A Countess from Canada Part 8

"Perhaps I am," replied Katherine. "But somehow I have got the feeling in my bones that Miss Selincourt and I shall not fall in love with each other."

"I expect that what you have really got in your bones is a touch of rheumatism from wading through wet snow," Mrs. Burton said anxiously. "Dear, you must take care of yourself, for what would become of us all if you were to fall ill?"

Katherine laughed, only there was not much mirth in the sound. "There is nothing the matter with me, nor likely to be, for I am tough as shoe leather; only sometimes my temper gets k.n.o.bby, because all the children I can find to teach are grown-up babies of thirty and forty, who prefer flirting to arithmetic, and have to be continually snubbed in order to keep them in their places. The stupid creatures make me so angry!"

"Poor Katherine! It is hard on you, for you are certainly much too good-looking to teach a night school; but, on the other hand, what a good thing it has been for the men to have the school to occupy their evenings," said Mrs. Burton. "Mrs. Jenkin was saying only yesterday that there has not been half so much drinking and gambling at Seal Cove this winter as there was last year, because the men would rather come here and listen to your lectures on history and geography."

"They are willing enough to listen, and will sit looking as stupid as a school of white whales, caught in a stake trap," replied Katherine. "But see what dunces some of them are when I try to knock a little arithmetic into their thick heads."

"Yes, I will admit they are rather dense; and you are very much more patient with them than I should be, I'm afraid," Mrs. Burton said with a sigh. The night school had privately been a very great trial to her, for since 'Duke Radford's indifferent health had caused him to lie in bed so much, it had been impossible to use the room off the store as schoolroom, and so for two hours every evening the family living-room had been invaded by a swarm of more or less unwashed men, whose habits were not always of the most refined description.

"The need for patience will soon be over now," Katherine said, understanding the cause of the sigh, although Mrs. Burton had uttered no spoken complaint. "Miles says the men were beginning to break the boats out yesterday, and it is raining now, which will help matters on a great deal, unless, indeed, it rains too long, and then we may have floods."

"Oh dear, I hope not!" replied Mrs. Burton with a s.h.i.+ver, for spring floods were no joke in that part of the world. "By the way, has Miles told you that he saw the Englishman to-day?"

"What Englishman?" demanded Katherine, with dismay in her tone, for her thoughts immediately flew to Mr. Selincourt; only, of course, it was not possible that he could arrive before June.

"Didn't you hear that an Englishman came through from Maxokama with the Indians who brought up the mail?" said Mrs. Burton in surprise.

"Not a word. But certainly he must be a plucky sort of person to have ventured a journey of four hundred miles on snowshoes. Do you know who he is?" Katherine asked with quickened interest.

"Someone to do with the fis.h.i.+ng, I think; a sort of master of the fleet very likely," replied Mrs. Burton, who had dropped her knitting and gathered both the little girls on to her lap, as the surest means of keeping them quiet while she talked to her sister.

"How will Oily Dave like that, I wonder?" Katherine said in a musing tone, and then her thoughts went wandering off to the pails of stolen lard. She had kept up an unremitting watchfulness ever since the time when the theft occurred, and had missed nothing more of importance; but her mistrust of Oily Dave was as great as ever.

"I don't suppose he will like it at all," Mrs. Burton answered. "But it is quite time that a more responsible man was put in charge."

CHAPTER IX

The Flood

Twenty-four hours of a hard, continuous downpour, accompanied by a warm south wind, worked a mighty difference in the aspect of things at Roaring Water Portage. By night on the day following the arrival of the mail from Maxokama, the water was coming down the rapids with a roar, bringing great lumps of ice with it, which crashed to fragments on the rocks, or were washed down with the current to be a menace to the s.h.i.+pping anch.o.r.ed in the river below. All day long, heedless of the pouring rain, the men had worked at getting the boats free from their winter coating of ice and snow. So when night came, everyone was too thoroughly wet and tired to think of night school, which gave Katherine a welcome holiday from teaching.

She spent the time in sewing, and in making herself so generally entertaining that even her father was more than once beguiled into laughter. He was better and more hopeful than for a long time past. He was even led into thinking and talking of the future, and the work which would have to be done directly the fast-melting snow made it possible to get about once more. Before daylight faded he had helped Miles to get the big boat out, and carefully inspected the seams to make sure that no caulking was required. They used birchbark canoes a great deal at Roaring Water Portage in the summer-time, but there was too much ice about for birchbarks to be safe yet.

"We will knock up a little shed for the boat above the portage this summer, then when next winter comes we can lay her up there, instead of having to bring her down here," he said to Miles, as the two discussed the probability of being able to get the boat up the portage within a week.

"Oh, don't talk of next winter, Father; we have not got rid of this one yet!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, who was entirely happy and contented to-night, because of the omission of night school.

"It is going very fast anyhow, and I guess we shall see bare ground in places to-morrow," Miles put in, talking in a sleepy tone; for he too had been breaking out ice that day, and was desperately tired.

"Yes, it is going, and I'm glad of it, for it has been the hardest winter to live through that I can remember, and I'm thankful to see the last of it," 'Duke Radford answered; and something in his look and tone made Katherine ask quickly:

"Don't you feel well to-night, Father?"

"Yes, I feel better than I have done for many a week past," he replied promptly; adding, in a tone too low for any but her to hear, "and happier too."

"I believe you will feel better now, and get strong quickly," said Mrs. Burton hopefully. "The winter had thoroughly gripped your system, and that was why you could not get better before."

