Despite their terpsichorean efforts of the previous evening they were all up betimes next morning. Even Broom arose much before his wonted hour to see the packet men start on their return journey.
“Well, good luck, George!” cried Roy, grasping the little dog-driver by the hand. “May you have a good trip!”
“Thank you, sir,” returned the little man, who hastily proceeded to shake hands with all within sight, which act of courtesy was closely imitated by Poo-koo. And while it was yet dark the packet-train started on its hazardous journey south. The dogs, greatly refreshed by their rest, bounded after the rapidly disappearing Eskimo in front, who, unlike most of his race, was a good and fast walker, and the last link to the outside world was quickly swallowed up in the gloom of the early morning.
With an unconscious sigh of regret Roy turned to go indoors. To be sure Churchill was as much out of the world as Fort Future, but there were more people—possibly a dozen—and four mails a year there. Four mails a year looked good to Roy. Truly all things are judged by comparison.
Roy’s naturally buoyant spirits seemed to have departed with the packet and he appeared dull and listless, remaining preoccupied during the whole of breakfast, and returning only monosyllabic answers to Broom’s airy remarks. The interesting occupation of letter-writing gone, there seemed nothing to occupy his mind, and it was with something of an effort that he forced himself to take up the old monotonous life and to revive the interest he had hitherto felt in his work. But these feelings, this hankering after the unattainable, was soon dispersed by his strong will, and he was again the zealous officer the Company had ever found him. He was inwardly longing for the time when the ice would be out of the river, and Chief Factor McCall would arrive on his trip of inspection, and the knowledge that Lena was to accompany her father only made the enforced wait the more exasperating. But Roy knew from bitter experience that the only way to make time fly was to be fully occupied, and he therefore decided to make a trip to the camp of his Eskimo trader Acpa.
CHAPTER X.
A TRIP TO AN ESKIMO ENCAMPMENT.
Roy and Broom spent the evening following in desultory conversation. The latter was feeling in one of his best moods, but a strange presentiment of coming evil beset the trader; that peculiar instinctive feeling of some approaching calamity with which we are all more or less acquainted; the shadowy, indistinct sensation that some catastrophe is nigh and about to overwhelm us.
As Roy’s naturally buoyant spirits were not prone to fits of depression he felt irritated with himself and attempted to throw it off, but the feeling was so persistent, so singularly distinct, that it caused him to hesitate about making the journey. It was only by a supreme effort that he suppressed these premonitions of evil and bent his mind on the business before him.
He had arranged for Minnihak to accompany him as guide, and Delgezie to follow with a second train of dogs. Consequently the charge of the Fort fell to Sahanderry, who was summoned to the inner room to receive his orders. Roy made a point of giving these instructions in the presence of Broom, so that he might perfectly understand his position and that he remained at the Fort merely as a guest, and that except for the preparing of his meals the Chipewyan was in no wise under his direction or supervision. After establishing this fact beyond any possibility of doubt, Roy dismissed Sahanderry.
“And now we’ll take a last horn together,” he said, little thinking how prophetic his words would prove.