The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ti-Ti-Pu, by J. Macdonald Oxley This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Ti-Ti-Pu A Boy of Red River Author: J. Macdonald Oxley Release Date: September 16, 2010 [EBook #33740] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TI-TI-PU *** Produced by Al Haines Cover art A BIG BLACK BEAR MADE FURIOUS EFFORTS TO SEIZE DOUR AND DANDY. See page 19. TI-TI-PU A BOY OF RED RIVER BY J. MACDONALD OXLEY Author of 'Standing the Test,' etc. TORONTO THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY LIMITED 1900 CONTENTS CHAP. I. FROM THE OLD WORLD TO THE NEW II. AT ODDS WITH BRUIN III. A COLD PLUNGE IV. HECTOR ENTRAPPED V. THE SEARCH FOR HECTOR VI. ORDERED OFF VII. HOW HECTOR GOT HIS NICKNAME VIII. ON THE MOVE AGAIN IX. THE BUFFALO HUNT X. LOST ON THE PRAIRIE XI. THE LOSING AND FINDING OF AILIE XII. THE MOOSE HUNT TI-TI-PU A Boy of Red River CHAPTER I From the Old World to the New This is how it befell. Thomas Douglas, Earl of Selkirk, thought that a flourishing colony right in the midst of the rich hunting-grounds of the Hudson's Bay Company, in which he was interested, would prove no less a benefit to the natives than an excellent thing for the colonists. Accordingly, he busied himself in persuading a number of his fellow-countrymen to leave their hillside farms, and, with their families, voyage to the unknown wilds of the New World. Among those whose courage was equal to this enterprise was Andrew Macrae, accompanied by his good wife, Kirstie, his sturdy son, Hector, then just on the edge of his teens, his bonnie wee daughter, Ailie, and his two splendid sheep dogs, Dour and Dandy. The dogs' names were not given them at random. They just fitted their natures. A more serious creature than Dour surely never stood upon four legs. He bore himself as if he were responsible, not merely for the occupants of the sheep- cote, but also of the cottage as well. He was never known to frisk or gambol, or to bark without due cause. Dandy was the very opposite, as black as a raven, save for a superb snow-white shirt-front, which he managed to keep marvellously clean, and a few touches of golden-brown on his shapely head. He was only a little slighter than Dour, and as lively and frolicsome as the other was impassive. Although not quite the equal of Dour, Dandy was an excellent sheep dog, too, and many a cotter envied Andrew the possession of the two fine creatures. Hector loved both dogs dearly, albeit he stood a trifle in awe of Dour. The dogs were as much members of the family as Ailie and himself. He would have shared his last bit of bannock or sup of 'parritch' with either of them, and they fully returned his affection, each in his own way. Hector was a 'braw laddie,' in very sooth. From his father, he got the straightness and strength of body, the deftness of hand and foot, and the rapidity of thought that made him an unquestioned leader among his playfellows, and from his mother the light, crisp hair, the laughing blue eyes, and the happy turn of speech that made the other boys love as well as obey him. He stood in much awe of his father, who was as strict as he was just, but his mother had his whole heart, and many a time did he go to her for comfort, when reproved by Andrew for some little bit of heedlessness. With little Ailie, a dark-eyed, dark-haired sprite, not like either parent, to protect and pet, the Macraes made up a notably happy family group, and were the recipients of many attentions from their fellow passengers, on the long voyage on a slow sailing ship to the bleak shores of Hudson's Bay. That voyage out proved far from being a pleasant holiday. Cooped up in an over-loaded vessel, whose accommodation was scant at best, fed upon pork and beef that was salter than the sea itself, and hard biscuits that became alive with weevils ere the ship reached its destination, all the colonists suffered more or less severely. It spoke well for the stamina of the Macraes that they bore the privations of the passage better than the majority, and landed at York Factory in fairly good trim. 'Eh, but glad I am to put my feet upon the solid ground again!' exclaimed Andrew Macrae, with heartfelt emphasis, as he sprang out of the boat and strode up the beach, and, in so saying, he spoke for every one on board the vessel. Hector's legs wobbled under him in so absurd a fashion that he tumbled over several times in his first attempt at running, and even Dour and Dandy, for a little, seemed hardly to understand that they were free to bound away in any direction they pleased. But presently all the colonists were landed, and, having been kindly welcomed by the Hudson's Bay Company's employees at York Factory, made haste to bestow themselves as best they might among the buildings of the fort. The Macraes were fortunate in getting a snug room to themselves, and there, with their two children and faithful dogs, they settled down to await the beginning of the next stage of their long journey. On the following morning, Hector, accompanied by Ailie, and having Dour and Dandy, went down to the beach, where there was much going on to entertain them. The sailors were busy unloading the vessel of her very miscellaneous cargo, comprising tea and tobacco, sugar and salt, blankets and muskets, knives, hatchets, and all the varied articles required for provisioning the forts, or trading with the Indians, while Indians and half-breeds lounged near by, watching them with half-contemptuous interest. The Hudson's Bay officials moved briskly about, giving sharp orders, and, in and among them everywhere, were dogs of all ages and sizes, but alike in resembling wolves or foxes, for the Huskie breed was predominant. The sheep dogs made no attempt to find favour with the others. On the contrary, they kept close to Hector, their gleaming eyes, curling lips, and bristling necks expressing in the clearest way what they thought of their new acquaintances. The latter were not long in showing their feelings in the matter. No sooner did the collies draw near them than they rushed to meet them, snarling and growling so ferociously that Hector began to feel a little alarmed, while Ailie shrank closer to him, clasping his hand tightly in hers, and murmuring: 'I'm frightened. They'll bite us.' 