Next day the party left us. It consisted of Macnab, who, with his wonted energy of nature, was leader and beater of the track; the sprightly Jessie in a cariole drawn by four dogs; Waboose’s mother in a similar cariole, and the fair Waboose herself, on snow-shoes, for she preferred the mode of travelling to which she had been most accustomed. Two Indians dragging provision-sleds brought up the rear.
It had been arranged that I should convoy the party to their first bivouac in the snow, spend the night with them, and continue to journey with them the second day as far as was consistent with the possibility of returning to the fort that night. Jack Lumley accompanied us at first, but another small party of Indians had come in to stay at the fort at that time, and although he had, I am certain, a very strong desire to go further, with his usual self-sacrificing spirit when duty pointed another way, he turned and left us at the end of a few miles.
I spent the night in the snow-bivouac as arranged, and continued to journey onward with the party next day, until Macnab refused to let me go another step.
“Now, Max,” he said, laughingly, “you must turn here. Why, man, it will be midnight before you get in, good walker though you be. Come, good-bye.”
“Well, well, I suppose it’s better to turn since you seem tired of my company,” said I, turning to Jessie, who stood up in her sleigh to shake hands. “Good-bye, Miss Macnab.”
“Jessie, man, Jessie—none of your Miss Macnabs here, else I’ll tumble you into the snow by way of farewell,” shouted the irrepressible Highlander.
“Very well, good-bye, Jessie,” said I, with a laugh, though my heart was heavy enough. “Good-bye, Waboose—farewell all.”
With a wave of his hand Macnab tramped on ahead, the sleigh-bells rang out merrily and the rest of the party followed.
After they had gone a few yards Waboose turned and waved her hand again. As I looked on her fair face, glowing with health and exercise, her upright, graceful figure in its picturesque costume and her modest mien, I felt that two beams of light had shot from her bright blue eyes and pierced my heart right through and through. It was a double shot—both barrels, if I may say so—well aimed at the centre of the bull’s-eye!
Next moment she was gone—the whole party having dipped over the brow of a snow-drift.