A Boy of the Dominion: A Tale of Canadian Immigration

by F. S. Brereton

There were quite a number of little matters which he was likely to find difficult of explanation. But the gun was found eventually where Joe had placed it, while the second team of dogs were got into their harness. Then Hurley pressed two of the boldest of his followers into this special service, and putting them aboard the remaining sleigh, leaped there himself, and ordered the driver to set off in pursuit of our hero and his friends.

Beaver Jack never hesitated as to the course he ought to pursue once his fingers closed on the reins Hank tossed him.

"Clear back for the settlements," the little hunter had said, and the Redskin obeyed him to the letter. He steered his team over a portion of the lake, set them at the bank where it shelved very gradually to the ice, and, gaining a hollow, aimed directly for a huge patch of forest distinguishable with the aid of the moon's rays in the far distance.

"He war born cute, he war," grunted Hank, some minutes later, when all the loads were secured, and he and Joe had time and opportunity to look about them. "Beaver Jack never stirs a foot, but he watches everything about him, and I reckon that he knows nigh every foot of the country; knows it, too, whether it's fine weather or ef there's snow about and landmarks is wiped out altogether. He aer steering downhill, knowing as the big lake back behind drains along the valley to another, and that again to a third. It means quick travelling all the way, and ef we're to shake off them critters it'll be before we reaches the third lake. Ah! Guess that's Hurley. It's a pity it's stopped snowing."

It was necessary to cling to the sleigh tightly, for the going was fast and furious. There was no time to watch for obstacles ahead, while the snow covered the land so completely that deep brooks crossing their line of flight were not seen till they were on to them, and then there was a mighty shaking. The dogs, spurred on by the cracking whip, leaped across the hollow. The sleigh bumped across with a great jolting which tossed those aboard it to either side; but still they clung tight, while the little hunter, seeing that a sleigh was following, nimbly turned about, spread himself face downward on the top of the sleigh, and placed his rifle before him.

"You jest take and sit on my legs, Joe," he called; "then ef there's a bad jolt I'll still be here. It won't make no difference to my shootin', and it's likely to save delay. Ef I was to roll over you'd have to stop, and that'd be serious."

Joe promptly did as he was asked, tucking the legs of the little hunter beneath him, and placing a blanket across them before he sat down. He could then afford to turn his own head and watch the enemy. Away behind them, tearing along at reckless speed, and at such a rate that a cloud of white was thrown up in front of each runner for all the world as if the sleigh were a ship at sea, Hurley and his comrades came chasing after the trio they had fondly hoped to kill. A figure crouched just behind the dogs, and the frosty air brought the sound of his shouts and the crack of the dog whip he wielded. A second figure was bundled up behind him, the face of the man on the shoulder of the driver, while a pair of staring eyes peered at the sleigh ahead. Hurley sat right aft, his bulky form overlapping the sides of the sleigh, his head and shoulders well above his comrades. The moon, playing upon the scene, showed a rod projecting upward from a point just in front of the murderer, and at once Joe knew it was a rifle. He saw the ruffian lean forward and shout at his men, and then watched as he rose still higher—evidently he was half-kneeling and half-sitting—his weapon was lifted into a horizontal position and went to his shoulder. It was clear, in fact, that Hurley was about to fire.

"Best get down flat, every one of us," cried Hank, in warning tones. "Beaver Jack, you lie flat same as me, facing forward. You'll still be able to steer, and kin use the whip ef it's wanted. Then Joe kin stretch hisself out on top of the two of us. It'll be a cramping business, but it aer better'n bein' shot."

Such gymnastic efforts upon a sleigh rocking from side to side was no easy matter. But when there is a man within reasonable distance whose rifle is presented, and any moment may bring a bullet, the most difficult of evolutions are carried out with wonderful rapidity. In this case, Beaver Jack swivelled himself round with a dexterity there was no denying. Then Joe turned entirely, for he wished to have his eyes behind him all the while and watch Hurley. A second or so later he was also lying flat, his weight helping to hold the Redskin to the sleigh, while he gripped Hank now by the ankles. But he was hardly in position when a puff of smoke burst from the rifle held by the burly figure at the back of the pursuing sleigh, there was a dull flash, then a bullet screamed past the heads of Hank and his friends. The reply to this was sent without delay by the little hunter.

"Missed!" he grunted. "Shootin' at a moving object ain't never too easy with a rifle, but when the consarn you're fixed on is movin' itself as well, why, a hit aer often a chance. Guess Hurley ha' got his eye in."