'They won't dare to,' responded Hector bravely, albeit his heart was thumping at a lively rate. 'I'll drive them off with my stick,' and he flourished gallantly a slender cudgel that he had picked up at the gate of the fort. But the graceless Huskies had small respect for a stick when not in the hands of a man, and they closed in about the little group in a very menacing way. At last they got so close that Dour and Dandy, in their love and loyalty to the two children, could restrain themselves no longer, and, at the same moment, they flew at the throats of the two foremost assailants. Instantly, there was a terrific uproar, the dogs barking and wrangling furiously, Hector shouting: 'Away, you brutes!' while he laid his stick stoutly upon the backs and heads of the Huskies, and poor little Ailie shrieked pitifully at what she believed to be the imminent peril of all four. The collies fought superbly. Fearfully outnumbered as they were, their superior sagacity and speed of movement for a while enabled them to hold their own. Keeping close together in front of the children, they struck to right and left with their keen white fangs, slashing the Huskies on head and shoulder, so that one after another slunk away, howling dolefully. But for each one thus driven off, two others rushed to the attack, and, in spite of the splendid play Hector made with his stick, at the risk of being badly bitten himself, the issue must have gone hard against the gallant collies, for the Huskies would not have stopped until they had torn them to pieces. But, in the nick of time, a stalwart figure came charging down the beach with mighty strides. Into the thick of the melee plunged Andrew Macrae, using, with unsparing energy, not only his heavily booted feet, but his tightly clenched fists. On this side and that fell his tremendous blows, and every one meant a disabled or disheartened dog, until, presently, the whole pack had fled out of reach, and the wrathful Scotsman stood panting but triumphant, Ailie clinging sobbingly to one knee, and Hector standing breathless at the other, while Dour and Dandy, after a brief greeting, made haste to take stock of themselves, and see what damage they had suffered at the teeth of the evil-tempered Huskies. CHAPTER II At Odds with Bruin 'Ech, bairns!' exclaimed Andrew, putting a calming hand upon the head of each of the agitated children, 'but they're an ill lot of curs to set upon ye in that unmannerly fashion. I'm richt glad I heard the row they were making, and thocht that maybe Dour and Dandy might be glad o' my help. I'm sore mistaken if those snarling beasts,' and he indicated with a sweep of his hand the Huskies now hovering at a respectful distance, 'will be ettlin' to feel my foot verra soon. They're nae fules, though they don't know how to be decent to strangers.' By this time Ailie's tears were stayed, and Hector had recovered his wind, so they continued along the beach, the collies keeping close to Andrew's heels, giving vent to triumphant little growls whenever a Huskie ventured within earshot. As the sailing vessel had to lie out in the deep water, her cargo was being brought ashore in big boats, with high bows and sterns that could each carry a wonderful load. The process of discharging interested all the little party, and they were standing watching it, when one of their fellow-travellers came up, and, pointing to the boats, said: 'It's in those barkies that we're going to the Red River. I canna say I like the look of them ower much. They're right clumsy things, in my opinion.' Before Andrew could make reply, Hector broke in with an eager 'Oh, are we truly going on those boats? Eh, but that will be fine!—won't it, Ailie?' And he gave his sister a hearty hug, just by way of expressing his joy. His father smiled with grave indulgence. 'I would think ye'd had mair than enough of the water for a spell, laddie. I wonder ye're so eager to take to it again.' 'Eh, but that was in a big ship, father,' responded Hector, defending himself, 'and a boat will be different, and we will go along the river instead of on the ocean.' 'We'll see, we'll see,' said Andrew, sagely, 'the river may not be sae guid to us as you think.' As the season was slipping by, and as it was important for the settlers to reach their destination in good time before the long winter came, the preparations for the remainder of the journey were hurried as much as possible. Yet there seemed so much to be done, that September was at hand ere the little brigade of 'York boats,' with their precious freight of humanity and goods, hoisted their big sails, and moved slowly off up the river, amid a parting volley of cheers and good wishes from the people of York Factory, many of whom would have been glad enough to accompany them. Hector was in the highest spirits. This method of travelling was altogether to his liking: no longer the cramping confinement of the sailing-ship, but the freedom of the roomy boat; no more tumbling about among the rude billows, but smooth gliding on the bosom of the river; no dreary waste of chill, gray water, but on either hand the well-wooded banks glowed with varied colour, the light yellow of the fading poplar contrasting with the dark evergreen of the spruce, while the willows of an intermediate hue seemed to shade the two tints into each other. Here and there the bright purple of the dogwood, the sombre brown of the dwarf birch, and the gay yellow of the shrubby cinquefoil gave richer notes of colour, while, to the keen-eyed, restless boy, there was ever the hope of some wild animal—a fox, a deer, or perhaps even a bear—being sighted as they advanced. It was not all plain sailing, however. In some places, the current was so strong that it became necessary to resort to tracking. Only the women and children remained in the boat, while the men, taking hold of a line fastened to the foot of the mast, tugged and toiled along the river bank, one-half their number working at a time, and then being relieved by the