Frontier and pioneer life -- Québec (Province) -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Short stories
“It is not for the best. I have made suggestion after suggestion to
improve the opportunities presented to me, and every one has been set
aside, and I am condemned to a course of inaction that galls and frets
me.”
Here an orderly approached. “An Indian and a young woman want to speak
with you.”
“I will go,” said Mrs Scott.
“Do not,” cried the Colonel, “what tete-a-tete may I not have with the
lovely squaw.”
“Please, sir,” said the orderly, “she is not a squaw. She is white and
a Scotchwoman by her speech.”
“And young to boot,” exclaimed Mrs Scott archly, “I shall certainly
stay and keep you from falling into temptation.”
“Bring them this way,” said the Colonel, and the orderly returned with
Hemlock and Maggie.
“In truth an odd-matched pair,” whispered the Colonel as he saw them
approach.
“Why, it’s you, Hemlock. I thought you were raising the war-whoop on
the Huntingdon frontier. And who may your companion be? Too young to
be your wife--too fair to be your sweetheart.”
The Indian’s features relaxed into the nearest approach they ever came
to a smile, as he answered, “An arrow from another bow than mine has
struck the doe.”
“Well, Hemlock, do you bring me news from Hinchinbrook? When is Hampton
going to march?”
In reply, Hemlock briefly told how he had been at Oka, was sought
out there by Maggie and for what purpose. The Colonel listened with
stern expression as he was told of Morton’s peril, and when the Indian
had done, he plied Maggie with questions. When she had told all, the
Colonel brought his fist down heavily on the cannon beside which he
stood as he exclaimed, “I knew these Americans were boasters but I did
not think they were capable of such cruelty. Once they hung a gentleman
wearing His Majesty’s uniform and were allowed to escape under the
belief that, tradesmen and farmers as they were, they knew no better,
but if they send a second to the gallows, there is not an officer
in Canada who would not consider it his duty to challenge every one
concerned in the deed.”
With a glance of apprehension at her husband, Mrs Scott with admirable
tact strove to divert him from his vengeful mood by changing the
subject. Addressing Maggie she asked, “And what is Mr Morton to you
that you should risk the peril of these woods to save him? Is he a
brother?”
“He is neither kith nor kin to me,” answered Maggie.
“The attraction is of another sort, then. Cupid flies his arrows in
these woods as well as the red warrior.”
Maggie blushed and the Colonel, forgetting his anger, gallantly came to
her rescue. “And if he does, madam, I would say to Master Cupid, give
me the maiden who, like our fair Maggie, would dare the dragons of the
field and flood to save her lover.”
“Oh!” retorted Mrs Scott, “that is as much as to say, I would not do
that and more for you. What thankless monsters you men are!”
“Nay, spare me, Helen, and as by what she has told us, she has walked
from Oka today, perhaps you will take her with you and play the
hostess.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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