthat hid the hut. Old Liz was up and floundering about like a blackseal, or mermaid. She could not swim, but, owing to some peculiarity ofher remarkable frame, she could not sink. Her son was at her side in amoment, seized her, and tried to kiss her. In his eagerness the canoeoverturned, and he fell into her arms and the water at the same time.
It was a joyful though awkward meeting. Much water could not quench thelove wherewith the poor creature strained Michel to her heart.Winklemann came up in time to rescue both, and dragged them to thedoor-step of the floating hut, the door of which he burst open with asingle kick, and sprang in.
Who shall attempt to describe the meeting that followed? We ask thequestion because we feel unequal to the task. There issued from the huta roll of German gutturals. Winklemann, rushing through two feet ofwater, seized his mother's hand and fell on his knees beside her. Hewas thus, of course, submerged to the waist; but he recked not--not he!Michel and old Liz entered, dripping like water-nymphs, and sat down onthe soppy bed. Daddy, impressed with the idea that a good practicaljoke was being enacted, smiled benignantly like a guardian angel.
"Now den, zee night draws on. Ve must be gone," said Winklemann,turning to Rollin; "git zee canoes ready--qveek!"
Both canoes were soon got ready; blankets and pillows were spread in thecentre of each. Mrs Winklemann was lifted carefully into one; Daddy,as carefully, into the other. Old Liz quietly took her seat in the bowof Daddy's canoe; her son sat down in the stern, while Herr Winklemanntook charge of that which contained his mother.
"No room to take any of de property to-night, ma mere," said Michel.
"Hoots! niver heed," replied Liz.
"No, I vill not heed. Moreover, Veenklemann and moi ve vill retoorndemorrow."
As he spoke he chanced to look up and saw the apron which had guided himto the spot waving gently at the tree-top. In a few seconds he wasbeside it. Cutting the staff free, he descended and stuck it in the bowof his canoe as a trophy. Thus they paddled away from the old home.
It was night when they reached the camp of the settlers on the LittleMountain. The homeless people were busy with their evening meal, and,sad though their case was, the aspect of things just then did not conveythe idea of distress. The weather was fine; camp-fires blazedcheerfully lighting up bronzed and swarthy men, comely women, andhealthy children, with a ruddy glow, while merry laughter now and thenrose above the general hum, for children care little for unfeltdistress, and grown people easily forget it in present comfort. Ruinedthough they were, many of them felt only the warmth of the hour.
There was a shout of welcome when Winklemann's canoe was observedemerging from surrounding darkness, and a cheer burst from those whofirst heard the glad news--"The old folk saved!" But that was a merechirp to the roar of congratulation that rang out when the little partylanded, and the rescuers strode into camp bearing the rescued in theirarms.