other; thus dragging the clumsy craft forward at the rate of about two miles an hour. Andrew Macrae did not shirk his share of the hard work, but of course Hector was not expected to join the trackers, and so, accompanied by Dour and Dandy, he scampered freely along the top of the bank, being bidden by his father not to roam out of sight. For some time he obeyed this injunction implicitly. But, on towards mid-day, the collies caught a glimpse of something that caused them to dart off into the woods, barking furiously. Carried away by excitement, Hector followed them, running at top speed straight away from the river. He could easily hear the dogs when he could not see them, and so, recking nothing of what might happen, he raced after them, until presently the change in their barking announced that whatever animal it was they had been chasing, they had brought it to bay. A moment later, he came out into a little glade at the farther side of which a big black bear stood upon its hind legs, in front of a great tree, and made furious efforts to seize Dour and Dandy with its forepaws, or to deal them such buffets that they would never bark again. It was a thrilling spectacle for the most experienced hunter, but for Hector, who had never seen any kind of a bear before, and whose generous heart was at once filled with anxiety for the dogs that were so dear to him, it simply made him forget himself entirely. Rushing forward, he shouted: 'Leave them alone, you brute! Don't you hurt my dogs!' Considering that the dogs must have started the row, by finding the bear in the first instance, this was rather unfair to Bruin. But Hector had no thought for the exact justice of the case. His one concern was for the dogs. He had picked up a stout stick in the course of his ramble, and this he now swung above his head in threatening fashion, little knowing that, if he should venture within striking distance, the bear would not only parry his blow, but knock his ineffective cudgel out of his grasp as easily as though it were a feather. Still shouting he hardly knew what, the fearless boy ran right up to the combatant and, so engrossed was Bruin with his two lively assailants, that he did not notice his coming until he was within a couple of paces of him. Then he caught sight of his two-legged enemy, stared at him for a moment with manifest amazement, let forth an ominous growl, and, dropping upon all fours, made straight for him with open mouth. Well was it for Hector that Dour and Dandy were not less strong than they were active and brave. They sprang upon the bear, one at either side of his head, and before he could shake himself free, Hector, not needing to be told that his only safety was in flight, had darted off at the top of his speed in the direction of the river. In hot pursuit, the bear followed, with the dauntless dogs hanging to his flanks and greatly impeding his movements. Otherwise, clumsy creature though he seemed, he would soon have overhauled his quarry. Happily, Hector was no less sure than he was swift of foot. There are few smooth places in the Highlands, and he had learned to race over the roughest ground without a stumble. On he went, exulting in his own speed, even though deeply concerned for his own safety, and after him lumbered the bear, as fast as the faithful dogs would suffer him to move. Yet, hindered and harried as he was, Bruin steadily gained on the boy, as the latter could not help noticing. 'I maun climb a tree!' he panted. 'The creature will na get me there. Eh, that's a grand tree yonder. I'll rin for it.' Changing his course slightly, Hector made for a stately pine that held out welcoming branches at a friendly height from the ground. If he could reach it and spring into them, he would be able to laugh at his fierce pursuer's futile efforts to reach him. Summoning all his fast waning strength for a supreme effort, he dashed towards the tree. CHAPTER III A Cold Plunge Hector had all but reached the pine. In fact, one more stride would have brought him to its trunk, when his right foot slipped upon one of the outspreading roots, hidden under a carpet of smooth brown needles, and he pitched forward, narrowly escaping striking his head against the massive trunk. He was little hurt by the fall, but he was very much dazed, and the bear might have had him in its deadly hug ere he could have recovered himself, had not a new actor appeared upon the scene. The boats had come to a halt to rest the men just about the time that Hector ran off after the dogs, and Andrew Macrae, noting the boy's disappearance, snatched up a gun and climbed the river-bank to see what had become of him. 'He's na here,' he exclaimed in surprise, as he stood looking all about him. 'Where can the feckless bairn ha' gone to?' Just then his keen ears, trained not to miss the slightest sound, caught faintly the sharp barking of the two dogs. 'Eh! eh!' he muttered. 'They've started up some creature—maybe a squirrel or the like. I'll just run and see what they're doing.' So, gun in hand, he set off at a long easy lope that was little slower than a horse's trot. As the barking came more strongly to his ears, he realized that something serious was taking place, and quickened his pace, until he had reached the limit of his powers. But a few minutes of such exertion were required to bring him to the scene of action, and swinging around the pine tree, he arrived at the very crisis of his son's peril. Throwing the gun to his shoulder, and not waiting to take careful aim, he fired just as the great black brute reared to strike at Hector. The whole charge of heavy buckshot took effect full in the bear's breast, and down he pitched almost upon Hector, but incapable of further harm. Mr. Macrae's feelings were so mixed that he hardly knew how to express himself. He had been angry with Hector for straying away from the river-bank, but now he was naturally hugely proud of his own success as a bear killer, and this rose superior to his anger. Raising Hector to his feet, he said, mildly enough: 'Ye didna heed ma word, laddie,' and then added with swelling voice, 'eh, but it's a grand creature! Rin now to