"She was a slip of a girl, to whom, in sickness and in health, McLeod had been unfailingly kind. She knew no fear, and in intelligence she was superior to all the other women of her race I have known.
""Have you come to take the life of this man?" she went on, moving closer to Buffalo Horn, and looking deep into his eyes.
""No," said the chief, "we have no quarrel with this man. He is a good man, but he will not deliver the murderer of my child."
""Will you take his life because of that?"
""No; we will take his life because he will betray our part in the death of the white man whom he has tried to shelter."
""There are others who might betray you."
""And their lives, also," said Buffalo Horn, composedly.
"All that had been implied was now expressed. He was to ma.s.sacre us all to shield his tribe from the punishment that might follow the discovery of his revenge.
""You will lay waste the fort," said the interpreter"s daughter, "but will the ruins not accuse you to the great company which this man serves?"
""We will be far away."
""And will you never care to return to the grounds you have hunted from childhood?"
"To this Buffalo Horn made no reply. He looked at the floor, his arms folded, and he was silent for a long time.
""This man," said the girl, touching McLeod on the shoulder, "has dealt fairly by you. He has kept his faith with you. He said that he would provide you with food through the hard seasons. Has he not done so?"
""He has kept faith with us," said the chief. "Therefore he is a good man."
""He is a good man because he has kept faith with you," the girl said, eagerly. "Would you, then, have him break faith with some other? He has said to the white man, "I will not give you up." Would you have him break the word he has pa.s.sed? For if he breaks it once, will he not break it again? If he should yield up the white man, what security would you have that he would provide for you through the next hard season?"
""He keeps his word," said Buffalo Horn. "He is a good man."
"He made a sign to Red Feather to release McLeod. Then he gathered his braves about him, and stalking solemnly at their head, led them out of the shop, over the courtyard and through the gate. We were left alone.
""Leave the gate open, Tobias," said McLeod. "Come, boy," to me, "let us get to work on the quarterly statement again. This interruption came at an awkward time. We"ll have to make up for it.""
That was the end of David"s story.
CHAPTER XIV
_In Which Jimmie Grimm and Master Bagg Are Overtaken by the Black Fog in the Open Sea and Lose the Way Home While a Gale is Brewing_
Jimmie Grimm and Bagg, returning from Birds" Nest Islands, were caught by the black fog in the open sea. It had been lowering all day. Dull clouds had hung in the sky since early morning and had kept the waters of the sea sombre. There was no wind--not the faintest breath or sigh.
The harbour water was still; and the open--beyond the tickle rocks--was without a ripple or hint of ground swell. A thick, gray mist crept out from the hills, late in the afternoon, and presently obscured the sh.o.r.e. Jimmie and Bagg were then off Mad Mull. Two miles of flat sea and windless s.p.a.ce lay between the punt and the harbour.
"Goin" t" be thick as mud," Jimmie grumbled.
"Wisht we was more insh.o.r.e," said Bagg, anxiously.
At dusk the fog was so thick that every landmark had been blotted from sight.
"Is _you_ able t" see Mad Mull?" Jimmie demanded.
"I is _not_," said Bagg.
Mad Mull was lost in the fog. It was the last landmark. The tickle rocks, through which a pa.s.sage leads to the harbour, had long ago vanished.
"Wisht we was home," said Bagg.
"Don"t you go an" get scared, Bagg," Jimmie laughed. "Never you fear.
_I"ll_ take _you_ home."
It was hot, dark and damp--a breathless evening. There was a menace in the still air and heat. A roll of thunder sounded from the northeast.
"I "low "twill blow afore long," said Jimmie.
""Urry up," said Bagg.
Jimmie put a little more strength into the rowing. The punt moved faster, but not fast enough to please Bagg, who was terrified by the fog, the thunder and the still, black water.
"Never you fear," Jimmie grumbled; "you"ll get home afore the wind comes."
Bagg wasn"t so sure of that.
"An" it _will_ come," Jimmie reflected. "I can fair feel it on the way."
Jimmie pulled doggedly. Occasionally a rumble of thunder came out of the northeast to enliven his strokes. There was no wind, however, as yet, except, perhaps, an adverse stirring of the air--the first hint of a gale. On and on crept the punt. There was no lessening of the heat. Jimmie and Bagg fairly gasped. They fancied it had never been so hot before. But Jimmie did not weaken at the oars; he was stout-hearted and used to labour, and the punt did not lag. On they went through the mist without a mark to guide them. Roundabout was a wall of darkening fog. It hid the whole world.
"Must be gettin" close insh.o.r.e," said Jimmie, at last, while he rested on his oars, quite bewildered.
"What you stoppin" for?" Bagg demanded.
"Seems t" me," said Jimmie, scratching his head in a puzzled way, "that we ought t" be in the tickle by this time."
It was evident, however, that they were not in the tickle.[4] There was no sign of the rocks on either hand. Jimmie gazed about him in every direction for a moment. He saw nothing except a circle of black water about the boat. Beyond was the black wall of fog.
"Wonderful queer," thought he, as he dipped his oars in the water again; "but I "low we ought t" be in the harbour."
There was a louder clap of thunder.
"We"ll have that wind afore long," mused Jimmie.
"You "aven"t gone an" lost your way, "ave you?" Bagg inquired in a frightened voice.
"Wonderful queer," Jimmie replied. "We _ought_ t" be in the harbour by this time. I "low maybe I been pullin" too far t" the nor"east."