The Cryptogram Part 33

"There is another thing," said Captain Rudstone; "why did the Indian fire on us? He may have been scouting in advance of a hostile force."

"I do not think we are in any danger," I replied. "Indeed, I can offer a solution to the mystery. After my father's death the murderer was sought for, but his own tribe spirited him away, and I believe he fled to the far West. His relatives declared at the time that he had gone crazy on account of a blow on the head, and believed he had a mission to kill white men. This was likely true. And now, after a lapse of five years, the fellow wandered back to this neighborhood and fired on us at sight."

Such was my earnest conviction, and for the most part the rest agreed with me. But Tom Arnold was inclined to be skeptical, and shook his head gravely.

"You may be right, my boy," he said, "but I'm a cautious man, and I don't think overmuch of your argument. Leastways, the chances are even that your dead Indian belonged to the party who took Fort Royal, and that the whole body is marching on Fort Charter. So off we go for a rapid march, and let every man put his best foot forward."

"Under any circ.u.mstances," I replied, "whether we are in danger or not, we ought to reach the fort as soon as possible, and at the best we can't make it before midnight."

So a little later we were traveling south again, surmounting by the aid of snowshoes, all the rugged difficulties of the wintry wilderness.

Flora was strapped on the sledge as before, and we had left the dead Indian--for whose fate I felt not the least compunction--lying where he had fallen.

We marched on for two hours, and then our fear of the weather proved to be well founded. A furious snowstorm came on suddenly, and a violent wind whirled the flakes into our faces; the cold grew intense, and we could not see a yard ahead of us. A more terrific blizzard we had none of us known in the past.

For a little while we floundered on resolutely, blinded and half-frozen, becoming more exhausted each minute. The storm seemed to be getting worse, and we encountered great drifts. There was not a sign by which we could steer in the right direction, and we could not be sure that we were not traveling in a circle.

"Hold on, boys; this won't do!" Tom Arnold cried at last. "We can't go any farther. We must find shelter and lie close until the morning, or until the weather takes a turn."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

A PAINFUL MYSTERY.

But how and where should we seek shelter? Each man, I am sure, asked himself that question uneasily, and the quest grew more hopeless as we groped our way on for a quarter of an hour, our faces set against the stinging cold wind and the biting snowflakes. Arnold was leading, and I was some distance back, trudging alongside of Flora, and trying to keep up her spirits.

But good fortune befell us when we least expected it. Exhausted and half-blinded, we suddenly emerged from the tangled forest on a bit of an open s.p.a.ce. Before us was the bed of a frozen stream, now filled up with drifted snow, and from the farther side of it a hill towered steeply, affording almost complete protection from the violence of the wind. A short distance on our left, nestled at the base of another hill, was a little Indian village, long since deserted--a dozen tepees half-buried in the snow, a couple of canoe frames protruding from a drift, and some worn-out snowshoes hanging from a tree.

"By Jupiter! I know the spot," cried Tom Arnold, in a tone of consternation and astonishment. "I remember the village and the stream!

Why, men, we are away out of our reckoning--on the wrong tack altogether. This shows how easily a fellow can get lost in a blizzard, no matter how old a hand he is."

"We're in luck, anyway," said I. "Here is decent shelter, and the hills keep off the worst of the storm. We are safe for the night."

"And Fort Charter twenty miles away!" grumbled Arnold. "We've got to reach it to-morrow, come good weather or bad. All hands to work," he added sharply. "We'll make things as snug as possible."

We set to with a will and the exercise soon warmed our sluggish blood.

Some dug out the canoe frames and broke them up for fuel; others cleared the loose snow from half a dozen of the huts, and we were delighted to find them dry inside, and in sound condition. We did not hesitate to build a roaring fire, for we knew that the light could not be seen at any distance, and that if any hostile Indians were in the vicinity the storm would have driven them to camp.

Twilight was falling when we found the abandoned village, and the evening was well advanced by the time our preparations were completed.

We cooked and ate supper, and then sat smoking for awhile about the fire. The best of the tepees had been a.s.signed to Flora, and she retired immediately after the meal. The storm was still raging and the snow falling thickly, but our camp was so sheltered by the two great hills that we were almost as comfortable as we had been at Fort Beaver. Yet only a short distance away, to right and left, we could hear the wind shrieking and howling through the open wilderness.

"We had better be turning in, so we can make an early start," Tom Arnold said finally. "My arm is stiff and sore, and I can't sit up any longer.

How about sentry duty?"

"We mustn't neglect that," replied Captain Rudstone. "I volunteer for the first watch."

The matter was quickly settled. There were to be three watches, Carteret following the captain, and a Fort Charter man named Humphrey taking the last turn. The orders were to pace a short distance right and left of the camp at intervals, and to keep up the fire; each sentry was to rouse the next man at the proper time.

