The work went on steadily from day to day, and Mrs. Macrae viewed with the approval and satisfaction of a good housewife the growing pile of fuel that would be right at hand through the long winter.

'Ye always were a good provider, Andrew,' she said, giving her stalwart husband a look of ineffable love and pride. 'Nane o' yer charge will ever want while ye're aboot.'

From under his s.h.a.ggy brows, Andrew Macrae returned the look of love and pride; for to him there was no woman so bonnie or so wise as his gude wife, but he pretended to make light of the compliment, saying he was but doing his duty.

The wood-pile at the hut had grown big enough, and they were making their last trip to the timber. Mrs. Macrae had not accompanied them, but little Ailie would not be left at home. She enjoyed too much the ride out on the empty cart, and then back again, perched triumphantly on top of the load, to lose the last chance for it. So father had to yield to her pretty pleadings, although he would have preferred her remaining with her mother.

The father and son worked very hard that day, and during the afternoon got so engrossed in the completion of their task, that they quite forgot the little girl.

Then, left to her own resources, Ailie, as st.u.r.dy a child for her years as ever stepped, wandered off over the prairie in the opposite direction to home, her little head filled with some foolish notion of getting nearer to the sunset.

On and on she went, forgetful of everything but the beauty of the western sky, which had so fascinated her, and it was because her blue eyes were intent upon this, and not upon what was under her feet, that she did not notice the coulee, or break in the prairie, into which she fell with a sharp cry of fright.

Happily it was soft earth at the bottom of the coulee, and Ailie was not injured in the least by her fall. But she was terrified beyond measure at her situation, and screamed for her father and brother with the full strength of her lungs.

But, lying as she was at the bottom of the coulee, a dozen feet or more below the surface of the prairie, her most vigorous efforts could not have been heard many yards away.

There the poor little lonely frightened girl wept and wailed and cried out for her father and Hector, until at last, in sheer exhaustion, she lapsed into a sort of stupor and knew no more.

CHAPTER XI

The Losing and Finding of Ailie

It was not until they had completed the day's task and the wood was all ready to be loaded into the cart, that Mr. Macrae missed Ailie.

Not seeing her about, he called out:

'Ailie, Ailie, my bairnie, where are you? Come ye here noo!'

Then, getting no response, he began to call louder and louder, and to go this way and that among the trees, looking anxiously for the golden-haired la.s.sie, while Hector ran out on the prairie calling with all his might:

'Ailie! Ailie! come here.' Still no answer, and as the sun had set and it was already beginning to grow dusk, the anxiety of father and brother became intense.

Little Ailie was lost--lost on the prairie--and in a short time night would be upon them. Oh, what was to be done?

After the first hurried rushing hither and thither without avail, Mr.

Macrae, realizing that it would be necessary to carry on the search on a larger scale, called Hector to him and said:

'We must have help. I'll go and get our friends. Ye bide here. Maybe Ailie will come back of herself.'

So saying, Mr. Macrae set off on foot across the prairie at a swift pace, far faster than could have been made by the heavily-loaded cart.

Thus left alone, Hector, in spite of himself, began to feel nervous.

Snow, the first of the year, began falling softly and silently.

For some time Hector sat waiting, then the happy thought came to him to set the dogs on Ailie's trail. He took from his pocket a ribbon the child had dropped the day before, and showing it to the clever creatures, told them to 'find Ailie.' They seemed to understand at once what was expected of them, and set out on the vanishing, whitening trail, Hector keeping up with them as best he might.

Soon after this, Mr. Macrae and his party arrived, each man bearing a lantern or torch. They were greatly dismayed to find Hector also missing, and doubly hastened their preparations for the search. Under Mr. Macrae's directions, the party, leaving their horses tied to the trees, until they had first made search on foot, spread out in a long line, ten yards or so separating each man from his neighbour, and proceeded to make a thorough search of the prairie.

It was a weird night, and one such as never before had been seen there--the long line of lights bobbing about as the searchers moved through the darkness.

