An old nurse of my young days, whom I remember chiefly by her ramrod back and sharp tongue, used to say, "Nerves! nerves! nothing but nerves!" She thanked God she was born before the doctors had discovered nerves. Though neurotic theories had not been sufficiently elaborated for me to ascribe my state to the most refined of modern ills—nervous prostration—I was aware, as I dragged over the prairie with the horse at the end of a trailing bridle rein, that something was seriously out of tune. It was daylight before I caught the frightened broncho and no knock-kneed coward ever shook more, as I vainly tried to vault into the saddle, and after a dozen false plunges at the stirrup, gave up the attempt and footed it back to camp. There was a daze between my eyes, which the over-weary know well, and in the brain-whirl, I could distinguish only two thoughts, Where was Miriam—and Father Holland's prediction—"Benedicite! The Lord shall be your avenger! He shall deliver that evil one into the power of the punisher."
Thus, I reached the camp, picketed the horse, threw myself down in the tent and slept without a break from the morning of the 20th till mid-day of the 21st. I was awakened by the Bois-Brulés returning from a demonstration before the gateway of Fort Douglas. Going to the tent door, I saw that Pritchard, one of the captive Hudson's Bay men, had been brought back from a conference with the enemy. From his account, the Hudson's Bay people seemed to be holding out against us; but the settlers, realizing the danger of Indian warfare, to a man favored surrender. Had it not been for Grant, there would have been no farther parley; but on news that settlers were pressing for capitulation, the warden again despatched Pritchard to the Hudson's Bay post. In the hope of gaining access to Frances Sutherland and Eric Hamilton I accompanied him. Such was the terror prevailing within the walls, in spite of Pritchard's assurance regarding my friendly purpose, admission was flatly denied me. I contented myself with verbal messages that Hamilton and Father Holland must remain. I could guarantee their safety. The same offer I made to Frances, but told her to do what was best for herself and her father. When Pritchard came out, I knew from his face that Fort Douglas was ours. Hamilton and Father Holland would stay, he reported; but Mistress Sutherland bade him say that after Seven Oaks her father had no friendly feeling for Nor'-Westers, and she could not let him go forth alone. Terms were stipulated between the two companies with due advantage to our side from the recent victory and the formal surrender of Fort Douglas took place the following day.
"What are you going to do with the settlers, Cuthbert?" I asked of the warden before the capitulation.
"Aye! That's a question," was the grim response.
"Why not leave them in the fort till things quiet down?"
"With all the Indians of Red River in possession of that fort?" asked Grant, sarcastically. "Were a few Nor'-Westers so successful in holding back the Metis at Seven Oaks, you'd like to see that experiment repeated?"
"'Twill be worse, Grant, if you let them go back to their farms."
"They'll not do that, if I'm warden of the plains," he declared with great determination. "We'll have to send them down the Red to the lake till that fool of a Scotch nobleman decides what to do with his fine colonists."
"But, Grant, you don't mean to send them up north in this cold country. They may not reach Hudson's Bay in time to catch the company ship to Scotland! Why, man, it's sheer murder to expose those people to a winter up there without a thing to shelter them!"
"To my mind, freezing is not quite so bad as a massacre. If they won't take our boats to the States, or Canada, what else can Nor'-Westers do?"