A part of the equipment of each boat was six heavy oars. These were for use by the Indian crew when from time to time it was necessary to cross quickly over the broad river to escape rapids or other obstructions. As these things were revealed to the young aviators, they grew more and more anxious for the hour of departure.
When Colonel Howell"s outfit began to reach the riverbank the next morning, Moosetooth and La Biche had part of their men on hand to a.s.sist in the loading. It was a motley group, moccasined in mooseskin with their straight black hair showing defiantly beneath their silver-belted black hats. Mostly they wore collarless checked flannel shirts and always from the hip pocket of their worn and baggy trousers hung the gaudy ta.s.sels of yarn tobacco pouches. Most of them were half-breeds, young men eager to show the smartness of a veneer of civilized vices. But this did not bother Colonel Howell, for Moosetooth and La Biche were alone responsible and these two men well enacted the roles of foremen. Sitting idly on the bank, cutting new pipes of tobacco or breaking twigs, with slow guttural exclamations they directed the work to be done.
The loading began and proceeded wholly without order. For this reason the prospector suggested that the airship crates be left until the last. Bags of flour, of which there were fifty, were dumped in the bottom of the boat where the mud and water were sure to spoil part of the flour.
"But that"s the way they do it," explained Colonel Howell. "It"s the method of the river Indians. They"re doing the work now and don"t make suggestions or try to help them. They"ll resent it and think less of you for it."
While this work was going on, young Zept appeared from time to time and seemed to be interested but he as continually absented himself.
Loading went forward slowly. Deliveries of stores were made several times during the day, but there was an entire lack of snap and the Indians took their time in stowing things away. Colonel Howell was absent most of the day and in the middle of the afternoon the two boys took their first opportunity to look over the town.
Reaching the main street, they were not surprised to see the young Count, mounted on a lively looking pony, dash along the main thoroughfare. It was hard to tell whether the ease and surety with which young Zept rode or his flapping Paris hat attracted more attention. As the boys waved their hats to him and he gracefully saluted, they noticed that he must have been riding for some time. The pony was covered with perspiration and its nostrils were dilated. As the rider pa.s.sed an intersecting street in the heart of the town, the little animal made a turn as if preferring another route. The Count threw it on its haunches and headed it on down the street at renewed speed.
A little later, having visited the post office, Norman and Roy came out just in time to see young Zept whirling his exhausted mount into a livery stable. When the boys reached this, they found the proprietor, who from his sign was a Frenchman, and Paul in a heated argument. It was in vociferous French and in the course of it the boys saw young Zept excitedly tear a bill from a roll of money in his hand and hurl it on the floor of the barn. The proprietor, hurling French epithets at his customer, kicked the money aside.
Norman pushed his way between the spectators and with a.s.sumed jocularity demanded to know the cause of dispute. In broken English, the liveryman exclaimed:
"He is no gentleman. He kills my horse. For that he shall pay two dollars more."
"Well, what"s the matter?" went on Norman laughing. "Isn"t that enough?
There"s your money," and he picked up a Canadian ten-dollar bill and handed it to the owner of the pony.
"His money is nussing," retorted the pony owner. "He is no gentleman."
The absurdity of this must have appealed to young Zept. Perhaps the presence of his two companions somewhat shamed him.
"Don"t have a row," broke in Roy. "The colonel"s sure to hear of it."
The Count turned again to the excited Frenchman and began another torrent of apparent explanation, but it was in a different tone. He was now suave and polite. As he talked he held out his hand to the proprietor of the stable and smiled.
"He"s been drinking again," whispered Roy to Norman, a fact which was quite apparent to the latter.
Then to the surprise of both boys, with Norman still holding the money in his hand, the excited Frenchman grasped his customer"s hand, and he and Paul hurried from the barn. A block away, the disturbed Norman and Roy saw the two men arm in arm disappear behind the swinging door of the big hotel bar room. Ascertaining the amount of their friend"s bill from one of the stable employees, Norman paid it and he and his companion left.
That evening, Norman handed Paul five dollars he had received in change and the incident was closed.
For three more days the loading of the scows continued slowly. It finally became apparent that the little flotilla would set out Sat.u.r.day evening.
In these days Count Paul"s manner of life was so different from that of the boys that they did not see a great deal of him. Now and then he was on the river front, but more frequently he was a patron of the livery stable, and even in the evening he was frequently not in the hotel when Norman and Roy retired.
His acquaintance with the mounted policeman put him much in that man"s company. This officer, always in immaculate uniform, was very English in appearance, and he wore a striking tawny moustache. Being in charge of the local police station, as the sergeant, he was the highest police authority in that district. As the boys noticed him on the street at times, gloved and swishing his light cane, they were surprised at the open signs of his indulgence in drink. But what surprised them even more, knowing as they now did of the arrangement between Paul"s father and Colonel Howell, was the colonel"s apparent indifference to young Zept"s conduct.
"I have a theory," said Norman to his friend at one time. "You know Colonel Howell told us he wasn"t taking Paul in hand to act as his guardian. I think he"s letting him go the pace until he gets him where he"ll have to quit what he"s doing. Then it"s going to be up to Paul himself. If he doesn"t make a man of himself, it"ll be his own fault."
