revulsion—home again—new plans—we depart for the mountains—the hand hills—the great range—home memories—a murderous volley—donogh sees “the land beyond the grave”—vain regrets—we enter the mountains—the island—a lonely grave—the indian’s home.

we rode hard for a couple of hours. i led the way towards the place where, on the previous evening, i had left my three horses. long ere we reached it, the sircies had abandoned their pursuit, and turned back towards their camp. now we had time to talk over the past. for many hours that morning, and all the previous night, i had been moving as though in a dream. during the past two hours i seemed to have lived an age; there had been moments of agony so acute, that my brain reeled when i thought over them. but now all was past; the long night of doubt and captivity was over, and the fair morning of hope and freedom shone full upon us.

my heart soon answered the helm of such thoughts, and my spirits rose in unison with them. not so with the sioux. the abstraction of the flight seemed to be still upon him; for a long time he rode on, looking vacantly before him. once or twice i spoke to him, but he did not seem to hear what i said. at length he roused himself and spoke.

“if you had ever said to me that one day i should have had that man within my grasp, and that i would have failed to take his life, i would have told you that it was impossible. and yet,” he went on, “it is better that he should still live. had he fallen at the hands of another, my father’s spirit would have remained unavenged.”

“live?” i answered. “he fell, when i struck him with my gun, as though life had left him.”

“for all that he is not dead. men like him do not die so easily. he was stunned by the blow; he will be laid up for a week, and then he will be as well as ever.”

i confess to feeling glad at this. although i had struck the trader to save my friend’s life, i cared not to have on my hands his blood. it is true that had my gun been loaded at the moment when he held the sioux tightly locked in his embrace, i would not have hesitated shooting him dead to set free my friend, but i would always have regretted being compelled to do so.

it was better as it was; the sioux was safe. mcdermott still lived.

we then spoke of the earlier events of the morning. i heard how red cloud had always counted upon his enemy forming part of the pursuing force. it was that belief which had induced him first of all to accept the chance of flight[281] offered by the blackfoot chief. i asked him how he had hoped to resist the trader successfully, seeing that he was without arms of any kind.

“the spirit of his dead father would watch over him,” he said. and when i told him of my fears and anxieties on the previous day, and how i had determined to turn back to the rock hill, with a vague purpose of helping him in his need, he again remarked,—

“it was the spirit of my father that led you.”

of the loss of his favourite horse he thought much.

“had i done my work as well as he did his,” he said, “my enemy would not have escaped me.”

“but you have gained even a better animal,” i said, “than the one lost.”

“no, not better to me,” he replied. “for three years, through every change of land and season, through danger and difficulty, through fight and chase, that poor beast bore me—and all only to fall at last by the bullet of my enemy. well, it adds another name to the list. it will perhaps be longer before it is closed.”

we now reached the place where i had left the horses. they were feeding together almost on the same ground; and without any delay longer than was necessary to get them together, we started for the cache. although the events of the morning made the time appear an age, the day was yet young. i had dry meat sufficient for both our needs, a lake gave us water; with only a halt of a minute or two we held on until long after nightfall, and when daylight broke next morning the woods were in sight. bearing away to the east we kept in sight of these woods all day, and at evening drew in towards their shelter, camping once more amid the pleasant leaves of trees, and enjoying a couple of partridges for our supper.

we were at a point considerably below where we had left our party less than three weeks before, but still above the place where the cache was to have been made.

continuing our course next day, we reached, early in the afternoon, a spot which commanded a long view of the river valley. far winding between partly wooded banks, it lay for many a mile amid the silent wilderness—the shallows at curves catching the sunlight, the quiet reaches reflecting the clear blue sky.

