Part 13

Both of Mr. Perier’s feet had been badly frozen and were swollen and very painful. He was placed on the sled again, and Elise and Max took turns riding with him. To make room for the passengers, part of the furs were taken off and made into packs, which the boys carried on their backs. Even then, the load on the sled was a heavy one for two tired, hungry dogs. One, and sometimes two, of the boys had to help pull.

By way of the gully they left the river bank and went up to the prairie. There they found and followed a well defined trail, the usual route between Pembina and Fort Douglas. More than one dog train had traveled that way since the last fall of snow. The morning was cold and the crust firm, but the party had to make the best possible speed before the sun softened the surface. With one or the other of the children walking, it was not possible to go very fast. Cold though the wind was, even the beaten track grew soft under the direct rays of the sun, as the day advanced.

With soaked moccasins, and red, swollen eyes, the tired, half-starved travelers reached Pembina some time after noon. Mr. Perier was the only one with dry feet. He was not suffering so much from snow blindness either as the others, for he had been able to keep his eyes covered. But his feet and right hand and arm were paining him severely.

The arrival caused much excitement in the little settlement, but the boys did not linger to explain how it happened that they returned from their hunting trip bringing three strangers. They went at once to Louis’ home. His mother received the Periers with almost as warm a welcome as she gave her own son. The little cabin would be crowded indeed, but that did not disturb her in the least. There was always room for travelers in distress, and Elise and Max, cold, weary, hungry, and motherless, appealed to her motherly heart.

Mrs. Brabant and her younger children were thin, much thinner than when Walter had seen them last. Food had been scarce in Pembina for weeks, but they did not hesitate to share what little they had with the newcomers. Kinder, more generous people never lived, thought the Swiss boy, as he remembered all they had done for him and saw how eager they were to share their last bite with his friends. He could never do enough to repay their kindness. That they neither expected nor wanted repayment, he knew well. Their hospitality was a matter of course with them.

XXVII WHY THE PERIERS CAME TO PEMBINA

Before starting for the hills, Walter had written Elise that he expected to be back by the first of March. So when Mr. Perier decided to leave Fort Douglas, he felt very sure that he would find his apprentice at Pembina. “I was anxious to get away,” he said when he told his story. “The weather was mild and favorable for the journey, and—well, I had other reasons. At St. Boniface I learned of a man with a dog team who was coming this way.”

Walter interrupted to ask if the man was really Murray.

“Yes, that is his name,” Mr. Perier replied. “He said he knew you and your friend Louis Brabant. Murray had not intended to leave for another day or two. He was waiting to see Sergeant Kolbach’s brother, who had gone to Norway House.”

At first the half-breed had refused to take the Periers to Pembina. While he was arguing his case, Mr. Perier had taken out his watch and glanced at it; a nervous habit of his when worried or distressed. Murray pointed to the watch. He would go for that he said. As nothing else would satisfy him, Mr. Perier agreed. Murray furnished toboggan and dogs, and they started early the next morning.

Before they had been out an hour, the Swiss began to regret his bargain. Murray’s brutality and his insolent, overbearing manner filled the quiet, gentle-natured apothecary with apprehension. The trip proved far from pleasant, but, knowing that the wild _bois brulés_ were apt to appear more savage than they really were, he did not think his children and himself in any real danger. What really happened Elise had already told. Before the journey was over, Murray demanded his pay. Mr. Perier had been forced to hand over his watch and chain. As soon as the coveted articles were in the half-breed’s possession, he had whipped up his dogs, jumped on the sled, and left the Periers to freeze or starve.

Mr. Perier knew that if they followed the river it would lead them to Pembina. They tried to keep going but they had no snowshoes and were continually breaking through the crust. All three were very cold and tired. When they came to a spot a little sheltered from the wind, they camped, intending to go on in the morning. With his pocket knife, the father hacked off a few dead branches. He kindled a fire, and Elise and Max lay down beside it, wrapped in one of the blankets. They insisted that their father should use the other.

