“No fear of it,” said old Dobelle; “the ropes are strong.”
Thus assured, the visitors continued their meal with equanimity, regardless of the storm that soon began to rage with great fury, insomuch that the door required a prop to keep it up and rain began to trickle in through crevices in the roof and drop here and there upon the party. When one such drop chanced to fall on old Dobelle’s nose, his younger son arose, and, fastening a piece of birch-bark to the rafters, caught the drop and trained it with its followers to flow towards an unoccupied place in one corner, which, being accidentally lower than the rest of the floor, formed a convenient receptacle for superfluous water.
At the same time Madame Dobelle made a shakedown of pine-branches in another corner for her visitors, for it was obvious that they would have to spend the night there, even although their own tent was not far-distant.
By that time the storm was raging with unwonted violence. Nevertheless the Dobelle family smoked on in placid contentment. When the time for repose arrived, Madame Dobelle and her eldest girl retired to a box-bed in a corner of the hut which was screened off—not very effectually—by a curtain of birch-bark. The two brothers lay down in another corner. The three visitors disposed themselves in the third, and, as the fourth was monopolised by the rain-rivulet, old Dobelle lay down on one side of the fire in the centre of the room, while the four-year-old girl reposed on the other.
During the night the accumulation of tobacco-smoke with fire-smoke produced a suffocating effect, but no one was capable of suffocation apparently, for they all smoked on—except Archie, who, as we have said, had not acquired the habit. Even the four-year-old girl, like Baby La Certe, had a pull now and then at its father’s pipe, and, from sundry white emanations from the crevices in the bark curtains, it was evident that the ladies behind these were enjoying themselves in the same way during the intervals of repose.
Next morning was fine, and the three sportsmen returned to the fishery to find that the storm had made an almost clean sweep of the nets. It had carried most of them away; torn others to pieces, and almost ruined the whole colony of fishermen; the ruin being all the more complete that most of the nets had been received on credit, and were to be paid for chiefly by the results of the autumn fishery.
La Certe was one of the chief sufferers; nevertheless, to judge from his looks, La Certe did not suffer much! He had brought a considerable amount of provision with him, as we have said, and, finding that one of his nets had been washed ashore, he proceeded very leisurely to mend it, while he smoked and assisted Slowfoot to consume pemmican and tea.
About this time a mysterious message was sent to Dan Davidson from Red River by an Indian, requiring his immediate return. The sender of the message was Elspie McKay; the summons was therefore obeyed at once.
As nothing further could be done at the fishery that autumn, the other members of the expedition, and most of the fishers, returned with Dan to the colony.