The Wilderness Trail Part 35

There was a minute's pause while the commissioner recovered himself.

Then, the thought of his own helplessness and the inevitable ruin that faced him and his returned, and his face grew drawn and hopeless. The triumphant and gleeful chortling of the old squaw attracted his stunned senses.

"Maria," he said quietly, "you have it in your power to ruin and disgrace me--and my boy. Perhaps, it is the punishment for the evil thing I did so many years ago. If so, I accept it. I shall not beg you, or try to buy you, or humble myself. The doc.u.ment you have is a lie, and you know it. Neither you nor your son shall ever receive a cent of money from me. All you can claim is the dirty honor of ruining me. If you want that, take it. I have spoken my last word on the subject." He ceased, and sat, a picture of misery.

Suddenly, there was a choking sound from the opposite side of the tent where Seguis lay.

"I can't stand this!" the half-breed cried. "Listen to me, commissioner! All of you listen! That certificate is a lie, and I can prove it. I--"

There was a raucous scream, and Maria leaped upon the wounded man, and buried her talons in his throat. Rainy and the commissioner seized her, and tore her from her helpless victim violently, hurling her back across the tent, screeching.

"Silence!" roared McTavish. "Or I'll gag you with your own fist."

The woman subsided, but Rainy took his place beside her, and relieved her of two knives that she made an effort to reach.

"Now, go on, Seguis."

"I didn't know, sir," said the half-breed, "until the other day, that--what I was. Then, Donald McTavish told me, by accident or design, I don't know which. I asked my mother, and she confessed that Donald had spoken the truth. So great was her elation at the success of her claims for me that she showed me that certificate, signed by the missionary. I was as delighted as she.

"Then the next day she told me how she got it, and since then I have been in h.e.l.l. Oh, sir, you don't know what an existence like mine can be. All my life I have been torn by two natures. I have wanted things that a man of my standing has no right to wish. I have brains, I have intelligence; I want to rise above my handicaps--to be something besides a common half-breed rover of the woods. I headed the free-traders because it gave me an opportunity to do something for myself. When my mother showed me that paper I thought my way was clear, and that I had not worked in vain. But--but, when she told me how she got it--then, the struggle started.

"I am a McTavish, sir, and I am proud of it; but it is that honorable blood that is this minute sending me back to the life I hate, and the oblivion I loathe. I can't lie here, and see you and Captain McTavish ruined. The Indian part of me says, 'Yes, take it; no one will ever know.' But the McTavish of me rebels, and I can't do it."

"Yes, yes," cried the commissioner feverishly, "but about the certificate? What about that?"

"I was getting to it, sir. Years ago, I don't know how many, my mother and I were living in a little cabin by a lake during the winter. I was small then, and did not realize the significance of things. One night, we heard faint noises in the woods near by, and my mother went out to see what made them. She found Burns Riley, the missionary, half-insane with suffering, his features frozen, and almost at the point of starvation. He had had a similar adventure to Captain McTavish's this winter.

"My mother saw his plight, and the vague plan that had been in her mind took shape. There, in the snow, she forced the missionary at the price of his miserable life to agree to write that certificate, and, as soon as his fingers could hold the pen and dip it in the soot-ink of the chimney, he did it, and before him sat the food that his words would purchase. Burns Riley was a square man, but his life was at stake, for my mother would have turned him out into the snow as he was, if he had not done as she wished--and he knew it."

"But why didn't he come and tell me?" demanded McTavish.

"Because he was on his way to a mission, at Fort Chimo, on the Koksook River, near Ungava Bay. He didn't come back until shortly before he died, and he never saw you. No doubt he was afraid to trust the story of the disgrace of his cloth to a messenger. That, Mr. McTavish, is the story of the certificate. I'm glad I've told it; I'm glad I've relinquished my claims; I'm glad that I am still as honest as the best blood in me. But now," he added drearily, "what is there for me? Commissioner, you have done me the irreparable wrong of making me what I am. All our two lives there can never be any righting of that wrong. I am a half-breed, and must forever yearn vainly for better things that I know I can never attain."