how calm and tranquil it all looked! the contrast between its peacefulness and the strife i had just witnessed struck me with profound wonder. here was a bit of the earth as it came from the creator’s hands, bright with the glow of summer, decked in the dress of leaf and blossom, sweet with the perfume of wild flower, fresh with the breezes of untold distance; and there below the southern horizon, but two days’ riding away, man’s passion, guilt, and greed ruled rampant in the land. according to the directions which the sioux had given as to the place for the cache to be formed,[283] we must now be near the camp of our comrades.

so indeed it proved. on the edge of the woods we came suddenly upon the iroquois; he had seen us from a lofty look-out point which he had established on the far side of the river, and had crossed over to meet us and show the way to the camp. it was formed upon an island in the river. there we found donogh, the scout, and the cree, all well, and longing for our return. they were amply provided with food; moose were plentiful, they had trapped several young beavers, and smaller game was abundant. we sat late that evening talking over our adventures.

the indians listened with breathless interest to the story of the capture by the blackfeet—the pursuit, the fight, and the escape. donogh was never tired asking questions about my share in the final struggle with the trader. had he been there to help, he said, mcdermott would not have got off so easily.

a week now passed quietly away; the horses wanted rest after their arduous travel; plans had to be made for future movements. it was not likely that we should be left long unmolested in this neighbourhood. if the sioux was right in the belief that a week or ten days would suffice to cure the injuries which the trader had suffered, then the blackfeet, the sircies, or bloods, would soon beat up our quiet camp. besides, the life of the wilderness must ever be a life of wandering. the bird seeks the sunlit atmosphere to try his wings; the horseman on the prairie roams because he cannot sit down and call a patch of the earth his home. his home is sky-bound; and when he can no longer wander, his grave is not far off.

farther to the west there yet lay a vast region, into which we had not entered. at its western extremity rose the pine-clad sides and icy peaks of the rocky mountains, whose deep-rent valleys and vast glaciers fed this stream upon which we were now camped, as well as countless other streams and rivers, whose waters eventually seek the far separated seas of hudson’s bay and the gulf of mexico. to this region of prairie bordering upon mountain we would direct our course, and remain until the autumn must again make us think of winter-quarters.

we had four full months of summer before us; we had horses, arms, and goods; our guns would give us food.

so we were once more on the move. we divided our stores and goods evenly among the five horses, and being one horse deficient, donogh, the iroquois, and the scout took it in turn to walk. as the weather was now very fine and warm, we cached the leather tent, and some other items for which there was no use. we travelled quietly, but by starting early and camping late managed to make good distances each day. our course lay along the line of mixed wooded and prairie country which bordered the red deer river. we kept a sharp look out for hostile indians,[285] and took precautions at night to secure the horses from attack.

as thus we journeyed towards the west, we entered upon a very beautiful land; grassy hills spread away beyond each other in a constant succession, long winding lakes came in view as we gained the summits of ridges, and the valleys and lake shores held groves of mixed cottonwood and pine-trees, which gave camping grounds of fairy-like beauty amid the vast stillness of the wilderness. one evening, it was about the end of june, we gained a range of hills which during two days had bounded our horizon on the west.

long ere we reached them, red cloud had promised me a view from their ridges surpassing anything i had yet looked at in the great prairie.

slowly up the east side of the hill we held our way, while every now and again a long-eared hare sprang from the grass before us, and vanished into brake or coppice. at last the top was gained. the sun yet shone on the bare ridge, but the prairie beneath on either side was in shadow, and already the blue line of shade was creeping up the hill to where we stood. fifty miles away to the west the vast plain came to an end. a huge rampart mountain rose up into the sunset skies, poising for a moment the great orb of the sun on its loftiest pinnacles of snow. far away to north and south this rampart range was laid along the horizon, until the edges of mountain tops were only faintly visible above the plain on[286] the verge of vision to south-west and north-west.

“the rocky mountains at last,” i said, half musing, to myself, as thus i beheld this grand range lying in all the glory of the summer sunset.

