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To The West, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 32. Was I Dreaming? |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. WAS I DREAMING? Quite an hour must have passed, and it had grown dark in that room, where the heads of moose, elk, bear, and mountain sheep looked down upon us from the walls, and the old clock had it all its own way, _tick-tack_. For neither of us spoke; I confess that I dared not. Perhaps it was childish to feel so upset; perhaps it was natural, for I had been over-wrought, and the pain I had suffered was more than I could bear. Esau, too, was overcome, I was sure; but it always after remained a point of honour with us never to allude to the proceedings of that night when we remained there back to back without uttering a word, and, till we heard steps, without moving. Then we both started round as if guilty of something of which we were ashamed. But the steps passed the door, and they did not sound like those of Mr Raydon; and once more we waited for his return. It grew darker and darker, and as I slowly let my eyes wander about the walls, there on one side was the long, melancholy-looking head of a moose, with its broad, far-spreading horns, seeming to gaze at me dolefully, and on the other I could see the open jaws and grinning white fangs of a grizzly bear, apparently coming out of the gloom to attack me, while the deer's heads about were looking on to see what would be the result. The place was all very strange, and the silence began to be painful, for only at intervals was there some distant step. At last, though, there came a loud, fierce barking, and it was quite inspiriting to hear so familiar a sound. This made Esau take a long breath as if he felt relieved, and it unlocked his tongue at once. "Hah!" he said; "seems quite natural-like to hear a dog bark. Wonder what he is? Bet sixpence he's a collie. Yes, hark at him. That's a collie's bark, I know." We sat listening to the barking till it ceased, and then Esau said-- "Did seem too hard, didn't it? But somehow I couldn't help feeling all the time that he wouldn't serve us so bad as that. So different like to Mrs John, eh?" "Hush! Here he comes back." For there was a firm heavy step that was like a march, and the door was thrown open. "Ah, my lads, all in the dark? I had forgotten the light." He struck a match, and lit a large oil-lamp, and sent a bright pleasant glow through the place, which, from looking weird and strange, now had a warm and home-like aspect. "You'll like to get to bed soon. Pretty tired, I expect. I am too. We are early people here. Early to bed and early to rise; you know the rest of the proverb. You'll sleep in the strangers' place tonight; to-morrow we'll see what we can do. Mine is a bachelor home, but we have women here. Some of my men have wives, but they are Indian. Rather a wild place to bring my sister to--eh, Mayne?" Then without giving me time to speak-- "Come along," he said. "I told Mr Gunson that I would fetch you." We followed him out, and I wanted to thank him; but I could not then, and he seemed to know it, for he kept on chatting to us as we went along one side of the enclosed square, pointing out how clear the sky was, and how full of promise for the next day. Then, as we reached the long low building where we had had our meal, he threw open the door, and stood back for us to enter. "Good-night, Mayne," he said. "Good-night, sir," I replied, rather huskily, and I clung to his hand a little as he held it out. "Good-night, Dean," he continued, and turning sharply off he sauntered away back towards his quarters. "Might ha' shook hands with me too," said Esau, sullenly. "Didn't offend him too much, did I?" "No, no, don't say any more about it," I whispered. Then we entered, to find Gunson seated on a rough stool by the fire smoking his pipe, or pretending to, for I saw no smoke, and the red glow from the embers lit up his face strangely. "Ah, boys," he said, starting up from his musings; "there you are. Well, you have dropped into snug quarters. Bed-time, isn't it?" "I suppose so," I said sadly. "Hallo! Not cheery that!" "Are you still thinking of going, Mr Gunson?" I said. "Yes; at sunrise to-morrow morning, so if you want to see me off, you must take down your shutters early." "I am sorry." "I am glad," he cried--"that you are sorry. Been a pleasant trip up, my lad, and I dare say we shall meet again some day. We will, if I can manage it." "I say, where's old Quong?" said Esau, suddenly. "Asleep this hour, in the corner there." "You want Quong--flesh tea--make blead--now?" "No, no; go to sleep," said Gunson, laughing. "Allee light. I get up and makee fi' keep bun; no let fi' go out." He coiled up again under his blanket, and we sat some little time in silence before Gunson rose. "Good-night, boys," he said; and he went to the rough sleeping-place he had chosen. "S'pose we had better go too," said Esau, after we had sat looking at the fire a few minutes in silence. "I'm ready," I said quickly, and we went to our places, where I lay listening to the hard breathing of my companions, for sleep would not come. All was so new and strange. The fire had sunk down into a faint glow which brightened now and then as a light breeze swept by the house, and then sank down again, making the fireplace look ruddy, while all the rest of the place was intensely dark. Then all grew blacker still, and I was listening to Mr John Dempster's hopeful words about meeting me at his brother-in-law's home, and-- I was staring hard at the fire again, awake and fully aware that I had been fast asleep, and that something was wrong. The door was wide open. I was sure of it, for I could see the square opening lit up with brilliant stars, and to add to my certainty, the embers of the wood fire, which had sunk lower and lower, were glowing again, as the soft air from the door swept over them, in a curious phosphorescent way. I listened, and heard that the others were sleeping heavily, and as I gazed at the door I saw some of the stars blotted out by something moving, while almost at the same instant a faint sound made me glance toward the fire, where for a moment I saw against the faint glow the shape of some animal. A panting sound; it was a wolf I was sure, and I lay there paralysed with dread, as I heard the soft pit-pat of the animal's feet, and directly after a movement that did not seem to be that of an animal. I was right in that; for the fire glowed up, and I could see that it was a man standing close by now, whose dress indicated that he must be an Indian, for I just made out the edge of a hunting shirt, and I saw that he wore leggings. What ought I to do? I thought if I shouted to spread the alarm it might mean a sudden quick attack, perhaps death at once for me, while the others would be unable to defend themselves in the dark. The cold perspiration oozed from my face, and I felt a sensation as if something was moving the roots of my hair. At last when the agony grew so intense that I felt I must shout for help, the soft pit-pat of the animal's feet passed by me again, and was followed by the sound of the man moving his moccasined feet, hardly heard upon the boarded floor, and the stars were completely blotted out by the closing door. I started again, for there was a quick rustling sound now from my left, and something passed me and made for the fire. Then came relief, for there was no doubt this time--it was Quong softly laying fresh pieces of wood on the embers to keep the fire going till morning. I lay back thankfully, determined to speak to him as he came back, and ask him if he had heard a noise. But I did not; he was so long in coming; and when I did speak it was to Gunson, who was getting up, and the grey light of morning was now filling the room, battling with the glowing fire. For I had been asleep after all, and I began to ask myself whether I had dreamed about the Indian and the wolf. _ |
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