Read Ebook: Kasba (White Partridge): A Story of Hudson Bay by Ray George R

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Ebook has 1044 lines and 64224 words, and 21 pages

Having duly and solemnly finished the operation, Sahanderry took out his pipe, which he leisurely filled. Presently there was a grunt of satisfaction, and a cloud of smoke issued from his mouth.

The girl threw him a furtive glance. He happened to be looking at her at that instant and caught her in the act. Kasba dropped her head. A wistful expression came into the man's face, and laying aside his pipe, he leaned forward, as if to get a closer look at her countenance, but she dropped her head still lower.

"Kasba," he said earnestly, then stooped over her, gently tilting her chin upwards so that he could see her face more closely, "why won't you promise to marry me when we get back to Churchill?"

"Because I am a bad, wicked Indian," she said presently with a show of impulse, and tearing herself free.

But the girl sprang to her feet and stopped him with some little excitement. The bird she was plucking fell from her lap to the feathers in the bowl and sank out of sight. "Hush, Sahanderry!" she cried, severely. "Remember, it is of the master you are speaking."

The man fairly hung his head.

Now Kasba with all her impetuosity possessed considerable sense of justice and grasping his arm tightly, she went on resolutely. "You must not speak against Mr. Thursby. This trouble is all of my own making. I alone am to blame. I have been very silly, and--if you will forgive me and be patient with me, I--I--" she dropped her head.

"You will love me?" he suggested, eagerly, his face betraying the liveliest emotions.

"You make me very happy!" he said. Then he kissed her.

She closed her eyes to shut out the look on his face, and pushed him gently from her. "No, no; not now!" she said, all in a tremble. "Give me time. Give this evil spell time to pass away, and be good and patient with me."

"I will be patient, Kasba," he said, pressing her hand.

The man's actions reminded her sharply of how soothingly another had patted her hand shortly before, how the other's touch had caused the blood to dance in her veins and to rush to her face and her heart to beat so wildly with joy that it had shown itself in her eyes; and she withdrew her hand quickly.

"What is the matter?" enquired Sahanderry, feeling the rebuke.

"Nothing," replied the girl a trifle coldly and drawing back a little. "You had better go now, the master will be wanting you."

The man bowed his head mutely, and turned slowly on his heel. At the door he looked back. She smiled at him, but there was a great deal of sadness in the look. He returned the smile and went out.

The girl stood still and watched him go. Then with her handkerchief she rubbed vigorously at her cheek--the place where Sahanderry had kissed her.

Fort Future consisted of a solitary group of small buildings situated near the mouth of Chesterfield Inlet, which is in the Barren Lands. It seemed as if the buildings must have sprung up there of themselves, like so many mushrooms; or must have been dropped from the heavens, or else carried there by one of those raging, tearing windstorms that sweep over that part of the country, so incongruous did they appear in that vast northern wilderness.

Nevertheless, Fort Future was a comfortable place in its way--at least so said Roy Thursby; for he, like most of the Company's officers, was acquainted with starvation, solitude and desolation, and knew there were posts compared with which Fort Future, with its unfailing supply of country provisions, was a veritable paradise. Broom called it "a rotten hole," "the last place that God Almighty made," and by much worse names; all of which Roy would laughingly refute by telling him that he was a sailor, and therefore never satisfied; that for himself he had no objections to banishment; and Broom would retaliate by asserting that Roy was a Hudson's Bay man, that the Company owned him body and soul, and that he was there because he had been sent--which was true as to the last part. The Hudson's Bay Company had required a fearless and staunch man to establish a post at Chesterfield Inlet, and after some correspondence with his chief--Roy was then second in charge at York Factory--Thursby had been chosen. His willingness to go, if ever thought of at all, had been looked upon as a mere matter of course. The Company's interests had to be attended to, therefore go he must, willing or unwilling. Luckily for him, and perhaps for the Company too, the enterprise had appealed to the strong spirit of adventure in the young officer, and he had entered into the scheme with eagerness and made his arrangements with all enthusiasm, treating the prospective dangers with total indifference. The wonderful Far North breeds men of this stamp: men of courage, resourcefulness and self-reliance; men who fear nothing and live hard.

That was more than a year ago, and in the interval he had established the post and enthroned himself, so to speak, monarch of all he surveyed. He held his kingdom and ruled his subjects--wandering bands of Eskimo, who displayed a curious mixture of simplicity and fear and a disposition to high-handed robbery with an indomitable will and daring courage. The works of some Arctic voyagers describe the Eskimos as inveterate thieves and of murderous dispositions, while others speak of them as honest, good-natured fellows, which is perplexing. But the fact is, both descriptions are true, even of people of the same tribe, which proves the Eskimo character is a difficult problem to solve. At one time he may be good and amiable, and at another all that is bad and treacherous. Much depends upon conditions.

