Adventure, November 1915 — page 112: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

IIo northern trails knows the recipe for its ma- king and can season it to his peculiar taste. Over his camp-fire he will set a quart of In- dian corn to boil in a gallon of water, and after two hours of boiling throw in a hand- ful of caribou suet or pork fat. The corn immediately disintegrates into a ‘stiff paste which is the famous hominy. Seasoned with salt, it is ready for use, and the quart of corn and the handful of fat will provision a hard-working paddler or packer for a day and a night. Rough fare it is, but it contains the essences of vitality. But of hominy, pork and the coarser fares, Masita saw that Helbaud would have none. His table ran crosswise at the head of the messroom, and it was decked out as befit- ted a dandy, a courtier, a high-born gentle- man such as he was. No clattering tin dishes loaded it down. Upon a snowy cloth, plain but sparkling silver accompanied spotless porcelain, and in the center rose a huge bank of the luxuri- ous flowers of the wilderness. It was the month of July, and though it was but green- ing Spring back at Dubawni Post, here far- ther south febrile Summer was glowing and painting the forest with the crimson of flower and the chrysoprase of fern. AROUND the inviting board Hel- “am | baud and his clerks, guides and in- —~ terpreters dined as befitted lords of the North. To the prosaic resources brought by schooner from Montreal to Eng- lish Bay, where his river fleets of canoes were accustomed to meet them, was added ; a \ re ‘the toil of the virgin wild. They feasted royally upon crisp, browned namaycush, roast venison, sliced beef, cold partridge, peas, corn, potatoes, butter and snowy wheat bread. For drink there was milk and tea, and when the eating was finished and the fra- grant cigars lighted, there were added wines and spirits of divers kinds. +. ‘Prodigally the spirits flowed, and not at the head table alone but upon the canoe- men’s board. | There a large keg of rum was broached, and the noisy drinking, laughter and song dinned forth in a\babel. Primitive to the core in all things, there was nothing so primitive as their thirst, and from the first gulp, Masita and Dubawni beheld them grow swiftly riotous and insolent. “Mon Dieul” growled Dubawni. ‘The Adventure man is a devil, I see. He is wise enough to know that packers drunk tonight are not worth their board tomorrow, yet he starts them forth on a debauch. And for why, petite? You can guess it, eh?” “They will be his tools to force you,” re- turned Masita fearfully. “Oh, father, is this the day of inquisition? Mon Dieu! Must a free man be compelled to face—tor- ture? Ah, father, it must not be. I will not let it be. I will speak’to Francois. I will plead, I will beg, I will go down on my knees to Francois an ze “Frangois?”’? demanded Dubawni sharp- ly. “The head voyageur? You speak famil- iarly. Don’t tell me you know the dog!” “Some — somewhat,” blushed Masita hesitatingly. “That is to say, in Quebec, in the young days, father, he was one who took the schooling.” Dubawni’s face hardened as he read the confusion in her eyes. ‘“‘Par Dieu, and if I mistake not he took more than schooling. But whatever there may have been between you is childish. It | is dead, Masita. You shall not resurrect it, and you shall not trade on old associations to beg mercy off any cur of Helbaud’s. I had rather——” | Dubawni paused, his wilderness instinct sensing a presence near, telling him that he was overheard. He wheeled toward the front door of the council-hall to see Lavergne’s big form bulk- ing in the opening. The voyageur’s eyes were not upon them, but upon the scene of reveling visible through the other doorway which led into the messroom. He seemed to wait tense- ly, furtively, till no eye in the messroom looked his way. Then he made a sign, brief as the flash of a bird’s wing, to Dubawni and Masita and was gone with the swift- ness of a wolf. ‘“‘Ah!”’ breathed Masita, a tremor beating in her bosom. “I am right, father. He is not evil. He is not one of them. It may be that the foolishness of youth and the love of adventure has led him astray and caused him to cast in his lot with Helbaud. But his eyes are the same. Mon Dieu, and I will swear that his heart is the same. He is honest. He is good, and he has pity. And, father, do you see the difference? We did not go to him. He came tous. He re- membered, and he came to us. Why should you deny yourself the chance of his aid?” comlclooolks C (C@)