the boat, and tell the men to come and help me with it. I canna carry it back alone.' Relieved beyond expression at his escape from the bear, and from his father's deserved reproof, Hector darted off, and presently returned with several of the men, who were all greatly interested in the big game Andrew Macrae had bagged. Andrew was anxious that his 'gude wife' should see his noble prize, before it was skinned, and so he persuaded the men to help him take it down to the river. The little party made quite a triumphal procession, with Hector proudly leading the way, the four strong men bending beneath the weight of their trophy, and the two dogs frisking and barking about them, evidently quite aware of the important part they had played in the business. Of course, Hector's mother both scolded and coddled him, and little Ailie gazed with startled eyes at the motionless monster, and Dour and Dandy came in for unlimited praise and patting, which they accepted with their wonted dignity. Among the boatmen were those who knew exactly what to do with the bear, which was in superb condition, and the splendid skin having been carefully removed, the best part of the meat was saved to provide juicy steaks and cutlets for the travellers' table. From the Hayes River, the boats turned into the Stool, and then into the Fox River, and later into the Hill River, which was the most rapid of all, and very difficult to work up against its opposing currents. One of the worst places was Rock Portage, where the river, pent in by a range of small islands, formed several cascades, none of which could be ascended by the laden boats. It was, therefore, necessary to take out all the cargo, portage it across one of the islands, and then, by dint of tremendous toil, drag the big boat across the island, and launch it again above the cascade. This sort of thing went on day after day, until at last, to the infinite relief of the tired toilers, they reached Oxford House, an important post of the Hudson's Bay Company, where a rest of several days was allowed for them to recuperate. During all this toilsome progress, Hector never had a dull moment. He helped whenever he could, and when not required for this, found plenty to occupy his attention. He was the best of brothers to Ailie, taking her to play upon the bank, picking flowers for her, and pointing out the birds in the trees, and the tiny creatures that rustled through the dry grass. Often his mother would join in these little rambles, and then Hector's happiness was complete. He felt himself the man of the party, and assumed an air of importance that greatly tickled his shrewd, fond mother. The halt at Oxford House was enjoyed by everybody. Here both ducks and trout were to be had in plenty and most of the men went either shooting or fishing. Andrew Macrae preferred the former, and, having succeeded in securing the loan of a canoe, with a half-breed to paddle it, took Hector off with him for a day's sport. The weather was favourable, and Cross-Eye, the half-breed, who got the name from his eyes being on the bias, promised them plenty of ducks. They paddled up the lake for several miles until they came to a kind of enclosed bay, whose shores were lined with a thick growth of underbrush. 'In there we go,' said Cross-Eye, in his queer guttural tone, and the canoe was directed to a good landing-place. 'Hide him,' grunted the half-breed, and the light craft was lifted out of the water, and concealed among the trees. They next proceeded to put themselves out of sight, there to patiently wait the appearance of the ducks. Mr. Macrae and Cross-Eye settled down comfortably. Not so Hector. He had absolutely nothing to do but search the sky for the black specks that would grow into the toothsome birds they sought, and, as none of these were visible, he naturally grew restless. He fired questions at Cross-Eye, in spite of the taciturn half-breed's surly responses, and he bothered his father with proposals to do this or that, none of which were approved. At last he gave a cry of delight, at the same moment that Cross-Eye grunted in a relieved way. Far to the west, a thin black line showed faintly above the horizon, and rapidly grew more distinct. The ducks were coming at last. Crouching close to the ground, and hardly breathing in their excitement, the three hunters awaited their approach. When the orderly array of winged voyageurs had come within reach of the sound, Cross-Eye proceeded to imitate their cries with a marvellous fidelity. Hector was amazed at the sounds which issued from him. They were so perfectly bird-like. Instead of flying over, the ducks hesitated, returned the cries that attracted their attention, and then, with much flapping of wings, dropped down upon the still surface of the little bay, right in front of their hidden enemy. The moment they were well within range, at a signal from Cross-Eye, the report of two guns rang out like one, and two ducks gave their last quack. With wonderful quickness the half-breed had the canoe launched, but Hector was no less quick in springing into it, and off they went after the birds. A few powerful strokes brought them to where they lay upon the water. 'You get them,' grunted Cross-Eye, as he held the canoe steady, and Hector leaned over the side to pick up the ducks. It was not a difficult thing to do, but the sudden excitement after the wearisome waiting had flustered him. He was so eager to do his share of the work that he overdid it, and upset the canoe, throwing the half-breed and himself into the water. Now there was nothing of the hero in Cross-Eye. He was both angry with Hector for his awkwardness, and alarmed about his own safety. So, without one thought of the boy, he made for the shore as fast as he could, in spite of Mr. Macrae's indignant appeals to him to help Hector. As for the latter, he had not been born and bred beside a Scottish loch without learning to swim. Indeed, neither Dour nor Dandy could get faster through the water. But the ice-cold lake into which he had been so suddenly plunged was a different thing from the sunny loch in summer-time. Before he had taken a dozen strokes towards the shore, the deadly chill laid hold upon him, and numbed his arms and legs until he could scarce keep his head above water. Indeed it did go under once, the water smothering the cry for help that his peril had wrung from him, ere his father, throwing off his coat, plunged in to his rescue. CHAPTER IV Hector Entrapped Before Mr. Macrae had reached Hector, he, too, felt the paralysing effect of the glacial water. But he was a man of enormous strength, and, wallowing through it like a whale, grasped the boy firmly with his left hand, while he struck out for the canoe, which rocked upon the water in supreme indifference to their struggles for life. 