ページの画像
PDF
ePub

child had a mother, and why he had taken up his abode in this out-of-the-way corner of the globe, no one knew, or could find out. It was in the early fall of the year, just nine months ago, that Hubert Stephens had first made his appearance in the district. He had joined the "lumberers" at a little station part way up the river, in a footsore condition, carrying his child and a bundle. Producing money, he had offered to pay for a seat in one of their boats, and after learning from the men all about their settlement, had expressed his intention of going with them there, and becoming a backwoodsman himself, Thus he had arrived, but instead of erecting a dwelling for himself, he had become a lodger with the Vandeleurs-building an additional room to their house, and paying madame (in money, so long as a slender stock of that commodity lasted, and afterwards in labour) for her care of his child. But whilst he had felled, ploughed, and hunted with the rest of the men, living, uncomplaining, the primitive life of the colony, Mr. Stephens had proved singularly reticent as to his antecedents. He had simply told his companions nothing about himself or his past life, even when the long winter evenings and the warm fire-side had invited to communicativeness. With unfailing good-humour, he had parried all questions and baffled all curiosity. In the aggregate the settlement could not boast a very large amount of the latter quality, but fully one half of what it did possess, appertained to Madame Vandeleur. Yet Madame was no wiser than other people concerning her lodger, though she had used persistent efforts to make herself so. Always sweet-tempered and obliging, but, at times, very sad, the young Englishman's chief delight seemed to be to sit with his boy on his knee, softly talking with the little fellow in his own tongue. What few words, however, madame had been able to make out of their conversation (they were only a very few words), had taught her nothing. And in fact, that this alien, this interloper, had been able to resist her attempts to discover something of his history and motive in lingering here, was the source of a great, though secret, annoyance to Madame Vandeleur. Others might submit to be baffled, but it was a thing to which she was not accustomed.

But to have acknowledged herself in any way discomfited, would not have suited Marie's policy. When, therefore, her neighbours aired, in her presence, their placid wonderment concerning "Monsieur Steefen," as they called him, the little woman professed to see nothing much to wonder at. Why was he living here?" "Well, she supposed he must live somewhere." "Wherefore had

66

he left his own country? How had he come to be poor, and in need to work with his hands-he who had the air so distinguished?" "Ah! fortune was uncertain. Life had many ups and downs. What signified it to put such questions? Let the poor man keep his own secrets."

With such words, and a gesture expressive of indifference, madame was accustomed to reprove her neighbours' curiosity and to conceal the disappointment of her own. On this evening of her birthday, she checked, even more determinately than usual, an inclination which manifested itself on the part of her guests to make the little Claude and his absent parent (Stephens had gone with the Caribou hunters to the woods) the subject of discussion and random surmise. As, however, she took the trouble to introduce other topics and to keep them going, there was no lack of talk to the click of the women's needles.

Then presently, as the twilight began to fall, talk was superseded by music. Gathered outside the open door, a number of the younger women, led by Paul and the Curé-whose voice, even in his sixtieth year, was wonderfully powerful-proceeded to give madame her usual birthday serenade. The voices, to which that little distance certainly lent sweetness, if not enchantment, rose first in the National Air of the Canadian-French-"La Claire Fontaine." After that followed a weird camp-melody, with a long-drawn sighing refrain, and then, with a brief pause between, the Canadian boat-song, made familiar by its English translation-" Row, brothers, row."

By the time this stage of the vocal concert was reached the two children had fallen asleep in each other's arms, curled up on their bearskin mat in the corner, and the features of the women-still softly clicking their needles-were fast growing indistinguishable.

Madame Vandeleur was just considering whether or not she would wait for the conclusion of the verses before procuring a light, when one of the singers, putting in her head, announced

"Ah! madame, they come at last, the men! We see them but a little way off. And they must have shot, at least, one deer, for they carry something heavy. Also, they are coming straight here. Perhaps it is that they mean to make madame a present of what they have caught-seeing that it is her fête."

"Chut, chut, Babette-that is nonsense!" answered her hostess. "But, at all events, we will have a light, that we may see each other's faces."

[blocks in formation]

MOUNTING without delay upon a wooden stool, Madame Vandeleur soon succeeded in kindling an oil lamp, of very primitive description, which hung suspended from the ceiling. She had not, however, descended from her perch, before a sudden cessation of the singing, followed by a chorus of excited and troubled exclamations, advertised her that something was amiss.

That is no

In a moment her active mind had leaped to a correct conclusion. "Alas!" she interjected, "some one has been hurt! game, I fear, that the men carry!"

Scarcely had these words left her lips before the room was in wild commotion.

Springing to their feet, the women crowded towards the door, elbowing each other as they went, and calling out in varying accents of alarm, the names of their respective husbands, brothers, or lovers. Then Madame Vandeleur rose to the occasion.

[ocr errors]

My friends," she cried in a firm voice, "come back this instant! Let there be no disturbance. Resume your seats for a moment, if you please; and suffer me to learn quietly for you if anything is wrong. There, that is well!" she continued, as the women obeyed to the extent of moving back and allowing her to get in front of them. "Paul, art thou there? Tell me quickly what has happened."