“I didn’t intend to go to sleep,” he confessed. “I was utterly exhausted and had to rest a little. I lay down, meaning to get up in a few minutes and cut more wood. What happened was all my fault. I should have kept awake and moving.

“Even now I am at a loss to understand,” he concluded, “how Murray dared to desert us. To have taken us on, as he promised, would have delayed him but little. He must have known that, whether we ever reached here alive or not, he was responsible for us. He would be charged with the crime of deserting us and stealing our belongings. Surely the Company cannot overlook such a crime. He must suffer for it.”

Louis shrugged. “It is not at all certain that he will suffer for it, though Walter and I will do our best to see that he does. This is not _le Murrai Noir’s_ first crime, and always, so far, he seems to have escaped punishment. He thinks he will always escape. He stole the Company’s property, he and Fritz Kolbach attacked and robbed one of the Company’s hunters, yet he has not been punished, it seems, for either of those crimes. He was bold to go to St. Boniface and stay there, after that last affair.”

“Perhaps he lay low and did not let the Company at Fort Douglas know he was there,” suggested Walter.

“Or he lied himself free of the charge,” Louis added, “with witnesses bribed to say he spoke the truth. But this last crime is more serious.” The boy rose from the hearth, where he had been sitting cross legged. There were not stools enough to go around. “I go now,” he announced, “to learn whether _le Murrai_ really came to Pembina, and if he is still here.”

“I’ll go with you,” cried Walter springing up, tired though he was. “The sooner we lay charges against Murray the better. Already he has had time to take warning from our coming, and be gone.”

A little questioning of the people of Pembina brought the information that Murray had arrived at the settlement before daybreak, had rested a few hours, and had gone on, with a fresh team for which he had exchanged his exhausted dogs. His only answer to the question whither he was bound had been “Up river.”

At Fort Daer and Pembina House the boys learned that Murray had avoided the posts. The clerks in charge did not even know that the half-breed had been in the neighborhood until the lads brought the news. The man at the Company post listened gravely to the story, but was inclined to blame Mr. Perier for leaving Fort Douglas.

“Why didn’t the Swiss stay where he was?” he asked impatiently. “He was better off there than he will be here. What did he want to come to Pembina now for? He will only have to go back again with the rest of the colonists in a few weeks. It will soon be time to break ground and sow crops.”

To this Walter had no good answer, for he himself did not understand just why Mr. Perier had decided so suddenly to make the change. Not until night, after Madame Brabant and the girls were in bed in the main room and Walter lay beside his master on a skin cot in the lean-to, did the boy learn the real reason for the journey to Pembina.

“Sergeant Kolbach turned us out,” said Mr. Perier.

“What?” exclaimed Walter. “I thought he had been so kind to you.”

“He was until recently, but he and I had a disagreement. He asked me for Elise’s hand in marriage.”

“Why she is a mere child!” Walter was both surprised and distressed.

“So I told him. I said she was far too young to marry. He replied that she was old enough to cook his meals and keep his house, and that was what he wanted a wife for.”

Walter grunted angrily.

“It is true,” Mr. Perier went on, “that some of our girls not much older have married since coming to the Colony. You know the Company encouraged young women to come over because wives were needed in the settlement, especially by the DeMeurons. But Elise came to be with me, and I have other plans for her. She shall not marry Kolbach or any other, now or ten years from now, unless he is the right kind of a man and she wants him.”

“I hope she’ll never want a DeMeuron.” The thought of his little sister married to one of that wild crew horrified Walter.

“I hope not indeed,” agreed the father. “I would prefer one of our own people for her; when she is several years older of course.” He paused a moment then went on. “Elise never liked Kolbach. Even though he was kind to us and she felt she ought to be grateful, she disliked him and was a little afraid of him. I could see it. If I had dreamed that he had any such idea in his head, I would not have stayed in his house a day.”

“Does she know he wants to marry her?” Walter inquired.