All night long the roar of the water seemed to grow louder and louder, while the ice crashed, and the wild wind howled through the leafless trees. But the morning broke fine, and the sun came out to warm up a wet world. Such a very wet world it was, with the river swollen to twice its ordinary width! But as Miles had predicted, there was bare ground visible, and to eyes which had looked on snow-covered earth for six long months the sight was welcome indeed.

When breakfast was over, Katherine and Miles ran the boat down to the water's edge, and floated it, getting in and paddling up and down to see that there was no leakage, and to enjoy the novel sensation after the long abstention from boating. But there was work to be done, and they could not afford to spend even a part of the day in rowing for their own amus.e.m.e.nt. Stores had to be taken down to Seal Cove, and there was some bargaining to be done for some tusks of narwhal ivory which 'Duke Radford had been commissioned to obtain if possible. Narwhal ivory was getting scarcer every year, and the storekeeper at Roaring Water Portage was prepared to pay a very good price indeed for all that he could obtain.

The journey down to Seal Cove was performed with ease and swiftness, the only trouble necessary being the steering, which called for the utmost care in that racing current.

"It will be stiff work coming back," commented Miles, thinking how hard they would have to pull to make any sort of headway.

"Yes, I think we had better come home round by the off-creek; the water won't run so fast down there," replied Katherine: and Miles, being of the same opinion, a.s.sented with a nod.

At Seal Cove a curious state of things existed. The barrier of ice at the mouth of the river had not yet given way, and the racing current, penned in by the barrier, was mounting higher and higher, and threatened to flood the whole neighbourhood.

Katherine and Miles delivered as many of their stores as they could. But it was not possible to go bargaining for narwhal ivory, as the flood made their destination inaccessible, so they turned back instead, and started to row up a little backwater called the off-creek, which in summer was too tiny to admit of the pa.s.sage of even a small boat, but was swollen now to the size of a river. This waterway led straight past the unwholesome habitation of Oily Dave, which faced the main river, while the creek ran at the back door, or where the back door would have been had the tumbledown house possessed one. The water was all round the house now, and must have been creeping in under the edge of the door, only from the back of the house they could not see this.

The two rested on their oars watching the scene, wondering whether the house would be swept away, and where Oily Dave would build himself a new residence, when they heard shouts, and from the distant bank of the river saw a woman standing waving her arms in a frantic manner.

"It is Mrs. Jenkin. But what can she want, for certainly her house won't be in any danger yet awhile?" said Miles, looking across the wide waste of waters to where a little brown hut was pitched high up on the bank.

"Hus.h.!.+ What is she saying?" cried Katherine, and put her hand to her ear to show that she was listening.

Mrs. Jenkin saw the motion, and lifted her voice afresh. "There is a man-danger-house-Oily Dave!"

That was all they could hear, for the wind carried the words away, and a great block of ice crashed against the front of Oily Dave's abode, making the wooden hut s.h.i.+ver with the force of the blow.

"Oily Dave is shut up in his house, and Mrs. Jenkin wants us to save him," said Katherine, waving her arms to show the woman on the bank that she heard and understood.

"The old baggage isn't worth saving, but I suppose we shall have to try what we can do," Miles answered, then shouted to Katherine to look out.

The warning came only just in time, for at that moment the huge block of ice which had struck the house before came swirling round in their direction, and they had to dodge it as best they could.

"We must get round to the front, if we can," said Katherine, when they had got the boat safely away from the danger of collision with the ice.

"Not possible; look there!" shouted Miles excitedly, as a great sheet of ice came gaily floating on the swift current, caught against the corner of the house, and stuck there, banging, grinding, and jarring with the movements of the swirling water, and threatening to beat the house down like a battering ram. At the same moment they heard a cry for help from inside the house, and the woman on the far bank shouted and gesticulated more wildly than before, while the whole structure groaned and s.h.i.+vered like a creature in pain.

Katherine turned pale, but seized the oars resolutely. "There is only one thing to do, Miles, and I am going to do it. Can you hold the boat at the edge of the ice for five or ten minutes?"

"You are not going to get on to the ice?" he protested, his voice sharp with dismay, as he looked at the bowing, bobbing fragment many square yards in extent, which was grinding against the side of the house, but which might split into fragments at any moment.

"Yes, I am. Then I shall creep round to the front, so that Oily Dave can see me, and then, perhaps, his courage will be equal to coming outside," she said, standing up and throwing off her thick coat, for it would not do to be enc.u.mbered with much clothing when any moment might plunge her into the water.

"Katherine, don't go. It is an awful risk, and the old man isn't worth it!" pleaded Miles, and, despite the fact of his being a boy, there were actual tears in his eyes as he urged her not to go.

But she would not listen, calling out sharply: "b.u.mp her against the ice and then I'll spring."

Putting out his strength, Miles brought the boat with a bang against the floating ice island, and at the same moment Katherine sprang lightly from the boat. But, despite her care, she landed on all-fours, and, as the ice was awash, got rather wet in the process. Rising to an erect position after a few preliminary staggers, she walked cautiously out towards the middle of the ice island, which would bring her within sight of the prisoner in the hut, and would, she hoped, inspire him with sufficient courage to help him in the task of getting him into the boat.

By this time the woman on the bank understood what she was doing, and ceased shouting. It was Katherine's turn to make a noise now, and she did it with all her might. "Oily Dave, come out! We've got a boat at the back, and we will save you if you will be quick."

She was making so much noise herself, and picking her way with such extreme care over the rotten ice, that she failed to hear the first response to her calling, and the next pulled her up with a jerk.