"My Marie," answered her husband, stepping forward from the agitated little circle which had formed around the new-comers and their burden. "It is the Englishman. He has met, God pity him, a shocking accident."

"You hear, my friends, it is none of our people. Now you can afford to be calm," put in Marie. "How came the accident, Paul?" "He has been attacked by a bear, they say. I know not yet all the circumstances-only he is frightfully injured."

"But not dead?"

He paused

"No, not dead yet," rejoined Paul. "But . . . .” significantly, and stood aside to allow passage to four men who were now moving forward again, carrying between them a litter roughly constructed of interwoven boughs. Stretched upon that litter, with the hues of death already on his face, lay the poor young Englishman, who, though he had dwelt among them so long, was to those around him but as an unknown stranger.

Casualties of various kinds were not uncommon in the settler's

hard life, and naturally the women felt relieved to find their kinsmen safe from such ills as their imaginations had been conjuring up. This relief, however, did not prevent a gush of hearty sympathy for the unfortunate sufferer. Pressing around the litter, with gesticulations and ejaculations of dismay, every one sought to gain a glimpse of that drawn, death-like face. Through this crowding and pressing, it happened, somehow, that a garment which had been thrown over the injured man was dragged away. The sight thus disclosed curdled the blood of the spectators with horror.

His clothes in ribbons, poor Stephens' left side appeared one mass of gaping wounds. His arm, torn from the socket, and wellnigh severed from his body, was laid across his breast. Some attempt had been made to staunch the flow of blood, but the vital fluid escaped with every instant, and fell in a trickling stream to the ground. That he could live thus lacerated seemed impossible, and shocked cries broke from every lip. Roused by those cries from a swoon of exhaustion into which he sunk, Hubert Stephens suddenly opened his eyes and attempted to raise himself on the litter.

"At last! We are here at last!" he gasped, looking round. "But what are all these people doing? Madame Vandeleur-I want Madame Vandeleur !" he added, with impatient anxiety.

"Here I am, mon pauvre ami, here I am!" responded the little woman, stepping to his side. An expression of relief crossed the Englishman's face.

"Madame," he broke forth, hurriedly, "I am, you see, dying. But I have something to say to you first. I cannot, I must not die without speaking. Let them carry me to my room; and come you and Paul with me-you two alone-quickly!"

"And our good father, also?" suggested Paul, designating the Curé. "You would like that he came also?"

"No, no! Let him pray for me, if he will," answered Stephens ; "but, as you know, I belong not to your Communion. Waste no time! waste no further time! Carry me away from all these eyes."

"No! waste no further time!" echoed Madame Vandeleur, imperatively. "Bring him here, and lay him upon his bed, whilst I procure some brandy. Now, my neighbours," she continued, closing the door of her lodger's chamber after those who had passed in, "you must disperse-you must disperse immediately-for the house. must be quiet. Outside, the men will relate to you how this dreadful thing has happened, and then you can return every one to her own home. Only Annette Jalbert will please stay, because I may want

help. And M. le Curé" (she glanced towards that worthy man, who was already on his knees in a corner of the room, reciting the prayers of his church for the dying); “M. le Curé will remain if he chooses. Now go, go all of you!" she concluded, with an imperious wave of her hand.

"Yes, yes, without doubt, if you desire it," rejoined one of the party, speaking for the rest. "You have reason. It will be better that the house be left quiet. Bon soir, madame, and God help the poor M. Steefen!"

"Amen! amen!" came the pious responses, as wooden sabots clattered, as softly as their owners could make them, across the wooden floor.

Arrived at a short distance from the house, the departing guests paused, and again grouping themselves in a circle, proceeded to question their male companions concerning the tragedy that had occurred. Their report, condensed into a few words, was this:

On reaching, with their dogs and guns, the opening in the forest for which they were bound, the hunters had seen traces enough of the game whereof they were in search. It was a full hour, however, before their eager watching was rewarded by the first sight of a Caribou. Then, bursting cover close in front of them, appeared a noble stag, at least seven feet high, followed by three or four companions. Dogs and men at once gave chase, and the stag, slightly wounded, and infuriated by the pain, presently turned to bay. All the hunters, save three, stopped to encounter this proud antagonist. Of those three, two pursued a flying deer in one direction, whilst a third -the Englishman-followed, quite alone, after the rest of the flock in another. Pierced by many bullets, the "lord of the herd" at length fell, but the moment was a dangerous one, and neither men nor dogs durst yet approach too near those magnificent antlers or sinewy limbs. Watching at a safe distance, they were waiting until the large dark eyes grew dim and glazed and the panting frame stiffened in death, when the sound of a human voice, in an anguished cry for "help! help!" broke upon their startled ears.

Leaving their fallen foe to die unregarded, the hunters rushed forthwith towards the spot whence that cry seemed to proceed. Repeated cries guided them; and crashing through the undergrowth that lay between, they found themselves shortly in a little grassy opening which ran off, like an arm, from the winding forest glade. There, partially intrenched behind a tree, which rose a solitary giant in the midst of the tiny amphitheatre, appeared a man engaged in mortal combat with a huge grizzly bear. The bear, reared against

« 前へ次へ »