The Wilderness Trail Part 31

Donald, in the confusion, slipped away swiftly over the hard crust, and took a position behind a breastwork of shrubbery, whence he could watch operations unseen. Five minutes later, the free-traders, with Seguis at the heels of the voluble guide, swung away, leaving a handful of wounded to look after the camp.

Now, it was McTavish's turn to fly. Without looking behind, he sped in the opposite direction, and laid his course for the big pine at Muskeg Point, two miles away. Despite the situation in which he was placed, the prospect of action, even the very exercise as he trotted along, raised a joy in his breast. The time for reprisal had come. Though he should go into exile immediately after, the blow he was about to strike would never be forgotten.

Arrived at the big pine, his heart dropped like a plummet. There were no men there, nor any tracks of men. Could it be that the factor had ignored his directions? No, hardly that, for the French trains had been captured. What, then, was the matter? With his eyes at their keenest, he looked about him.

The eye of the trapper is, under ordinary conditions, as powerful as some field-gla.s.ses; moreover, it is trained to see, not merely to look. In a minute, Donald resolved a weather-beaten b.u.mp on a nearby tree into the capote-shrouded head of a man who was peering from cover. He waved his hand, and the man stepped out. In a moment more, others came forth, ten in all, and surrounded him, plying him with questions. Timmins was there, and Buxton, and old Bill Thompson. When the greetings had pa.s.sed, greetings reserved, but full of feeling, McTavish explained the situation at the camp he had just left, and indicated his project. Then, in the lead, he began the stealthy return march.

It was barely eleven o'clock when the party arrived at the edge of the woods near the camp. Of the five men that had been left, two were away fis.h.i.+ng, and the others, barely able to struggle about, were seated around a fire smoking. Near them, and in the center of the camp, well protected by old blankets, was the huge pile of furs. This was the object of McTavish's solicitude. The first step in his plan had been to return to the Company the valuable skins that the free-traders had collected. With those gone, the whole organization would fall to the ground; it would have no excuse for being. Perhaps, then, its members would come back into the Company's roll!

Detailing a couple of his men to capture the unsuspecting anglers, Donald gave the word to advance. So quietly was this done that the three about the camp-fire, deep in some argument, did not notice their approach.

"Well, boys, the game's up," cried Donald, fifty yards away, and the three looked into the rifles leveled at them, in utter stupefaction.

It was a bloodless victory. Swift hands disarmed the free-traders, and, presently, the surprised fishermen were marched in from the lake to join their comrades in misfortune. As there was much to be done, Donald disposed of the men in a characteristic manner. He had their blankets moved over to a stump that rose four or five feet above the snow. Then, he tied a foot of each with a long strand of rope, fastening the rope to the stump. A man investigated frequently to see that no one had tampered with the tether.

It was Donald's idea to save the furs without injury, if possible.

Therefore, he and his men set about protecting them with a rude breastwork of logs. What solid embers of the burned warehouse still remained were dragged across the snow, and piled on that side from which Seguis and his men were expected to return. The woods sounded with the blows of axes as the skilled woodsmen felled dead trees, or cut branches, to fill the s.p.a.ces between logs. While this work went on McTavish personally rounded up the supplies of the camp.

There was little food, but considerable ammunition. Both of these he deposited behind the breastwork of logs. The wretches at their tether watched him with tragic eyes.

One man made tea, which all hands stopped long enough to drink.

Then, the frenzied work went on again. By mid-afternoon, a formidable defense for the men had been erected. Behind it, the blankets and accouterments of the Hudson Bay party were gathered.

Suddenly, a distant shot was heard. Then, there was silence. It was as though there had been a signal given to which there was no reply.

"Mac," said Timmins, "the old man ought to forgive you for this."

"I don't care whether he does, or not. I'm not doing this for him.

But, by the way, Timmins, where's the factor now? Did he go with the boys to cut off the Frenchmen?

"No; he's laid up at the old camp. You know that day you were captured, well, he was so mad at Seguis and his men that he lit out in the pursuit. He's ugly when he's mad, but he's too darned old to do them foolish things. When he came back, he was chilled, and what with getting over his wound, and the exposure of the chase, and everything, he came down sick again. So, when Bill Thompson arrived with your orders, he turned 'em over to McLean, and let him do what he liked. McLean hasn't been favored with too much brains, but he knew enough to follow them. Now, it looks like you had a strangle-hold on the whole business. The other bunch got the supply-trains, you say, an' we've got the furs. Don't know as I'd care to be a free-trader about now, or a little later."

"Wait a minute!" cried Donald, who had been trying vainly to interrupt. "Is the factor really sick this time?"

"Yes. Dr. Craven's with him all the time, and he let it out that the old fellow's about ready to tune up his eternal harp."

"And Miss Fitzpatrick? Where's she?"

"She's with him, nursing him like a child. But, whew! the way he treats her when he gets cranky! How she stands it, I don't know."