“I think not. I told him I would not consent to his speaking to her. He declared he would do as he thought best about that, but he has had no chance. We left his house that very day.”

“Did he really turn you out?”

“It amounted to that. He was angry at my refusal to consider his suit. He said he was willing to wait a year, if, at Easter, Elise was formally betrothed to him. When I would consent to no betrothal, he said that we could not stay in his house longer unless she was promised to him. I have been working at the buffalo cloth mill, and have been paying him what I could for our lodging, and Elise has done all the housework. Yet he spoke as if we were beggars. I answered that we had no wish to remain in his house. We went to a neighbor,—Marianne Scheidecker she was before she married. I told her, as I told Elise, that Kolbach and I had quarreled. The next day I found Murray and hired him to bring us here.”

“Do you suppose Kolbach could have put him up to deserting you?” Walter questioned suspiciously.

“Oh no. I doubt if Kolbach knew we were going. The Sergeant would not do such a thing, however angry he might be. He is a rough, domineering man, but not bad at heart. No, no, he wouldn’t be capable of anything like that. In his way he is really fond of Elise. I think he would be as kind to her as he knows how to be, but he is not good enough for her, and she is far too young.”

“She certainly is,” Walter agreed emphatically.

It would be years yet before little Elise need think of such things, the boy decided. Then perhaps he would have something to say about the matter. The idea had never occurred to him before, but why should he not marry Elise himself some day? What other girl was there in the new land or the old to equal her? Of course it would be years from now, but in the meantime he must keep guard over her and see that no DeMeuron, or Scotchman, or French _bois brulé_ tried to take her away. None of them should bother Elise if he could help it, and he thought he could. It was with a new and not unpleasing sense of responsibility that, the boy fell asleep that night.

XXVIII THE LAND TO THE SOUTH

Pembina seethed with indignation when the Periers’ story was told. The Swiss, who were all undergoing their share of suffering, sympathized warmly with their country folk. Though still prejudiced against the new colonists, the Scotch and Irish settlers had nothing but condemnation for the rascally half-breed Murray. Many of the _bois brulés_ of Pembina had bitterly opposed the Selkirk settlement, and some had joined with the Northwesters in driving out the colonists. Since the union of the two companies, however, most of the enmity had evaporated. Walter had received only the kindest treatment from the French mixed bloods. Now there was not one to defend Murray in his heartless desertion of helpless travelers. So strong was the feeling against the treacherous voyageur that if he had been in Pembina when the Periers arrived, he would scarcely have escaped with his life. Though he had been gone several hours, a party of armed men went out to search for him. Uncertain whether he had told the truth when he had said he was going up river, they scoured the country for miles to the east and west as well as to the south. They did not overtake him. He had too long a start.

Murray was not well known in Pembina. He had never lived there nor at St. Boniface. No one in either settlement knew much about him. The spring after the killing of Governor Semple, the tall voyageur had come down the Assiniboine from the west with a brigade transporting furs to York Factory, and had remained in Hudson Bay service. It was said at that time that he was the son of a free trader of mixed Scotch and Cree blood. The elder Murray had wandered far,—so it was said,—and had taken a wife from among the western Sioux. If this story was true, Murray could not be more than one quarter white and was at least half Sioux. The Indian blood in the Pembina half-breeds was chiefly Ojibwa and Cree. The Sioux were the traditional enemies of the Ojibwas and the Crees. To the people of Pembina Murray’s Sioux blood did not endear him. There was not a man to find excuse for behavior of which few full-blooded Sioux would have been guilty.

It was some time before the Perier family recovered from their terrible experience. The frost bites Elise and Max had suffered were so severe that the outer skin of their cheeks, noses, hands, and feet peeled off in patches, leaving sore, tender spots. Their father was in a far worse condition. His feet and ankles, his right hand and arm, were badly swollen and inflamed and very painful. It was weeks before he was able to walk or to use his right hand. Had the boys failed to give him prompt treatment when they first found him he would have frozen to death. Realizing what might have happened if they had camped on the prairie that night, instead of pushing on to the river, Walter felt that he and his companions had indeed been guided to the rescue.