'Keep up, laddie, keep up,' he panted. 'I'll get ye safe ashore.' Reaching the canoe, he drew down the side until Hector could seize it with his stiffening hands. 'Noo, then, laddie, ye'll just haud on there, and I'll push the thing to the land.' Hector held on with the strength that his terror gave him, and Mr. Macrae, grasping the canoe at the other side, pushed it through the water with all his might. In this fashion they made the shore, where Cross-Eye stood shivering and glowering at them. Mr. Macrae's first impulse was to warm his skin pretty thoroughly for his cowardly desertion of the boy. But before his hand fell, he checked himself, saying: 'Ye feckless loon!—ye ken nae better, nae doubt. Yer only thought was for yer ainsel'. Well, we'll say nae mair. Come, let's make a fire and dry our things.' The half-breed, who had evidently expected some rough usage, looked immensely relieved at the quick turn of affairs, and set himself to the building of a big blaze, with such skill and energy, that the chilled duck-hunters were presently basking in its welcome warmth. As soon as their clothes were dried, they recovered the ducks, which were still floating on the water, and then hid themselves to await another flock. Their patience was rewarded by the securing of some half-dozen more. Then, feeling well content with the day's bag, they paddled back to Oxford House. A few days later, the boats resumed their journey, crossing Holey Lake, ascending a little river to Hell Gate—a very difficult place to pass—and so on by way of Echenamis, and Sea River, and across the Play Green Lakes, to Norway House at the north end of Lake Winnipeg. Here all difficulties with rocks and rapids ended—the exhausting labours of the portage were over. With broad sails hoisted to the wind, the big boats ploughed through the turbid waters of the shallow lake, traversing it from north to south, and without any mishap, reached the end of their voyage. The colonists, heartily weary of being cooped up in the boats so long, were only too glad to be put out upon the solid land. They were now actually in the Red River country, for which they had ventured so much, and it was with eager, anxious eyes that they looked about them. The Red River itself constituted the central feature of the landscape. Having its source in the elevated land some hundreds of miles away, it flowed in a muddy, sluggish fashion into Lake Winnipeg. On its west side the country was one boundless level plain of rich, deep loam, whose fertility would presently amaze the newcomers, accustomed to the grudging, niggardly soil of their native land. On the east the scene was more varied with hill and dale, and skirted at no great distance by what were called the pine hills, covered with timber, and running parallel to the river all the way. 'The gude God be thankit!' ejaculated Andrew Macrae, as his keen gray eyes surveyed the fair prospect, all glowing beneath the splendour of an unclouded sky, and, removing his bonnet, he offered a brief yet fervent thanksgiving. 'Eh! but it's a fine land!' he continued. 'Why, ye scarce can see a stane on it, and where there are sae mony flowers, there'll be nae lack o' fat crops in the comin' year.' Thus speaking, Andrew gave voice to the first impression of all the men, while the women, with glad eyes, noted the soft beauty of the country, and said to one another that it was a bonnie place, and they were glad they had come to it. As for the children, they could hardly contain themselves. The thick, soft grass in which they could roll and tumble without let or hindrance was a pure delight to them. Oh, what a romp they and the dogs did have! and how heartily Hector and Ailie entered into the merriment! There were somewhat primitive carts to carry the heavy baggage, but the colonists all had to walk; and it was, consequently, at no hurried rate of progress, that they moved southward to their final destination. It was in the beginning of October that the weary, travel-worn colonists, with their families and possessions, reached the tract of land beside the Red River which their lordly patron had selected for their settlement. Their very first proceeding was to gather together and offer thanks to God, for His providential care of them through all the perils of the long journey. Never before had the clear sweet air of the prairie been stirred by the strains of sacred song, and, as the solemn beautiful music of the Psalms rose heavenward, there hurried to the wondrous novelty a motley crowd of fur hunters, half-breeds, and Indians, who remained to listen in gaping curiosity, if not in reverent appreciation, to Andrew Macrae's dignified reading from 'the Book,' and to the lengthy prayers that followed from other men of the party. The instant the praise service was concluded, Hector, accompanied by Dour and Dandy, started out to inspect their new home. The boy was in high spirits, which his four-footed friends shared. At least, Dandy did, for he frisked and barked with great vim, thereby attracting the attention of the suspicious, snarling curs that belonged to the residents, who had never seen so handsome a member of their race before. Dour bore himself with more dignity, yet it was evident that he understood that they had arrived at the end of their tiresome travelling, and that he rejoiced thereat. Naturally Hector turned his steps towards the fort, which was the most conspicuous feature of the scene. This did not belong to the Hudson's Bay Company, but