“that is the name the first fur-traders gave them,” said red cloud; “but the indian has better titles for them; ‘the mountains of the setting sun,’ ‘the ridge of the world.’ he who would scale the icy peaks, they say, would see the land beyond the grave.”

as now i looked across the great intervening plain, slowly fading into twilight, and saw the glittering edge of the long line of mountain top, clear cut against the lustrous after-glow, the red man’s thought which would make this giant range the line of separation between life and death seemed to be no far-fetched fancy. here ended the great prairie. there was the shore of that vast wilderness, over which my steps had wandered through so many varied scenes of toil, tumult, and adventure. beyond, all was unknown. and then came back to me a vision of those well-remembered hill-tops of my early days; the heather-covered slopes of seefin, the wild crags of cooma-sa-harn, the flat rock that marked the giant’s grave on coolrue.

the sound of a footstep approaching from behind roused me from my reverie of home. i turned; donogh stood beside me; there was a strange wistful look in his eyes.

“ah, master!” he said, “it makes me think of the old home again, to look at those mountains, and the sun going down behind them as he used to do in glencar.”

the tone of his voice was sad. i asked him if he felt home-sick?

“no, not home-sick,” he replied; “but i have been dreaming for nights past of all the old places—the eagle’s nest over cooma-sa-harn, the rocks that hung over lough cluen, the island in the south end of the lake. i saw them just as they were in the old times. it was only last night that i dreamt we were climbing the face of the cliff to the eagle’s nest, and i thought the old bird came suddenly swooping down, and that i fell into the lough below.”

“would you like to be back again in the old glen?” i asked him.

“not unless you were to come too,” he answered. “this is a lonesome country sure enough, but i don’t mind it so long as you are near.”

we made our camp that night in a hollow, lower down on the west slope of the hill. we had killed some hares during the day, and had boiled them into a thick kind of soup, which, flavoured with wild sage, gave us an excellent supper. the meal over, we were sitting around the fire chatting and smoking, when suddenly a volley of musketry rang forth close at hand, and half a dozen bullets struck around us. in the wild confusion that followed, i only remember springing to my feet, and seeing the others spring up too. not all, alas! for poor donogh had fallen forward from the place where he was sitting, and the cree only rose, to fall again. seizing my gun, i sprang to where donogh was lying; but at this moment i felt my hand suddenly grasped with iron strength, and i was dragged forward into the dark.

“lie down,” hissed red cloud in my ear, “or we are all lost. look at the fire, and shoot when you see them in the light.”

the whole thing had happened so quickly, that ere i had time to collect my senses i was lying in darkness, just over the brow of a knoll fifteen paces from the fire.

i had not long to wait. suddenly there came a wild war-whoop of savage triumph, and a dusky group of men swept down into the circle of light from the outer darkness.

they thought that the first volley had given them undisputed possession of our camp, and that scalps and spoils had only to be gathered. now it was our turn. quick from our dark shelter the shots rang out; but few were thrown away. one brawny savage, with knife in hand, had reached the spot where donogh was lying, but a bullet from my gun stopped his deadly purpose, and laid him low beside my poor friend.

one brawny savage had reached the spot where donogh was lying.

another fell dead near the fire, and we saw two more stagger ’neath our bullets. this unexpected reception checked the ardour of the attack, and drove back our assailants.

we took advantage of their repulse to drag our stricken comrades from the light.

alas! one had already passed from the light of life to the darkness of death. the cree had ceased to breathe, but donogh was still alive.

when we had breathing time to think of other matters than our lives, red cloud sent the iroquois and the scout to drive the horses to a place of safety.

“we have given these sircies something to occupy them,” he said; “but after a while they may try to get our horses, since they have failed to take all our lives.”

soon the fire burned itself out, and the darkness of the short summer’s night lay around.

yet how long it seemed to me, as sitting by poor donogh’s side, and with his hand fast in mine, i waited for the dawn. he was quite conscious, but every now and again a stifled moan broke from his lips, and as the night wore on i felt the hand growing cold and clammy. when daylight came i saw that the poor boy’s end was near.

the shot had struck him in the chest, and his life-blood was ebbing fast.

i could not trust myself to speak. i could only hold his hand in mine, and try to stanch the red stream from his death-wound.