Besides himself, the resident population of Fort Future consisted of five other human beings, to wit: the man Broom, Kasba, Delgezie, Sahanderry, and a boy named David. The last four were Chipewyan Indians from Churchill. In fact, save these and a few wandering bands of Eskimo, there was not another human being to be found within a hundred miles of this desolate spot in any direction, and then only a few transient visitors such as came with American and other whalers.

Roy Thursby was a bachelor, though not indisposed to change his estate under favorable conditions, as we shall see; Sahanderry cooked for him and did the general housework, while Kasba washed and mended his clothes.

The Fort stood on an old gravel beach about five miles from the coast. The inlet or river widened immediately before it, and miles of ice hummocks extended where once the restless wave had raised its angry crest; countless masses thrown up into weird, fantastic shapes by the peculiar workings of some mysterious submarine power, their formation was constantly changing in these strange upheavals. The establishment consisted of a few one-storey log buildings. The trading-store, warehouse, and one or two minor stores were grouped together, while the "master's" house stood apart in the background. A small coast-boat, hauled well above high-water mark, lay propped up in its winter quarters; a flagstaff reared its head skywards; and a number of Eskimo dogs ran about among the buildings or lay curled up in the snow, their long hairy coats covered with rime.

Roy Thursby was worried. Broom's assault on Kasba foreshadowed trouble, and much of it, in the future. Also, Roy was greatly annoyed. At first he was determined to make Broom "hit the track." His presence at the Fort would now be a constant menace to his peace of mind. Therefore the fellow must go.

But as he became calmer, Roy's better nature asserted itself. He remembered that terms of familiarity prevailed among Broom's late associates, and he decided, after severely cautioning him, to let the unpleasant incident drop.

Broom had lived two years among the Eskimos. A man of a different nature and a higher moral tone might have improved the natives during this two years. But the fellow had drifted with the current of popular custom and had adopted tribal manners and usages. I do not think he would have ill-treated a woman; but he looked upon them as being created solely for the use and pleasure of man.

Then, too, Roy was distressed at discovering Kasba's secret. The knowledge that Kasba loved him surprised and pained him beyond measure. For he was not a vain man. He had always admired the girl, she was so quiet, and had such pretty, shy little ways and gestures; but beyond thinking of her as a pleasant little thing to have about him, he had never given her a thought. Under the new conditions he hardly knew what to do. There was a deep tinge of pity for her in his thoughts. The matter was still puzzling him when he arrived at the door of his dwelling.

The dogs greeted him with suppressed growls of welcome. Jumping up, they sniffed enquiringly at the bag on his back. With a "Down, Flyer, Mush, Klondike!" he slipped his feet out of his snowshoe lines and crossed the threshold.

The two-roomed house contained a kitchen and what served as a bed-room and living-room; had only one door, and very few windows. There was little of luxury. In the kitchen a large cookstove, on which several kettles stood simmering and emitting little clouds of steam, was the chief ornament. A very serviceable water-barrel stood in one corner, while a large wood-box occupied another. Pots and pans hung from nails in the walls and a heavy table of rough plank occupied a position near the stove. The floor was of plank and well swept, for Roy was fastidious. The walls of the other room were white-washed, the chairs and table all country-made and unpainted. A large wooden clock ticked solemnly on the wall, and there were pictures and photographs tacked up or standing on shelves, with a conglomeration of other small articles more or less useful.

Roy dropped the bag from his shoulders and emptied its contents on the kitchen floor. There were three white foxes and a blue one. These he hung up to thaw. Then he stepped into the inner room and there pulled off his outdoor clothing.

Seated in a chair, with his feet resting on the lower of two bunks which were fitted on one side of the room, was Broom. He was reading a book with a paper cover brilliantly illuminated--one of those "Three-Fingered Jack" series of stories so eagerly devoured by uncultured minds.

Broom shut the book as Roy entered the room. He nodded familiarly, distorted his swollen lips into a smile and dropped his feet to the floor. "Well, what luck?" he inquired with feigned interest.

"Three whites and a blue," replied the trader. He tried to put some heartiness into his words, but the irritation he still felt at the man held him back. He went back to the kitchen to wash his hands, and Broom returned to his book.

Pausing in his ablutions, Roy threw the man a searching glance. He now had a great mistrust of him. And here I may perhaps best explain who Broom was, as he is a gentleman with whom we shall have much concern in these pages.