The little settlement had passed through hard days while the three boys were in the hills. Food had been very scanty. The buffalo had been far away, and following them in the deep snow next to impossible. Other game had been exceedingly scarce. Even the nets set under the ice of the two rivers had yielded little. The _bois brulés_ and the older settlers had fared better than the Swiss. Though the rations had been slender, neither the Brabants nor the MacKays had been entirely without food. The Swiss had suffered severely. Johan Scheidecker told Walter that at one time his family had not had a morsel to eat for three days. At Fort Douglas conditions had been even worse than at Pembina. By February most of the settlers were on an allowance of a pint of wheat or barley a day, which they ground in hand mills or mortars. Soup made from the grain and an occasional fish were all they had for weeks at a time. Though their fare had been meager enough, the Periers, in Sergeant Kolbach’s care, had fared better than many of their country folk. They had never been quite without food.

With the coming of spring matters improved at Pembina. When the ice in the rivers began to break up, wild fowl arrived in great flocks. Almost every night they could be heard passing over. By day they alighted to feed along the rivers and in the marshes. Every man able to walk, every boy large enough to carry a gun, shoot an arrow, or set a snare, and many of the women and girls, hunted from daylight till dark for ducks, geese, swans, pelicans, cranes, pigeons, any and every bird, large or small, that could be eaten. The buffalo also were drawing nearer the settlement. Following the herds over the wet, sodden prairie was difficult, even on horseback, but a skilful hunter brought down a cow or calf now and then. The lucky men shared generously with their neighbors.

Louis and Walter had no time for long hunting trips. Both had obtained temporary employment at the Company post. Indian and half-breed hunters were bringing in the winter’s catch, and the two boys were engaged to help with the cleaning, sorting, and packing of the pelts.

The post was a busy and a merry place those spring days. The men worked rapidly and well, but found plenty of time for joking, laughing, singing, and challenging one another to feats of strength and agility. After the cold and hardships of the winter, the spring fur-packing was a season of jollity for the voyageurs. Walter and Louis enjoyed the bustle and merriment, while they worked with a will.

The skins were thoroughly shaken and beaten to free them from dust and dried mud. Then they were sorted, folded to convenient size, and pressed into packs by means of a wooden lever press that stood in the post courtyard. Each bundle,—about ninety pounds weight,—of assorted furs was wrapped in a strong hide. In every package was a slip of paper with a list of the contents. To the outside was attached a wooden stave, with the number and weight of the pack, and the name of the post. The numbers and lettering were burned into the wood. Because he wrote a good hand, Walter was able to help the overworked clerk with these invoices and labels. He did a share of the harder physical work as well.

The Swiss boy was heartily glad of employment. His wages, in Hudson Bay Company paper money, were exchanged for food and ammunition, and clothes for Elise, Max and himself. The Periers needed his help sorely. They had reached Pembina destitute. When they had left Switzerland, they had been well supplied with clothing. They had also brought with them the apothecary’s herbs and powders and such household goods as they were permitted to take aboard ship. In the crowded open boat in which they had come from Fort York, there had not been room for all their belongings, so some had been left behind. Nearly everything else had been lost in the wreck on Lake Winnipeg. The little that remained had been on the toboggan that Murray had run away with. Every cent of Mr. Perier’s money, as well as the Hudson Bay paper he had received for his work at the buffalo wool factory, had gone for food and other expenses during the winter. Even his silver watch and chain he had turned over to Murray. Father and children had nothing left but the worn clothes they were wearing, two blankets, and the few packets of medicinal plant seeds the apothecary carried in his pockets. He must begin all over again, and on credit at that.

