The King's Arrow Part 31

"You look as if you are hurt," she replied. "But, then, you are the best judge of that. We are willing to do what we can for you, but if you do not want our help we shall leave you alone."

Her tone was severe, and this the man noted.

"I am hurt," he confessed in a milder voice. "That devil over there nearly made an end of me. O, Lord!" He placed his hand to his side, and his brow contracted with pain. "I guess I'm done for, anyway."

"Where do you live?" Jean asked. "We must get you home."

"Just down the valley. Sam knows where. I think I can walk with his help. He's a good Indian, and he saved my life to-day. He was just in time."

With considerable difficulty the injured man was lifted out of the snow where he was half buried, and helped to regain his feet. One of his snow-shoes was gone, but Kitty found it several yards away.

"It was that which caused all the trouble," the man explained. "When the moose charged, something went wrong with that snow-shoe, and before I could do anything the brute was upon me."

After Sam had fixed and arranged the snow-shoe upon the man's moccasined foot, he took him by the arm and started forward, with the women following. Their progress was slow, for the injured man often stopped and pressed his hand to his side. That he was suffering greatly was most apparent, and Jean felt sorry for him. She wondered who he was, and the reason for the look of defiance in his eyes. That he had called Sam by name puzzled her, for the Indian had never spoken of him to her.

She was more mystified than ever when ere long they came in sight of a log cabin nestling on the hillside at the entrance of the valley. In front of the house was a small clearing surrounded by a rough pole fence, causing Jean to believe that the owner had lived there for some time, and did a little gardening.

When, however, she entered the building her surprise was greater than ever. The main room was as comfortable and cosy as hands could make it. The floor was covered with fur rugs of various shapes and sizes.

The walls, too, were adorned with skins of the bear, fox, otter, wolverine, and other animals. At the farther end of the room was a large fire-place, above which was a fine moose head with great branching antlers. Several hardwood sticks were burning upon the hearth, showing that the owner had not been long away from home. There were also other articles on the walls, such as Indian curios, bows and arrows, as well as a few pictures. In the middle of the room was a table, covered with a cloth of rich design. In the centre of this stood a candle-stick, made of wood, evidently hand-wrought. It had seven branches, and in each was a dip-candle. A well-polished silver tray, containing a pair of snuffers, was lying near. There were several books upon the table, one of which was lying open, as if the reader had hurriedly laid it down as he rose from the deep, comfortable chair nearby. There were other chairs in the room, as well as stools and benches, but this big chair excelled them all in size and quaint workmanship. It was evidently the owner's special favourite, for it showed signs of much use.

To the left of the fire-place was the one couch the room contained, and to this the injured man at once made his way. He sat upon the edge and rested for a few minutes. He was breathing hard, and most of the time he kept his right hand to his suffering side. He seemed to pay no heed to what was taking place around him, but stared straight before him as if in a dream. He aroused at length, and glanced at the three standing before him.

"Make yourselves at home," he said. "There is plenty of food in the next room. It is quite warm there, for I always keep a fire going.

The women, I think, will find it comfortable. Sam, I want to speak to you alone."

Jean was not slow in taking this hint, so she opened a door to the right of the fire-place and pa.s.sed into the adjoining room. This was somewhat similar to the one they had just left, excepting that it was not so cosy. The table had no cloth covering it, and upon it stood a single candle stuck in a wooden candle-stick. This she lighted with a coal from the fire-place, and then looked curiously around. Along one side of the room was an abundance of provisions, all in bags, and carefully arranged. There were blankets, too, piles of them, and nearby a stack of furs. Jean thought of the Loyalists on the A-jem-sek. Here was sufficient food and clothing to last them for some time. And why should they not have them? She would speak to the owner just as soon as possible, and no doubt he would be willing to send something to the needy ones.

As she looked toward a corner of the room opposite the food and blankets, she was astonished to see many muskets leaning against the wall. She went over and began to count, and found there were fifty in all. She also saw numerous old swords, bayonets, and boxes filled with bullets. There were cans, as well, which she believed contained powder. She grew more puzzled now than ever. Who could the man be, and why did he have so many guns? Perhaps he was a trader, and dealt with the Indians. But why had not Sam and Kitty spoken about him?

Then she recalled the look of defiance in his eyes when she had first met him. What was the meaning of that?

She crossed the room to where the Indian woman was searching among the pots, pans, and other cooking utensils near the fire-place.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Cook supper," was the reply. "Plenty grub, eh?"

"There certainly is, Kitty. I wonder what that man is going to do with it all." She then lowered her voice, and glanced toward the door. "Do you know anything about him?" she enquired. "Why does he have so many guns?"

"Kitty know," was the reply. "White man beeg chief."

"What kind of a chief?"

"Kitty no say now. Bimeby, mebbe."

"Is he a trader?"

"A-ha-ha, mebbe."

This was all the information Jean could gain from the woman, and she was greatly mystified. Kitty evidently knew who the man was, and yet she would tell nothing more than that he was a big chief. She sat down before the fire and tried to puzzle it all out. But the more she thought, the more confused she became, and at last was forced to give up in despair. Perhaps she could find out for herself. Anyway, she must get food and clothing to send to the Loyalists as speedily as possible.

In the meantime Kitty had found a quant.i.ty of Indian meal and was cooking some cakes in one of the frying-pans she had found. There was also a good supply of mola.s.ses in a cask, which when served with the cakes makes fairly good eating. It was a change, at any rate, from the constant meat diet.

"Kitty cook plenty bimeby," the Indian woman announced. "Good tam, eh?"

"Some of that food must go to those starving people on the A-Jem-sek,"

Jean replied. "And look at those blankets. Why, there are enough to keep them all warm. You and Sam will take some, will you not?"

To this request Kitty made no response, and while Jean was wondering why she did not answer, Sam entered the room, and came close to the fire.

"Beeg chief want see babby," he announced.

"How is he?" the girl asked, rising to her feet.

"Seek here," and Sam placed his hand to his side. "Much seek. Bad!"

Jean at once went into the other room, which was lighted only by the fire, and crossed to where the injured man was lying.

"You want to see me?" she enquired. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes, light the candles. It is very dark here."

Jean at once obeyed, and in a few minutes the candles were burning brightly. The effect was beautiful, and as she stood watching them she wondered why there were just seven.

"You like them?" the man asked.

"I do," Jean acknowledged. "But I am curious to know why there are just seven."

"Oh, that is a perfect number," the man explained. "It is according to the Bible, you know. Now, take the snuffers and put out six."

Jean did as she was bidden, greatly mystified, until but one candle was left burning.

"There, that will do," the man said. "Now, come over here and sit by my side. That is better," he continued when she had complied with his request.

"How are you feeling?" Jean asked.

"A little easier now. I am somewhat of a doctor, and Sam helped me.

But never mind that. I want to know who you are, and why you are travelling with those Indians?"

Briefly as possible Jean told her story, and when she had ended the man remained silent for a few minutes. She could not see the expression upon his face, nor the peculiar light in his eyes owing to the darkness of the corner where he was lying. Could she have done so, she would have been more surprised than ever.

"It is a strange story you have told me, young woman," he at length remarked. "You have been wonderfully delivered. You should consider yourself very fortunate in having such friends as those Indians."

"Indeed I do," Jean declared. "They have done more for me than I can ever repay. I know now how to sympathise with others in distress, and so want to help those unfortunate Loyalists."

"So you are on your way to get food and clothing from the mast-cutters?"

"Yes, but we won't have to go to them now, as I am sure you will help out those poor people. You have plenty of supplies."

"And they will stay here, young woman."