Dunvegan

“ Dunvegan seized the brave's arm with a vicious pinch.
"You young hothead," he cried angrily, "you go too far. Keep behind with the women till you get some wisdom!"
His back-twist of the arm sent Three Feathers hurtling in among a group of squaws about a tepee door, where he sprawled ingloriously with his heels in the air.
The downfall of the haughty son set the Indian women roaring afresh with laughter, but the braves muttered ominously. Among them Three Feathers was a power growing nearer the usurping point which would shatter the father's sane control of the tribe. ”

“ It was late in the afternoon when they reached Dunvegan Castle—that hospitable home where Johnson "tasted lotus, and was in danger," as he said, of forgetting that he was ever to depart." This ancient seat of the Macleods was less beautiful, but far more interesting as he saw it than it is at the present day. The barrenness of nature has been covered with a luxuriant growth, and the land all around "which presented nothing but wild, moorish, hilly, and craggy appearances," is now finely wooded. ”

“ The spirits also were kind, for they gave us no game and turned us from our hunting that our squaws might not be stolen." He talked brazenly, having shrewdly guessed in his feverish brain that Dunvegan's errand concerned the woman his father wished to take as a squaw.
"Who steals our women?" cried Running Wolf, turning on his son with an expression of vague alarm.
"Ask the Strong Father there," Three Feathers directed, forcing the issue upon Dunvegan.
"Yes, ask the Strong Father," interposed Flora Macleod, speaking also in Cree. ”

“ They thrilled at the sight of the brawn going forth to build Kamattawa to shut out the Nor'westers from the Valley. These looked able to do it; brown-armed white men; swarthy post Indians; the hardy mètis; the dashing voyageurs. The watchers' pulses leaped with admiration for the indefatigable leader who had travelled thus at the head of countless brigades on some stern mission for the Company. For him they raised a stormy cry of appreciation which was heartily echoed back by the men of the fleet.
But Dunvegan heeded not the uproarious approbation. ”

“ The chief looked searchingly at the trader and at the trader's brigade, as if to read their intent.
"Strong Father," he declared, "the lodges of my people are open to you. My heart is right toward you in spite of the high words of my son and the White Squaw. They would have me think you walk against my wigwams to do me harm. Tell them whence you have voyaged. Perhaps even now you are come from the Stern Father by the Holy Lake!"
"That is so," admitted Dunvegan. "I come from Oxford House and from the Factor, him you call the Stern Father. ”

“ They have found no caribou and are in a bad mood. You had better leave me here."
"Not if we have to fight the whole tribe," declared Dunvegan.
But his eyes, only, saw the Crees coming up to the sun-scalded camp. His mental vision focused on the image of Desirée Lazard. He had told Basil Dreaulond that he was anxious to complete his mission and return to Oxford House. And Basil had smiled, knowing well why! Now was he doubly anxious. Flora's news had a perturbing effect. He hungered for a sight of Desirée singing gayly within the stockades. ”

“ At any rate the chances are increased."
"This is the best opportunity that you will ever find," Dunvegan declared. "If you want to go straight and live clean, the way is easy. It seems to me these lake breezes, these pine woods, these outdoor days are a long way removed from temptation."
He swung his hands illustratively from the sheen of Oxford's surface to the dark green of the Black Forest, which loomed in somber mystery on Caribou Point, and looked into the clerk's soft eyes. But Edwin Glyndon was staring over the chief trader's shoulder at someone coming up the path to the store. ”

“ Dunvegan paced some awkward steps before the Cree tents, his glance wandering uncertainly to the waiting brigade by the Katchawan's bank.
"I haven't the right," he complained.
"Win it," she flashed. "You are the pick of the Company's men. If you weren't you would not be Malcolm Macleod's chief trader."
"She is a Nor'wester at heart. Her father died in their service, and his spirit is in her. She cherishes his pride of allegiance. Desirée vows she will never wed a man of the H. B. C. Her vow stands!"
"Tut!" mocked Flora. "A woman's whim easily changed! ”

“ I myself rather fear to tell him of your desertion."
"Fear!" exclaimed Flora, her glance running over Dunvegan's massive, six-foot frame. "You never felt it. But let Malcolm MacLeod take care. I have power here. Running Wolf wishes me to stay. The tribe I can twist like a river weed. And the Nor'west Company is very active in gaining ground. So let the lord of Oxford House consider. I can stir up trouble for him." ”