During his words, which were evenly spoken, without excitement, but with intense feeling, the head of Douglas McTavish remained sunk upon his breast. He realized now the irreparable injury that his youth had wrought, and in the depths of his heart he admired this heroic half-breed, who, in the exercise of the truest n.o.bility, was a better man than he. The selfish grat.i.tude for his deliverance was secondary to shame for his own unworthy life and humble worship of Seguis's sterling character.

"Seguis," he said at last, quietly, "you are right; I never can undo the wrong I have done you. But will say this: I admire your spirit and your manhood. I admire the way you sought to defeat us in honorable compet.i.tion on the hunting-grounds, and the skill with which you managed it. The position of factor at Fort Severn is open, and I wish you to take it. You are one of my most valued men.

This appointment will be ratified in the usual form when the time comes."

He rose and walked across the tent: Then, he took the left hand of Seguis and pressed it warmly.

"You will accept?" he asked.

The half-breed's only response was a return pressure and a look of glorious grat.i.tude.

"What is to become of me, father?" asked Donald in a half-serious tone of injury.

"You're to come down to civilization as soon as spring opens. I had already decided that this would be your last year in the woods.

I need you there to learn the ins and outs of the administrative end. Of course, I'll give you a factory if you want it, but I don't think you need the experience."

"No, I don't think I do," replied Donald. "And then, besides, I have other reasons for wishing to live in a civilized community.

I wonder what is the current price of house-furniture?"

A month later Jean Fitzpatrick, her sister, Laura, and Donald McTavish sat in the luxurious drawing-room of the factor's house at Fort Severn. The two women were in black, and Laura dabbed at her eyes occasionally, but with considerable care lest the penciling of her eyebrows should smear... Out in the cold, a little distance away, a fresh mound lay, dun-colored, under the oblique rays of the setting sun.

"Poor father," said Jean softly, slipping her hand into Donald's, "I'm glad he's at rest. His life was a bitter one."

"Yes, princess, it is better so. That last sledge ride to the camp in response to orders was the final straw. He never spoke again, did he? Even in regard to our marriage?"

"No, dear, he didn't, and I'm glad, for my mind was made up already.

I suppose Seguis will take possession here now?"

"Yes, as soon as we all start for Winnipeg, which will be when the ice is out of the rivers. It will be a long journey; but after it, when you have got some clothes, there will be a big church wedding, and we'll settle down like civilized beings in a real house. Oh, princess, I can hardly wait. I'm still afraid something will take you from me again."

"Nothing ever will, dear boy," she replied, patting his hand. "But look here, Donald," and she smiled, "you haven't arrested Seguis yet for the murder of Cree Johnny."

"No, and I don't need to. The man who reported the crime has finally confessed that he lied about it. Cree Johnny was drunk, and attacked Seguis, who killed him in self-defense. The man who brought the news to Fort d.i.c.key had been Johnny's partner for years, and lied about it out of revenge. Speaking of murders, I would like to know who killed Indian Tom. I really think that a pa.s.sing hunter mistook him for an animal moving. The deed was done in a storm, which made it very hard to see, and that same storm wiped out the murderer's tracks. Since you have sworn you were with me at the time of the shot, of course they can't accuse me any longer."

"I wonder what will become of old Maria," asked Jean. "She is a helpless idiot now. The strain of Seguis's confession that day seemed to break something in her brain, and now she is an amiable, helpless old squaw, without a single memory."

"Seguis promised me the other day he would look after her. Once I asked him what was the motive that prompted his bringing that command of yours for me to go away, but he wouldn't explain. He only smiled. He seems very glad that we are to be married and happy, at last." Donald smiled affectionately on her.

"Well, who wouldn't be glad that I am going to marry my hero?"

asked the girl, with shining eyes.

McTavish grew suddenly grave.

"Don't call me that," he said, gently. "There is another hero, to whom we both owe more than we can ever repay."

"Who is that?"

"Charley Seguis," Donald said.

THE END