to their bitter rivals, the North-West Fur Company, and, had the boy only known, was the stronghold of those who were to give the settlers many miserable days. It was not a very imposing affair, simply a stout stockade in the form of a square, having one gate protected by short towers, and enclosing a cluster of buildings, only one storey in height, built in the same rough fashion. Hector, drawing near the gate, which stood wide open, looked curiously in. The whole thing was entirely novel to him, and, boy-like, he greatly longed to understand it. Dour and Dandy, feeling ill at ease now, kept very close to him. They did not altogether like the look of things, and would have preferred retracing their steps, but of course they had not the slightest notion of deserting their young master. As Hector stood hesitating, a young man, coming from the interior, beckoned to him in a friendly fashion, saying: 'You want come in. All right, you come.' He was clearly a half-breed, and had a dark, evil face that was far from prepossessing. Hector instinctively disliked him, but could not very well refuse his invitation, even though the shrewd collies sniffed so suspiciously at his legs that the fellow shrank away lest they should bite him. 'Nice place, eh?' he asked, with a sly ingratiating smile. 'Plenty good furs in there,' and he pointed, with a very dirty finger, to the largest of the buildings. 'You stranger, yes? Come I show you the store.' Hector had a premonition of trouble, but was not sufficiently strong-minded to beat a retreat, as he should have done. The half-breed certainly seemed courteous, even if the expression of his face were sinister. Following his guide, the lad entered the trade-house, which contained the goods used in bartering with the Indians for their furs, and was astonished at the quantity and variety of the stock displayed. Here were guns, pistols, knives, hatchets, blankets, shirts, caps, mitts, tobacco, tea, sugar, smoked and salted meats, handkerchiefs, sashes, snowshoes, moccasins, coats and trousers, and so on, piled upon the floor according to a rude, but no doubt effective system. 'Plenty goods here, eh?' said the half breed, with a crafty leer, as if his object were to arouse the boy's envy. 'Company very rich—very strong—have many forts all about'—and with a sweep of his arms he indicated a wide stretch of territory. Hector certainly was much impressed by what he saw, and felt free to say so, whereat his guide seemed much gratified. 'Come now see furs—oh! fine furs!' he cried, and, taking hold of Hector's arm, led him off to another building, even more solidly built than the trade-house. A single door was both the means of admittance and of lighting the place. Inside were ranged bales of furs, the pelts of marten, mink, otter, bear, fox, wolf, and beaver, which had been trapped by Indians and half-breeds in far-away places, and brought in to exchange for the goods they coveted. Some of the skins were loose, and the half-breed drew Hector's attention to a particularly fine blue fox, which he explained was worth 'heap money.' Hector was examining this, passing his hand over the soft, rich fur, when suddenly he was tripped and thrown upon the floor by his scoundrelly guide, who, before the boy could regain his feet, dashed out of the door and slammed it shut, setting the great bar across it. In perfect darkness and bewilderment, Hector picked himself up. Can you blame the poor lad if his first feeling was something very like panic-stricken terror? He had been taken so completely by surprise, and felt so utterly helpless. Through the thick door, he could hear the angry barking of Dour and Dandy, who were evidently defending themselves against assailants of some kind, and he shouted with all his might: 'Help! Help! Let me out! Let me out!' CHAPTER V The Search for Hector Again and again Hector cried out for help and deliverance from his prison, but, even had there been any one near, they could hardly have heard him through the thick walls and solid door of the fur-house. Pressing his ear against the join of the door, he heard the fierce barking of the collies growing fainter and fainter, until presently he heard it no more. Evidently they had been dragged off by the half-breed, and confined somewhere. The truth of the matter was that, to the dogs, Hector owed the alarming situation in which he found himself. While he hung about the gate of the fort, the half-breed had noticed the splendid creatures, and, at once coveting them, set about getting them into his possession. Extraordinary as his conduct may seem, the subsequent experiences of the settlers showed only too clearly that he really was not running any great risk of trouble to himself. The faithful collies, knowing that their young master was shut up in the fur-house, stayed close at the door, and this enabled the rascally half-breed, with the aid of another whom he called upon, to fasten thongs around their necks, and to drag them off, in spite of their frantic opposition. Hector shouted and kicked at the door, until, at last, exhausted and despairing, he threw himself down among the furs, and burst into futile tears. 'What are they going to do to me?' he sobbed. 'Oh, I wish I'd never gone near the fort! How can father find out where I am?' How, indeed, was the question. Mr. Macrae had many things to engross his attention, and Mrs. Macrae was so used to Hector's roaming about on his own account, that she would not be apt to miss him until sundown. As it fell out, it was from a most unlooked-for source that the clue came. Having made the best arrangements they could for shelter, and these were very scant at best, the settlers gathered together for their evening meal. Then did the mother-heart of Mrs. Macrae begin to feel concerned for her son. 'Where is Hector?' she asked her husband. 'I have na seen him these many hours. Was he no with you?' 'He was no with me at all,' answered Mr. Macrae, turning his keen glance in every direction. 'He went aff with the twa dogs a gude while ago, and I didna see just which way he went.' 'God grant he's na got into any harm!' sighed Mrs. Macrae. ''Tis a strange place this, and there's na tellin' what may happen to the laddie.' 