The Conquest by H. Bedford-Jones - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXII.
 THE END OF THE LONG TRAIL.

It was simple enough. The ship was the barque Pelican, out of New France, and her company were fur-pirates in the Bay. They had been caught by the ice, but as none at the Company's posts knew of their presence, they were safe enough. In the barque was great store of furs bartered from the Indians, and her master, one de Croissac, sought only to win home again safe ere the Company's ships came from England in the spring.

They were warm-hearted men, these Frenchmen, and gave us of their best. I told de Croissac all our tale, whereat he marveled much, and promised to take us safe to Montreal, whence we could get ship for France or New England, and so home again. Moreover, he knew of the de Courbelles, and that Ruth's heritance was great.

This troubled me no little. At last the spring came and the ice went out in its warmth, and the "Pelican" was ready. On the day we sailed, Ruth and I stood on the hilltop above, gazing out across the land and the water.

"Somewhere in that ice-dotted blue," Ruth said softly, "sleeps the 'Lass o' Dee,' with all those whom we knew and loved, Davie."

"Yes," I made heavy-hearted answer, "and we leave them here for ever. When we get to New France, and you become a great lady, Ruth, I will leave you there also among your kin, and go—where I know not."

"Why, Davie," and she slipped her hand into mine gently, "do you think so hard of me as to leave me among strangers? I had thought we would go back to Ayrby together—"

"Lass, lass," I cried out in the old Gaelic we had not spoke for so long, "an' you stay in New France you shall be a great lady, rich and be-suitored. Would you then come back to the little stead on the moors, where wealth is naught, where all is rude and homely and—"

"Yes, Davie," she whispered, "because it is rude and homely and—beautiful, I love it. So you thought I had rather be a great lady! Truly, you might have known me better than that."

Aye, and I had, but I had wished for her to say it. So we stood for long, until a gun crashed out from the "Pelican," warning us to come. As we turned to go, I caught her to me and my heart swelled with the knowledge that though the New World had taken much from me, it had in the end given me more a thousandfold.

In the Straits we were sighted by an English ship, but the "Pelican" was too fast for her, and not another sail did we see until we reached New France and were safe. De Croissac, who knew our story and our love, advised that we be married before seeking out Ruth's people, for were our story and the ending of Radisson to become known, there was no telling but that she might be sent to France as a ward of the Governor.

So it came about that we stepped ashore and sought out a friend of the kindly captain, a priest whose little chapel nestled in the shadow of the citadel, and from which we went as man and wife, soberly and happily.

Before leaving the Bay, Soan-ge-ta-ha had conveyed to me a parting gift from Uchichak and the Crees, in the shape of a packet of furs. These I had not opened until the cargo of the "Pelican" came to be examined, when it was found that they were of the choicest beaver and fox, and that their sale would afford us much ready money.

Thus it chanced that when we left Montreal for Boston town, aboard a trader of that port, both Ruth and I were like to be well off upon our return to the Old World. Of the finding of Hudson I had said nothing, keeping the little Bible and the scrap of written paper safe stowed away, for our tale seemed wild enough as it was, in all sooth.

One more package there was, in two pieces, but very large and bulky. What this contained I did not know. It had been Ruth's secret from the time we left Uchichak's village until we reached Rathesby once again, and so on to the stead at Ayrby, which Ian MacDonald yielded up readily enough, being glad to go back to his nets. At the unpacking of this thing, Ruth bade me begone for a time. I returned from the moors to find, hung over the broad fireplace, the massy antlers of the Mighty One! She had fetched them where I had clean forgot them, to be a lasting memorial of the days that had been.

So here endeth my tale. There is another Grim now to tend the sheep, yet still about us are things whereby to remember him and his. But the things we fetched back from the New World were more than we had gone to seek there. We had dreamed of fortune, and we came home with love. We had looked for struggle and hardship, and we had found them, but we had come home again with peace. Ruth, bending over my shoulder as I write this last, would have me say one word more of Radisson—nay, she shall write it herself, here at the end.

"Trust thou in the Lord, wait patiently for Him, and He shall give thee thy heart's desire!"

THE END.