Broom was a runaway sailor. Deserting his ship at Cape Fullerton, he had one day turned up at Fort Future. He might be one of those worthless characters found in all occupations, but he was a white man, and that had been enough for Roy Thursby. Besides he had shown considerable courage in attempting a solitary journey down the coast to the Fort. This appealed to Roy and he had allowed him to stay on, intending to give him a passage in the coast-boat that went south in the spring. At first the runaway had been very energetic. He had made himself useful about the place and regularly attended the few traps he had put down, as he laughingly remarked, to keep himself in tobacco, but latterly he had slackened off and appeared discontented. He displayed fits of irritability and moodiness. Roy had noticed this, and after Broom's late outbreak he seriously doubted his wisdom in having harbored him. Debating the question, he went back to the inner room and sat down; then in very plain language told the sailor what he thought of his conduct. Broom looked at him through half-closed lids; his lips were still parted, but the smile was gone. Then he exploded. "Hang it all!" he said sulkily; "you needn't be hard on a fellow."

"Well, behave yourself, then," said Roy, firmly, and having spoken his mind he would have dropped the subject.

But the other did not seem disposed to allow him. "She's a pretty little baggage for an Indian," he asserted, "and what's more, she knows it."

Roy directed a searching glance at the sneering face of the speaker, but paid no attention to the remark except, perhaps, that he raised his eyebrows a little. He naturally possessed more self-control than most young men of five and twenty. He was high-spirited, and could not brook an insult; but he was inclined to consider the source of a remark before he retaliated. Besides, he wished to avoid another quarrel, for he knew it would serve to widen the breach already broad enough between them.

"Wonder some Indian brave hasn't snapped her up and carried her off to his happy wigwam," Broom went on. "But there!" he added, "I suppose she'd turn up her pretty little nose at a native. She wants a white man." Then, with emphasis there was no misunderstanding, "and no understrapper at that."

Jumping to his feet, Roy stood before the fellow. A flush of manifest vexation burned upon his cheek. His hands clenched involuntarily. His eyes flashed, but restraining himself, he said: "Look here, Broom, that's enough! I'll have no more of your veiled insinuations, or hear any more disrespectful remarks about that girl."

The sailor laughed quietly for a moment as if he had some mighty good joke in his mind, then with a half-deprecative, half-protesting movement of the hand, "All right," he said, "don't get on your ear. There's no need for us to quarrel over a native."

"But I strongly object to the tone you adopt when speaking of the girl," persisted Roy, indignantly, "and while we are on the subject I may as well tell you that I will not tolerate any more of it. You are my guest, so to speak, but my patience has an end, and my hospitality its limits."

Broom's jaw dropped; he was evidently nonplussed.

There was a silence. Broom's eyes were fixed upon the floor. He seemed to be considering. Roy turned away to walk up and down.

"Oh, stow it!" exclaimed Broom at last, without raising his eyes. "You Hudson's Bay men are not so dashed good yourselves that you can afford to lecture others."

"The king can do no wrong," finished the other sententiously. Then he laughed and suddenly extended his hand. "Come, shake hands," he cried. "You're not a bad chap in spite of your sanctimonious airs."

This remark was evidently intended as an overture of reconciliation. Roy stared hard at him for a moment, then glanced at the outstretched hand. He hated quarrelling, but he was feeling too angry at the man to forgive him thus easily. The other noticed Roy's hesitation and look, and quickly dropped his hand. Somewhat staggered, the fellow sat twisting his moustache, pulling at his shaggy beard and scowling at the trader, who had resumed his pacing. After spending a portion of his discomfiture in this manner, Broom again essayed a remark.

"Guess I was in the wrong," he said, as if by way of general retraction. "You've been a good friend to me, in fact you saved my life. For when I drifted in here, after deserting that blighted whaler, I was all in; the winter was upon me, and, why! I hadn't enough clothes to flag a train." At this he laughed heartily. "You took me in, clothed me, and killed the fatted caribou. Hang it, shake!" and he thrust forth his hand again.

Roy stopped perambulating. "Perhaps I've been a little hasty," he said, and took the man's hand, though he was still only half mollified, for this sudden warmth of gratitude struck him as feigned. "She is a demure, soft-hearted little thing, and I do not like to hear her spoken of in that way," he explained, dropping into a chair.

"Oh, of course not!" observed Broom with a suggestion of sarcasm in his tone.

The sailor started and glanced at him for an instant under his brows; the veins swelled at his temples, and a dull, angry light came into his eyes. "Oh, he will, will he?" he sneered.

Almost as these words were uttered a dark face was thrust into the room and a voice cried out in Chipewyan. Roy answered in the same language and the face disappeared.

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