Donald asked no more questions. His thoughts leaped the desolate, frozen miles to where a lonely girl watched hour by hour beside the wretched bed of her father, only relieved now and then by a perfunctory and uninterested doctor. He had not allowed himself to think of her often; it was a dangerous and poignant subject for him. He had kept his mind upon the plans that he had set in operation.

If those failed, he might entertain the sickening thought of never seeing her again. He had no right to marry her and ruin her life, willing though she might be. Perhaps, it would be a cruel mercy to go away. All this, if his plans failed. If they succeeded, there was still the question of Charley Seguis and his own nonent.i.ty, the certificate in Maria's muskrat-skin bag, and--

"Hey! What's this?" cried Timmins suddenly, sitting bolt upright.

Donald peered over the protection, and stiffened into immobility.

Out from the edge of the forest, silently and swiftly, poured Charley Seguis and his band, their guns held in readiness. Suddenly, they saw the change that had come over the camp, and halted abruptly in amazed groups.

CHAPTER XXV

AGAINST FEARFUL ODDS

Donald seized his opportunity, and stood up to his full height, exposing his head and shoulders.

"Seguis," he said, "you're covered. I've come back with my men, and taken possession of your furs. I call upon you to surrender."

Though a hundred yards away, the amazement depicted on the half-breed's face was apparent. The men behind the barricade had thrust the long, black barrels of their guns through loopholes left for that purpose, and trained them upon the disorganized free-traders.

For a tense minute, there was no reply. Then, Seguis spoke.

"Let me talk a moment with my men, will you?" he asked.

"I'll give you five minutes by the clock." Donald drew out the queer gold watch that was an heirloom, and held it in his hand while the seconds ticked away. Seguis talked rapidly to his followers.

"Time's up!" Donald snapped at last, shoving the watch back into the fur-lined pocket of his jacket. "What are you going to do?

Will you put down your arms peaceably, or shall I fire?"

"Fire and be hanged!" was the instant reply, as Seguis raised his own gun.

Instantly, the ten rifles behind the barricade barked as one. But, in the same second, as though by preconcerted signal, the forty men at the edge of the forest dropped flat on the snow, and the bullets whistled over them. The next moment, they had leaped to their feet, and scrambled into the shelter of trees and brush.

"Well, boys, we're in for it now," said Donald cheerfully, happier now that battle offered than he had been for many weeks. "They've got us at a disadvantage, and the odds are four to one, so every shot must count."

"Right-o!" rejoined Timmins, and fell to whistling through his back teeth, a sure sign with him of complete satisfaction.

Then began a grilling wait. Occasionally, a dark form would appear among the trees, speeding from shelter to shelter, and the guns of the besieged would ring out sharply into the still air. More than once, the bullets went home, and the runner leaped into the air with a yell, and rolled over and over upon the snow.

"They're surrounding us," said Donald calmly. "I hate to do it, but we'll have to use these furs after all, and a fur with a bullet hole in it isn't worth anything."

He called for volunteers to help him arrange the protection, and, when everyone spoke, told off alternate men to keep the enemy covered while the others worked. The bales of pelts were frozen into the rigidity of iron, and would form an excellent defense, but they were not now in the proper position for this. It was necessary for the men to crawl out over the low line that lay to their rear, and lift other bales back into the "trench" that was formed by the log barricade.

The free-traders in the woods were aware of this necessity for exposure, and waited until a man started on his venturesome journey.

Then, they all blazed away at once. McTavish was the first to expose himself. He returned with a bullet hole in his cap, and minus a generous share of one boot-heel. Then, strategy was resorted to.

A man would make a feint of rus.h.i.+ng from cover. Instantly, the heads of the men in the woods would appear, lying along their gun-barrels, and, in the same instant, the bullets from the barricade would fly thick. After one such feint, three of the enemy did not reappear, and then the foe began to grow cautious, never knowing when the appearance of a head out of the trench meant a feint or an expedition.

It was impossible that such hazardous work should not have tragic results. Trip after trip, Donald made without harm, but his men were not so fortunate. One was killed outright, and another, game to the last, threw himself back among his companions, coughing blood from a bullet hole in the lung, but with two bales of fur in his hands.

The free-traders, by this time, had almost completed their circle, and could fire upon the besieged from every side except that which led down to the lake. Consequently, Donald was forced to cover every direction at once, and could not concentrate more than two rifles upon any one point. Presently, the firing from the woods became hotter, and the Hudson Bay leader, recognizing the symptoms, crawled back and forth in the narrow trench, speaking to his men.

"They're probably going to try and carry our position with a charge.

Shoot to kill, but don't shoot one man--Charley Seguis."

"But, Captain, he's the ringleader," cried Timmins, annoyed. "If you finish him, the rest of 'em will go to the four winds."

"I know it," replied McTavish, "but I must still ask you to spare him. You remember, he saved my life once, although he didn't mean to, and, besides, I have other and better reasons for asking this: reasons that I can't tell you now. In time, you'll all know--if we can get out of this thing alive."