What would come of this? would there be any response? He had not long to wonder. The signal was repeated, and he knew that there were fellow-creatures in those mountains. White, black, or red, he did not care then. The feeling that he was not alone in that white world, that terribly hard, frozen world, was enough for him.
He and the dog hurried on, ascended the low bare hill upon their right, and when after a vigorous climb they reached the summit, he fired again, as he had done before. Patch barked loudly, joyfully, and there came into his master's mind the certainty that he was on the point of some discovery, some adventure to break the monotony of his life.
The response was immediate. Down in the valley at his feet, but at some distance, what appeared to be a door was opened suddenly, revealing a light within, and in the illuminated space a figure stood, who, lifting up a gun, fired again. Next this figure ran out of the building brandishing a blazing pine-knot, and across the wide valley he distinctly heard the cry of a fellow-being, and, still more wonderful, more amazing, it sounded to be the voice of a woman in distress.
"Go to her, Patch!" he cried. The good dog obeyed, whilst he followed as rapidly as he could. It was rough ground, all rocks and fallen trees: he was exhausted ere he had traversed half the distance. Halting a moment to recover breath, he had a view against the bright light of the doorway of Patch crouched at the feet of the person there, who was stooping to caress him.
A few hundred yards more and he halted again for breath, and then he heard a long-drawn cry of agony. "Help, oh! help! whoever you are! Indian or white man, come, come and help!" And our friend called loudly across the waste: "I'm an Englishman! Trust me. I'm making my way to you with all the haste I can!" and over the snow-clad expanse resounded the response, "Thank God! thank God!"
CHAPTER I.
During the winter of 1895-96, I was staying at Bella Rocca, a boarding-house in Victoria, Vancouver Island, British Columbia. I had come to that charming city, on that beautiful island, to discover, if possible, an opening for the investment of my modest capital in a manner which would give me a more congenial way of making a livelihood than I had found in Eastern Canada, where I had resided for some few years.
When I first arrived in the Dominion, I settled in the backwoods of Ontario. Later, I had passed some years on the prairies, and later still, I had spent some time in the Rocky Mountains, the Selkirks, and on the Fraser river.
I had led a life of toil, I was well up in bush work and ways, but I did not like the life; so, having saved a little money, and having heard so much of the Pacific coast, I came to Victoria, as I have said.