Kasba (White Partridge): A Story of Hudson Bay

by George R. Ray

Over the undulating plain he came, pausing occasionally, diverging rarely, and ever nearer.

At length there was the sound of crunching snow, the swish of snowshoes; a short, stifled bark, and a white, furry, inanimate thing lay on the snow.

Without doffing his mitts Roy reset the trap. It was a steel trap, destitute of teeth, with two springs. The jaws when spread out flat were exactly on a level with the snow. He hid the chain and brushed a thin layer of snow on top of the trap. A few scraps of fish were scattered about for bait and the whole carefully smoothed over, so that it was almost impossible to tell that anything was there.

Then he straightened himself. The air had needles in it, and he readjusted the hood of his hairy coat and tightened the wide ribbed belt around his waist.

Slipping the fox into his bag, he reached for his axe and gun, and with the long, even strides of one who could never tire, continued his “rounds,” pausing now and then to “trim” a trap when nothing was in it, or killing an animal when caught and dropping it into his trapping-bag.

As he pressed on, his keen eyes, ever alert, caught a glimpse of a small dark blot moving along the face of a ridge of rocks in the foreground. He paused in his stride to scrutinize the moving object; then, apparently satisfied, he resumed his tramp.

Yowl, yowl; kum-pack, kum-pack—ptarmigan ran uneasily together in an adjacent clump of willows. Whir-r-r, and a flock flew up at his very feet. Other flocks followed on the right and left of him, but he heeded them not, for his thoughts were on the “packet.” Somewhere in the wilderness of snow and ice to the south, two men and a train of dogs were laboring and straining every nerve to reach Fort Future. Of this the Company’s hard and fast regulations made him cognizant: but where were they? Already they were several days overdue. What could have happened to detain them? Would they reach the Fort that day? These and like questions occupied his mind.

Soon he was winding his way up a gully in the ridge of rocks, and right before him was the object he had previously descried. As he drew near, it took on the form of an Indian girl, a young and beautiful Chipewyan of about eighteen summers. She wore a blanket-skirt, very short as to length; a pair of red stroud leggings, beadwork moccasins and a thick woollen shawl, which ordinarily muffled the head and face but had now slipped back, leaving them exposed to view. She was a Chipewyan, but had scarcely a feature like them.

Her face was exquisitely moulded, and of a rich golden brown; her cheeks of coral red; her eyes large, dark and liquid, very strongly marked brows and long, thick lashes; her mouth was small and expressive, with very beautiful teeth. Her hair was neatly braided, crossed at the back of the head and tied on either side with a piece of narrow ribbon. She turned as he approached, and, dropping a bundle of short sticks and an axe, stood with heightened color and a pretty, embarrassed look on her finely cut features, waiting for him to come up.

With eyes intent upon the trader, the girl was quite oblivious of the presence of the middle-aged man of unprepossessing appearance, who had been skulking behind her for some time. Perceiving her preoccupation, he now approached her with a stealthy tread. In a flash he leaped from the background and caught her in his arms, drew her to him with a force she could not resist, and kissed her.