She did not even feel if the breath was still in McElroy.

Friendship was taking its toll of love.

CHAPTER XXVI SANCTUARY

"'Twas yer leader I meant, la.s.sie, should rayport to me. Is it he I saw yez rollin' out like a bag o' beans?"

"Nay, M'sieu," said Maren Le Moyne, standing before the tall man in the flush of dawn at the morning camp, her eyes red-rimmed and the curling corners of her mouth drooped and sad; "what poor leader there is among us has been myself."

"Eh?"

All along the river bank were little fires, their blue smoke curling up to the blue sky above, the bustle and fuss of preparation for the morning meal. At one place in the centre of camp two women, their appearance that of great fatigue, were languidly directing the work of a couple of Indians. An abundance of truck was everywhere--utensils for cooking, clothing, and blankets out of all reason to one used to the trail.

These things had not escaped Maren as she came through them in search of the leader. They all set his status in her mind, told her much of the history of her rescuers.

"Eh?" he said in surprise again; "you the leader? An' whatlike was the evil hap that placed ye in among that rabble o' painted beauties, may I ask? An' how comes a slip of a la.s.s"--he looked her over from head to heel with his sharp grey eyes; "--well, not so much a slip, still a colleen--like you wid th' command o' men in this part o' th' world?"

"Of a surety you may ask, M'sieu, and it will be my happiness to tell you, since but for you and your quick help, given without knowledge, we should be now in sorry plight.

"The man you saw taken from the canoe is Monsieur Anders McElroy, Factor of Fort de Seviere on the a.s.siniboine, and of the Hudson's Bay Company."

"Faith of me fathers! Say ye so! A man of our own men!"

"Aye. Then you are also of the Company? Good! Surely have we fallen on the lap of fortune.... Those Indians, Nakonkirhirinons from the far north and strangers in this country, came to De Seviere to trade. For two--three dais, maybe more,--I have lost track of time, M'sieu,--they pa.s.sed up and down at the trading,--camped on the sh.o.r.e, and all seemed well, though they were wild and shy as partridges. One man among them seemed to wear the cloak of civilisation,--Negansahima the chief.

"Then one day at dusk,--it was a soft day, gold and sweet, M'sieu, and soft, with all the post at the great gate watching the Indians,--there were many,--four or five hundred warriors and as many women and children,--this day there was,--a tragedy. Something happened,--a trifle."

The girl stopped a moment and a sigh caught her breath.

"Just a trifle--but two men fought at the gate, the factor and another--a Nor'wester from the Saskatchewan,--a long-haired venturer,--a man from Montreal, but a brave man, M'sieu, oh, a very brave man! They fought and there was the discharge of a pistol,--and--the shot went wild. It slew the good chief, M'sieu. There was uproar,--they swarmed upon the two and bound them."

Maren's eyes were growing large with the remembered excitement of that moment.

The tall Irishman was watching her keenly.

"They bound them and struck away to the north, taking them along, and the burden of their cry was, 'A skin for a skin!'

"They brought them so far,--they would have reached their own country but for a band of Bois-Brules, who joined them some suns back with that red liquor whose touch is h.e.l.l to an Indian. They had gone wild, M'sieu; wild!"

She was very weary and she shuddered a bit at the word.

"And,--so,--that is all,--save that we had done that much toward escaping when you found us."

She ceased and looked gravely into his face.

"Howly Moses! I see,--I see! But ye have left a wide rent in th' tale.

Wherefore are yez here yerself, la.s.sie?"

"I?" said Maren, swaying where she stood. "I followed, M'sieu."

"Followed? From the a.s.siniboine? Alone?"

"Nay. There was one came with me,--a youth,--a trapper,--my comrade, my friend. He died yonder in that surging purgatory--"

The tears were welling to her weary eyes.

"The Nor'wester, Alfred de Courtenay, also--We only of that venture are escaped alive,--a sorry showing. The five men who man my boat belong to the brigade under Mr. Mowbray, which we met on Winnipeg. Such is our small history, M'sieu, and all we ask is your protection out of the reach of the Nakonkirhirinons. I take him back to De Seviere,--G.o.d knows if he will live to reach it. He lies so still. But I must get him back--"

She ceased and pa.s.sed her hand across her eyes.

"I must get him back,--I must get him back."

"Aye, aye. Ye come with me. Ye need a woman's hand, girl. Ye're well in yerself."

There was a huskiness to the sharp voice and the man took her by the arm, turning her toward the fire and the two women. She stumbled a step or two in the short stretch.

"I must go back to him, M'sieu!" she protested. "He will need--will need--broth--and a wet cloth to his bruised head--"

"We'll see to him, don't ye fret. It's shlape ye need yerself. Sheila, whativer do ye think o' this! Here's a colleen shlipped through the fingers of those bow-legged signboards and fair done wid heroism an'

strategy, an' Lord knows what all, an' off her feet wid tire! Do ye take her an' feed her. Put her to bed on th' blankets an' do for her like yerself knows how, darlint! 'Tis an angel unaware, I'm thinkin'--an' her on Deer River!"

One of the women, a little creature with dark hair and blue eyes, Irish eyes "rubbed in with a s.m.u.tty finger," came forward and looked up into Maren's stained face, streaked with her tears, her eyes dazed and all but closing with the weariness that had only laid its hand upon her in the last few moments, but whose sudden touch was heavy as lead.

"Say ye so!" she said wonderingly; "a girl! So this was what caused the rumpus in the night! But come, dearie, 'tis rest ye want, sure!"

She laid her and on Maren's arm and there was in its gentle touch something which broke down the last quivering strand of strength within the girl, striving to stand upright.

"Yes, Madame," she said dreamily. "Yes, but he must have--he must have--broth--and a bandage,--wet"

"Sure, sure,--he shall,--but come to the blankets!"

As Maren went down with a long sigh, her limbs shirking the last task of straightening themselves upon the softness of the unwonted couch, the little woman looked up across her at the man with a world of questions in her face.

"Poor darlin'!" she said softly. "Whativer is it, Terence?"

"A heroine, if all she says be thrue, an' as unconscious of it as a new-born babe!"

When Maren awoke the sun was straight overhead and some one had been calling from a distance for a very long time.

"Come, come, asth.o.r.e! Opin yer eyes! That's it! A little more, now. Wake up, for love av Heaven, or we'll all be overtaken be th' Injuns!"

Ah! Indians! At that she opened her eyes and looked into the pretty blue ones she remembered last.

The little woman was kneeling beside her with an arm about her shoulder, trying to lift her heavy head and falling short in the endeavour.

Maren was too much in her muscled height for the bird-like creature. She sat up at once and looked around. The canoes were in the water, all the miscellaneous luggage had been put aboard, and every one was ready for a new start. Only herself, the blanket bed, and the little woman were unready.