CHAPTER XII.
Do not repeat these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou art.
Winter's Tale.
Our hero approached the camp of M'Leod cautiously,
in the Indian manner, without suffering his
party to be seen. He picketed his horses in
a hollow three miles distant, where they might
graze out of sight, and at night sent spies into his
camp; but he only learned that Peter Pangman
was with his enemy, sick of an intermittent fever,
and that M'Leod had forty half-breeds with him.
In this manner four days passed, but on the fifth
night Dés Champs took upon himself the office of
spy, and penetrating farther than his predecessors
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had done, brought back information, that on the
morrow, the hunters were to chase the buffalo, and
that M'Leod and Reinhard would be left alone in
their lodge. On the receipt of these tidings Gordon
despatched a man to raise the cattle, and drive
them so far as to insure the protracted absence
of the half-breeds the next day. This being effected,
he moved to within a mile of the enemy with
his men.
At daybreak the bois brulés saddled their horses
and rode off. M'Leod came out of his lodge to
witness their departure, and when they were gone
re-entered it, totally unsuspicious of danger. He
was first apprised of it by the entrance of Gordon
with five followers, into the lodge, whom he at first
mistook for some of his own people returned from
the hunt. He started, and asked what had brought
them back so soon.
`Rise,' said Gordon; `rise and come with us
where you must render an account of your life.'
Recognizing Gordon's voice, he started up, as
did Reinhard. `I see,' he said, `into what hands I
have fallen. But I did not kill Cavenny; no, you
cannot prove it, and the law cannot condemn me.
Are you come to murder me here?'
`No, miscreant; I am not. That were a deed
worthy of you; not of me. Yet if I should slay
you, who could blame me? There hangs a sword:
if you think yourself unfairly treated; draw it, and
come on. If you conquer me, I promise that you
shall go free.'
`And who would trust to such a promise? If
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I should kill you, I should fall by the hands of your
men.'
Here Reinhard broke in. `Monsieur M'Leod,'
said he, `if you are inclined to surrender without
a struggle, so am not I. Let Gordon order his
men to retire, and I will trust his word. Come
sir, I see you wear a sword: let us forth, and we
shall see if you know how to use it.'
Gordon spoke to his men. `If I fall,' he said,
`let them go clear. Now, base assassin, come on.'
Reinhard met him boldly. He had expected
to overcome him easily, but Gordon was almost
his equal in skill, and his superior in activity.
Their blades crossed, and the young man attacked
his opponent fiercely. Reinhard defended himself
ably, but finding himself over-matched, he drew a
pistol from his belt and fired at Gordon's head.
He missed, and before the smoke cleared away,
he received a cut across his wrist, and his sword
dropped from his hand. Then he stood still and
sullen, expecting a mortal blow.
His expectations were near being fulfilled: Gordon's
men, who had watched the duel with intense
curiosity, now levelled their weapons, and would
have shot him, had not the bois brulé called to them
to forbear. `Wretch,' he cried, `I scarcely know
what hinders me from staking you to the earth.
Come, my men, bind up his wrist, and tie his elbows
behind him. Do the same for the brave
major. Dés Champs, go and bring Pangman, and
their horses hither.'
M'Leod submitted, in terror, and Reinhard doggedly,
without uttering a syllable. Pangman was
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dragged from under a heap of buffalo robes, where
he had concealed himself, without respect to his
feeble condition or his expostulations. Dés
Champs tied his wrists so tight as to give him great
pain, for it must be confessed that the half-breed,
as well as others of his rank and condition, had
little regard for human suffering. When the
wretched invalid was brought before Gordon, the
youth loosened his bonds, and rebuked his follower
for his inhumanity.
`You are the master, Monsieur,' said Dés
Champs. `I hope I know my duty to my bourgeois,
but please to recollect, that if we had fallen
into their keeping, we should have had worse treatment.
If I were master, I would not have all this
trouble with them.'
`What would you do, then?' asked Gordon.
`Carry home their scalps at my horse's bridle,
and help myself to whatever I liked in the camp,'
answered Dés Champs.
But Gordon did not like the counsel. The prisoners
were mounted on their own horses, with
their ancles secured under the animals. If we
were to say that the party left the camp as poor as
they entered it, it would be more than would consist
with strict truth. He who could exchange an
old garment for a new one, did so without scruple.
Sundry knives, blankets, pistols, &c, were taken.
To all this Gordon offered no opposition, for he
knew that the free men might, like the Indians, be
led, but not driven. The spoilers left the camp in
high glee. One of them had decorated his person
with the gorgeous laced coat and epaulettes of
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M'Leod; another wore his cap and feather, a
third had girt on his sword. Reinhard's apparel
was disposed of in a similar manner, and the wearers
of these equipments were looked upon with
envy by their less fortunate companions. A great
deal of the baggage of the camp, that could not be
conveniently carried away was wantonly destroyed.
It is unnecessary to relate the incidents of their
return to Pembinaw.
And now, gentle reader, we believe that all the
incidents essential to our story have been recorded.
If thy patience is not already exhausted, we
bespeak thy favor in behalf of our
A week after Gordon's return to Pembinaw, two
boats might be seen at the landing place of the
Company's fort, manned, and ready to descend the
river. An awning was erected on the hindmost,
and under it, on a pack of beaver skins, sat Flora
Gordon. Her husband and the Scottish Earl stood
on the shore, in the midst of the clerks of the Company.
