The Buffalo Runners: A Tale of the Red River Plains. Robert Michael Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ produce. A small servant—a French half-breed named Louise—completed the household of the widow Davidson.

      On reaching home, Dan, like Fergus McKay, experienced difficulties that he had not counted on, for his overtaxed strength fairly broke down, and he found himself almost incapable at first of telling his tale of disaster. Then, when he tried to go about the needful preparations for rescue, he found himself unable to resist drowsiness, and if he ventured to sit down for a moment he fell sound asleep at once.

      Those who have experienced this condition know how overwhelming and intensely disagreeable it is, especially if resistance to it is rendered imperative by a matter of life or death. Davidson struggled bravely against it of course, but the struggle had already been so long continued that his efforts were now in vain.

      Starting up from the supper which Jessie had spread before him, and which he was languidly attempting to eat, he said, almost fiercely, “Where is the wash-tub, Louise?”

      The surprised little domestic pointed to the article in question.

      “Here; fetch some cold water.”

      “It is full,” said Louise with a strong French accent and a pretty lisp.

      Without the ceremony even of throwing back his collar Dan plunged his head into the water, and, after steeping it for a few seconds, drew it out refreshed.

      His younger brother entered the room at that moment.

      “Peter,” he said, drying his head violently with a jack-towel, “have you got the sledge ready, and the provisions packed, and the empty sledge wi’ the buffalo-robes?”

      “Ay—all ready,” answered the other, for he was a sprightly, willing youth, who rejoiced in any unexpected demand on his superabundant energies. “But I say, Dan, you are quite unfit to start off again without rest.”

      He looked in his brother’s face anxiously, for Dan had seated himself once more to his food, but seemed unable to deal with it properly. “Why, you’ve got the knife and fork in the wrong hands, Dan! You must have an hour’s rest before we start.”

      “Impossible,” returned the other with a dazed look, as he seized a mug of water and drank it off. “An hour’s delay may mean death to Elspie and old Duncan McKay.”

      “But let me start off at once,” returned Peter, eagerly. “I’ve a pretty good guess, from your description, where you left them. Besides, the gale is not so bad now. After an hour’s sleep you will be able to start fresh, maybe overtake me. Jess will be sure to waken you in—”

      He stopped, for his brother’s head had bent slowly forward while he was speaking, and now rested on his arms on the table. The worn-out man was sound asleep.

      “Just leave him, Peter, and be off wi’ the dogs,” said Mrs Davidson. “Okématan will keep you in the right track. I’ll be sure to wake him in time to catch you up.”

      “No, mother, not without his leave,” said the youth, firmly. “Dan! Dan! rouse up, old boy! Shall we start without you?”

      “Yes, yes—I’m ready,” said the poor fellow, starting up and swaying to and fro like a drunken man; “but—I say, Peter, I’m done for. I depend on you, lad, to keep me up to the scratch. Lay the dog-whip across my shoulders if I try to lie down. Promise me that. D’ee hear!”

      “Yes, I understand,” returned the youth with intense earnestness. “Now look here, Dan, you know me: will you trust me?”

      “Of course I will,” answered Dan with a languid smile.

      “Well, then; come along, we’ll rescue Elspie—you may depend on that. Okématan and I will look after you and see that all goes right. Come.”

      He took his brother by the arm, and led him unresistingly away, followed by the dark-skinned Indian, who, with the usual reticence of his race, had stood like a brown statue, silently observing events.

      Jessie Davidson, who was a fair and comely maiden, touched him on the arm as he was passing out—

      “Oh! take care of him, Okématan,” she said, anxiously.

      Okématan replied “Ho!” in a sort of grunt. It was an expressively uttered though not very comprehensible reply; but Jessie was satisfied, for she knew the man well, as he had for a considerable time been, not exactly a servant of the house, but a sort of self-appointed hanger-on, or unpaid retainer. For an Indian, he was of a cheerful disposition and made himself generally useful.

      When they were outside, it was found that the gale had abated considerably, and that the moon was occasionally visible among the clouds which were driving wildly athwart the heavens, as though the elemental war which had ceased to trouble the earth were still raging in the sky.

      “Peter,” said the brother, as they stood for a moment beside two Indian sledges, one of which was laden with provisions, the other empty—“Peter, don’t forget your promise. Lay the whip on heavy. Nothing else will keep me awake!”

      “All right! Sit down there for a moment. We’re not quite ready yet.”

      “I’d better not. No! I will stand till it’s time to start,” returned Dan with a dubious shake of his head.

      “Didn’t you say you would trust me?”

      “Yes, I did, old boy.”

      “Does it look like trusting me to refuse the very first order I give you? What an example to Okématan! I am in command, Dan. Do as you’re bid, sir, and sit down.”

      With a faint smile, and a still more dubious shake of the head, Dan obeyed. He sat down on the empty sledge and the expected result followed. In a few seconds he was asleep.

      “Now we’ll pack him in tight,” observed his brother, as he and the Indian stretched the sleeper at full length on the sledge, wrapped him completely up in the warm buffalo-robes, and lashed him down in such a way that he resembled a mummy, with nothing visible of him except his mouth and nose.

      Four strong large dogs were attached to each sledge in tandem fashion, each dog having a little collar and harness of its own. No reins were necessary. A track beaten in the soft snow with his snow-shoes by the Indian, who stepped out in front, was guide enough for them; and a tail-line attached to the rear of each sledge, and held by the drivers, sufficed to restrain them when a stretch of hard snow or ice tempted them to have a scamper.

      The road thus beaten over the prairie by Okématan, though a comparatively soft one, was by no means smooth, and the rough motion would, in ordinary circumstances, have rendered sleep impossible to our hero; but it need hardly be said that it failed to disturb him on the present occasion. He slept like an infant throughout the whole night; cared nothing for the many plunges down the prairie waves, and recked not of the frequent jerks out of the hollows.

      Hour after hour did Peter Davidson with his silent companion trudge over the monotonous plains—hope in the ascendant, and vigour, apparently, inexhaustible. The dogs, too, were good and strong. A brief halt now and then of a few minutes sufficed to freshen them for every new start. Night passed away, and daylight came in with its ghostly revelations of bushes that looked like bears or buffaloes, and snow-wreaths that suggested the buried forms of frozen men.

      Then the sun arose and scattered these sombre visions of early morning with its gladdening, soul-reviving rays.

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