"I think a good call-down is what he needs," answered Roy, "and the colonel ought to give it to him."
"I reckon he thinks that isn"t his business," commented Norman. "It"s certainly not ours. I reckon it"ll work out all right."
"Like as not this is Paul"s idea of roughing it in the wilds," suggested Roy.
"Then there"s hope," answered his chum. "He"ll be out of the swing of this in a few days and when he learns what the real thing is, if he likes it and takes to it, he"ll forget this kind of life."
Finally the evening for the departure arrived. There was no fixed hour, but Colonel Howell"s party had an early supper at the hotel and then a gang of Indians carried their newly packed equipment to the boats. All these articles were dropped indiscriminately as the Indians felt disposed, and soon after six o"clock Norman and Roy were ready for the long voyage. Count Paul had turned his camera over to the young aviators and their first step was to make a number of snaps of the boats and their crews.
Then, piling their rifles and their new blankets in the bow of Moosetooth"s boat, the boys took station on the riverbank, prepared to embark at any moment.
In keeping with the methods that they had found common, it was then discovered that parts of the provisions had not yet arrived. Colonel Howell and Paul had not accompanied the boys directly to the boats. Even after a wagon had arrived with the last of the provisions, and these had been distributed by the Indians on the high heaped cargo, there was yet no sign of their patron. Nor was Count Zept anywhere to be seen.
The Indian wives of the crew sat around their little tepee fires, but between them and their husbands pa.s.sed no sign of emotion or farewell; this, in spite of the fact that no one on the boats might expect to return for several weeks.
It began to grow cooler and finally the night fog began to fall over the swift brown river.
As the sun began to grow less, the barren hills on the far side of the river turned into a dark palisade. Finally Colonel Howell appeared. He had been engaged in settling his accounts and a merchant who came with him spent some time in checking up goods already aboard the scow. But when Colonel Howell learned that the Count was not present he strolled away almost nonchalantly.
"It"s the way of the North," almost sighed Roy. "Nothing goes on schedule in this part of the world."
"Why should it?" grunted Norman. "When your journey may mean a year"s delay in getting back, what"s a few minutes more or less in starting out?"
It was far after nine o"clock and the sun was dropping behind the southern hills--the air chillier and the fog deeper, when Paul finally appeared. His boisterous manner was all the testimony needed to indicate how he had spent the evening.
With him was his friend, the sergeant of police. He had undoubtedly been with his new comrade to celebrate the departure, but the dignified officer, being now in the field of duty, gave few signs of personal indiscretions. For the first time he was formally presented to all and in a courteous and high-bred manner extended to the voyageurs his good wishes for a safe voyage.
Before the representative of the law, each Indian at once sprang to his feet and lifted his hat. And to each of these in turn the uniformed policeman answered in salute. When it seemed to Norman and Roy that there would be no end to the long delay, Colonel Howell also reappeared. With a nod of his head to all, he spoke quickly in the Cree language to his steersmen.
Old Moosetooth grunted a command and the men ran to the hawsers holding the scows against the current. Then Moosetooth and La Biche, without even a look at their unconcerned families sitting stolidly in the gloom on the riverbank, took their places in the stern of each boat. Each began, as he leaned on his oar, to cut himself a new pipe of tobacco and Colonel Howell turned to the policeman.
"Sergeant," he remarked, "I think we are ready. Will you examine the outfit?"
The tall sergeant bowed slightly and with a graceful wave of his hand, stepped to the edge of one of the nearest scows. With a cursory glance at the mixed cargo of boxes, barrels and bags--hardly to be made out in the twilight--he turned and waved his hand again toward Colonel Howell. Then, quite casually, he faced the two steersmen.
"Bon jour, gentlemen," he exclaimed and lifted his big white hat.
Colonel Howell and his friends took the sergeant"s hand in turn and then sprang aboard the boat. While the two steersmen lifted their own hats and grunted with the only show of animation that had lit their faces, the ceremony of inspection was over and the long voyage was officially begun.
CHAPTER IX
THE SONG OF THE VOYAGEUR
Hardly seeming to move, the deeply laden scows veered more and more into the current, until at last the swift flow of the river began to push them forward. But even before La Biche"s boat, which was ahead and farthest from the sh.o.r.e, was fully in the grasp of a swirling eddy, the bronzed steersman, his pipe firmly set in his teeth, hurled his body on the steering oar and plunged the far end of it against the oily current.
At the same moment Moosetooth dropped his own oar and almost instantly both boats straightened out before the onrushing waters. It was a moment long waited for by Norman and Roy, and at the time no thought was given to any arrangements for comfort. The boys threw themselves on the forward deck, their sweaters close about their throats against the chilling fog and the cool breeze, while Colonel Howell sat m.u.f.fled in his overcoat on the edge of the deck.
Such events in the history of the Northern rivers were in the old days momentous. Their only ceremony had been the parting "Bon jour" of the policeman.
"In the old days," suggested Norman, "in the days that our friend Paul would have loved, the voyageurs had a song for a time like this."