"Two of Mackenzie's party escaped, and the rest were killed," Captain Rudstone answered. "I knew little of it at the time, for I was shot through the shoulder and fainted from loss of blood. Gray Moose and his braves carried me to an Indian village some miles to the west, tended me until I was recovered, and then supplied me with a sledge and food for the long journey South. And it ended, as you know, in my falling into the hands of those Northwest Company ruffians a few miles from my destination."

"But how do you suppose Ruthven knew of the affair?" asked Boyd.

"From the two Indians who escaped," replied the captain; "they must have pushed right on down country. I'll tell you more of my story at another time. Yonder, if I am not mistaken, are the lights of Fort Garry."

CHAPTER XLII.

TRUNK 409.

At three o'clock the next afternoon Christopher Burley and myself might have been found in the factor's private office, waiting expectantly for the door to open, and gazing meanwhile at the desk littered with papers and maps, the shelves stacked with musty doc.u.ments and old account books. I had not been up long, having slept till past noon. It had been daylight when I retired, and Captain Rudstone was then closeted with the factor. I had seen neither of them since.

"Mr. Macdonald has evidently been detained," said the law clerk as he looked at the huge silver watch he had carried through all his adventures. "He told me to find you and bring you here, and promised to join us almost immediately."

"He must have a great many things on his mind to-day," I replied. "But, tell me, why did he request my presence?"

"It was my suggestion, Mr. Carew. You have always shown a keen interest in the matter, and I thought you would like to see if this last straw to which I am clinging amounts to anything."

"You are quite right," said I. "It was thoughtful of you to remember me, and I am very anxious to know the result of your search."

This, I must confess, was a polite evasion of truth. I had much rather have been with Flora, whom I had seen for only a few moments since the previous evening.

"I am by no means sanguine of success," the law-clerk resumed. "There is but a meagre chance. And yet I feel a sort of presentiment that--Ah, here he comes now!"

As he spoke the door opened, and Macdonald entered the room. I saw at a glance, and with some surprise, that he was in good spirits.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting for me," he began. "I had some urgent matters to attend to. I turned in long after you, Carew, and slept but two hours. Have you seen anything of Captain Rudstone?"

"No," Mr. Burley and I answered together.

"He is doubtless in bed yet, he needed rest," said the factor. "I had his whole story from him this morning."

"He gave me an outline of it last night," said I. "It was a most thrilling narrative."

"Yes, and one that I was heartily glad to hear," replied Macdonald.

"Even if Cuthbert Mackenzie had been killed otherwise than in a struggle his death would have been a simple act of justice; for it seems that he admitted and boasted of his part in the capture of Fort Royal. As for the charge of murder, it is ridiculous!"

"Then you think the affair will blow over?" I cried.

"I am sure of it, under the circ.u.mstances," declared the factor. "I understand that Lieutenant Boyd spoke plainly last night, intimating that our people suspected the Northwest Company of complicity in the attack on Fort Royal, and that they would hear from us shortly. So it is unlikely that Ruthven or his superiors will take any steps to apprehend Captain Rudstone. Indeed, since they can't tell what evidence we have--or have not--they may be frightened into adopting a more peaceable policy than heretofore."

"I hope so, with all my heart," said I.

"Time will tell," replied Macdonald. "We shall continue to prepare for the worst at all events. It is possible that the rescue at Lagarde's store may drive the half-breeds, or the more hot-headed of the Northwest Company men to some desperate act."

With that the factor turned to Christopher Burley, who had been waiting with visible signs of impatience for our conversation to terminate.

"Now, sir, I am ready to attend to your business," he said. "I can't spare much time, for I have promised an interview to Captain Rudstone this afternoon. I believed some personal matter--I have not the least idea what--is connected with his visit to the fort."

"I trust I shall not detain you long," replied the law clerk. "I sincerely regret that--"

"Oh, it's all right," interrupted Macdonald. "I am glad to be of service to you. A few minutes will settle the question in one way or another."

He seated himself at his desk, glanced over a row of account books, that were shelved within reach, and finally took down a small leather-bound volume that looked to be on the point of falling to pieces.

"Ah, this is it!" he exclaimed. "I thought I could lay my hands on it promptly."

Christopher Burley and I stood behind his chair looking over his shoulders, as he turned the faded, musty-smelling leaves one by one. The law clerk's cheeks were slightly flushed, and a rapt and expectant expression was on his face.

"1780," muttered the factor--"'83--'85--'87--was that the year?"

"He left England in the year 1787," Christopher Burley replied eagerly, "in the month of June. Try September to start with."

"It's rather too early," said Macdonald. "There are only five entries in September," he added, as he glanced rapidly down two pages, "and a smaller average for the remaining months of that year. Now we come to 1788. I have not found your man yet. Let me see--January, February, March--they are unlikely months, and contain scarcely an entry."

The search was growing doubtful, and I felt sorry for Mr. Burley.

"We are not through yet," I said cheerfully.

"Perhaps, sir," suggested Macdonald, "Osmund Maiden took another name when he came to Canada."

"No, no," the law clerk exclaimed sharply. "I hope not. He could have had no reason for doing such a thing."

"It's not uncommon," the factor answered dryly. "Ah, here we are at April! Half a page of entries at the least! Ma.s.singham, Clarke, Bent, Duvallard--"

He paused with an exultant little cry, and Christopher Burley, bending further over him, noted where his finger rested near the bottom of the page.

"Osmund Maiden!" the law clerk shouted in a tone of wild excitement. "It is he! it is he! There, you can read it! plainly! Success at last!"

"You are right, sir!" exclaimed Macdonald. "Here we are; 'April the 19th, 1788--Osmund Maiden, one trunk, marked 409.' Doubtless this is your man."

It was a thrilling moment, and I felt a sudden and keen interest in the discovery, which I had by no means expected. I stared at the faded inscription on the brown page, written there nearly twenty-eight years before. Then I looked at Christopher Burley. I had never seen him so deeply stirred. He was rubbing his hands together, drawing quick, short breaths, and examining the book with an expression of mingled triumph and anxiety.

"But how is this?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely. "Look: a line is drawn through every name on the page except that of Osmund Maiden."

"His name is not erased," replied the factor, "because he never came back--because the receipt for his trunk was never presented."

"Ah, I see!" muttered the law clerk. "He never came back. Twenty-eight years in the wilderness! I fear he is dead."

"That is the most reasonable way to look at it, sir."

"And yet he may be still alive, Mr. Macdonald. Surely if he stopped at Fort Garry he made some mention of his future plans."

The factor shook his head.

"The entries on this page are not in my handwriting," he replied. He opened his desk, took out a small book and glanced at it. "At that time I was absent from the fort," he added. "From the end of March to the beginning of May, 1788, I was in Quebec."