“ Dunvegan is a rocky prominence, that juts out into a bay, on the west side of Sky. The house, which is the principal seat of Macleod, is partly old and partly modern; it is built upon the rock, and looks upon the water. ”

“ Dunvegan contradicted. "I am still your friend, as you have had cause to know. But I have my orders. I must do the Stern Father's bidding. Running Wolf, you say to your young men: 'Go forth and do such a thing.' It is done as you command. You have power and wisdom to rule, and the braves, recognizing your authority and holding the tribe's interests at heart, will do your mission if they die in the doing. ”

“ The path lay across the black morass which ringed the Bay, and Dunvegan knew that path.
"Are we all here?" he asked suddenly of his men.
"All but Michael Barreau and Gray Eagle," Connear answered. "Someone caved in Michael's head with a gun stock; Gray Eagle was shot—I saw him fall! And old Running Wolf fired the shot!"
"The Cree joined them, eh? I expected that. Where's Maskwa?"
"Here, Strong Father," called the Ojibway fort runner. "What is your will?"
"You know the beaver dam, the wall across the meadows?" Dunvegan inquired. "You remember it, the new dam we found some moons ago?" ”

“ Why serve a man with a supposed stain upon him? Why not follow, rather, our friend Glyndon's move?"
"I serve the Company," was the chief trader's response. "The moral status of the Company's officers cannot effect that fundamental duty—service."
The Factor looked long at Dunvegan, marveling at his integrity, his lack of low curiosity, his allegiance.
"Bruce," he said—and it was not often he used the Christian name—"you're one of the true, northern breed, the shut-mouthed men! Let me tell you a little phase of American life. ”

“ A rain of wreckage fell upon the water all around the chief trader.
"Mon Dieu, camarade, dive!" shouted Dreaulond, backing water.
He dove and came up again in the center of the river. There the courier whirled the stern of the canoe into his grasp, and, unhurt, Dunvegan raised himself over it. The last barrier between them gone, Desirée crouched in his dripping arms.
Yet only an instant might heart beat against heart! Dunvegan thrust his legs under the stern thwart and caught up a paddle.
"Drive, Basil," he urged. "Drive hard! ”

“ Dunvegan Castle was a grim stronghold in which the MacLeods sat so secure that all the efforts of all the MacDonalds, even if they were for once united, could not dislodge them. It was one of the most remote inhabited places in all Scotland, its next neighbour to the west being that new land of America discovered not yet fifty [Pg 247] years. For the son of one Highland chieftain to come so completely into the power of another, his own people knowing practically nothing of his whereabouts, was a situation that did not commend itself to the young man. ”

“ Have you any objection to his work as a clerk?"
"None! He handles the books and the pen better than any we ever had."
"Then it would be an injustice," the priest concluded. "Glyndon deserves his chance. How about his vice?"
"There is no opportunity to pamper his appetite here," laughed Dunvegan. "If he were alongside the Nor'wester's free rum barrel, I would not answer for him. But I trust your judgment, Brochet. Things stay as they are. Now I must finish my trading with the Indians or I shall not get away on schedule." ”

“ The rest of Dunvegan's tired followers were here. The flames licked the bronzed, familiar faces of Pete Connear, Terence Burke, Baptiste Verenne, Maskwa, Wahbiscaw, the hardy halfbreeds, the trusted post Indians, the faithful mètis.
Loyal to the Company, they were here at the Company's call. And they had come as Desirée Lazard had idly prophesied.
"Kip back," Maurice Nicolet ordered the Oxford House loungers round the fire. "Let dese men have more room. You be well fed, warm—full of tabac smoke. Kip back. Better go ovaire to de store." ”

“ Guard your person against the enemy, and guard your passions as well. Remember that he who conquers himself is greater than the lord of all the Hudson's Bay districts."
Three miles farther the cavalcade wound with the frozen river. Dunvegan, brooding within himself as had been his custom of late, took little note of its progress. The leadership had devolved for the moment upon Maskwa. Presently the tall Ojibway answered the call of his stomach. He stopped beneath a jutting headland and looked once at the sun. ”

