Slowly the fire burned down, and with the curious, faltering gesture of one feeling in the dark the man put out his hand and carefully replenished it, then again subsided within himself. The new fuel burned briskly; tiny flames started from the dying embers and caught desperately at the fresh fuel, and gathering strength in the consumption thereof they burst upward with fierce wild roars and lit the camp for many yards around, revealing the figure and features of its lonely occupant. It was Roy Thursby. Yet was it Roy Thursby? It was like him, but with a look of great misery stamped upon him. His face was ashy-grey. His eyes seemed fixed upon the leaping flames, but, alas! he only knew of their close presence by his acute senses of hearing and feeling, for he was totally blind. The longing, wistful expression—so pathetic in the faces of the blind—was already showing upon his face. He sat with bent head, leaning slightly forward, musing in mournful retrospect upon the last few days. They had been to him nothing but excitement and horror. Truly the shot that had left him lying senseless, cutting a deep furrow across his skull and stunning him for many hours, had saved him the harrowing, blood-curdling, diabolical details of Broom’s subsequent deeds, but the fearful discovery his returning consciousness had revealed was, perhaps, the most terrible a human being could experience.
Blind! Oh, the misery in that one word! What desolate loneliness! What unfathomable despair!
Roy’s passionate prayers to God to release him from a long, grim night of unlifting darkness were painful beyond words to those who witnessed them. It was with feelings of the greatest relief that his companions finally saw him sink into a state of apathy. From that hour Roy was as one who has some awful fear upon him; he started at the slightest sound. None save himself knew how bitter were his feelings, how acute his anguish. And always from his soul this cry went up: “What have I done to deserve this terrible affliction?” His whole life was blasted. All his bright dreams, all his ambitions, were roughly brought to an end, and from a man, young, strong, resolute, he had become more pitiably helpless than a little child—all by the evil-doing of a reckless, useless man-animal to whom he had been rescuer and friend. Alone, and solely by the strength of his personality, he had succeeded in a difficult and dangerous enterprise, and with pardonable pride awaited his reward and the approbation of a powerful and generous Company. But now all enterprise, all ambition, lay dead, and he must spend the rest of his days away from companionship of his kind. He had already fought this out with himself. The battle had been fierce, but short and decisive. His keen appreciation of what was due to others had won the victory. Why should he go to the front, return to civilization, to Lena whom he passionately loved—he, a useless incumbrance, compelled by the very nature of his affliction to depend upon others for even the most trifling offices? Better far that she should believe that he had met his death in the explosion—Delgezie’s grave would lend color to that belief—and when the first bitter sorrow of the blow had worn off she might still be happy with another. Why then should he doom her to wear out her life by the side of a hopeless, melancholy invalid? Besides, he shrank from exposing his extreme helplessness to other eyes, even though they were the eyes of a sympathizing friend. Yes! He would spend the rest of his life in the company of the faithful Kasba and Sahanderry, at some camp which they might make in the desolate solitude, far from all possibility of encounter with any white man.
Discovering what she fully believed to be Roy’s dead body, Kasba had despatched Minnihak with a message to Acpa, acquainting him with the trader’s death and requesting him to come and take charge of Fort Future pro tem. Therefore Roy had decided not to remain at the Fort any longer than it would take to make adequate preparations for a long trip, but to proceed by easy stages to a place known to Sahanderry, where a stay might be protracted to any length.
But a startling incident had compelled them to fly Fort Future with scarcely any preparation—Broom had appeared upon the scene.
Sahanderry and David were away from home and Kasba was outside gathering an armful of kindling. Her first intimation of the ruffian’s presence was a rude arm around her waist, and a voice in her ear, which said:
“Now, my bonny Kasba! I’ve come back for you!”
In utter surprise and consternation the girl gave a startled cry which rang out sharply, and, caught up by the echoes, it was thrown on and on till it died away in the distance.
Hearing the cry Roy sprang to his feet within the house. In the excitement of the moment he forgot strength and courage could avail him nothing. He stumbled across the room but could not find the door. It was in this awful moment that he realized how utterly helpless he was, how miserably incapable to protect those in his care—those who, accustomed to a lifelong protection, were totally unable to think for themselves in moments of great crisis. Listening intently he could distinguish a noise made by scuffling on crisp snow. He knew it was Kasba who cried, that she was being molested. Oh, for the gift of sight for one moment! His agony at being unable to render the girl assistance was so intense that he sobbed like a child.
Suddenly the scuffling ceased. Then there was another cry and the sound of departing footsteps.