The Wilderness Trail by Francis William Sullivan

Author:Francis William Sullivan [Sullivan, Francis William]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9788027220359
Publisher: Musaicum Press
Published: 2017-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter XV.

Prey of the Pack

Table of Contents

All the next day, the two prepared for their departure. Donald strengthened the little sledge, and made their goods into a solid pack, convenient for him to carry when Jean should become tired and need to ride. She dismantled the shack of the pathetic little gew-gaws that had been a part of her happy housekeeping, and kissed them all before she gave them into his hands for packing.

Neither was insensible of the fact that this departure meant more than the mere ending of their frigid idyl. Both realized that McTavish was deliberately going back to imprisonment and disgrace, although no mention was made of the subject. Jean had some vague notion that, ten miles from the fort, he might leave her, and retire into the woods without having been seen. The idea had also occurred to Donald, but he had put it aside unhesitatingly as the act of a coward. It little mattered to him what was his fate, as long as he knew that Jean was safe, and was near him.

That evening, the one before their departure, they held mournful obsequies over the happy two weeks that could never be repeated in their lives. They had just sat down to a dinner of rabbit (of which they were getting heartily tired by this time), when the sound of bells came to them, and they rushed to the door. With shout and crack of whip, a dog-train roared up from the south, and came to a steaming halt in the glow of their hearth.

After the first excitement Jean, suddenly realizing her position, had shrunk back into the farthest corner of the cabin, her face scarlet and her heart beating. Donald, to spare her as much as possible, met the man outside, and immediately there were glad cries of recognition.

“Well, McTavish, how the deuce do I see you here? You ought to be up at the fort. But, say, old man, I'm glad you broke out. That thirty-day term smelled to heaven when the old man gave it. Good for you!”

“And you, Braithwaite?” cried Donald, delightedly; for the man was an old friend—a store-keeper at the fort. “What are you doing up this way, and who are the boys with you?”

Donald was greatly surprised that the two men on the sledges did not rise.

“We've been having trouble at Sturgeon Lake—pretty rough stuff, too,” was the explanation; “and these boys got shot up a little. Probably, you know 'em—Planchette and Napoleon Sky, the Indian.”

“Yes, yes! You don't say! So, the Sturgeon Lake trouble has come to that point, has it? I was afraid of it. I knew those fellows were desperate. They gave me a taste to show they meant business.”

“They sure did, Mac. But, say, that isn't the worst. The Old Nick himself is shot up, and hitting the high spots with fever. We're afraid to move him, and—”

“Wh—what's that?” asked a trembling feminine voice from the doorway. “Who did you say had fever?”

During an instant of pregnant silence, the universe stood still for all those there present.

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