'Oh, he's a' richt,' responded her husband, cheerfully. 'He'll be wanting his bannocks, and that'll bring him back soon.' But when night fell, and still no sign of Hector, the Macraes grew very anxious. Andrew set out to make enquiries, and went through the party of settlers, asking if any of them had seen the boy since mid-day. Several of them had noticed him strolling about, accompanied by the dogs, but no one could say definitely in what direction he had gone. When the mystery was at its height, and the whole party was aroused to concern for the missing boy, suddenly Dour appeared, and rushed up to Mr. Macrae, barking joyfully. The remains of a raw-hide thong, which he had bitten through close to his body, hung about his neck, and, with all the means of expression at the command of the most sagacious of his kind, he strove to tell his story. 'Gude dog! Gude dog!' murmured Mr. Macrae, patting the clever creature fondly. 'There's been ill wark, nae doot. Come with me, friends, an' we'll sift it to the verra bottom.' Slipping pistols into their pockets, for there was no telling what might happen, half-a-dozen of the men signified their readiness to accompany Mr. Macrae in the search for his son. They were stalwart, stern-looking men, with shaggy faces, and piercing, fearless eyes—not the men to be trifled with by any one, and now deeply intent upon their purpose, for their hearts beat in sympathy for the anxious father and mother. 'Lead on, Dour, gude dog,' said Andrew; 'ye dootless ken the way. We'll keep close ahind ye.' The intelligent animal, fully grasping his master's meaning, set off at once straight for the fort, the men following at a rapid jog-trot, in order not to be left behind. When they arrived at the fort they found the gate closed, but, as Dour was insistent about entering, Mr. Macrae did not hesitate to rap loud and long upon the stout timber with the butt of his pistol. For some time there was no response, for although those inside had not yet gone to bed, they were all so engrossed in drinking, smoking, talking, or gambling that they did not hear him. At last a rough voice was heard demanding in a surly tone: 'What do you want? Who are you?' 'I want to see the Governor of the Fort,' replied Mr. Macrae, in a tone that had no uncertain sound about it. 'He no see you now. He busy,' was the growling reply, as the speaker turned to go away. 'But I maun see him, and that richt awa,' retorted Mr. Macrae, and at his signal the whole party fell to smiting the gate with their heavy pistol butts. This thundering tattoo evidently impressed the man inside, for he came back to the gate, and, in a slow, sulky fashion, proceeded to unfasten the stout bars that held it. Opening it a couple of inches, he peered suspiciously at the importunate callers, but the latter gave him no time to scrutinize them; for, led by Mr. Macrae, they threw themselves upon the heavy gate, forced it wide open, and charged through ere the bewildered Metis realized their purpose. There was no difficulty in distinguishing the factor's residence, for it fairly blazed with light, and thither the group of stern, stalwart men directed their steps, Dour, satisfied that they knew what they were about, keeping close at his master's heels. The door of the house stood wide open, but Mr. Macrae did not attempt to enter without first rapping in a proper manner. His summons brought out a young lad, evidently from Scotland, who showed a very different spirit from the surly half-breed at the gate. 'Ye wad hae a word wi' the Governor, eh?' he asked, with a pleasant smile. 'Just bide ye there, an' I'll gie him yer message.' He disappeared into the room at the right, and Mr. Macrae prepared himself to address the important official he had asked for. But he was not to have that privilege in a hurry. The minutes went by without the Governor appearing, or the young Scotsman returning, and, in rising wrath, Andrew Macrae was just about to knock on the inside door, when suddenly it opened, and there stood before him a thick-set, shaggy-haired personage, whose deeply flushed features showed that he had been dining not wisely but too well. 'What is it?' he demanded brusquely. 'Why do you bother me now? Why can't you wait until the morning?' In a firm, yet respectful, tone, Hector's father stated the reason of his coming. 'Tut! Tut!' growled the man. 'I can't attend to that to-night. Come back to-morrow,' and he was about to close the door, when Mr. Macrae, with a quick movement, thrust his foot against it, and at the same moment he laid his hand firmly upon the factor's arm. 'It's ma ain bairn I'm seeking, and I shall na leave here until I find him.' As he spoke, his companions pressed close behind him, shoulder to shoulder. The factor's bloodshot eyes went from one stern, intent face to another. Manifestly, these were not men to be trifled with. Obscured by strong drink as his brain was, enough sense remained to understand that. With an oath he flung the door open, and said sneeringly: 'Do ye expect to find him in here?' Through the cloud of tobacco smoke that filled the room, Mr. Macrae saw several men sitting at the table with glasses before them. 'Surely not;' he replied, an accent of fine scorn in his deep voice. 'But with your permission, I'll search the fort.' 'Do so, and——' here followed rough words, but Andrew, having gained his point, took no notice of the man's gross rudeness. CHAPTER VI Ordered Off 'Come awa', men,' he said to his companions. 