“master,” he said to me, in a very faint voice, “i never knew father nor mother, brother nor sister, and so there’s no one that will miss me, except it’s yourself. you’ll sometimes think of me, sir, won’t you—when you see the deer on the hill-top, and the wild ducks on the pond, and the grouse on the mountain side, all the things that we used to hunt together? and master,” he went on, “if ever you go back to the old glen again, you’ll say to the priest that the poor boy he used to teach of a sunday didn’t forget the lesson at the end. you’ll bury me up on the hill-top, where we first saw the mountain from?” he said again, after a pause. “it’s something like the top of seefin, where we used to sit looking out on the world—the big lonesome world.”

then his voice hushed, and after a time the lips only moved as the poor boy repeated some prayer of his childhood.

it was the long summer dawn that had looked upon the scene. as the boy’s life ebbed away the glory of the morning had been growing brighter; and the sun, whose setting lustre had recalled the home scenes to his memory on the previous evening, was now close beneath the horizon on the east. but never more was my faithful donogh to see the sun. when its level rays struck upon our camp on the red deer hill, he had gone before us to the icy peaks of the “mountains of the setting sun”—he had crossed the “ridge of the world,” and was[291] already in “the land beyond the grave.”

on the hill-top near at hand we laid the two bodies in a single grave. with knife and axe we dug a trench in a small clump of cottonwood, and there the red man and his white brother slept side by side.

then we made haste to leave the fatal spot; not from fear of pursuit, as our assailants had suffered too severely to make it likely they would soon follow us up. an examination of the ground convinced red cloud that the sircies had not numbered more than seven men. they had evidently followed us for some time past, and had probably made their attack as much because we were now within the country of their enemies, the rocky mountain assineboines, into which they did not wish to penetrate, as because of the ground being favourable for a surprise. at least five out of the seven had suffered from our fire—two had fallen, and the traces of their retreat showed unmistakable evidence that three others had been wounded. that they were the hired assassins of the trader, there was little doubt. the gun and knife belonging to one of the fallen were similar in pattern to those we had captured from mcdermott in the preceding year. he had evidently outfitted this party, as probably he had done the same by many others. that the survivors would fall back upon their main camp, many days’ travel distant, was now nearly certain.

nevertheless, although the chances of immediate molestation were remote, we were in haste to quit a spot that had been so fatal to our fortunes. as for myself, i literally felt heart-broken at the thought that i was no more to have in life the companionship and faithful service of my earliest friend. never before had i seen death brought home to me with such vividness. only yesterday i had spoken to donogh in the full pride of his youth and strength. the fire at which he met his death still smouldered in its ashes; yet he who had gathered its fuel and set it alight was gone, his flame of life extinguished; his gun, bullet-bag, and powder-horn, his saddle and bridle, the horse he used to ride—all were there, yet he had disappeared. my heart was wrung with grief; i felt as though life had been a long dream, and that now i had suddenly awakened to its grim realities. then there came upon me a thousand bitter thoughts, and unavailing regrets of the long hours we had spent together. why had i not made more of my poor friend? why had i not treasured those hours when he was with me? it seemed as though death, in taking him away from me had taken away too all the mist of selfishness, and that i saw clear and distinctly the worth of the friendship i had lost.

i had remained for some time sitting by the lonely grave, sunk in these sad thoughts, when i felt a hand laid upon my shoulder. red cloud stood beside me.