At a little distance stood Dés Champs,
leaning on his gun, and looking sorrowfully at the
boats. The ceremony of leave-taking over, Gordon
turned to the half-breed, and desired him
to embark. He advanced, and touching his cap
respectfully, held out his hand to Gordon.
`What does this mean?' said the latter, `are
you not going with me?'
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`No Monsieur. You will perhaps think me
childish, or a mere Indian, to change my mind, and
break my word thus. But I have slept, and considered
the matter better. You have offered me
a home, and a support; and if I were to follow you,
I should be no more obliged to suffer cold, heat,
nor hunger, and my scalp would be safe, forever.
But I was once in Montreal, and I know not how
it was, but I had no relish for soft beds, nor good
cheer. I sighed for my native prairies; and I
should again. No, Monsieur, I must keep to my
horse, my gun, and my dog sledge. Adieu! you
will not, I hope, forget Antoine Dés Champs. I am
thankful for your kindness. May God conduct
you.'
`But Dés Champs,' added Gordon, much affected,
`you can go with me to Montreal, and if
you do not choose to remain, you can return in the
autumn. Besides I have not yet rewarded you
for your services. Indeed your determination has
broken up all my plans.'
`I am sufficiently rewarded already. Nevertheless,
if Monsieur Gordon pleases to bestow his gun,
and his horse on me, I should not be sorry.'
`You shall have them, and everything else I
leave behind. Stay, let me write a note to Mr
M'Donald to that effect,' and taking out his tablets
he wrote accordingly.
Dés Champs, who was a total stranger to the
delicacy which would have made many white men
refuse such a gift, took the paper without scruple
or thanks, and thrust it under his belt. He advanced
to bid Flora farewell. He paid her his
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awkward salutations with some appearance of feeling,
and disembarked. The boatmen began to be
impatient, and called to Gordon to hasten.
`Well Dés Champs,' said the young husband, `I
will no longer try to persuade you. Farewell;
may God bless you. I will write to the head of
the colony to provide you with stores every winter
at my expense. Once more farewell.'
`Adieu, Monsieur,' said Dés Champs, shaking
his hand, and raising his cap from his head. He
held it in this manner until Gordon had embarked
and the boat was out of sight. He then replaced
it and turned away.
On the arrival of the party at Montreal, M'Leod
and his instruments were arraigned for the murder
of Cavenny, and of Governor Semple and his people,
in due course of law. The inhabitants of that
city still remember how bitter was the contention
of the two rival fur companies on that occasion,
and what efforts were made, and what means resorted
to, on the one side to produce, and on the
other to suppress the evidence. The Northwest
succeeded in procuring the acquittal of M'Leod
and Pangman. Reinhard admitted the part he
had taken in the murder of the Irishman, but informed
the jury, that he had stabbed Cavenny, after
he was shot by the Indian, Joe, `to put an end
to his sufferings.' Notwithstanding this humane
motive, he was found guilty of manslaughter, and
sentenced to be transported, for fourteen years.
What has become of him, or whether he is now
alive or dead, is not known.
M'Leod having refused a challenge from
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Gordon, found that Montreal was no place for him,
and returned to the Indian country. The last we
heard of him, he was trading with the Chyppewans
at Great Slave Lake. Pangman returned to Pembinaw,
where he is hunting the buffalo to this day.
Shortly after these occurrences, Gordon, by the
command of his father, crossed the Atlantic. It is
said that he now resides on the banks of the Esk
with his wife, and has a large family of sons and
daughters. Before he went, however, he fulfilled
his promise to Dés Champs. But that person did
not long live to be a tax on his bounty. In the
spring of eighteen hundred and twentyone he found
his death on the horns of a buffalo.
The two companies soon after discovered that
strife and opposition were to the advantage of neither.
They united; whereby a great number of persons
were thrown out of employment, and the number
of free men was greatly increased. Some of their
clerks came into the United States, and formed
the Columbian Fur Company, which after three
years opposition amalgamated with the North American
Fur Company.
Lord Selkirk returned to Scotland, and his colony
died a natural death. The processions, and
anathemas fulminated by the Catholic priest, availed
nothing against the grasshoppers or the spring
floods, and the settlers saw their crops destroyed,
year after year. At last they became convinced
that the country was uninhabitable, and concluded
to emigrate to the United States, believing
it better to risk themselves among the Bostonois
than to starve at Ossinneboia. In eighteen
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hundred and twentyfive, not thirty of the Swiss emigrants
remained at the colony. Many of them
settled at Vevay, on the Ohio, where they are
now cultivating the grape.
In the year eighteen hundred and twentyfour, a
party of American troops arrived at Pembinaw, under
the command of Major S. Long. Having
ascertained that the boundary line passed through
the village, the American flag was hoisted, amidst
the acclamations of an hundred Canadians and
half-breeds; not one of whom knew for what he
shouted. The village then consisted of about
twenty log huts, and a church, built of hewn timber.
At present it does not exist.
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Snelling, William Joseph, d. 1849 [1830], Tales of the northwest, or, Sketches of Indian life and character (Hilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins, Boston) [word count] [eaf381].