Mrs. Brabant’s sympathy for the unfortunate family was genuine and warm. They crowded her house to overflowing, but she would not hear of their going elsewhere. Indeed there was no other place for them to go but Fort Daer, and the fort was too well filled for comfort. It was hardly worth while to attempt building a new cabin, if they were to return to the Selkirk settlement in a few weeks.

Were they going to return to the settlement? That was the question that troubled Mr. Perier and Walter. It led to many debates, as the two families sat around the fire after the evening meal. There was that hundred acres of land to be considered. A vast estate it seemed to the Swiss apothecary. The promise of that great tract of land had dazzled him when he first talked with Captain Mai in Geneva. Since his coming to the new country, however, the hundred acres of unbroken prairie had grown less alluring. He had learned that not one of the older colonists had been able to cultivate more than a few acres. He had no farming tools and he could obtain nothing but hoe and spade at the Colony store. There was not a plough to be bought for credit or cash. Breaking tough prairie sod with hoe and spade would be slow and painful toil for Walter and himself.

Because of the depredations of the locusts, seed grain was very scarce. The little Mr. Perier might buy would be high in price. From his first crop he would have to pay for seed as well as rent for the land. If he did not succeed in raising a crop, if the grasshoppers came again and destroyed it, he would be far in debt to the Colony, with no immediate hope of getting out. Already he had learned to his cost that prices were high at the Colony store, and that bills were sometimes rendered for things that had not been bought. In the end he might easily lose his land and have nothing to show for his labor. The prospect was not bright. Hopeful though he was by nature, he doubted his ability to make a success of farming under such discouraging conditions.

Walter was strongly against returning to Fort Douglas. It would be better to remain where they were, he argued, and trust to making a living, as the _bois brulés_ did, by hunting, fishing, and planting a small garden. Perhaps the Company would let Mr. Perier have his hundred acres in the neighborhood of Pembina. Both Louis and Jean Lajimonière,—who was consulted,—shook their heads at the latter suggestion. Pembina was included in Lord Selkirk’s grant, but the real Colony was established at and near Fort Douglas. It was there that the land was allotted. They thought it unlikely that Mr. Perier could obtain his anywhere else. In any case there would be the same difficulty about tools, seed, supplies, and rent. And so the argument went on.

In the meantime spring had come in earnest. The ice was gone from the rivers. Birds were nesting in the woods, in the marshes, and on the prairie, according to their habit. As the rivers subsided from flood stage, fishing was resumed and yielded good results. The snow had melted from the prairie, though it still lingered in shaded places in the woods and along the river banks. The burned stretches showed new green. The sun was drying up the excess of moisture that had turned the prairie into ponds and spongy expanses and had converted the rambling paths and cart tracks of Pembina into sticky mud.

In May the old colonists and most of the new began to prepare for the return to Fort Douglas. Still Mr. Perier and Walter were undecided. At last they came to a decision suddenly and almost by accident. Through Lajimonière, Mr. Perier met a man named St. Antoine who had traveled more widely than most of the Pembina mixed bloods. Two years before, he had been far to the south and east with Laidlaw, the Colony superintendent of farming, when the latter had gone to Prairie du Chien on the Mississippi River for seed grain. St. Antoine had many tales to tell of the country along the Mississippi and the St. Peter rivers.

“That is a fine land,” he told Mr. Perier, “a land with hills and forests,—not flat and bare like this, though there is open country there too, good land for farming. At Prairie du Chien now, there the soil is rich and the crops grow well and ripen. It is not so cold as here. The spring comes earlier and the frost later.”

“Are there grasshoppers there?” Mr. Perier inquired.

“The kind that eat up everything? No, no. Those grasshoppers have never been seen in that country, the people say. And where the two rivers come together, where the Americans are building a fort, it is beautiful there, with high hills and bluffs like mountains, and woods and waterfalls.”

Mr. Perier’s brown eyes were wistful. St. Antoine’s description sounded good to a Swiss homesick for his mountains. “How does one go to that country?” he asked. “Can land be bought or rented?”