“it is time to go,” he said. “your poor brother’s name is one more added to the long list that cry for vengeance.”

mechanically i obeyed. the horses were already saddled and loaded.

the indians moved silently about; the light of our little party seemed to have gone out.

slowly we filed off from the fatal spot, winding down the long incline towards the mountains, until the lonely thicket was lost in the distance.

about three days after this fatal day we entered one of the gorges that led into the mountains.

the scenery had undergone a complete change. the trail led along the bank of the red deer river, which had now shrunken to the dimensions of a small and shallow stream; on each side the hills rose steep and pine-clad, while, as side valleys opened upon the larger gorge along which we were travelling, the eye caught glimpses of snow-clad summits far above the world of pine-trees.

often, as we rode along, my mind kept going back to that fatal night on the hand hills. here we were now amid those mountains whose fastnesses donogh had so often wished to reach, while he, poor boy, was lying out in the great wilderness. but the work of travel, and the rough road our horses had now to follow, kept my mind engaged, and gave distraction to my thoughts.

pursuing our course for a couple of days deeper into the mountains, we gained at last a beautiful level meadow, set[294] round on all sides by lofty hills, backed by still loftier mountains. a small clear lake occupied one end of this level plain.

we had quitted the valley of the red deer river, and crossing a height of land had entered the valley of the parent stream of the saskatchewan, which here, after passing through the lake, foamed down a ledge of rock, precipitating its waters perpendicularly from a great height into a deep pool, with a roar that was audible at the farther end of the valley.

above this fall a small rocky island stood, in the centre of the river. one end of this island was level with the edge of the cataract, the other was in smooth water, not very far from where the river issued out of the lake. as the water approached the edge of the fall it ran in many eddies and rapids, but at the end nearest to the lake the stream was smooth enough to permit a canoe to reach the island.

this rocky wedge, set between the lake and the cataract, was covered with trees, and, excepting at the upper end in the smooth river, its sides were steep and water-worn. i noticed that as soon as we came in sight of this wooded isle red cloud’s usually passive face wore a look of unwonted interest.

i inquired if he knew the spot.

“know it?” he replied. “yes, it is the only place i can call my home in all this great wilderness. to-morrow we shall reach it, and then you will know why i call it my home.”

we camped that evening near the spot where the river came out of the lake. there was a clump of pine-trees close at hand, and before night had closed in the well-wielded axes of the sioux and the iroquois had felled some dead trees, and lopped their trunks into lengths of twelve feet.

early next morning, they had put together a small raft. dropping down stream on this raft, red cloud landed alone on the little island. i had rambled off to the upper end of the lake while the morning was yet young; when i got back to camp i found the sioux had returned, and that a small canoe was moored to the river bank, where the raft had been built.

our mid-day meal over, red cloud asked me to visit the island with him. he dropped down the stream as before, and steered dexterously into the small spot of quiet water which lay at the head of the island. i then noticed what before i had not seen, that this quiet water was of very limited extent, and that the current on either side of it ran with a speed that became momentarily of greater velocity as it drew nearer the rapid. i saw in fact that it required knowledge of the spot, and skill in the use of the paddle, to hit off this little eddy of waters.

a small indentation between two rocks gave shelter to our canoe, and also held the raft which red cloud had built during the morning. the canoe he had found on the island. we landed on the rock, fastened the canoe to a tree, and struck into the forest that covered the entire space. i could tell by the increasing sound of the waterfall, that we were approaching the end of the island which overhung the cataract. we soon reached this spot; a few old pine-trees grew upon it; the density of their branches had destroyed the undergrowth, and the ground between the massive trunks was clear of brushwood. in the centre of this clear space, shadowed by the sombre arms of these old pines, there was a solitary mound. red cloud stood before it.

“it is my father’s grave,” he said. “eight years ago i carried his bones all that long way from where he was killed to this distant spot. i had intended bearing them with me wherever i wandered as an ever-present reminder of the oath i had sworn, but on first seeing this spot i selected it as a resting-place. here i made my home; hither have i come when, baffled by my enemy, i have sought for a time rest for myself and my horses; and again from here have i gone forth to seek my enemy, only to find him always too strong or too cunning for me.”