The Maid of the Whispering Hills

Vingie E. (Vingie Eve) Roe

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• Publié par: rubob
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 27
• Langue: English

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Project Gutenberg's The Maid of the Whispering Hills, by Vingie E. Roe This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Maid of the Whispering Hills Author: Vingie E. Roe Release Date: June 12, 2009 [EBook #5253] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAID OF THE WHISPERING HILLS *** Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger THE MAID OF THE WHISPERING HILLS By Vingie E. Roe Published January, 1912 To My Mother Who Has Been My Constant Help My Father Who Was Proud Of Me And My Little Brother, These Two Long Asleep On The Hill At Carney— This Book Is Lovingly Inscribed V. E. R. Contents CHAPTER I. CHAPTER II. CHAPTER III. CHAPTER IV. CHAPTER V. CHAPTER VI. CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER VIII. CHAPTER IX. CHAPTER X. CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. CHAPTER XIII. CHAPTER XIV. CHAPTER XV. CHAPTER XVI. CHAPTER XVII. CHAPTER XVIII. CHAPTER XIX. CHAPTER XX. CHAPTER XXI. CHAPTER XXII. CHAPTER XXIII. CHAPTER XXIV. CHAPTER XXV. CHAPTER XXVI. CHAPTER XXVII. CHAPTER XXVIII. CHAPTER XXIX. CHAPTER XXX. THE VENTURERS THE SPRING NEW HOMES THE STRANGER FROM CIVILISATION NOR'WESTERS SPRING TRADE FOREST NEWS FIRST DAWN GOLD FIRE THE SASKATOON LEAVEN AT WORK THE NAKONKIRHIRINONS "A SKIN FOR A SKIN" FELLOW CAPTIVES LONG TRAIL TRAVEL THE COMPELLING POWER "I AM A STONE TO YOUR FOOT, MA'AMSELLE" THE HUDSON'S BAY BRIGADE THE WOLF AND THE CARIBOU TIGHTENED SCREWS "CHOOSE, WHITE WOMAN!" THE PAINTED POST THE STONE TO THE FOOT OF LOVE ANSWERED PRAYERS SANCTUARY RETURN THE OLD DREAM ONCE MORE BITTER ALOES THE LAND OF THE WHISPERING HILLS CHAPTER I THE VENTURERS "Mercy!" shrieked little Francette, her red-rose face aghast, "he will begin before I can bring the help!" Like a flash of flame the maid in her crimson skirt shot up the main way of Fort de Seviere to where the factory lay asleep in the warm spring sun. On its log step, pipe in mouth, young Anders McElroy leaned against the jamb and looked smilingly out upon his settlement. Peace lay softly upon it, from the waters of the small stream to the east where nine canoes lay bottom up upon the pebbly shore, to the great dark wall of the forest shouldering near on three sides. To him ran little Francette, light on her moccasined feet as the wind in the tender pine-tops, her eloquent small hands outstretched and clutching at his sleeve audaciously. None other in all the post would have dared as much, for this smiling young man with the blue eyes was the Law at Fort de Seviere, factor of the Company and governor of the handful of humanity lost in the vast region of the Assiniboine. But to Francette he was Power and Help, and she thought of naught else, as it is not likely she would have done even at another time. "Oh, M'sieu!" she cried, gasping from her run, "come at once beyond the great gate! Bois DesCaut,—Oh, brute of the world!—whips that great grey husky leader of his team, because it did but snap at his heel beneath an idle prod! Hasten, M'sieu! He drags it, glaring, along the shore to where lie those clubs brought for the kettles!" In the dark eyes upraised to him there swam a mist of tears and the heart of the little maid tore at her breast in anguish. The smile slipped swiftly from the factor's face, leaving it grave. "Where, little one?" he asked. "Beyond the palisade. But hurry, M'sieu,—for the love of God!" At the great gate in the eastern wall he paused and looked either way. To the southward all was peaceful. An aged Indian of the Assiniboines squatted at the water's edge mending the broken bottom of a skin canoe, and two voyageurs, gay in the matter of sash and crimson cap, lay lazily beneath a drowsing tree. To the northward there flashed into McElroy's vision one of those pictures a man sees but few times and never forgets, a picture startling in its clear-cut strength. Against the mellow background of the weather-beaten stockade that surrounded the post there stood two figures, a man and a woman, and between the two there crouched with snarling lips and flaming eyes a huge grey dog. Tall he was, that man, tall and broad of shoulder, but the head of the woman, shining like blueblack satin in the morning sun, was level with his brows. She leaned a trifle forward and her eyes held fast to his passion-flooded face. It was evident that she had but just reached the spot from the fact that the club, arrested in its upward swing, still was poised in the air. They faced each other and the factor stopped in his tracks. "Quick, M'sieu!" begged Francette at his side, but he put out a commanding hand and ceased to breathe. "Hold!" said the tall young woman at last, and her voice cut cold and clear in the sun-filled morning. "No more! You have whipped the dog enough." The red face of the trapper flamed into purple and his lips opened for an oath. Quick as the heat lightning that flutters on the waters of Winipigoos in the hot summers the cruel club came down. McElroy heard its dull impact, and the husky crumpled like a broken reed. With stern face the factor started forward, while the little maid covered her pretty eyes and whimpered. But quicker than his stride retribution leaped to meet DesCaut. He saw the woman's arm shoot out and her strong hand, smooth and tawny as finest tanned buckskin, double itself hard and leap in where the jaw turns downward into the curve of the throat. The stroke of a man it was, clean and sharp and well delivered, and DesCaut, catching his heel on a buried stone's sharp jut, went backward with his head in the young grass of the sloping shore. For a moment she stood as it had left her, leaning forward, and there was a shine of satisfaction in her eyes. Then as the man essayed to rise there was a mighty laughter from the two youths on the river bank and the spell was broken. McElroy went forward. "DesCaut," he said sharply, and his words cut like the lash of the long dog-whips, "you deserves death but you have been beaten by a woman. Go, and boast of your strength. It is sufficient." DesCaut stood a