'We'll na give o'er till we've searched the place throughout. Lead awa', Dour, gude dog.' The clever collie needed no second bidding. He had been very impatiently awaiting the conclusion of the colloquy at the factor's, and now bounded across the open space between the different buildings, making straight for the fur- house. By this time, several of the inmates of the fort had gathered, curious as to what was up, and, had Mr. Macrae been alone, their sinister looks might well have made him anxious concerning his own safety. But his only thought was for Hector, and the grave, sinewy men by his side, though few in numbers, were not the kind to invite hasty attack; so, paying no heed to threatening looks or menacing utterances, the little party reached the door of the fur-house. Upon this, Mr. Macrae struck hard with his pistol-butt, calling out: 'Hector, laddie, are ye there?' Instantly there came back from the interior a muffled cry of joy, and the faint words: 'Father! oh, father! is that you?' There was a stout padlock fastening the door, but Mr. Macrae quickly prised this off, and tore the door open. Out of the interior darkness rushed Hector and flung himself, half-sobbing, into his father's arms. Andrew returned the embrace warmly, and then asked in a tone of surprise and concern: 'Was no' Dandy with you?' 'Why no, father!' replied Hector. 'The man that shut me up took both Dour and Dandy away with him.' 'Then we maun find the dog,' was the resolute rejoinder. 'Here, Dour, gude dog, call Dandy.' Without a moment's hesitation, the well-trained creature poured forth a volley of barks that meant as plainly as possible, 'Dandy, where are you? Tell us.' 'Now listen, friends, for the answer,' said Mr. Macrae, with a grim smile. There was no doubt about the response, for out of the surrounding gloom burst a chorus of canine music that fairly made the welkin ring, and how Dandy's particular contribution could be distinguished seemed a hopeless problem. But Mr. Macrae waited silently until the commotion had somewhat subsided, and then, pointing to the northern end of the enclosure, said confidently: 'There's whaur they've got Dandy.' Dour evidently approved of their going thither, and presently, turning the corner of one of the most remote buildings, they found the object of their search, half-strangled in his frantic efforts to break the thong that held him fast. 'God be thanked—we've found all three, and they're nane the waur of it,' said Mr. Macrae, in a tone of fervent gratitude; and then, his voice changing to righteous indignation, 'by the morn we'll find out why this was done to ma laddie, and who did it.' With the morn, however, came strange and startling events, that caused Hector's peculiar experience to be entirely forgotten. To understand these aright, a little explanation is necessary. Although the great Hudson's Bay Company claimed full ownership of the North-West, their right to this vast wilderness was vigorously disputed by a company formed in Lower Canada and called the North-West Fur Company. The rivalry between the two companies for control of the fur-trade was intense and unscrupulous. They resorted to all sorts of stratagems to injure each other, and wherever one built a fort, the other soon established a second within sight. Often their employees, made wild with strong drink, broke out into open violence and many lives were lost, and a number of forts sacked and burned in the course of the bitter struggle. Now, the Nor-Westers, as they were called for short, regarded the advent of the Scotch folk with lively animosity. They suspected it to be a shrewd device of their rivals to get a firmer grip upon the country. The new-comers would not be rovers like themselves, but settlers, who would build houses, and till the rich soil, and multiply in numbers until they became a power in the land. This far-seeing scheme must be nipped in the bud, and forthwith they set themselves to do it. The strange part of the whole affair was that they ran slight risk of interference with their nefarious design from their hated rivals, for the employees of the Hudson's Bay Company, although, of course, they would take no part against the immigrants, were little more in favour of their coming than the Nor-Westers. They did not want the country settled. They had much rather it should remain a hunters' paradise, and they were not disposed to lift a finger on behalf of the newcomers. The first morning after the settlers' arrival seemed full of kindly promise. Summer was just giving way to autumn. The prairie air was clear and bracing without being too cool. The sun shone from an azure sky upon a vast expanse of golden-hued turf almost as level as a floor, that only required to be turned over by the plough to be ready for fall seeding. The hardy Scotch folk, accustomed to the rocky uplands and stony meadows of their 'ain countree,' looked with wonder and delight at the rich inheritance into which they had come. 'Eh, mon! but it's grand, grand!' ejaculated Saunders Rowan, in a tone of unqualified appreciation. He was the senior member of the party, and had been rather given to 'croaking,' but this glorious morning his doubts and fears were all dispelled. The women busied themselves preparing the morning meal, while the children and dogs romped and rolled joyously in the rich, soft grass. It was altogether a pretty picture, that seemed to be a happy augury of the good times in store. Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, this scene of gladness and peace changed to one of terror and strife. With no more warning than if they had risen out of the ground itself, there charged down upon the defenceless settlers a band of Indians in full war paint, mounted upon their piebald ponies, armed with spears, bows, arrows, and guns, which weapons they brandished fiercely, while they gave their awful war-whoop with all the power of their lungs. Crying to their children, and gathering them close, as the mother hen does her chickens at sight of a hawk, the women huddled together in a panic-stricken group, while the doughty dogs faced the enemy with flashing teeth and threatening growls, and the men rushed to snatch up their guns, or anything else that might serve as an effective weapon. For a moment it seemed as if blood must be shed. The Indians seemed ripe for mischief and the stalwart Scots were determined to defend their dear ones to the last extremity. But before a blow was struck, the band, at a signal from their leader, brought their horses to a halt, and ceased their hideous howlings. The leader then drew out from his mob of followers, and holding up his hands in token of his wish to parley, asked in broken English for the chief man of the strangers. The...