“ And he nodded sagely.
"So," he commented, "they learn wisdom and come to be head men. But why have you come, Strong Father, with so many canoes? Do you build a new post? Or do you fight the French Hearts?" The French Hearts was his name for the Nor'westers.
"Neither," answered Dunvegan. "The Factor sent me many moons ago to find his daughter and to bring her back to the Fort."
"Ah-hah!" exclaimed Running Wolf. "Then it is even as Three Feathers, the hasty one, said! His guesses are greater than my wisdom."
"Listen," urged the chief trader, putting a hand on the Cree's arm. ”

“ The following is from “A Summer in Skye,” by the late Alex. Smith, author of “A Life Drama”. Describing Dunvegan Castle and its surroundings, he says:—“Dun Kenneth’s prophecy has come to pass—‘In the days of Norman, son of the third Norman, there will be a noise in the doors of the people, and wailing in the house of the widow; and Macleod will not have so many gentlemen of his name as will row a five-oared boat round the Maidens’. If the last trumpet had been sounded at the end of the French war, no one but a Macleod would have risen out of the churchyard of Dunvegan. ”

“ The Ojibway went ahead, and, when lost to the view of his fellows among the timber, he paralleled Gaspard's trail at some distance first on one side and then on the other. Soon he found what he sought and tramped on to the balsams, grunting with great satisfaction.
When Dunvegan and his retainers reached the balsam ridge, Maskwa stood there awaiting them. He called the chief trader aside.
"Strong Father," he began in a low voice, "does a lost man throw away his rifle and his food?"
"No! Great heavens, no!" exclaimed Dunvegan. "Why?" ”

“ We all know the Factor is a stern, hard man."
"I will never go back to his punishment."
Dunvegan's face hardened. "You must! I am under orders to take you at any cost; and there are the means!" His brown, muscled hand indicated the canoe brigade nosing the serrated river bank and filled with his sinewed northmen whose combined might seemed quite sufficient to carry away bodily the pole and skin structures which made up the Cree camp.
"You coward!" exclaimed the girl malignantly, releasing her neck from its attitude of craned inspection and hushing the child's sudden whimper. ”

“ Had Johnson seen the beautiful and rare flowers which grow in it, he would surely never have maintained that "a green-house is a childish thing." What a change has come since the clay when he wrote that "the country about Dunvegan is rough and barren. There are no trees except in the orchard, which is a low, sheltered spot, surrounded with a wall." The rough old fellow passed over the land with his strong common sense and his vigorous reproofs, and the rudeness of nature has been tamed, and its barrenness changed into luxuriance. ”

“ Dunvegan turned to his friends, the light of unshakeable determination on his face.
"My men are the Company's!" he exclaimed. "My life is my own! I'm going to La Roche. There may be a way. Somewhere there must be a means. Either I'll carry Desirée Lazard over the stockades or the Nor'westers' guns will riddle me."
They did not doubt him. They knew a million protests would not avail.
"An' me," cried Basil, thrilled by his courage. "I go for de pacquet. De Company's trippers dey ain' nevaire lost wan yet. I ain' goin' be de first, me!"
"You lovable fools," reprimanded Brochet, tears in his eyes. ”

“ Dunvegan sat up with a jerk.
"What's wrong, Basil?" he shouted. "My God, men, speak!"
"Wan party Nor'westaires waylay de canoe express," stammered Basil. "Dey must been spyin' round de post! Got de packet an' de girl. An' takin' her to Ferguson at La Roche! Dey keel ma voyageurs, mais I escape, me, in de woods."
The chief trader threw on his clothes and rushed for the door.
Brochet blocked him. "What now?" the priest demanded.
"Follow and——"
"No good dat," interrupted Dreaulond. "Dey got wan whole day start. No good!"
"We have men," cried Dunvegan wildly. "We must storm La Roche." ”

“ Flora replied, and she laughed contemptuously. "They have had hard hunting and game has been scarce. They think I'll change their luck. And, more than that, Running Wolf hopes I may some time marry him——"
"Marry him!" echoed the chief trader. "Are you crazy? Or is he?"
"He is," Macleod's daughter responded with harsh merriment. "He wants to get the Factor's permission." Her voice was bitterly contemptuous.
Dunvegan frowned blackly. "If he mentions that to Macleod he will raise a storm with speech for thunder and blows for lightning. You are Black Ferguson's wife. That fact cannot be got over." ”