Chapter XXVII: Why the Periers Came to Pembina

Before starting for the hills, Walter had written Elise that he expected to be back by the first of March. So when Mr. Perier decided to leave Fort Douglas, he felt very sure that he would find his apprentice at Pembina. “I was anxious to get away,” he said when he told his story. “The weather was mild and favorable for the journey, and—well, I had other reasons. At St. Boniface I learned of a man with a dog team who was coming this way.”

Walter interrupted to ask if the man was really Murray.

“Yes, that is his name,” Mr. Perier replied. “He said he knew you and your friend Louis Brabant. Murray had not intended to leave for another day or two. He was waiting to see Sergeant Kolbach’s brother, who had gone to Norway House.”

At first the half-breed had refused to take the Periers to Pembina. While he was arguing his case, Mr. Perier had taken out his watch and glanced at it; a nervous habit of his when worried or distressed. Murray pointed to the watch. He would go for that he said. As nothing else would satisfy him, Mr. Perier agreed. Murray furnished toboggan and dogs, and they started early the next morning.

Before they had been out an hour, the Swiss began to regret his bargain. Murray’s brutality and his insolent, overbearing manner filled the quiet, gentle-natured apothecary with apprehension. The trip proved far from pleasant, but, knowing that the wild _bois brulés_ were apt to appear more savage than they really were, he did not think his children and himself in any real danger. What really happened Elise had already told. Before the journey was over, Murray demanded his pay. Mr. Perier had been forced to hand over his watch and chain. As soon as the coveted articles were in the half-breed’s possession, he had whipped up his dogs, jumped on the sled, and left the Periers to freeze or starve.

Mr. Perier knew that if they followed the river it would lead them to Pembina. They tried to keep going but they had no snowshoes and were continually breaking through the crust. All three were very cold and tired. When they came to a spot a little sheltered from the wind, they camped, intending to go on in the morning. With his pocket knife, the father hacked off a few dead branches. He kindled a fire, and Elise and Max lay down beside it, wrapped in one of the blankets. They insisted that their father should use the other.

“I didn’t intend to go to sleep,” he confessed. “I was utterly exhausted and had to rest a little. I lay down, meaning to get up in a few minutes and cut more wood. What happened was all my fault. I should have kept awake and moving.

“Even now I am at a loss to understand,” he concluded, “how Murray dared to desert us. To have taken us on, as he promised, would have delayed him but little. He must have known that, whether we ever reached here alive or not, he was responsible for us. He would be charged with the crime of deserting us and stealing our belongings. Surely the Company cannot overlook such a crime. He must suffer for it.”

Louis shrugged. “It is not at all certain that he will suffer for it, though Walter and I will do our best to see that he does. This is not _le Murrai Noir’s_ first crime, and always, so far, he seems to have escaped punishment. He thinks he will always escape. He stole the Company’s property, he and Fritz Kolbach attacked and robbed one of the Company’s hunters, yet he has not been punished, it seems, for either of those crimes. He was bold to go to St. Boniface and stay there, after that last affair.”

“Perhaps he lay low and did not let the Company at Fort Douglas know he was there,” suggested Walter.

“Or he lied himself free of the charge,” Louis added, “with witnesses bribed to say he spoke the truth. But this last crime is more serious.” The boy rose from the hearth, where he had been sitting cross legged. There were not stools enough to go around. “I go now,” he announced, “to learn whether _le Murrai_ really came to Pembina, and if he is still here.”

“I’ll go with you,” cried Walter springing up, tired though he was. “The sooner we lay charges against Murray the better. Already he has had time to take warning from our coming, and be gone.”

A little questioning of the people of Pembina brought the information that Murray had arrived at the settlement before daybreak, had rested a few hours, and had gone on, with a fresh team for which he had exchanged his exhausted dogs. His only answer to the question whither he was bound had been “Up river.”

At Fort Daer and Pembina House the boys learned that Murray had avoided the posts. The clerks in charge did not even know that the half-breed had been in the neighborhood until the lads brought the news. The man at the Company post listened gravely to the story, but was inclined to blame Mr. Perier for leaving Fort Douglas.

“Why didn’t the Swiss stay where he was?” he asked impatiently. “He was better off there than he will be here. What did he want to come to Pembina now for? He will only have to go back again with the rest of the colonists in a few weeks. It will soon be time to break ground and sow crops.”

To this Walter had no good answer, for he himself did not understand just why Mr. Perier had decided so suddenly to make the change. Not until night, after Madame Brabant and the girls were in bed in the main room and Walter lay beside his master on a skin cot in the lean-to, did the boy learn the real reason for the journey to Pembina.

“Sergeant Kolbach turned us out,” said Mr. Perier.

“What?” exclaimed Walter. “I thought he had been so kind to you.”

“He was until recently, but he and I had a disagreement. He asked me for Elise’s hand in marriage.”

“Why she is a mere child!” Walter was both surprised and distressed.

“So I told him. I said she was far too young to marry. He replied that she was old enough to cook his meals and keep his house, and that was what he wanted a wife for.”

Walter grunted angrily.

“It is true,” Mr. Perier went on, “that some of our girls not much older have married since coming to the Colony. You know the Company encouraged young women to come over because wives were needed in the settlement, especially by the DeMeurons. But Elise came to be with me, and I have other plans for her. She shall not marry Kolbach or any other, now or ten years from now, unless he is the right kind of a man and she wants him.”

“I hope she’ll never want a DeMeuron.” The thought of his little sister married to one of that wild crew horrified Walter.

“I hope not indeed,” agreed the father. “I would prefer one of our own people for her; when she is several years older of course.” He paused a moment then went on. “Elise never liked Kolbach. Even though he was kind to us and she felt she ought to be grateful, she disliked him and was a little afraid of him. I could see it. If I had dreamed that he had any such idea in his head, I would not have stayed in his house a day.”

“Does she know he wants to marry her?” Walter inquired.

“I think not. I told him I would not consent to his speaking to her. He declared he would do as he thought best about that, but he has had no chance. We left his house that very day.”

“Did he really turn you out?”

“It amounted to that. He was angry at my refusal to consider his suit. He said he was willing to wait a year, if, at Easter, Elise was formally betrothed to him. When I would consent to no betrothal, he said that we could not stay in his house longer unless she was promised to him. I have been working at the buffalo cloth mill, and have been paying him what I could for our lodging, and Elise has done all the housework. Yet he spoke as if we were beggars. I answered that we had no wish to remain in his house. We went to a neighbor,—Marianne Scheidecker she was before she married. I told her, as I told Elise, that Kolbach and I had quarreled. The next day I found Murray and hired him to bring us here.”

“Do you suppose Kolbach could have put him up to deserting you?” Walter questioned suspiciously.

“Oh no. I doubt if Kolbach knew we were going. The Sergeant would not do such a thing, however angry he might be. He is a rough, domineering man, but not bad at heart. No, no, he wouldn’t be capable of anything like that. In his way he is really fond of Elise. I think he would be as kind to her as he knows how to be, but he is not good enough for her, and she is far too young.”

“She certainly is,” Walter agreed emphatically.

It would be years yet before little Elise need think of such things, the boy decided. Then perhaps he would have something to say about the matter. The idea had never occurred to him before, but why should he not marry Elise himself some day? What other girl was there in the new land or the old to equal her? Of course it would be years from now, but in the meantime he must keep guard over her and see that no DeMeuron, or Scotchman, or French _bois brulé_ tried to take her away. None of them should bother Elise if he could help it, and he thought he could. It was with a new and not unpleasing sense of responsibility that, the boy fell asleep that night.