We smoked a last pipe, and turned in leaving Captain Rudstone on guard.

We were divided into batches of four, and those who shared my tepee with me were Christopher Burley, Luke Hutter and Duncan Forbes. We huddled close together, wrapped in blankets, and I for one was so tired out that I fell asleep instantly.

I remember nothing more until I was roused, after what seemed a short interval, by a husky shout and a spluttering of angry words. The noise was enough to waken the whole camp, and indeed it did so with amazing rapidity. I rushed outside in alarm, followed by my companions. The gray dawn was breaking, and the air was free of snow. The rest of the men were pouring from the tepees, rubbing their drowsy eyes and fumbling with their muskets. I saw Flora's face, flushed and frightened, peeping from the little doorway of her hut. We all gathered round Tom Arnold, who was pointing to a heap of dead ashes--what was left of the fire.

"We might have been murdered in our sleep!" he cried savagely. "Who's to blame for this cursed carelessness? I turned out a minute ago, and look what I find! n.o.body on guard, and the fire burned to ashes! Humphrey, you scoundrel, you had the last watch! What have you got to say for yourself?"

"I--I wasn't roused, sir," stammered Humphrey. "It was Carteret's place to do that."

"How could I do it when I wasn't wakened myself?" exclaimed Carteret.

"Naturally I slept sound, thinking I would be called in time."

"Just my case," added Humphrey in an aggrieved tone.

"Then Captain Rudstone is the man!" cried Arnold. "Where is he?"

Where indeed? We suddenly became aware that the captain was not among us. We shouted and called his name, but no answer came back. We looked into all the tepees, and found them empty. It was a deep mystery, and our alarm and wonder increased. We glanced at one another with startled and anxious faces. None could throw light on the matter; we had all slept soundly through the night. I questioned Flora, but she was no wiser than the rest of us.

"It's the queerest thing I ever heard of," said Arnold. "The man can't have been spirited away."

"Perhaps an Indian crept up and tomahawked him," suggested Malcolm Cameron, "and he's lying yonder under the snow."

"No; that is out of the question," said I. "Captain Rudstone could not have been caught off his guard."

"It's my opinion," declared Arnold, "that he heard some noise in the forest and went to see what it was. He wandered farther from camp than he intended, and got lost in the storm--you can see by the depth of the snow that the blizzard didn't hold up till near morning--and ten to one he's lying stiff and dead under a drift. We'll search for him till the middle of the morning, and if we don't find him by then, we must be off to the fort while the weather permits."

Arnold's reasoning was not very sound, but no one could offer a more plausible solution to the mystery. While breakfast was preparing some of us fruitlessly explored the vicinity of the camp, and a little later, having fortified ourselves with food and hot coffee, we set off on a more extended search. Christopher Burley and three other men stayed behind with Flora; the rest, divided into four parties, went in as many different directions.

To cut a long tale short, our efforts proved of no avail. One after another the search parties returned--the last one arriving an hour before noon--and all had the same story to tell. The ground had been carefully gone over within a radius of several miles from camp, but Captain Rudstone had disappeared without leaving a trace behind him.

That Arnold's theory was correct--that the unfortunate man lay dead under one of the mighty drifts that had formed while the storm raged in the night--we all believed. That he could have voluntarily deserted us was out of the question.

"It would be no use to hunt any longer," said Arnold, "even if we had the time to spare. Perhaps next spring, when the snow melts, some trapper or hunter will find the body and give it decent burial."

So, after a sad and hurried dinner, we packed up and resumed our journey. The weather held good, and about midnight we arrived safely at Fort Charter.

I will make but brief mention of our stop at the fort, where we were received and treated with the utmost kindness. As for Captain Rudstone, I need only say that I had grown sincerely attached to him, and felt his loss deeply. Not a sc.r.a.p of news was waiting for us on our arrival. No couriers had come in, and what was taking place in the North, or whether Andrew Menzies and his party had reached Fort Elk, were matters of conjecture. One keen disappointment I had. Contrary to expectation, there was no priest at Fort Charter, so my marriage with Flora had to be put off indefinitely, as I feared at the time.

But something happened shortly to raise my spirits. The factor of the fort decided to send word down to Fort Garry of the Indian rising and the loss of Fort Royal, and I gladly consented to be his messenger.

Moreover, since an attack was far from improbable, and the post was weak, two of the officers seized this opportunity to dispatch their wives to the South, believing from the reports they had heard that the country was safe in that direction.

Preparations were pushed forward, and just three days after our arrival we started on our long march of five hundred miles to Fort Garry through the dead of winter. We numbered fifteen in all, including Flora, and two other women. Christopher Burley, Baptiste and Carteret, and Luke Hutter were of the party. We were well provided with all that was needful--sledges and dogs, provisions and firearms.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

REST AND HAPPINESS.