Meanwhile, Hector's search was being diligently made. Dour and Dandy hesitated once or twice as if puzzled, but in a moment trotted on again, and before very long they led Hector to the coulee. The excited boy fell rather than climbed down, and made straight for a sort of pocket in the bank where he could hear the dogs sniffing.

And there lay Ailie! Curled up like a kitten, and so motionless that, for a moment, Hector's heart stood still with fear. Then a quick move forward in the dim light, and his hand was among the cl.u.s.tered curls, and touching the warm, soft neck.

Ailie was alive! hurt, perhaps, but alive, and in the greatness of his joy the boy sent forth a shout that caused Dour and Dandy above to break forth into an 'exposition of barking' that attracted the attention of several of the searchers, making them wonder if the wise dogs might not have discovered something.

Hector picked up Ailie with the utmost tenderness. The child, aroused from her stupor, gave a little cry of fear, then threw her arms about her brother's neck, and burst into tears.

He hugged, and patted, and soothed her with loving words. 'And are ye no hurt anywhere?' he asked her, half in wonder, half in joy. 'Just to think of it. Oh, but the good G.o.d took wonderfu' care of you. Now just you bide there a minute, and I'll try to let them know I found ye.'

Ailie, puzzled but obedient, stood as she was directed, and Hector began to shout with all the vigour of his healthy young lungs. 'Hi there! Come here! I've found her! She's not hurt.'

The clear strong voice rose out of the coulee, and was first heard by those who had noticed the eager barking of Dour and Dandy. 'Ah! ha!'

exclaimed one of them, Black Rory Macdonald, his s.h.a.ggy face lighting up eagerly. 'Come awa', there,'--and off he went as fast as his mighty legs could carry him. He had no trouble in locating the dogs, and holding his lantern over the edge of the little hollow, he at once caught sight of Hector and Ailie.

'The gude Lord be praised!' he cried fervently. 'The bairnie's found, and there's nae hurt upon her.'

His joyous shouts rapidly brought the other searchers, Mr. Macrae being among the first to reach the spot. Without loss of time, the boy and girl were lifted out of the coulee, to be overwhelmed with demonstrations of delight and affection from men who ordinarily kept their feelings very strictly under control.

'And noo awa' tae yer mither--yer poor distracted mither,' broke in Mr.

Macrae, gathering up Ailie and starting towards the place where the horses were tethered. With long impatient steps he swept over the ground, and, taking the first horse he came to, put Ailie upon the saddle before him, and galloped off for the encampment, where, with br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes and trembling lips, he placed the child in the mother's arms, saying softly: 'Praise G.o.d, Mary, oor bairnie's given back to us.'

The winter came soon after this, and it was well for the Highland folk that they had at home been inured to the cold, for Jack Frost certainly did not spare them at Pembina.

The clear, dry atmosphere misled them at first. They would not realize how cold it really was, until nose or cheeks were nipped. And more than one of them had a narrow escape from being frozen to death.

Yet, upon the whole, the winter pa.s.sed quite comfortably, albeit the question of food sometimes became a pressing one, when the hunters had been unsuccessful for a time.

One day, Narcisse, who took a lively interest in Hector, rushed to tell him that a great moose had been seen in the woods to the north, and that he was going out next day to hunt for him. He invited Hector to go with him.

Of course, the boy jumped at the invitation, and, his father not objecting, for he had considerable confidence in Narcisse, arrangements for the enterprise were made at once.

CHAPTER XII

The Moose Hunt

Mr. Macrae allowed Hector to take Dour and Dandy, and, as Narcisse had two good dogs of his own, they were well provided. The only other member of the party was Narcisse's half-brother, Baptiste, not equal to him in intelligence and experience, but a strong and good-natured fellow, who would take his share of work or danger.

They took a horse apiece, not to ride, for of course they travelled on snowshoes, but to carry their blankets, buffalo-robes, cooking gear, etc.

Hector was a very happy boy as he set forth on a superb winter morning clad in the warmest of clothing, and striding along upon his snow-shoes, in the use of which he had become quite expert.